So, this morning I woke up and decided that it was high time I broke things off with that guy. He clearly doesn't like me the way I like him, and I'm only in for a world of hurt. Plus I need to focus on my writing and not on some guy who doesn't even really care about me. I woke up at quarter to six this morning and I was already thinking of how I was going to word the email. When I woke up I was still so tired, I lite a cigarette and I fall asleep while smoking it and drop it on the carpet and leave yet another fucking cigarette burn. I can't wait to not be allowed to smoke in our new apartment. 5 more days and we are out of here. So when I finished the cigarette I went back in my room and fell back asleep for another hour until my alarm went off.
When I got up the second time, my dad and mom were awake watching Imus in the morning as usual. My dad asked, what time should we leave at. I wasn't aware that he was going with me to the clinic this morning. I ask him why? He says, " I have an appointment at the Veterans Doctors office at 9:30am. Are you still able to go straight to the window and dose or do you have to take a number and wait?" I say, "I have to take a number and wait again". He says, "We should leave at 8am then". I go and wash my face, brush my teeth, change my clothes, and underwear, brush my hair. I've been parting it so its side swept lately. It covers my face more so people don't have to be disgusted by my face so much. Its covered by my hair.
I let Eleanor outside to go pee pee and poop, and then I give her, her treat after she does her tricks, then I give her breakfast. After that I grab my nook so I have something to read while my dad is at his appointment, then we leave for the clinic. I'm reading a biography of Elliott Smith. I can't believe that Elliott Smith is not more popular. When I play his music for people, the people that don't like him say his music is too depressing. Sure his music is Melancholy, but he makes sadness romantic. I guess some people just don't have that scar. He writes about everyday life and the ups and downs of it. Most singer songwriters when they write a sad song the song is focused on an outer source of sadness, but Elliott wrote about internal source of sadness. Which makes it more relateable. I think if Kurt Cobain were alive and could have herd Elliott Smith, Kurt would have loved Elliott Smith's music. Kurt and Elliott had two totally different writing styles and cannot be compared. I can say I can listen to all of Elliott's albums in one sitting without a break. I can listen to Nirvana in one sitting, but I do need a break. Plus I hate Dave Grohl. He's funny, but his band Foo Fighters SUCKS ASS!!!!! If he did write Marigold then its only good song he ever wrote, and its only good when Kurt sings and plays it. Eliott was only thirty four when he died, the same age as that guy I'm sleeping with. So young, Kurt was twenty seven the same age as me, so so young.
I get to the clinic, and the nurses had to dose us by hand, so I didn't have to go down by 5mgs today. Last week Thursday the nurse forgot take me down, so they took me down on Friday. So I was going down on Fridays. Now I'm going down on Saturdays. I'm not really happy about it, because I just want to get it done and over with. I was thinking of missing three days, and then coming back. That way my dose would be cut in half. Fuck I don't even know what dose I'm at. I think I'm around 50 or forty five. After I'm at 30mgs for three days straight I can call my Phsyc Doctor and he will put me on Suboxone, but I'm going to go down to at least 15 if not 5 or less before I get on Suboxone so what happened last time doesn't happen again.
After I dose, Dad drives to his appointment, I sit in the car and email that guy. No, I don't break it off with him. I just tell him news about my book. News I don't want to jinks, so I'm not going to write about until its official.
In my comments Tayanna(and Dorian too) ask me why I think I'm so ugly. She suggest I blog about it. Since I'm in the mood to blog, I will blog about it. I wasn't an ugly little kid. I was a cute baby, and toddler. Up until fourth grade I was pretty. Then fourth grade my face bones started to grow, and it was not a pretty thing. My two best Friends didn't have this problem. They were still beautiful even though they were changing from little kids into older kids. I started to change earlier. I remember in fourth grade I leaned over the art table and Andrea Konitzter told me I should start wearing a bra. I just had little mosquito bites for boobs, but it was more than all the other third grade girls had. For some reason my growth hormones kicked in early. It was like Papa killed himself and I got boobs in the same year. I've always had this curly light brown hair. I hated going to the beauty parlor, but my mom loved to experiment on me. So she would take me in and die my hair. She always wanted me to be blond, but it always turned out orange. She would try short hair cuts out on me, but my hair is super thick, and curly and they made my hair look like I had a mushroom on top of my head. Before the hair cuts I had long hair, all the way down to my but, and I hated brushing it because my mom never introduced me to conditioner. So it was always a rats nest. Then one summer we were staying with my aunt in Medford Wisconsin, and she introduced me to conditioner and together we got all the snarls out of my hair. At this point it was super curly, now its only loose curls. It was down to my butt. My aunt didn't think that I could take care of my hair, she didn't understand that this was my first time ever combing my hair with conditioner. So she brought me to the beauty parlour and she cut my hair off all the way up to my chin. I cried and and cried. Turns out it was much easier to take care of. I didn't need conditioner, even though after I got back from my aunts I made my mom buy me conditioner. That was the summer from third grade into fourth grade. Kaycee and Jenny were my best, best friends. They were both the most popular, and prettiest girls in school. All the boys liked them, they were picked first for everything at recess yadi, yadi, yada. I on the other hand was the ugly one. I was only 10 years old and I was already getting hips and boobs. Even bigger this year, that I had to wear a bra. My face was ugly. I didn't have pimples yet thank god.
