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name: Alicia
age: 24
screenname: cryztalina, since 8th grade and going strong
email: randomlifeinprogress@hotmail.com
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song: "Isala Iciibi" - John Chiti
quote: "Bufi!"
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Wednesday, September 28, 2005

[the zombie is me]

I try to be so nonchalant about all of the things I'm constantly grinding my teeth over, and I've realized time and again that it's the worst possible thing for me to do. All it does, over and over, the same old lesson learned and unlearned and then learned again, this time with a hefty load of buyer's remorse. I'm telling you clearly right now - I'm a fuck-up. And not in the way that the phrase has come to mean, but more like a leader who doesn't learn from the history of the place he's presiding over. The foolish person you see touching the stove, over and again, and never realizing that they don't have to submit to the pain of the burn.

It's not really anything in particular, another favorite of mine, of course. It's like going to the same website over and over and missing the point, missing it again and again that it's not my fault, that's its not my problem and that it's just the way life goes - that it was good for me. It's about reading something and yearning so blindly for that kind of love that my heart is wrenching free of its place, packing up and moving on to greener pastures. About not calling back. About eyeing the receiver, receiving nothing at all but static silence for years and years.

But even more than this, it's getting fucking pissed. I feel so headstrong sometimes that I cannot even contain it. I have mounds of regret weighting my head and shoulders when I lay down at night, like shackles binding me to never grow or change - stunting me indefinitely. Oh, it's my own stupid lot that I do this and that, and then think so nihilistically about it. But, seriously, I think I should fucking get over it and give myself a fucking break now and then. Because I'm mad, like raring and roaring, chomping at the bit for a fight sometimes, making faces in the mirror for people that I'll never have the courage to deliver, face to face like a big girl. I am so pissed and I've got nowhere to put it, no one to lay it on but me, and I still haven't fucking learned how to deal with it myself. It's part of me, and I feel like such an idiot. Am I doomed to be this way for the entirety of my headstrong youth? Honestly? Because I'm exhausted, sincerely, bloody tired.

I can't even keep up with my own anger as it rises in my throat and threatens to ruin some random sunny day. It's rare enough that it's not an adjective that people give me in surveys, but it's often enough that I fly off the handle at the most inopportune and inappropriate times - stressed and out of control. And since there's no one that I feel like I haven't burned the bridges to, I turn to a bottle or a can of some forgetful drink, making me feel both good and bad, strong and weak. Worse, sometimes I'm right, I just don't handle things well, and I'm so sick of everyone's own shit by now that I want to give up, but they will always appear right because I've cried wolf too many times. But then, after the drink, this all fades and I can feel happy for some mundane, simple pleasures and in the end, finally, I can sleep. And when I wake up in the morning I feel so alone.

Here's where it's at, in those rare happy moments when I just don't give a damn:

And they ask me
Why do you drink?
To get drunk
Why do you roll smoke?
To get stoned
Why do you live out the words that you wrote?
...over and over...
Stop and think it over
Put yourself in my unique position
If I get drunk and sing all night long
It's a family tradition

[Oh, I have loved Jim Beam]

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