25 January 2007
The counsellor woman gave me a journal to express myself. What the fuck am I supposed to do with this? The only people who keep a journal are innocent teenage girls who live in a fabricated fantasy world because they find the real world boring. I can tell you one thing. I'm most certainly not innocent, far from it actually. So this seems like a total waste of time but I'm not one to back down from a challenge. Not to mention completely mundane for my liking. I've always danced to the beat of my own drum. I don't want to be like everybody else. Where's the fun in that?
I just came from a totally bitchin party. It was Matt's party and he has a massive crush on me. I let him know that I'll only come if there's spliff. I said if he got me what I wanted I'd make it worth his while. I haven't actually done it yet. I will soon though. I want to be really good at it first. My next-door neighbour has been showing me of things and I've given blowjobs. In a few days, I'll no longer be a virgin. As promised there was a shit load of weed and all the booze you can drink. I was in heaven. Tony covered for me by fucking with our dad. He's such an idiot. Adults are so gullible. Like how my parents think I'm some quiet and nice girl. If they only knew. I can play pretend. It's kind of thrilling in a sense.
I've been selectively mute for a good chunk of my life. One day I couldn't talk anymore and I haven't since. I wanted nothing to do with the outside world. I was just happy about being quiet. It's not that I don't have anything to say. I have plenty. It's a shitty world we live in. Not something I want to be apart of. It's a constant struggle. I wish I knew the answer. I'm not playing a game or trying to screw with anyone. This is who I am. My parents made me go to a bunch of doctors and shit. They all kept asking me why I withheld speech. I used to say "I dunno" until it was time to go home. But I did know. Sort of.
Okay. So Paris Hilton isn't an It Girl. Clara Bow was an It Girl. She was one of the biggest silent film stars ever. The Brooklyn Bonfire. I think we're really similar. She's a brunette. I'm a brunette. Her dad was mentally impaired. My dad is mentally impaired. She was really good at poker. I'm really good at poker. She married a cowboy. I don't think I'm getting married but if I did it would probably be to a cowboy. Anyway, basically, she was the biggest film star, like, ever. But then the talkies started, and then the films weren't silent any more. And it would be fine, except when Clara actually had to speak, she just froze. She couldn't stop looking at the microphones pushed at her face. She retired at the age of 26 and never made another film ever again. But even though Clara Bow couldn't deal with talking in public and Paris Hilton could probably talk for fucking hours about fucking anything. I reckon if Clara Bow met Paris Hilton, she'd punch her lights out. That's what it's like for me. People want me to speak but nothing comes out. I'm like a deer in headlights. What's the point? Nobody really cares anyway.