Even though both my best friends got picked first, I got picked last. I got picked on. Kaycee had to go to LD, for her learning disability, as did I. Kaycee never got made fun of for it, but I never herd the end of how stupid I was. Math was my worst subject, that and spelling. A Rub ix cube is like a forgien planet to me. I had a learning disability but my IQ is 110, Kaycee's was 101. I could do most of the puzzles faster than her in the IQ test even though that was where I scored my lowest on the IQ test. You know when you know your smarter than someone, and you want to prove it, but if you do you just look like idiot who is a narccassitic asshole. So I just let the kids beat me down and tell me I was stupid and ugly. Ugly I knew was true, but stupid was only half true. I could write a great creative story. Better than anyone in even the fifth and sixth grade. It may not have been well written, but the ideas where well above my grade level. I always got A+'s on my creative writing assignments. In reading class I always got A+'s on my report card. Phonics I got B's, Science I got B's. Before I got into LD for Math I got F's in Math on every report card. I just couldn't get a grasp on it. When I got into LD, the teacher taught me math in a way no body had ever taught it to me before, and I started to get B's in math. Spelling I always did poorly in unless I studied really hard. I usually averaged a C- in Spelling. Social Studies I always got A-'s. Vocab I always got A's in. If we ever had to partner up, and if Kaycee and Jenny partnered up and I was left alone nobody would pick me. We went to a small Catholic school. The only reason I stayed is because of Kaycee and Jenny. Finally 5th grade rolled around, and Mrs. Desart was going to the teacher for 5th and 6th grade, and she hated me. So I chose to go the public middle school. Kaycee and Jenny stayed at St. Anthony's, I even had to play basketball against them. I got to see Kaycee in LD classes though because ST. Anthony's bussed over the LD kids to Washington public school.
I've never made friends fast. In fifth grade I was a loner. I didn't have any close friends. Nobody even noticed me. I didn't get picked on because I didn't get noticed. I was just apart of the background. I liked it that way. My little sister who was a year behind me and had recess with me would call me over to play with her and her friends. So I didn't have to alone. At home she would ask me why I didn't try to make friends. I said, because its hard, and because I don't really like anyone at Washington. I did have a crush on a boy named Andy, and a girl named Rebbecca found out, and she told him, then she came back and told me, " he said he doesn't like you, he thinks your really ugly". Yet again affirming what I already knew. Fifth grade came, along with my first period, and zits a week before my period.
Everyday after school, or in LD class I would tell Kaycee how left out I felt. She always felt bad about how the kids treated me. She would tell me I'm not ugly. I figured she would tell me that because she was my best friend. During fifth grade I didn't see Jenny a whole lot except for sleep overs, so Kaycee and I became closer. Fifth grade ended, and then middle school started. Kaycee begged her parents to allow her to come to Washington public school, instead of Catholic school and they said yes. Even though Kaycee was the youngest and both of their other children had graduated from St. Anthony's. Kaycee's parent's and my Parent's knew how close me and Kaycee were. Jenny also came to Washington, but that was the year Jenny stopped being our friend. Sixth grade the Abrams kids came to Washington for middle school too. So it was like having a whole new class. I was so excited to have Kaycee at school with me. Plus that year we would be switching classes each hour when the bell rang, instead of staying in the same class room all day. Over that summer a lot of girls got boobs. I wasn't the only one who wore a bra now. Kaycee was happy for me. My boobs aren't even that big, I just got them early. Kaycee was even a little jealous of me and my boobs and period. Girls want to have boobs and their period when they don't have it yet, but once they get it, they wish they hadn't got it. Except the boobs. I like having boobs. I would like bigger boobs. I wouldn't mind a boob job actually. Because I'm fat, my boobs are bigger than they actually are. I have a c cup when I'm skinny, right now I have a D cup, double D Victoria secret size. They always have smaller sizes.
Sixth grade I got my first boyfriend. Marc Amenson. He told me he thought I was ugly, but he thought that meant I would be easy so that's why he decided to go out with me. He was right. I never thought a boy would like me, so I wanted to make out with a boy, and Marc made out with me. We just never really talked about how I looked. I never asked him if he thought I was pretty. This is the time my mom was dying my hair orange, and cutting my hair in mushroom hair cuts. I had zits all over my forehead. My face should have grown into the bones, and still I was ugly. My nose is pointy, my eyes are too close together, my face is short and super round, my chin isn't very defined and if I gain even the littlest amount of weight I get a double chin, I have very small lips, my forehead is super small, my cheekbones are all wrong, My eyebrows are uneven, one eye is smaller than the other, and one eye is higher than the other. My nose has a thing that hangs off the underneath of it. When i smile its crocked, my teeth are not perfect, they are getting very yellow, and now rotting out of my head. The only good thing about my is my hair, and eventually I'll lose that. One side of my hair is thicker than the other.
I think I'm ugly because I have a mirror, and what I see is ugly. What I've been told since I've been pre pubescent is that I'm ugly. Of course my parents tell me I'm the most beautiful girl in the world. Boyfriends have told me that I'm pretty. I've even felt pretty for a few weeks until someone knocks me back down to reality and tells me that I'm ugly. When people tell me that I'm pretty I get really uncomfortable, because I feel like they are lying to make me feel better, and I don't want to listen to them lie. So when people comment and tell me that I'm pretty it makes me cringe. I'd rather you guys not comment on my looks. My being fat, I know I'm fat and need to loose weight. I know I'm ugly, and when you tell me I'm pretty your trying to make me feel better about myself. So I'd just rather not hear anything about it. I know you mean well to those of you trying to be nice. Those of you asshole who don't think I have a mirror and feel the need to remind me that I'm fat and ugly, fuck you.