let's all appreciate the percentage of scenes troy OWNS

1000th post........shit.

from the bottom of my heart, i truly don't believe you have to watch any of the shows they talk about in order to be entertained by this:

i'm SO not lookin' for pity here,

but i bet i have a less common bday den you.



lonelyboy4lyfe xoxo gossip girl

he may be an asshole, but he gives good hugs

hey guys im part of a premium club

we call ourselves the no-life-ers

fucking pros

ladies is pimps too

shhhhhhhhhhityeah

shit my mom texts

me: my head is killing me!!
jan: Really

guess its good she's keeping my ego in check huh

GREAT NEWS FOUND MY SISTERS TWITTER

AND SHE'S A CUNT!

announcement

im mulling over creating a new twitter account to tweet jokes to my sister (she has confirmed she will follow me. i don't suspect i will generate any other bids.)

i want the account to be anonymous

these are possible usernames im considering

-brucebanned4lyf
-phathugg
-thrillryde
-raginmeditation
-trillarmisen

craving suggestions

for audience of one (me)

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/interactive/2012/may/08/gay-rights-united-states#state/michigan

what the fuck

liz, guess what i saw on tumblr:

mth

let's revisit

you're still on top of celebrity fuck list, bro

aint it fifteen bucks a month

HYPERBOLIC INTERNET RANTS AT MIDNIGHT = MY FORTE

so much tmi you'll shit your pants (out of boredom [what] {what?}])

i need therapy so hard right now. im in the middle of a mindfuck, intensely deep. these sort of thoughts actually whizzed by me: i shouldn't tell anyone what i'm feeling. they don't deserve to know.

they don't deserve to know.

deserve.

who the fuck do i think i am. deserve. jesus.

if they don't ask me, they don't need to know. it's pointless blather, telling anyone this much. no. shut up. look straight ahead. don't say anything. why is no one sharing as much as you? you are so fucking crazy! jesus why aren't you posting about this......awww, yes, that's better... publish, post those damn thoughts babayyyyyyyyyyy...

i'm about to express the dimensions of this hole im in right now. i don't need to be doing this. part of me wants to keep it inside. hope i explode. see what anyone thinks then. but then it occurs to me that i'm not that crazy. i can decipher whether or not exploding is a sane option. so far, so good.

this is the hole
this whether or not i should keep talking about myself is an integral part of the hole, no doubt. it's part of the WHOLE HOLE. WOAH.

you know that teenager cliché? nobody understands mehhh

yeah well nobody cares. shut up.

no. (see, that was a fucking circle. fun.)

k.

pretty sure i experienced a low point today. this low point can be generally filed under: "meditating in the girls' bathroom." of course, some chick had to come in halfway through said meditation and ferociously piss all over my strife for inner-peace. bitch. but, what is life.

i had just about enough, in fact, tears could not be held within my oft-burning eyeballs. i blame hormones, because what other normal explanation could i have for chanting to myself in the schoolbathroom mirror, "pull it together. you are fine. you have a house. a big house, many would say. with lots of food in it. and parents. and the ability to read and write. look at you, you are fine. [now, remembering the woman's crazy eyes, the 'this isn't the end of the world' lecture she went on about...why didn't i listen more closely? why did i say, 'why am i crying?' and why didn't she say anything about it?] wait! no! pull it together! you have to go back to class soon!"    i don't know how much longer i can continue this parade of minor fuck ups until it naturally morphs into one huge, catastrophic fuck up that ruins everything.

is this anxiety? is this normal progression of thought?

 halfway through this exhausting week of mostly nothing (let's be fucking honest), i was sitting in the library during my free hour, google-mapping the fuck out of oakland, california, when i got a text from elise. "yayy madison!!" she had just seen my name on that senior signing thing. it occurred to me then that madison might have been the biggest mistake i've ever made. there's no getting out now: payments have been made; contracts signed; party planned; relatives notified. i'm fucked. i'm not fitting in there, i have no reason to be going there. if it's a struggle to find the motivation to lift my ass out of that computer-desk's chair and will myself to fourth hour, how can enough strength find me just to be at madison? it can't. i texted back elise: "haaaaaaaaa im dropping out now haaaa." she replied: "no you're not. it will be awesome!!" me: "aiight." checkkkkk, problem solved. but seriously, what makes this situation so fucking dramatic in writing is that i can literally relate to no one. no one is in a position to empathize. someone who i thought would never turn away from me, said, "just because you are not excited about college, doesn't mean you have to act this way" and walked away. and then i slid under the imaginary covers in my mind and cried myself into that sleep/numbess that can often be felt at school. (for me)

so back to the bathroom meditation. under the layer of horrific anxiety that came minutes earlier in the main office, i discovered an even newer depth to my feelings on that topic no one can shut the fuck up about: prom.  ohmygod, prom, right? prom. they should make t-shirts. (oh wait!!! they did!)

why am i not going?! because i would hate it. because i would hate it and i would be paying a lot of money to hate it. why does no one want to go with me? because you're awful. why don't i have friends who want me to go with them? grass is greener elsewhere, dumbass. why would no one ask me? isn't it obvious. why would she ditch me? you're a buzzkill. why does no one care that i'm not going? they're glad you're not going. why didn't i persist? because you'd hate it. wait. why am i doing this now? go back to class. jesus.






much later

mr. park: "if you need a substance to have fun on prom night, then there's a big problem." no shit, man. i would not have fun without substance. aha! i feel refreshed! new sense of superiority has washed over me. i'm making the right, dare i say, "COOL!" decision to not go to that lame ol' prom. fuck em all! hell yeah, bro!!


but what will i be doing instead...oh no...oh no..dark place...darrrrrrk place...here we go. right now im in a fucked up space --trapped between different parallels of how i want my parents to see me. oh yes, my parents. those people i act so indifferent towards. on one hand, the shock in her voice when she uttered, "you're going to prom?!" hurt, but did the sadness in her eyes when i later told her "no" hurt more? what's worse--disappointing your parents or embarrassing them? whatever, i don't actually care




i'm trying desperately to remember how i was feeling last year. what did i think senior year was gonna be like? did i know i would be in this horrific of a place? am i in a horrific place? no.. definitely not.. well, it feels horrific, but in the grand scheme of things, it can't possibly be horrific. omg did i just predict myself into a worse emotional state than i am in now. holy shit, that'll suck.

wait. everyone keeps saying "we're done. it's over." the 'stop trying' mantra can be heard loud and fucking clear. i'm soooo not trying. but wait...are people still trying? HOW IS IT THIS HARD TO TELL?

annnnnnnnnnnddddddd we're back. back to the circle of meghan's ego. big enough to have a personal blog. small enough to fetal position the way out of friendships.



i feel more emotionally drained now, having finished this post, then i did waiting for that chick to finish peeing so i could go back to "om"-ing in that fucking stall.



take this post how you may: comical or dramatic, idgaf
please don't comment on how much of an asshole im being, though, can't really take that

#textconvoswithjan #ithinkthisistwitter #commitmenow

jan: *apparently peering across the street, into the house in which i was babysitting in, seeing the lights on in the kids' bedrooms.* i hope the kids are asleep....

me: they are. they just like to have the lights on when their parents aren't home i guess.

jan: kids are insecure.

jan: except you.

jan: molly was.

me:

i dont believe this per se, but it's still funny