So yesterday was my eighteenth birthday.
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I don't feel very different: worse than usual, in fact.
I have exams all this week, and I'm not going to study for them. But hey, I did get an acadmic scholarship from University of Iowa's writing program! For $10,600 I can go to the University.....but I won't. I'm waiting to hear from some bigger colleges.
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I'm not in a very poetic mood. Not literary, at all.
But as an overview: while Kaleb was mad at me I slept with Chris, and now he's not mad at me anymore. If that makes any sense.
Which it doesn't.
He knows that I'm not feeling like myself, so I think he's been watching me more closely.
I don't mind very much.
I'm on medication to make me sleep at night.
But I don't take it, sneak out, and go to the Soapbox to watch the hopheads do their laundry.
Christopher thinks we're going to get married one day.
Kaleb thinks I'm not seeing Chris anymore.
Jennifer has started leaving me alone.
But Mallory hasn't.
I went to the doctor, and they took my blood.
But I fainted after they stuck the third vial in me.
I hadn't eaten in two days, and when I told the nurse I couldn't fill the third vial with blood she didn't believe me.
So I fainted.
And she believed me.
I went to a pshycic the other day as a Christmas present (don't ask).
She told me I could do anything I wanted.
That I was afraid of being betrayed.
She named some of my friends-and who loves me and who doesn't.
She told me I'll be famous one day.
She told me I'll get into the colllege I want, that I should pursue my good singing voice, that I'd marry a person I've been in love with since the beginning.
She said there was a man in my life named Kaleb.
I said, "No there's not" to see if it would throw her off.
She laughed in my face.
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I really want to write a book.
But I've started taking those sleeping pills during the day time.
So it's hard to function.
I love you all.
birthday
