I am nothing more than a little girl inside

I’m feeling kind of lousy and confused. I didn’t go to La Salle today because Tracy couldn’t make it and Alys couldn’t make it. Michelle kept promising all week that she’d go with me today–we even SMSed about our meeting time the night before. The agreement was that we’d meet each other in front of our school at 8:45, and when I arrived at school on time she still wasn’t there. Since she’s always late I waited ten minutes before calling her up at home. To my surprise, she was still asleep! Thinking that she just overslept, I told whoever answered the phone to please wake her up because we were going out today. It turned out that it was her mom who answered the phone, and according to her Michelle never said anything about going out this morning. Ugh! It’s so like Michelle to promise me something and then break it at the very last minute. I am never asking her for any favors again.

I ended up going home. I know that I could’ve gone by myself and make friends with everyone else. But I’m not the kind of person who feels comfortable in a roomful of strangers; I have to be really good friends with at least one person there. I know some of the guys, but hanging out with them would look kind of weird. If Tracy doesn’t go to La Salle next week, I’m quitting Cue. Okay fine, I’ll say it. I’m a wimp. When I’m there it’s like I’m walking on a tightrope or something. One wrong move might cause the gay choreographer to shout at me, and I’m not sure I could deal with that with some dignity.

I don’t understand myself, really. Sometimes, I think up of something like theater and I’ll go like, “Hey, that sounds like fun.” But when I’m there after awhile, I realize that it’s not my thing and that I’m not having a good time. Aside from writing (and I’m even beginning to have doubts if I’m any good) I don’t think there’s anything else I really like. I play the guitar, but I don’t know if I’m good enough to be in a band. I suck at writing songs. I get scared to death if I have to sing alone in front of an audience. And I think my novel’s crap.

It’s such an awful feeling, to think that you know yourself when you actually don’t.

Save your breath, your soul is hollow

I am at a standstill right now. I had written about five pages of my novel this week, and since I had some spare time tonight I decided to type it out. Well guess what? It sounds like effete crap. From the first sentence to the last–crap. I tried to rewrite it, but it ended up sounding even worse. It’s so weird. I know what to write about, but I just can’t make it sound good or interesting. I guess I still lack the maturity and skill to actually write a novel. I’ve only typed out one page so far, and already I’m whining too much. I think I should temporarily abandon my novel project, until I get inspired to write again. Right now I’m just not in the mood.

To all those who think that I’m just fishing for compliments from my readers by writing the above paragraph–fuck you.

I’ve got rehearsals at La Salle tomorrow and I can’t tell if I’m looking forward to it or if I’m dreading it. I have never been in a room full of so many bitchy guys before. I thought this play thing was supposed to be fun. But someone’s always yelling and getting pissed because we can’t get the choreography. Fortunately, I haven’t been singled out for the gay choreographer’s criticism–yet. I’m worried I’ll burst into tears and embarass myself in front of everyone if that should happen. I try to act like it doesn’t really matter but the truth is, I hate it when people yell at me. And gays can be really mean when they’re bitchy. I don’t regret joining the play, but I’m beginning to ask myself what in the world I’m doing there. *sigh* At least Michelle and Tracy will be with me tomorrow. Maybe things will be a lot bearable with them around.

An extremely deep journal entry about life and popularity and nails

Today was absolutely bo-ring because not a single person commented about how extremely unique I am. Did I mention that I’m practically the coolest person in school because I can speak English with the proper L.A. American accent? Not only that, but I also like all these underground bands nobody listens to, just like Casey does. I don’t know many people in my batch who are like that; therefore I am special. Everybody else are total losers, and I cannot believe I have to share the very same air they breathe day after day after day. It’s so depressing, really. I feel like throwing myself down from the highest floor of the nearest tall building.

My nails are all icky right now. All my cuticles are thick and shit. I haven’t had time to give myself a proper manicure because I’m so busy thinking of what outfit to wear on my next gimmick. Besides we can’t grow our nails, which is the dumbest rule on earth. I do not feel like a woman without my long nails. Screw those nuns! They need to have a little more fun. I cannot believe they will go through life wearing only one outfit. Two, including the black habit they sometimes wear. Being a nun must be like, the most boring thing on earth. I’d rather pick garbage or something, than be a nun. Then again, who wants to pick garbage for a living? I think I want to be an actress. Or a pop star.

Ugh, I am getting sooooooo fat! Okay, here’s what I ate today. Spaghetti. Some banana. Chicken canelloni. Some salad. A slice of that chocolate cake I made yesterday. And then an ice cream cone (coffee). Fat, fat, fat, fat, fat! How am I going to fit in those impossibly tiny tube tops and tank tops I saw in Candy magazine? Without the trendiest clothes, I will no longer be the envy of my batchmates! Okay, this is for real. Tomorrow, I will eat nothing at all. As in, nothing! Never mind if I fall down the stairs from dizziness, because at least I will be paper-thin like those models in magazines. That is my ultimate goal in life. To look as starved and skinny as a model.

About a million guys texted me from the interaction because they found me sooooo cute. I’m having a really hard time keeping up with my messages because they text me like, every minute! 70% of the names in my phone book are guys. I am so popular. The people in my barkada got lots of text messages from guys too. I stand corrected–we are so popular. We’re so popular, we don’t mix with the other girls in the batch anymore so we can be exclusive and so we can maintain our high standards. It gets a bit lonely sometimes but hey–I’ll do anything to be popular. It’s so fun being popular because I can get to act all high and mighty and look down on people who are not as popular as I am.

I got an e-mail from this bitch who kept saying she was so disgusted because I’m really shallow or something. How insulting! Me? Shallow? She’s just totally jealous because I have this popular website that everybody visits and worships. I am the most introspective and profound person I know. I think about stuff like how those little dust particles always get under my nails when I walk on a polluted street. Imagine, that girl actually reads my journal when she wants to make herself feel disgusted! Why, some people often tell me that I inspire them to write and stuff! I had to ban her because she was pissing me off, and when I get pissed I get these extra pimples that make me look totally ugly. She and other girls like her who can’t accept the fact that there’s someone cooler than them need to get a life. I hope she gets a lot of really bad karma for insulting the high and mighty Lauryn like that. *hair toss* Whatever.