January 10th.

Crashing in the name of science.

Listening to: Astronaut: A Short History of Nearly Nothing - Amanda Palmer.
Mood: Sorry, I really can't think of words to describe it.

(Does anyone even read this anymore?)

I should be angry. I should be really, really angry for a number of reasons. But I find myself coming up with excuses. Defending my offenders.
Which really isn't fair on me, but lucky for them. I'm too numb to be angry. And nobody likes me when I'm angry.
(There's even a term for it, coined by a friend - Ree Wrath. Apparently it's pretty scary. I wouldn't know, I'm too busy being angry to notice how it affects the people I'm angry at.)
I'm sorry, Amanda. Apparently it's not enough to have some love. I wish it was. But I tend to reach for the moon and end up falling. Into a ditch. Filled with rocks.
I guess I am a little angry. I'm angry at myself for not being able to be angry. Which doesn't make sense, but do I ever?
No, I never make sense, I'm too busy being pathetic and crazy. Or passively angry.
(I wonder how many times I can use the word angry in this blog post. Angry angry angry. Annnngrrryyyyy. Keep count, folks. Record attempt, maybe?)
It's times like this I wish I had a piano. A real piano, and some fucking privacy. Or maybe just some Dozile. That shit is good, it knocks me out for like, 12 hours. Unfortunately Mum's hidden them from me now, but maybe I can pick some up from the chemist...

I'm not looking forward to going away. Not. At. All. But I can't back out now. Even though Dad's said he doesn't want me being miserable the whole time.
Conversation from earlier today:

Dad: "You better not be like this when we go to Queensland or I'm not taking you."
Me: "You don't have to take me."
Dad: "I want to. So you better cheer up."
Me: "Not likely."
Dad: "Well, too bad."

Hooray for punishment.

I know sitting around being a sad sack is doing nothing for me. But unfortunately, NOTHING I DO IS GOING TO DO ANYTHING.
(Well, at least that's what you said.)
So what's the point in doing anything? Nothing is going to make anything better. I could change completely, become a much better person. I know I could do that. I was already on my fucking way.
But no.
And so, I'm just trapped in my house, gradually disappearing.

And is it getting easy not to care?


(You know what, feel free to comment and tell me what to do, if you feel the need. I know I'm being an idiot right now. I may rant a lot but I'm not totally stupid. Just a bit lost. Who knows, I may follow your advice.)