August 12, 1992

                                     There are a bunch of pages ripped out of my diary at this point… I have absolutely no recollection of what they may have been about. Then comes a rambling post written in Frenglish. Here is the gist translated into English for ease:

Lately I’ve been thinking rather realistically. Thinking of my real life. My fantasies weren’t there for a while. I’m bored and I want something to happen to me. I want something in my life. Something outside of my house. I don’t want to get driving lessons but I want to know how to drive. I want to have something real instead of my little dreams. I want a fun job or a fun friend who brings me places. I don’t want to be here. I want to start over. I don’t want to read stories, I want to write stories. I don’t want to watch movies, I want to be in movies. I don’t want to be a student, I want to be a teacher. I don’t want to only know that things happen in the world, I want to be someone to whom things happen. Wonderful things and terrible and exciting and real! Maybe I have to make things happen but how? It’s impossible. If I had enough athletic talent I could be in the Olympics. I wish I had enough talent for films or writing. But I don’t even have enough talent to win art contests. I’m not ambitious or smart or independent or outgoing enough to make things happen for myself. So what can I do? Nothing! I hate myself! I wish I could be anorexic. I know it’s bad and all but then at least I could make something happen for myself and I could stop menstruating, which would be great. But I like food too much to stop eating. I can’t stop eating junk! I eat all the time so I’m ugly. If only I had a friend. Someone I could talk to about everything and not be embarrassed. And someone to do things with. I know I’m screwed up. I know I need help. I know I might just go off the deep end someday. I just wish I had someone to tell that to. I wish I wasn’t so scared of people. People make me freeze. I am scared of everyone. Even myself. I can’t write any longer. I can’t think any longer.

                                    Yup, that about sums it up.

low-self-esteem

Graphic Design

Wear all the patterns! Rocking an outfit involving joy and whimsy is the only way to combat the soul crushing ennui of designing the horrors demanded by your artistically bereft clients.

 

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