August 9, 2007

I'm being forced to write in this thing again. Who cares about rabid cats, and you know all the other weird shit going on around here. My leg flipping hurts, and I just feel like shit ever since those damn cats attacked everyone. But I'm not going to hole myself up in my room because I don't feel well. If I pass out somewhere, at least it won't be here. Mom is just driving me crazy. I'd take rabid cats over her anyday.

Apparently breaking the coffee table equals time alone with my "thoughts". Breaking the fucking TABLE. Couldn't she just send me to my room, or ground me? Instead of this journal bullshit? Why bother making me do this now? I already explained to her why I kicked the table. People do stupid shit when they're angry. I told her I would buy her a new table, didn't I? Mom thinks I need to up my dosage, but what the fuck? I'm not allowed to get angry now? It wasn't a fucking "mood swing"! It wasn't out of nowhere. That's what happens with you have St. James on your front porch calling you a piece of shit for liking his sister. Jesus. Does she want to lobotomize me? I think she needs a therapist herself, because she's freaking insane.

Whatever.

I just need some fresh air. Get my mind off of everything. Kaysen, and Devon and Jordan and school, and all this weird shit I can do that just is not normal. I don't know what to think about anything. It hurt when I got bit last night. Everything was in chaos, but somehow, I felt like I was feeding off of it. If Jordan hadn't been there with me, and if I had the desire to be mauled some more, I probably could have fucking killed those cats. Every last one. It's like everyone's fears made me stronger. I don't know. Maybe not. Maybe it's all in my head. My mind is too full with it all now and sometimes I can't keep it all straight and it's starting to drive me crazy. NOT INSANE. Just fucking crazy. Same thing, isn't it? Oh, I'm sure someone would think so. Everything is just...worth shit right now. But how is any of that my fault? Why do I have to deal with this shit? I'm fucking fine. More than fine, actually. Right now, no one can touch me. I can do anything and NO ONE can touch me.

Wouldn't it be fun to prove it?