I spent spring break at my brother's apartment in PA to get away from here. I couldn't log into my blog, so I wrote this entry on paper. It's mostly just a lot of thoughts all on one page:
Sometimes I think none of this is real. I think I'm telling a story. . making all of this up in my head. If it weren't for the hoarding, maybe I'd go crazy. Maybe the hoarding and the bad memories are making me crazy, because they're real.
I think when I write, I'm protecting a part of myself. . and keeping it away from the rest of me. Keeping me from going crazy.
My psych teacher doesn't really think feelings are real cause we can control what we feel. I hate psychology. . all it is is knowing what human instinct is and manipulating it. It takes away the magic and the mystery.
A lotta times I don't like being smart. It means I always have all these thoughts whirling around in my head. It means I overthink everything, and I have the capacity to understand things more deeply. . and a lot of the things aren't so pretty. It also means I know how to survive, and how to plan, but how smart to you have to be to survive? Cavemen did it. . .
I guess the best thing about it is I have potential, and I could use it to get ahead later on.
Tony's still real tense, but he's getting better. I just hope he never gets like our parents.
I'm scared cause I know a lot of my fantasies of love won't come true, at least not in high school. And once I give my heart to someone. . truly give my heart to someone. . I don't know how I'll survive if we break up, and all my dreams come crashing down.
I don't know. . but for now I need to rest. I just want to feel what love is.
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