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Time:11:57 pm
Current Mood:calmcalm
I've had a journal for over a year, and used it far less than I should. And far more in some instances. I apologize, for both.

Last year, the day after Valentine's Day, I posted this:

Anyway, I didn't post on Valentine's Day because that rant about it being a Hallmark, consumerist holiday, and something you should express to the people you love all the time? Is true. Not to mention that it's something that you should only express to someone you really love, not someone you've been, like, sleeping with for two days/two weeks/a month and are obsessed with.
.

This year, the day after Valentine's Day, I got onsale candy and dumped it in front of someone I really love, so I guess this is a pattern of February 15ths. You should really take advantage of February 15th if you're a college student with bills to pay. Stop being easily led and realize that you can get POUNDS OF SUGAR the next day.

I can't believe I've had this thing for a year.
So much has changed since the beginning of last February.
I guess that's my theme, really.

On another note, or maybe the same one: I've got a new tattoo.
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Time:04:40 am
Current Mood:awakeawake
I have new icons.
This one is my favorite.
We fucking kicked ass last Saturday.
I've decided I hate sleeping pills that provide you with REM sleep.

That's all.
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Subject:[private]
Time:05:27 am
Current Mood:cynicalcynical
Fucking nightmares.

I've been having bad dreams for what seems like forever.

Sometimes it's just stupid stuff. Where I've been looking for something important and couldn't find it, a few where Jonas was mad at me (or was that the truth?); one where I went home and my parents didn't know me, locked me out and were frightened/mad at me (my father inexplicably had a gun, and my mother was hiding while Janie screamed at me -- seems really funny now); one where all my friends left me somewhere and I got shot; and a few that just referenced Carelli and drugs.

but I hadn't been having full on flashbacks until now.
Dead up what happened, emotionally the rush of excitement and that feeling of "yeah, fuck you" when I got the letter.

Fuck me.

I wake up feeling exhausted. And so worthless that even seeing someone who might care about me (haha, not the way i've been treating him lately) makes me want to scream. What the hell right do I have? I've got a loving family. loving friends. it's not like you fucking got RAPED, Andersen, and you know people who did.

You don't have the right to act like this.

The funny part is, i'm so afraid of losing everyone
that I'm losing them anyway.
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Time:03:35 am
Current Mood:infuriatedfucked up.
I've sort of been hiding in the last week.
I mean, the excuses I've been giving have been valid -- I have a philosophy exam to study for, and one more 10 page paper left to do, and they're both kicking my ass,

but when you're only showing up to band practice and social engagements and work and, well, life...
(mostly life) in absolute minimum amounts, people start to realize it's bullshit.

To all those who realize it's bullshit, I'm sorry.
I don't know if I'm ready to completely drop the bullshit yet. But I am sorry.
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Subject:[private]
Time:10:18 am
Current Mood:shockedshocked
Shit.

So when I came home, there was a letter, dated December 1st, from the Connecticut Department of Correction.

It's been so long, you know? It's been so long that I didn't even think about it at first. I actually thought, "Ha ha. They've finally caught me!" along with "what the hell??" and "do departments of correction need money?"

And then I realized what, or rather who, this had to be about. And I thought, "....there's no fucking way there's actually a letter inside here. Not after 12 years. Certainly not after 15 years, which is how he probably sees it."

The man who donated his sperm to my birth (although he probably didn't think about it, or even consider the reprecussions, and probably wouldn't have given a shit what happened to my mother if it hadn't been forced onto him) made it quite clear when I was in sixth grade that no matter what I felt about him, he didn't want any contact with me and didn't want to know that I, you know, was alive, and having some issues in school, and had a crush on so and so, and made first chair in the percussion section.

Not that I'm bitter....I've just been saying he's dead for the last 12 years, and I think that's fair. Because I have a father who loves me, and does care about those things.

So I open this thing, in sort of a state of shock.

Family Notification.
The bastard gets out December 31. End of term. Not a parole, so it's not like I can protest or anything, though I don't know that I'd care if he was a good little prisoner. Just end of sentence.

I didn't even realize I'd been signed UP for family notification...I guess it's just something CFC does.

Fuck.

I don't even know how to react, knowing he'll be wandering around.

Do I care?
Do I care that he won't care about me?
What if he DOES care?
Fuck.
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Current Music:talking, and probably fall out boy soon.
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Time:02:59 pm
Current Mood:cheerfulcheerful
What's new in the world of Paul:

We're all in Simsbury for Thanksgiving (Simsbury being, um, where my family lives, and "we're all" meaning Jonas, myself, my family, and Monday's car), which is interesting. This'll probably be short so I don't bore the CRAP out of Jonas. Right now he's talking to my sister, who apparently has decided she likes him better than me.

I sort of "came out" to my parents, out of necessity, because they were like, "We can set up the guest room. Erm. Or. Um. Paul, wtfexplainrelationship." So I was like, "Um, yeah, we're together, in that boyfriendly sense, and this is awkward because I don't define us to anyone, and sharing a bed would be nice thanks."

And they were like, "Well, you can have your room, if you don't mind the full." They don't give a shit. Mom thinks Jonas is a god. The God of Persuading Paul To Do Things. I think she might have guessed about us, anyway. And I'm pretty sure Janie told them I liked guys a while ago. The hor.

