2003-03-12
>>Weetzie Bat kind of life<<
Elliott's not coming down this weekend. Fine with me, it'd be a just-visting trip, anyway. Furthermore he's not coming to school here next fall as he'd talked about. Good for him, UA all the way. I'm going to be here next year. I don't dislike this. I mean, I'm not absolutely wild about the idea, but it's cool. I have a scholarship to stay here, and it's cheaper. Less fun, but more practical, I think. We won't see each other as much, but I don't want to hear any whining. It's a two-way street. He can't even get online when he says he'll be on so we can talk and I can crawl in bed at a reasonable hour. And it's not as convenient for him to come down this weekend anyway, so I'm not seeing why I should break my neck so we can go to school at the same place. I'm not even sure if I want to go there after here. A big part of me (the part that's not about pleasing everyone else) wants to just break off from everyone else and 'find myself' somewhere else. Like maybe California, I could live in a small house by the beach and eat avocados and dance around. And go to school, of course. And one day adopt kids and open their eyes to the world. And be able to appreciate heat without so much humidity, maybe near the desert. I just want to be myself. And be by myself, it seems. And if people care about keeping in touch with me, then let them, but I'm not bending over backwards anymore. I'm not pouting, and I'm not wanting attention. Far from it. I just want to be independent. I want to rely on myself and no one else. Elliott went into a 'you need to get away from your parents' rant again last night. It just makes me tired and worn out. I know that I need to break away from them, I am the one who's lived her whole life with them, not Elliott. I just know that making rash decisions and being hardheaded isn't going to be very beneficial in the long run. They're my parents. I don't agree with many of the things they do, but that doesn't make them any less my parents. And he doesn't understand that. He keeps telling me all this stuff, how I should get out, etc, etc. Like I haven't spent years thinking deeply about this??! I'm not some moron. I know what's up. And it is my life, thank you. And I appreciate his concern, but he doesn't have all the answers. Neither do I. But I'm not asking for anyone's help. I haven't asked for his, and I don't want it. I'm glad he cares about me, but he doesn't understand everything, and I guess I can't really expect him to, I mean, it's not his family, he doesn't hang around our house much. He can't stand to. I understand his not wanting to be there, it can be really, really tense. But it doesn't make me feel any better and if he just makes assumptions from bits and pieces he's put together, he's never going to see the whole (or even most) of the story, and he's not going to understand. Just like I don't understand things in his family. He was bothered by my yelling at my sister the other night when she was putting on one of her dramatic acts in a plea of attention, but how then does he thinks it makes me feel to see him hit his brother or throw things? The guy gets violently angry, and it makes me really uncomfortable being around him then. No one else can be right, and I can't even touch him lightly on the arm or anything. I don't like it. Yet he can get on to me for yelling at Leighton??? He yells at his mom when they're fighting, and curses at her sometimes, refuses to shut up until he feels his point has been made, and yet still feels authorized to talk about how my parents are always angry and how much he hates them for doing the exact same thing he does??? He wants me to work full-time, move out and in with someone who needs a roomate, pay rent and all that good stuff, and buy a car and go to school later. According to him, my major concern right now needs to be getting away from my parents, b/c they don't have positive effects on me. Right, no food in my stomach, no clothing on my back, no roof over my head, and no half and half to make coffee with. Right? No. Although I plan on moving out and getting my own place, crappy as the place might be as soon as I get a car, it's easier right now to continue living miserably with my parents until I can comfortably move out. And by comfortably, I just mean that I won't be walking to school/work and living in a cardboard box. I don't mean driving a nice car and living in a great apartment. I have to be realistic here. And I'm not going to do something rash that will ultimately be not so great. He talked about me moving out, maybe moving in with someone that I could clean house for, pay rent and whatnot. . . I finally told him (as in, he didn't already know this) that I had been ready to move out at one time, that I had had enough and was starting to pack when things got screwed up. What happened: A Sunday night in October my dad and I got into a huge fight. As in, he was screaming in my face, and I do believe he pushed me and may have knocked me down at some point. I'd had it, and was planning on taking Elliott's mom up on her long-standing offer of moving in with her, helping her around the house and what not to pay my rent or whatever. I mean, I'd gone into my room and was deciding what to bring, and what to leave behind/throw away. My dad had said he wanted me out by the end of the week. So I jumped on it. I called E to ask/tell him about it, and he was like, "This is really awkward right now. I'm really, really sorry. I'll call you tomorrow night." I was seriously devastated. I didn't know what to do, where to go, etc, etc. I then came to the realization that the only person you can ever really depend on is yourself. The next night when Elliott called, we broke up. It wasn't over that, it was about him being interested in another girl, the long-distance thing being too difficult, etc, etc. He cried and cried and cried and cried and repeatedly apologized. It broke me. Not into tears or anything, I remember crying for like 30 seconds from shock, then freezing up and not being able to feel anything for days. I never told him about that until last night, and then I just told him that with everything that had been going on then, that I'd planned to move in with his mom, like was active about it, and then that happened and I didn't ever want to be in that situation ever again, and for that reason would not move in with his mom ever. And I probably won't ever move in with just him, either, unless we get married, which. . . yeah. Upon telling him about the aborted move, he was just really, really quiet and said he was sorry for putting me in that position. I told him he had nothing to be sorry for. And really, he didn't. But I'm not going to allow myself to be put in that same position again and I really don't want to depend on anyone else for the rest of my days. That's what freaked me out so badly when he proposed me moving up there with him and us getting an apartment together last month. It's just not a good idea, regardless of morals. My main point is that I'm tired of him telling me all these things I need to do (to get out of my parents' house). I'm eighteen, not forty and living under their roof. And I do plan to get out asap. But when I do move, I'll be the one to decide how I go about getting that done. It *is* MY life. It's not like I'm doing or not doing something that will affect his life that much. I keep thinking that I need to be smarter, that I need to study more, that I need to think more so I can be intelligent enough for him. I'm a smart girl, don't get me wrong. I may be lazy and unmotivated some times, but that doesn't mean I'm intelligently lacking. When I put my heart into something, I can do it amazingly, stunningly well. So this entire time I've been worrying about being ambitious and brainy and interesting enough. . . and he wants me to quit school so I can move out. And acts like I haven't thought every possible solution to this out already. This is such a drag. I just want to run away by myself, away from everyone and live alone and happily. I love Elliott, but I already have one father, I don't need someone else telling me what to do. I'm sorry I don't have such a 'fuck you!' attitude to everyone who makes me angry. I'm not that revolutionary, I guess. Sorry.
aigre-douce at 12:13 p.m.