I'm so not in the mood to write, really, but eh. I should enlighten people.
The uni said they are not taking me back for the summer. They said I should attend a community college, get good grades, and try back again this fall.
Um. Bastards. The only post-high school educational facility in the county is the fuckers who just said they don't love me. Aw. Am I supposed to be broken up here?
...because I am. I am sorely tempted to write them a hormonal letter, saying that I would like to fulfill their requirements, and can they please let me know what local college there is besides them? Their letter (so obviously a form letter) seemed to imply that such a school existed.
Sin thinks I should commute daily to some putzy little community college in the city, forty minutes away. He thinks this is a splendid plan. I think that I freak out just trying to get my car gassed up and that driving that far and back on a daily basis is an excellent way to make Ree's brain implode the likes of which are irrecoverable. (Is that even a word? It's 5 A.M. I don't care if it's a word.)
I am in full princess mode. How dare they deny me! Don't they know how wonderful I am? I should go to some other school, that'd show these losers! Sigh. I really am that conceited, unfortunately. And apparently when I type on a subject that irritates me, my entire wall shakes. Eek. That's what I get for having such a shabby desk.
Why. Why did they deny me. I wrote them a letter and I said I'd do better and that I was being more responsible. I wanted to join people I knew at the uni -- and the uni said go elsewhere.
Go elsewhere? I've never gone anywhere. I still live just across the county line from where I was born. I can't leave. This place, this land, it IS me.
Can't. Sin is getting peeved indeed with me and my "can't"s. He says I have an excuse for everything. Maybe I do. I can't find the enthusiasm to care anymore. More excuses.
Hell. What the FUCK am I supposed to do? I can't get a job; McFuckingDonald's said I didn't do well enough on their fucking questionnaire. I was planning to get student employment. Scratch that.
Maybe I should just move back in with my mom and try to get some hours at the local Christian bookstore. Pretend I don't know anything about the queer community, that I've never fooled around some with a boy, that I would never dare to question my faith or my God.
I am really, really tempted to spend the summer writing a treatise of some sort, or a collection of short stories drawn from my unique brand of humour, and dedicating the little sucker, "To [university], you told me to leave your hallowed halls prematurely, and I have discovered your wisdom in ejecting the student to whom you had nothing to teach" or something equally pompous and arrogant. But will I do it? Of course not. That requires effort.
Although I'm pretty sure that the idea would horrify anyone to whom I suggested it, I've considered buying a truckload of those over-the-counter energy pills and using them to artifically simulate enthusiasm. I somehow don't think it would work.
Hell. I broke down in tears and total depression twice today over nothing at all. I probably belong in the mental institution, getting analyzed.
I've discovered something. I need to argue with Sin. He's my surrogate father. I need him to tell me how worthless I am. The problem is that daddy would hit me when I was being really bad, and Sin would never lay a hand on me, so I have to do the punishment myself. A slap wouldn't be hard enough. I've been a very bad girl. I need blood and swelling and scars.
None of this would have happened if my daddy could have stayed happy with my mom. I just wish so badly that this could all be a dream. I want to go to sleep, and wake up to be sixteen, and have to accompany daddy to the annual rodeo even though I have no clue what's going on there. I want to be sixteen, knowing nothing about the Internet, or roleplaying, or fancy computer games, or mindgames. I want to be sixteen and just starting to find my motivation in high school.
Do you know how much this hurts, knowing this is true? Knowing that I would give up every friend I've ever had just for the chance to submerge myself once again in the delusion that my daddy loves me and that someday he can be proud of me? Do you know how wretched that makes me feel, beseeching God to please make the past five years just go away forever and let me try to keep my daddy from hurting me on the inside?
...I gotta go, try to sleep. I gotta call my mom in the morning (morning, ha! It'll be at least 3 P.M. before I'm awake). I need to beg her to come over and take care of me because I am far too inept and broken inside to do anything at all worthwhile, including caring for myself.
Driving to the city daily. I don't know what Sin was thinking! That would take me on the interstate, I think, which is a GREAT big ACK!
The kicker is that if Jack hadn't stopped talking to me, I would be babbling to him, asking him if campus housing was livable and who the best profs were and which buildings lacked air conditioning for a sweltering New Mexico summer. But I must have done something wrong, because it's been months since I heard anything from him -- half a year, if not more. I'd been planning for over a year to try to take a summer semester in New Mexico once I felt I could handle it, since I knew just a few people there. Guess I don't really anymore. That kinda blows that plan. I would have liked to see the desert. Ah well.
Dear Jack. Wish you were here.