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April 27, 2011

My mother's been giving me a lot of shit lately. This morning she mocked me with the electric bill, commenting on how she can't afford to pay it because I can't be bothered to wear pants. Which is creepy to me. I walk around in my boxers and feel uncomfortable when she comes into whichever room I'm in when I'm doing that, even moreso if she comments on it, ugh.
I told her she was full of shit because she leaves the television and lights on all day.

I feel conflicted about money. I feel like I could save everything if I work regularly. Another part of me feels like why should I save everything. But I need to at least save myself. But I feel like she'll get in the way of me saving myself.

I went to some party a few weeks ago. The friend I went with turns hell of obscene at parties, I guess, putting "fucking" before every other word, to seem cool I guess. I drove some people back home, one of which was a girl with huge glasses, and she rubbed my shoulders briefly in the car and it was the most exciting moment of the weekend for me.

I did my first opera scenes ever. They happened in the middle of the semester so it was a relief. I felt like a weight had been lifted when I finished them, so now everything else, all the other work, seems like a vacation. One of the scenes opened with me and another singer holding each other's hands. During rehearsals, it was always kind of loose and odd, but during the performance, it was like we were supporting each other. She held my hands tightly, and I held hers.

I have been feeling nauseous all the time lately.

We are getting the opera group together again on Thursday to test new teachers, I guess. They'd better let me get in next semester since I'm helping.

I've been drinking zero calorie soda again lately since I got some, and I seem obsessed with drinking soda nonstop and it's made me fat. Zero calorie soda makes me feel sicker, but at least I'll lose weight. It has been ten years of trying to get down to a normal size, but my bad habits consume me. They envelope my entire life. That is why I live with my mother.

I wish she felt more responsibility for damaging me, for putting sexual materials in front of my young face, for traumatizing me. But I think she blames me for my problems.
I blame myself for my problems, too. But I think I blame myself too much. As much as I talk about other people creating my problems, I still hate myself. I don't think I would hate myself if I didn't blame myself. I've talked too much about how my problems were created and had friends tell me I'm feeling sorry for myself. I feel like feeling sorry for myself is a step toward moving past blame, if it is even really feeling sorry for myself. I feel like it's a process of uncovering how I got here and acknowledging it. but it's hard for me to say. Guilt determines so much about me, a desire for greater self awareness leads me. I can try to be too self-aware, try to be quicker than I am meant to be, try to outrun myself, outrun my self pity, and become totally outside myself, to talk about myself and how I can be better, instead of just being myself.