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.