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sad and angry in the happiest place on earth |
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| Written by Diana, on 09-07-2000 22:40 |
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We flew first class on a 737. It was a five hour flight. My sister was pissing me off the whole time. I sat in the isle, my sister to my right and my father and mother to the left across the isle in that order. Breakfast sucked so I only ate the fruit appetizer. We watched some movie about illegal stock brokers. It was okay. When we landed, you could tell we were in Florida because of the people. My sister wouldn't shut up and was talking the whole time to my mother with whom I haven't said more than two words to in the past 24 hours.
We checked into this Hell hole they call Dixie Landings resort. My sister wants the door between our and my parents' room open all the time! She won't turn the fan on because she's *cold*. I'm so hot that I cold just scream and I feel like slapping her. She keeps telling me to put shorts on!! It's so gross here and I HATE it!!!! I'm still not sure how I'm going to call Michelle tomorrow. My parents want to stand in line for Planet Hollywood tomorrow for dinner and I won't be able to. *Grins* We just had dinner at the hotel cafeteria. I was forced to sit next to my mother and I was so ready to die. I didn't mention I've let you down. I cut last night pretty deep on my right shoulder. Lucky for me it didn't bother me when I carried my luggage. My neck's killing me though and I am stuffed which makes me feel like I'm going to throw up. I know I'll be sick tomorrow. My father and I end up walking together in silence and my mother and sister walk far behind us in nonstop chatter. I HATE IT HERE!! Did I mention that?!! Maybe they'll get that and leave me alone. Let me spend a few days in the hotel room alone. I can't get on the internet! I'm going to have withdraw symptoms if I have to wait until Saturday evening. She acts as though she's dumb. She says the stupidest things and then doesn't even realize that the smart thing to do would be to shut up. And she's *so tough* just because she's older. Go to HELL! I hear her over there watching "I want to be a millionaire" saying "It's not D". How the hell would she know?? She thinks she's smarter than me! Even with her years in college. And she was wrong-it WAS D. I'm going to DIE here for six more days. Today was agonizing. If I cut my arms up again Saturday night then I'll feel better-I can't write this away. No poem is going to cure this. Besides, I'm afraid to write a poem because I'm right next to a mirror and I'm afraid someone can see in the mirror that I'm writing and want to read it. As you can see I've started one above. I can't write in my journal because then she'll know what I'm saying. If I'm writing here, she can only guess at what I'm typing. She's over there talking to herself. We have to set our alarm. And I thought we were on vacation...I hate it here so much I don't have enough words to express myself. I wish there was a word for the hate I'm feeling right now. And the agony of not being able to cut. I wish someone would shut that DAMN DOOR!! I don't know when they plan on going to bed but it's only 9:40 here. To think-I could be at home where it's only 6:40. I have to do without Michelle for a whole week! And without Ren for a week and a half. I fear for the things they'll have us do the rest of the week. SHE'S TALKING TO HERSELF AGAIN!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!! She needs to learn how to compromise! We're going to main Disneyland tomorrow. The part with rides. Michelle told me to write in my diary. But it isn't helping. Either are the poems, or the yelling. Or the cutting anymore. I cut long and deep last night and it bled for a while but still it did not help. Tomorrow was supposed to be my one month anniversary. Guess I get to start over. I've let Michelle down. I write and write yet still I get more angry by the day, by the minute. I sat on my bed and stared at my wrist with the razor in my hand last night after I cut. I wanted to just end it all. Then I would not be writing this here. I would not have to hate my mother, or my sister any longer. I would be free. Maybe I'll try cutting somewhere else. I want to cut on my forearm so bad but I have no way of hiding it in this summer heat. Maybe on my leg will do. Then I can tell Michelle I have stopped and she won't see it when she asks to look at my arm. It will be our little secret. Or maybe I'll tell her and she'll have even more sympathy for me. Or show her and I'll get to see that look on her face of sincere worry, and of understanding. Something I don't get very often. But I don't want to lose her--I can't. She's all I have left.
Last update: 09-07-2000 22:40
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