eep!

Tomorrow is move in day! Back to college I go, and now I'm a Sophomore! Yikes! (who knows, it might be fun...)

back from my self imposed involuntary vacation...

So yea, I oopsed. I thought it was a problem either with blogger or with my site's hosting company, but apparently the reason I couldn't publish was all my fault. But hey, at least I figured it out by myself, right? I had forgotten that my server was transfering to Europe, but I asked it to remain in the US so I got new numbers (which i didn't know about til i checked up on it). So... anyway, long story short, after awhile of practically pulling my hair out, I did some searching and discovered it was my blooper and I just had to change a few numbers and presto! Like magic, the blog posts and the comments work properly now. joy.

I move back to school on Sunday. First day of class isn't til Monday of course, but we move in Sunday. I vary from looking forward to it immensely, to not at all. It will be fun, I just wish we didn't have to do the school 'work' part of it. I think i'd like to just hang out in the suite all day with no work... *sigh* but 'tis life, and I shall survive. Hopefully.
Either way, its happening, nothing to do but look forward to it, eh?

my (dorm) room layout

The pink line at the top is the door. Hopefully you can understand the rest with the symbol stuff I added. The only thing i didn't put stuff explaining (the empty box) is the mini-fridge. Oh, and there's a window at about the middle of my bed. And yes, i know, some of the boxes are disproportionate. It's just for a general idea. :p

sometimes 4

P.W., I want you gone. Stop haunting me. Take my thoughts with you. I want to be me again.

sometimes 3

If I could, this is what I'd say:
You hurt me, you made me ashamed to be a woman, scared to be myself, you put me in danger, and you destroyed my trust of not just you but men in general. That's way more than 3 strikes, and I never want to see you again. I never want to talk to you. I want you gone from my life. From my thoughts. I want this pain that you've caused to be gone. I want you to go away.

That's what I'd say if I were stronger. But I'm not, so I probably will end up not saying anything at all and pretending that I'm fine.

sometimes 2

I cut myself today. While shaving. And it wasn't on purpose but... for a minute, it felt good. It felt good because the pain distracted me from my earlier thoughts. I'd been thinking about what happened. Wondering if I was really just over reacting to a drunk. He was drunk. I knew he was drunk. I knew he was drunk before he said it, during, and after. And I still let it hurt me. It hurt so much. Even though he was drunk. Does he think that way when he's sober?? Dad said if he ever says anything close to it sober and I get hurt from it he'll punch him. So if he says it he'll get in trouble. But does he think it?? It makes me wonder now. And I cry because I didn't used to have to wonder, I used to just trust that he wasn't thinking that way about me. A girl he's known since I was 5. A family friend. I TRUSTED him. And he let me down. And it hurts so much. And I hate myself for letting myself hurt. I should just bury it somewhere in the back of my mind like I did last time. But for some reason this one's different. This one is like a fresh wound every time I think about it. And I've been thinking about it constantly when I'm alone...

Like today in the shower. I have all of these thoughts spinning around and around in my head and I can't get a grip. And for one blessed moment I stopped thinking about it instantly. The physical pain distracted me from my emotional pain. And it didn't feel good to get cut, I'm not into physical pain. I'm really not. I'm a pain wimp and I would never inflict it intentionally. It just felt good to have something actually PULL me out of my thoughts before I started to wonder how good it would feel and if it were actually possible to drown myself in the bathtub...


I hate this. I hate how he made me think this way. I hate that I still talk about it. I hate that I still cry about it every night and usually once a day. And I hate that life is going to go on, I'll still see him and dad'll still work with him like nothing happened. Except it did. And I hate it.

Gilbert.