You Know...

I hadn't really considered suicide again since first I'd tried it. Last night was different. For the first time since last February, I desperately wanted out. I was honestly sick and tired of, well, everything. I thought I had friends here. I thought some of them cared about me.

I feel like that may not necessarily be fact.

Before I continue, I feel I should state that this may be my last post for a little while. I'll explain why momentarily, I just feel I should give just notice.

Last night was one of the floor parties. We were all having a good, time, started out with some beer pong, and me and my partner were actually doing well! But yeah, everyone got fairly intoxicated during beer pong, and then we decided to go to the other girl's room for a dance party. Just loud music and everyone dancing. Fun times. I don't remember all the details, but I know that at some point later in the night, I was in the guys hallway for a bit, talking with a group of people, and decided to go check on him because he had disappeared for a while and I wanted to see if he was alright. My fucking mistake. He was practically passed out on his bed and started telling me not to seduce him. He told me how his roommate had been keeping up with my blog and telling him all the shit I write on here. I was pissed. I was this close to slapping him right then and there, as he lay on his bed, but I just walked out. Fucker. I headed out looking for his roommate, V, and finally found him getting high with Asthma and some other folks. I outright snapped at him. "You've been reading my blog? You've been showing him what I write?!"

"Yeah, we're roommates, duh."

(By the way, to anyone who's reading this and was there, I apologize if I'm misquoting, I'm trying to get all the important details in without writing everything out word for word.)

(I don't like that I've been reduced to using disclaimers in my writings in order to prevent other people from getting mad at me. Wtf.)

Uhm, were was I? Oh, right, V.

Yeah, I was mad at him, but he said we'd talk about it later, so I got high.

After that, I think I went and cried to the Ottawaian asian for a good little while (I cried ALOT last night) and we figured we should go get foods. Guess who was there when we got there?

Everybody. Him included. Ugh. I did not want to deal with him. I didn't even want to look at him. I asked if we could leave soon after we'd gotten our foods, and luckily, one of the guys was on his way over to another party. I asked him to take me with him. It was good, a bunch of drunk people making no coherent sense, one chick pretending to be british because she met some brit at the party, one guy who kept taking off his shirt to read what was written on it, one chick crying in the corner for no known reason, and a bunch of other randoms. We didn't stay there long, and when we got back the Ottowaian asian had me talk to V. I didn't have anything to say to him. I was tired. I was tired of dealing with people, I was tired of dealing with the drama of my life, I was tired of everything. So I kinda just sat there and smiled. He didn't look like he really wanted to talk either, so I told him he could leave if he wanted. I think he felt I'd take it the wrong way if he left. So he stayed for a bit and tried to comfort me by telling me I'd find the right person. That I'd find someone who liked me for me. For some reason, I think this made me feel worse about my situation than I did before the talk, but I just kept sitting there, smiling. Or, at least, I think it was a smile. I was trying to smile. It may just have been because this guy, this guy I considered a friend, was trying to make me feel better by quoting my blog to me. By quoting my diary to me.

Alot of people have been giving me shit about keeping an online diary. Maybe if everyone who's not supposed to read it would just stop, this wouldn't be a fucking problem. For those of you who don't know, I was forced to turn my diary to the internet, because my parents kept finding mine when I kept it in a book, and I'd get beat up, alot, when they read shit they didn't like. (Price, you once asked why I flinched each time you went to pretend slap me. That's why.) So excuse me. I'm sorry if this too, is no longer an available option to me. I just want something that's my own. I don't care if you read this because it fascinates you. If my life is just something you're interested in. But when it turns from interest to "let's use this shit against her", that's a whole other fucking story.

I guess this is goodbye for a little while. Unless I can figure out how to change the address. Or how to assassinate a couple pests.