Another Day, and a Worse Tomorrow
March 04, 2004, 3:36 p.m.

Here I am... updating. What about? Um, not much.

For once I have no emotional bullshit to reveal to the rest of the world-- or those who care to read my crap-- or rather, I just don't think I should whine any more.

But you guys enjoy it when I whine, don't you? I'm sure you just love to see Allison break down in the public eye. After all, more than half of you have never been there for me, so it's rather easy to poke fun at me.

Let's just all point and laugh.

Thanks. You're such pals.

I was having a conversation with Davis late last night after everyone had gone to bed. Half of the conversation was about him finally getting laid once he gets his license (and he's got it all planned out, believe me), a quarter of it was a story of how he became known as "hitlist kid" throughout elementary and middle school, and the last quarter was me attempting to have a real conversation with the boy.

His solution to all of my problems, he says, is to masturbate. Apparently, an orgasm can solve all problems. I seriously doubt that.

This whole conversation was brought up when he asked if I was going to New World.

Though I'd miss my friends, I told him, I could make new ones. I'm not exactly close with anyone at Krop, except Pi, so it wouldn't really bother me too much to leave. I bet half of them wouldn't even give me a second thought after two weeks of my lack of presence.

"Everyone's the same," I continued. "Just with different names and faces."

But he, the boy who cares only about what's in the chest rather than what's in the head, merely shrugged it off and replied, "Whatever."

There's something really wrong with me when I try to confide in someone who thinks that discussing what position is best in the sack is a deep conversation.

Excluding Pi, I don't think I could ever confide in any of my friends. No one even cares enough to give me a call every now and then. Not that I blame any of them. I wouldn't want to talk to me, either. My mood swings, lately, have been way over the top, and I really don't think it's due to hormones.

I'm depressed.

And I bet not one of you have noticed, have you? Have you even the faintest idea that I'm not quite myself? Probably not. I suppose I do a pretty good job of covering it up.

But whatever. My own thoughts are rather unimportant.

Today was lame. Mr. Beightol was speaking Chemist in Chemistry today, and I had no idea what he was doing. Something about stoichiometry or something like that, involving using the amount of potassium carbonate needed to completely dissolve copper sulfate pentahydrate or whatever you call it.

I was confus�d!

And tomorrow my research paper outline is due for English. I don't even know what I'm writing about, let alone start the stupid thing.

*cough* I'm screwed.

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