I went to watch a film - Pirates of the Carribean. However, since it was a pirate copy (oh, the pun) which I'd downloaded from Kazaa, the brightness was annoying me too much and 30 minutes into the film I decided to turn it off and download a new version, which I've yet to do.
Instead, I talked to Jenifer. I had a gift for her. A nice new diary layout. Go visit her diary to see what it looks like. She was really please with it, making me pleased too. I like doing these surprise templates for people.
Also last night, I delved once more into Flash. It's nice to know that i'm still capable of doing the basics and that I've not forgotten. It's been a long time since I've actually had a look round Flash, but I managed to create two things in there which will be used in the projects i'm involved in.
Today hasn't been very exciting either. I've mostly been talking to Hana since about 4pm onwards. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have her to talk to. And that's why you're all going to go visit her journal and leave her some nice messages.
Over the course of the weekend, my mum has acted like there's nothing wrong. Like she never had a go at me. Like she didn't tell me she was thinking about telling me to move out. It makes me feel angry. Because how can she expect me to act friendly to her when whenever I try, it never gets greeted well and also, when she makes me feel so suicidal sometimes? It's hard to just forget it each time. It breaks a little more of me off each time.
Like I was saying to Hana, I feel as if i'm losing my sense of indentity sometimes. I don't know who I am. I have trouble describing myself to even me. Plus, as I was also saying to her, I can't remember any of my childhood. I can remember school and I can remember peoples names from that school, but aside from that, I can't remember anything like going places with my mum and Laura, or, to go further back, my Dad. I can't remember much from about 12 backwards. It's just...blank. Sometimes I really do try hard to remember things, but nothing comes. It's like I've blocked it out. It wasn't intentional, but it does seem like I've done it.
If someone were to ask me what where the best things I remember about being a child I really couldn't answer them. I can't remember any good things.
Regressing more now, I remember a time in my primary school playground, perhaps 11 or something. Everyone was playing with each other as normal, but every time I attempted to join in with them, they didn't want me to. In the end, the teacher had to force them to include me.
And it feels like that's always been the way throughout my life really. I feel as if I've not been wanted in anyone's group in any respect. Only now do I feel as if I am being wanted. Wanted by my friends in college. This is why college is so important to me. Because over the next year, this is a perfect oppurtunity to finally start catching up on life and socialising with nice people.
Because I do feel as if I've got a lot of catching up to do. I feel as if i'm trailing about 5 years behind everyone else my age. Even though i'm the oldest in the class, I find myself being so much younger than everyone else when it comes to life experience. It feels quite daunting and quite scary that I have such a long way to go before I've actually caught up with my life where it should be. I don't feel like a normal 19 year old guy. I feel more like a 14 year old boy sometimes. I have more maturity than anyone in my class, but I would trade any kind of 'advantage' I have being 19 to be like them. To of lived a little already. I don't know them well enough yet to know exactly how they have lived, but I know that they seem to all have good lives. They all have friends and places to go and hang out, especially John. John knows everyone.
I know that it might be months, probably years before i'm truly living my life, because it takes time to learn to live I guess. I don't know how to live. I'm living, but I definitely don't feel alive. If I didn't have college now, I know that would no doubtedly be it for me. I know that my life would once again spiral down into oblivion and I don't want that to happen again, which is why i'm trying my hardest to continue going to college. I feel proud of myself for doing this, after failing the past three times. I don't get to feel proud much. I don't have much to say 'I am achieving' about. But with college, I do. It may not seem much to most people, especially fourth time around, but for me it's felt like a struggle to get this far and finally, it feels like i'm making progress instead of dropping out again due to whatever reasons. So even if no one else is proud of me, I am.
I know James Riley will say he's proud of me. But then, he doesn't particularly count does he, considering that's what he's paid to do; be on my side. But then, since I don't particularly have many people on my side right now, I'll take whoever I can get. The battle between my mum's stubborness and my reluctance to participate in her arguments leave me little room for manouvering. I have to have more than just me standing up for me. I've done it this far, but with each time, it breaks me down and it takes time for me to get back up.
These little outbursts by my mum are almost synchronous somehow I think. They seem to be every four to five months. She'll have one huge outburst at me, which I have no choice but to just endure, then the next day she'll have another outburst, disguising it as a 'we need to talk' event, whereby I get two words in which don't count for nothing. Then, for a week or two, she'll be all friendly towards me, even though she'll of said all kinds of hurtful things previously and expect me to reciprocate that friendliness. That lasts for a week or two, then things go back to some sort of normal. I talk to her as little as possible, in order to avoid another outburst, but communicate with her regardless, she'll be ok with me too, until four months later when the next outburst, well, bursts out. It's like some sort of four-monthly PMS, soley directed at me.
Of course, I know many people will lay the blame on me. I know that many people lay the blame on my mum though. And me personally, I lay the blame with both of us. I freely admit blame. What I don't admit is 100% of the blame. Because I know it's not.
I'm seeing James tomorrow. It should be an interesting hour. I hope he can actually help me somehow. I know he himself won't be able to since he's just a psychologist, but hopefully he'll put me in touch with some helpful people who will realise that I won't even be able to talk properly to then due to nerves.
I still get bad nerves sometimes when talking to people or going places. Thankfully it's not as much as it was four years ago, but, for example, like when I went to the housing office, that was bad. Even though I looked perfectly fine, in my head I was running through a simple line over and over again - "I need to know how I go about finding information about finding somewhere to live" - That's all. One line. But when I got to the counter, it came out in slurrs and pauses. I felt terrified. I know it's because of the fact that i'm scared of moving out. Anything to do with it is scaring the fuck out of me. I'm a very cool headed person, but something like moving away from the only place you've ever known...that's too much.
I hope that if James can help me, he will find people who are used to dealing with people with mental health issues and be understanding and patient.
My mum doesn't actually know anything about the fact that I went the housing office and signed up. I don't really know why I haven't told her. I guess it's because when the time comes when I am able to move out when they find me somewhere to live, I want her to be surprised that I went and done it. I want to be able to say 'You wanted me out, now i'm going'. I don't want her to know about it because it feels like if she doesn't know, then I have some sort of power over that knowledge. I know it sounds stupid, but I think it's true.
I wonder where I will be living this time next year? Will I still be sitting here typing away in this same bedroom? Or will I have some flat of my own, or indeed, shared with Paul? Will I have made good, close friends with any of my friends now? Will I have met some really nice girl who loves me as much as I love her? Will I have a better life in a year than I do now? I'd like to hope so.
