I really think I am going to go insane. Siting here all day long and doing nothing. I don't know how I did it when I was a kid. Sitting at home, maybe I was easily amused then. I could sit and watch a cartoon for hours play a game for even longer. I wish TV could entertain me now like it did then. I wish I could sit at home all day and enjoy it. How nice it would be to be young again.

I want my cold to go away, I swear I sound like a frog when I talk. Its gross.

Ya know what is weird? How so much of our lives depend on what other people think. Beyond the superficial things like clothes hair and looks everything we do is judged by someone and done for someone. Each decision we make effects someone somehow in someway. Why can’t we make a decision for ourselves, why can’t we do something without having to worry about other people. I mean it is our lives why can’t we live it how we want to? I guess life isn’t that simple and if it was I guess we would live in total complete havoc and mayhem.

I like writing in my diary, really I love it. I have a hard time getting my thoughts out but when I write it all flows. But I saw this in someone else’s diary and I could relate to it completely. I find it amusing how I find myself hiding facts from my own diary. For fear of whose eyes may be reading it. I have a private diary also but I still hide things from there. There are just some things that I am not even ready to put on paper, or in this case on screen. I guess part of that reason I just figured out while writing this, Maybe I am hiding my secrets from more people then what I thought, maybe I am hiding my secrets from me. If I were to actually write them or type them that would be making them concrete. Providing proof. At least in my head I can make them go away, I can make myself believe what I want to believe. Whereas if it were on paper or the screen I would have it staring me in the face laughing at me and perhaps ruining the best things I have going on in my life. I can’t let that happen therefore the thoughts will stay in my head where they are safe, where I can convince myself that everything is going to be okay. Where I know that my secrets are safe until i let them out, and I am not ready to let them out.

Ever hear about this place, I really can’t remember what is it called but I remember talking about it. It is the place where you live the same life, just making the opposite decision that you made in actual life. Let me try to explain. You are faced with the choice to skip school or not. In one of the worlds you make the choice to skip and you live that life. IN the other you chose not to and you live that life separately. I really don’t know how to explain this and I don’t think it is making much sense. But it really is a cool thing to wonder about.

There are so many thoughts running through my head and so much I want to write about. And here is my mom, so innocent in her own way, hovering over me. Standing near the couch and making me suspicious and uncomfortable. She tries so hard to be a good mom, but sometimes doesn’t know how. She is so naïve to the world and somehow lives in her own little dream world, where kids are good, where there are no drugs and no liquor. She just wants me to open up, to tell her what is going on in my head. But the thing is I can’t, she wouldn’t understand, she would only hear what she wanted to hear and block out the things she didn’t. She wouldn’t understand and sometimes I wish she would. I wish I could go to her and tell her anything. But I can’t and I almost hesitated on typing that. It’s not like she would disown me or anything like that. I mean I know I can come to her whenever I need her but what about when I don’t, It would still be nice to come to her then. To come to her and say “mom I’m going out and drinking tonight, I’m going to be safe etc.” or to say “mom I’m going to Derek’s and his parents aren’t home” or anything like that.

But there she was standing on the side of the couch wishing that she could reach into my mind and see what I was thinking, to look at what I was writing on the screen and to learn why I couldn’t tell her what I was writing. She really is a good mother I love her.

then || now

11:00 p.m. || Monday, Jan. 27, 2003