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| Jennifer's Body 2002, February 13 - 2:56 p.m.
My week had officially finished. You see, tomorrow is my day off, Friday morning's class is cancelled and 3D design is so fun, I don't consider it work. Not at all. I love carving plaster. I love it even more when I'm doing well. Which I am. Brent and I are going to East Side Mario's tonight for dinner. We're celebrating Valentine's Day early. We're also exchanging gifts tonight as well. Plus, we co-bought the Simpson's Trivia game so we'll be playing that as well. We're dorks. I love him ^_^ We're co-buying things more frequently now. We got the blender, we're buying food together for the times when I come over and now the Simpson's game. I suppose if we break up I get the blender and he gets the game; just because I don't have a blender at home and he does. Breaking up isn't in our near future though anyhow. Who knows how long we'll be together for. I can see myself with him for years in advance, so that's good. I don't know about life time, but the longer I'm with him, the longer I can see myself with him. I have apparently reached the 200 entry mark. I feel so dedicated ^_^ I started this diary on my brother's birthday, April 16 at 2001. I'm nearing the one year mark. I'm actually quite pleased with this. Sometimes with little projects like this I'll just give up early on. I nearly did in the beginning. I think it was when I got to college that this diary became so important to me. I have never mentioned this before in this diary, but I used to cut myself. When I started this diary the habit went away rather quickly. It's been so long that I can't remember when I last did it. I still have the scars on my arms and they're very unattractive, but they're old. I tell people that I bathed my cat for fleas and he went crazy on me. The story always works. Someday, when I have the money, I'd like to have the scars removed. I'm pretty sure that cosmetic surgry can fix them. I would give anything at this point to see my arm the way it was. There are marks on my legs too but they are never seen as I rarely wear bathing suits and very few people stare at my upper thighs. I think I have around 30+ scars. When I look at them I remember a way that I was. A very stupid girl. I was too dumb to realize there are other ways to let out anger. I regret that habit more then I regret most anything else. It gave me nothing, left me with nothing- except some ugly scars for me to lie about to people. It started when my mom started taking a turn for the worst and escalated several months after I moved in with my dad. He has a way of making you angry, so angry you could bite through wood and rip a telephone book. And then he'll tell you to shut up and that you should do as your told. Don't talk back. That is the worst. Don't talk back. Don't defend yourself, don't let out your anger in a healthy way, just keep it in you disobediant bitch. You haven't lived a life. When you do, then come back and maybe you'll have something important to say. I don't need to deal with you right now, I have bigger things to worry about. Stop talking I'm watching TV. I don't want to blame the problem on my dad, but he did the worst thing possible. He made me keep it in. I wasn't allowed to tell him I was angry, I wasn't allowed to yell, I certainly couldn't hit anyone, I couldn't break anything of course. The one thing that would have helped was if I had been allowed to talk back. I was allowed to with my mom. She understood that anger needs to be released. She also understood that at the time I had a lot to be angry about. Christ. Now I'm away from him, I'm writing all my feelings out in a journal. I'm fine now. No thanks to him though. He leaves us to my mom for 11 years and then takes us when she's dead and treats us in this...way. This abnormal, unfatherly, your my kid kind of way. The only time he'd claim us was when he wanted us to do something. He was causing me to self destruct. I saw him take pleasure when he yelled at me, when he made me cry. He loved when I lost my temper because then he could tell me to be quiet and go away. That's how he would express his anger, thus denying me my own right to do so too. Sometimes I hate him. Thank You - 2006, June 7
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