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6-22-01 - 10:22 a.m. WHY do ya build me up (build me up), Buttercup, baby just to let me down? Dammit that song's catchy. I woke up with the Klondike Bar song in my head, so I switched on some oldies pronto. I went to bed early last night (just after midnight) and so I woke up at 9. Current mood: jobless. I'm beginning to think maybe I should try harder (or at least try) to actually go out there and get a job. See, there are a few problems to this, though- 1) I have no college education-yet. 2) I'm not 18-yet. 3) I have a broken shin. I'm at a stage in my life when I want to be taken seriously by adults so that I can soon be treated as one. Yet, standing back to look at my life, it's like watching an episode of Behind The Music...sex, drugs, everything but rock 'n' roll. I spent ages 13-16 drunk, stoned, naked, and stupid-for what? So I could be "cool?" None of my friends ever drank or used or fucked. Just me. I guess I had my reasons, and I suppose I could claim those reasons today, but I don't want to. If there's something on my mind, I don't want to drown or smoke it out anymore. How can I expect anybody to take me seriously when I've neve taken myself seriously? I guess that's just part of the whole "teenager" thing. I got an email last night that I guess was supposed to make me feel as though I'm not "alone in the world." When did I ever feel that way? It was basically someone who had seen that I had joined the child abuse survivors diaryring and wanted to express words of sympathy. I appreciated that-don't get me wrong-but the way it was worded made me out to be some sort of charity case. I resent that. I really do. Call me ungrateful if you like, but I've worked-ME-to get everything I have. I've never had any help-emotionally, academically, anythingly-and so now that I'm already on my way, people whose help I would have killed for in my "youth" (not like I'm old and wise or anything) are suddenly appearing to bask in some of my glory. Too bad I'm not sharing! What I have is mine. Nobody else's. So back off. I finally know who I am, where I'm going, and how I'm going to get there. To answer questions, yes-I'm a survivor (what?) of child abuse. My father hit and sexually abused me until I was 14, and my mother hit me until I was 16. I no longer live with either of them, and have a new adoptive family whose home I left to come here to Cambridge. Sure, I could spend years wishing it had happened sooner, but I guess there's one thing about going through the ton of crap I've been through-it gives me a perspective that very few others possess. I can see things a lot more clearly than most of my peers, and can analyze the outcome before it it comes out. I am a survivor, but it's not who I am, only what I am. To really get to know me, you have to be me. This entry really has rambled on quite a bit, hasn't it? I guess that's just how my teenage mind works. Call it angst if you want. I call it perspective.
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