Twisted

I want to sort my feelings out: I seriously attempt doing this thirty five times a day. I can't, though, for they are as completely mixed as the air we breath in is. No one except God has the ability to sort the O2 from the N2 and the CO2, and everything else. I can't use my mental hands to untangle this mess. Everything is too closely related, every detail too entwined with the next.
Help me.
Help me.



Help.
We went to haunted park yesterday. We drove past these silos and over railroad tracks to get there. It was cloudy like this, but more pink in the sky. It was a long trip. Then, we looked at the enormous richy-rich houses that are built over by the temple. Then, Andrew wanted some tea. We got some tea. I know he notices I am different. He is trying harder to act normal, to act kind, to be funny. What am I to him? I don't want this anymore. I don't want this anymore.

Cut him off? Keep him close? Sometimes, I feel this hope that his feelings will change, and I absolutely LOATH myself at those moments. I hate what ever gives me those feelings. I hate myself for even wishing on that star. Mostly I hate myself a lot.
Although... today my roommmate suggested that I should act like the girl, whatever-her-name-is, were home. Act around him like she were here. "You'd be doing her a favor," Sara said. Then Maddi looked at me and said, "I don't think that's what Tori wants to do... any favors for ____________"
And I don't. I resent her "perfection." Then, I ended up yelling to my roommates that I was perfect. I am perfect: "I'm a sex-goddess for goodness' sake. I'm intelligent, I'm an amazing future mom. I have PERFECT bloodlines: I mean, look at my hair! His is so thin! I could give his children perfect hair. I am perfect! I am perfect!" My roommates laughed even though I was near tears. They always think I am funny.

I sense some bitterness here. I sense a little bit of anger mixed with a whole lot of sad and hurt and loss and confusion. This situation is so sad, because I don't even know how I feel, thus, I don't really know who I am. Not only do I miss him, but I miss me too. I miss everyone.
We went to ice-cream today after my work, and before his. I came home to make this tirade.

You know it is bad when Miley Cyrus explains the situation somewhat accurately.
Dang.