November 23rd, 2003

movie kendai

Old History

I went searching for an old picture of some friends I had at Sam and ran across a hidden page under my old XF website. Apparently, I was using the old page much like we all use livejournal now, to vent what was going on in my life. I ran across the entry below and must admit that it unnerved me a bit, not because of what I was telling myself, but rather because I can’t remember having felt that way. I realize that there are probably some things that we are better off forgetting, but I really wish I would not.

-=Old History=-

“This is my play page. In case your wondering I keep all my little notes about life, the way I'm feeling, and or things I need to do with the web page. So really this isn't for public viewing. However, geocities requires that I have no hidden pages. You got here somehow. I tried to hide the link, but you found it. You should keep looking--there’s another one in there somewhere for a wav page. Well hidden to keep Fox out. Not my fault there so stingy. So unless you really, really want to explore the dark recesses of my mind, I suggest you leave. Just go.

I really, really wish my watch were fixed. I need to take it with me to my bio lab, I have tape in there.

I like to write. I think it helps me decide what I really think. But then again, I'm never really sure what exactly I do think. I do know that I wish I could spell.

There once was a young girl, who didn't want to sit around and do nothing. I feel more than slightly ill. I wonder if I have any money in my checking account. I suppose I should check. :o)

Does every society have a need of knowledge--to learn? Why is it again that we even go to college? I have learned things--yes. But, sometimes I wonder. I wonder a lot. A good semester, I actually like school 3 days a week--the rest of the time I don't want to be here. By the way, I was counting the weekends in there.

I have a boo-boo. It doesn't really hurt, but it looks terrible. Dr. Bennet doesn't really annoy me. But he is tiring. After all he says pick-em-up truck. That’s hard to stand after a while.

You know I bet I could write a romance novel. I ought to start trying. After all, I might make it big--make millions. Then I could drop out of school and spend all day quilting and cross-stitching. Perhaps I could start writing M/S romances.

I wish I were anywhere but here. Anywhere. I don't know what I am going to do about micro. I don't even pretend that I can bring that up. I wish I could just drop--wait until I have a chance to take it under someone who's a bit more sane. I know that if I take it at another school, it won't cover this F. I guess the best I can do is just keep trying. Learn what I can so it'll be a little easier the second time around.

At the very moment I can't imagine myself as less happy or more upset. I can’t even start to explain how very much I don't want to be here. It’s all I can do to keep form screaming.

I can’t make myself care. I just feel sick. I hate feeling this way, but its like everything has gone wrong today. The only thing I want is to be let alone. I want to crawl up under my blankets and not move. I want to just pull the covers over my head with the assurance that no one will bother me and cry.

This strikes me as slightly odd. I mean the idea of a breakup with a boyfriend doesn't upset me--but 'they' say that it should. And yet, a test--a stupid test that most people would blow off--nearly kills me--and it would if I let it.

And so, here I am in body, but not in mind. I'm not doing myself any good. I'm not doing the class any good. But still I show. And because of it, no one notices that my world is tumbling. Not that they wouldn't care--but that I won't let them.”

-=End Old History=-

I want to remember. I want to know why.
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