Oh, Jane's amusing me, by the way. I got home and was like, "Okay, hi, let me see your tongue ring stud thing. Yeah, that's gross. Still a lesbian?" And she's like, "It's not gross, and I am not a lesbian. I think I just like HER." And I told her that only liking one person was definitely not allowed, because Mom will think I'm giving her weird subliminal messages over the phone. And then she said that whatever she is, she's not a lesbian, she hates that word. *snerk* Much love.

My dad's sort of wandering back and forth from the game to the dining room. I think he was secretly hoping Jonas would be a football fan so he'd have someone to watch with him. It's not a big tradition for us anyway. I mean, Thanksgiving with us is like, "talk, talk, talk, watch TV a little, all of a sudden have food EVERYWHERE!"

Really. Mom will wander in and out of the kitchen vaguely, and you won't be aware she's doing anything, and then all of a sudden you have some sort of poultry, and potatoes, and stuffing, and that canned cranberry stuff. Maybe she runs off to Boston Market while we're not looking. I don't know.

Oh, and I cut my hair a couple days ago. It freaked everyone OUT. Bwahaha. Jonas was like, "OMGWTFHAIR?? WHERE DID IT GO?? SOMEONE STOLE YOUR HAIR!" Mom keeps ruffling it, like I'm six. It's weird.

My sister listens to POP EMO STUFF. It's WEIRD. She's obsessed with that Sugar, We're Incredibly Gay song, the one that took over Fuse with the dude with the antlers. Or at least she loves the band. I told her if she can find three Fall Out Boy songs where they're screaming or at least not whining, she can listen to the CD.

Jonas is looking at me like, "Dude, I thought you said you'd be right off." Yeah, I did. I wasn't. I'm sorry.
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Current Music:No Cover
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Subject:[private]
Time:09:15 pm
Current Mood:calmcalm
I feel like I should say something.

Not about Thanksgiving. Though I should, if he doesn't read into strikeouts fast enough. Not like my parents wouldn't be over the fucking moon that I had someone home with me.

About "boyfriend".

But somehow, I don't actually need to say something. I feel like it's just THERE. Comfortable.

Maybe a few months ago, it would have scared me. Or I would have been scared that he would be frightened off. Or something. Maybe then, I thought that "boyfriend" means something societal, that "boyfriend" implies that you do certain things, that you HAVE to, that other people will judge you. And I thought, we could be in love and be friends. That you can do that and it might be better.

But then again, wasn't I the one that said "It's amazing how people adjust to new situations"? And aren't I the one that says "fuck society" about everything anyway? You are who you are. It doesn't matter what other people think "boyfriend" should mean. You designate that.

And honestly, if I ever had another roommate, I wouldn't want that word to keep having the associations it does now, so this sort of works for me. It's just something that happens. It's something that's true.

As long as he's okay with it...I'm okay.
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Current Music:No Cover's EP, which is totally recorded in Ian's basement.
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Time:08:52 pm
Current Mood:cheerfuldrama free
So, yesterday I dragged The Invalid (which is what Jonas shall henceforth be called, because it amuses me) out of bed and to the No Cover concert, because I was sort of obligated as a amicable ex-member to go.

Not bad, guys. Not bad at all.

No, really, they kicked some Saturday night ass. It's nice to see them getting bigger venues on actual weekends. And their lyrics are a little less whiny since I left. Hmm. Wonder why that is.

I also met Monday's brother. He's pretty cool. He didn't seem to like talking much, but he was a little scary in the mosh pit.

So that was cool. It was good to get out of the house. Call it celebratory. It's nice to finally be done with most of my shit for school (minus a 10 page paper, but let's not talk about that), and it's nice to be sleeping, and it's nice to know what the crap is going on with Jonas The Invalid.

So now, Thanksgiving. Which is coming up. It's sort of a bizarre event at my house, but I suppose I'll be expected to be there, and I suppose I won't mind, having not seen Jane for like, 8234021 months. (...parents? I don't miss my parents. I'm a rebellious 20something.)

But yeah. Aside from how I'm getting home and who's coming with me, I'm sort of drama free right now. I think. For right now, I'm drama free. And I like that.
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Subject:[private]
Time:06:15 am
Current Mood:discontentdiscontent
Stars going out.

I forsake pills for vigil,
give up dreams
for the way you breathe.

Wishing red cells could trade places.

Wonder how a word that could be
the next model on alt.goth
can turn a boy made of edges
into something suddenly
soft and faded.
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Current Music:Pixies
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Time:02:28 pm
Current Mood:confusedconfused
So, I'm going to update about the very eventful party and less eventful scaring the crap out of trick or treaters, later when I have more time.

But I thought I'd let everyone know that yes, Jonas (and my mom, and everyone else who heard that I wasn't sleeping more than 5 hours a night, including one of my professors) suggested (as in, with threats on my life) that I go see a doctor about this insomnia thing.

So my doctor referred me to a "sleep therapist", who I just got done seeing. I filled out a sleep log for him to the best of my memory, and he told me he'd have me do that for the next month. For now, I've got a prescription for Sonata, which is apparently the least REM-disturbing, most flexible one that helps you fall asleep, as opposed to helping you fall BACK asleep.

So yes. Have drugs now. Not sure how I feel about that. At least I won't be a zombie anymore.
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