mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- it's better this way Listening to "Climbing the Walls," a song recommended to me long ago by one Foti. Good song. Very appropriate, too, as I'm feeling a little bit edgy, hyper, manic. I'm climbing the walls. I feel--for the first time in, what, six months?-- lonely. Deserted. I forgot what this felt like. I've tried to distract myself all night, steam-cleaned my rug, bottle-fed the puppies, studied, wrote a few more paragraphs for English class, took a long bath, flipped through my library books... The feeling is still here, though, annoyed at everybody and myself and anxious, lonesome. I make a lot out of small things. Mountains out of molehills. Like, Jeromy has been dead-tired the past two nights--He wakes up at 5am to go to school, and after he gets home at 130pm, he gets ready for work. He usually gets to bed at about 1230am, wakes up at 5am, and so on. Lather, rinse, repeat. He called earlier and told me that he wouldn't be coming over tonight because he had a lot of things to do at home, and then that sinking feeling began. This must be how it starts, right? Soon, we won't have any time for each other. I'll get clingy and depressed, he'll get angry and frustrated... And then, it'll all be over. Hmmph. Funny how life always fucks you out of the good stuff. Everything is such a struggle--I must work in order to have money for survival. I'm going to school so I can find a better job and make more money... Teaching, that's what I want to do. I'll be bringing in, what, 30,000 a year? That sounds like a lot right now, but when I buy a car, move out again, I'll be right back where I am now. Not enough money. Jeromy's going to school for the same reason, to be able to make more money. Turns out that life isn't really about love and happiness and big ups and big downs, it's about trying to make enough money to pay the power bill and still have food to eat. Fuck it. I'm bitter right now. Yeah. I miss Matt. He's never home when I call, and even if I leave messages, he doesn't respond. Busy with the baby, I guess, and I can understand that. I just wish I had something to take his place, because it still hurts when he isn't here. 10:01 p.m. - 2003-11-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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