I find myself depressed again. Not over Kent or ex-boyfriends, but Eddie. I was supposed to spend the night at his house tonight. And his failure to get in touch with me seems to mean that maybe it didn't rank very highly in his list of priorities.

Ofcourse I really have no idea, because all week I've both been looking forward to spending the weekend with him, and freaking out over it. Looking forward to it for the obvious reasons, but scared because each morning I wake up with an increased feeling of insecurity over this. I'm not sure about this, because it's rare when I doubt my self-worth. It's rare when I find myself concerned over whether or not somebody else likes me.

But I think I'm falling for Eddie far more rapidly than I expected to, and knowing that he does not plan on reciprocating that is scaring me. I'm not used to this, frankly.

I find myself attractive. I always have, but that's because I have confidence in myself. I don't know where my turtle shell came from, but it's something I've possessed for as long as I can remember. I've never compromised myself for the sake of someone else's opinion or favour.

I know other people find me attractive, because to this date I have only met one gay guy who ever told me he didn't think I was cute. That would be ego-inflating if I gave a fuck. So I know I'm attractive. I know I possess assets that other people think are sexy and I know I'd be a great fucking boyfriend. If I wanted to be a boyfriend right now.

However. I am slowly convincing myself that he's gotten bored with me. He did nothing at all to put that in my head until today, but the thought has been there all week. The worry has been there all week.

So much that I even had a dream about it. It made me really ill for some reason. I'm not looking to date him. I'm not interested in that. However, I find myself very frightened and unhappy with the thought of being cast off for something better. And I suppose that today when he never called I let that fear I've been living in all week take control and I didn't do much to fight it. I called him back once. We were supposed to spend the night together and we didn't, and while that upsets me I'm also relieved in the same breath, because I can say, "Oh, see, you were right, he doesn't want you anymore." And I don't know if that's true, and it might not be. It might be that he was just busy, like he said he was. But regardless, I guess he's gone now.

That is why I'm depressed. Because I don't know if I will ever be able to have a healthy relationship again. My perceptions of them have been so skewed post-Kent that right now I realize all Eddie was is a fuck-buddy, and I didn't have much of a problem with that.

I don't like that. I find myself slowly slipping into something I don't want to become. I find myself just barely a few rungs above the club-kids and the bar-flies on the ladder of sluttiness. I feel like I'm one more bad experience away from taking up a drug/drinking habit and just giving in totally to my Scorpian sex-drive.

This is what they call a mid-life crisis, I think. I'm having my fucking mid-life crisis at seventeen. I don't think this is fair, and I know I've harped on this before but fuck. At seventeen I'm supposed to be in school, I'm supposed to be dating a normal person, I'm supposed to be able to fucking drive, I'm supposed to be preparing myself for graduation and college, I'm supposed to be happy and have a part-time or summer job. I'm not supposed to be working nearly fifty hours a week and still not making enough to pay my bills. I'm not supposed to have bills, except maybe for a phone of some sort.

Yeah, I know, that's idealistic. At seventeen a good majourity of kids are likely going through the same shit as I am. I realize that. I realize that this world is a shitty, pathetic place. I realize that I'm probably lucky to have bills to pay as opposed to living under a bridge. I realize that I am lucky to at least be middle class.

But fuck all of that. It's still not fair. Other people are other people, and in this moment I just want to be selfish for once. I so rarely let myself do that. Rarely do I allow myself to be selfish. But right now, I want to be. And I don't want to hear about how it's just as unfair for everyone else, and I'm not special.

I am fucking special.

And right now I just want to be held. That's all. I want to be held because I've got tears, real, fucking genuine tears rolling down my face, and that upsets me because I haven't cried in forever. I couldn't even cry when Kent broke up with me. I couldn't even cry when I found out he'd likely gone and killed himself. I couldn't cry then, and I think all those tears are coming out now.

So right now I just want to be held, and I just want to be told that somehow everything will be all right. Somehow I'll figure something out and somehow I'll pull myself up out of this shitpile. But nobody's here right now to tell me that, not even the random sex-fling I could have. I don't even have someone to fabricate feeling sorry for me.

Sigh. I just needed to get that down. I write in here more than in my real journal, now. But I needed to say something, if only so my ears eyes could receive it.

I do feel better now. And I guess I will make everything all right.

It seems I always do.

Entry last modified: April 16, 2006 at 7:09 pm.

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