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he takes off her dress now. i just can't look--it's killing me.
2006-02-04 @ 12:22 a.m.
I know it shouldn't matter, and I would like to smile and be happy for Simon; however, when I got home I found this "ew-ah" CD from Simon's girlfriend or it's to her from him. If it's from him to her, he's head over heals in love with her. Fine. When he proposed to ME, where was the fucking homemade CD? I got flowers 3 times in 5 years from him, and this CD is just adding to "the list" piling high shit list. I wish I could break the CD into small pieces (like a lightbulb), and eat the CD. When they ask for cause of death someone at the hospital might whisper, "She died choking from Simon's love," and then start laughing. It's a malody, tragic, melody soaring through my atmosphere.
Fuck you Simon. FUCK YOUR MONEY. Fuck your parents' money. Fuck your fucking fake persona. I want to send in all the "evidence" to his parents that he truly was a goddamned asshole. I have photos, video footage of him calling me a fucking bitch, and lots of emails and letters. Letters from the girl he was fucking around with when we were together. Fucking around with my officemate. Thank you Simon for ruining my school years and for not appreciating the fact that you have SO FUCKING MUCH because I worked for NOTHING. I ironed your clothes, I hobnobed with your boss and his wife, and I painted and cared for your house(s). When will I stop? I am so close to ending my life again. People say that it's nobody's fault. They haven't a fucking clue what they are talking about.
I'm still listening to this CD. HE WAS FUCKING CHEATING ON ME THE LAST PART OF OUR RELATIONSHIP. He thinks I don't have a clue. I could ruin his life, as he tried to do to mine. I could. Why I won't? I DON'T KNOW. I'd rather hurt myself than do that. I care so little for myself.
Crying isn't helping.
My cat napping in my lap is barely making a dent.
I think when I do finally overdose, I will play this CD as I fall to sleep. Pain all the way to the end.
I'm so disturbed. Everything is turning over in my head, and I'm spewing nonsense. I learned to crochet today. I cannot put into words how I feel, so I'll try to use a metaphor. The crocheting thing seemed to come out of nowhere, but this is how it fits in this journal. Using a big, colorful croched blanket as a metaphor for my whole life. I feel like the first two rows were not stiched well, and then my mom kept trying to raise me up. Then, the nice, colorful yarn ran out. All that was found was a ball of ragged, itchy wool to try to finish me out. Well, it was fine for a while, and then the black ran out; and then whatever yard was found was used. The blanket is decayed, deformed, and ugly. Then the blanket was put into the wash on hot and the blanket shrank. That's me. Now, there are people trying to restich me together to my former self, which was bad in the first place.
The blanket shouldn't exist. It's a dry-cleaning nightmare now.
Now, thinking about it all over, I know that I'm depressed and need help. I'm checking myself into a hospital if I don't feel better by Wednesday. I'm going to carefully ingest the correct amount of pills that they prescribed.
The CD is almost over. The depressing thing....it's a good CD. I'd have been impressed if someone would have made me a CD or tape that good. It's eclectic, thoughtful, and fun. Tomorrow I'll study, keep myself busy, and work on school projects. Then I won't be completely wrecked by the time Monday comes around. I'll teach better and turn in good assignments. I'm learning. Today I did learn to crochet. That was something. I am working on two paintings. That is something. Okay, I've stopped crying, and Simon's CD is over. The last song was by Sublime, and the song was "Caress me down." I think I'm going to be sick.
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