Bah.. who was I kidding. Not a lot is very much fun, anymore. I have no friends, no life, no *anything* .. I’m the incredible invisible girl. I wish I knew how to fix this mess I’m in.. I’m stuck in a rut that’s 21 years long, and I don’t know how to get out. I’m going crazy. Just how much time can one spend entertaining themself, anyway? I’m empty, I’m hollow, I’m just a shell.. life sucks, here in invisible hell. Hah!

I wish I was happy. I wish I could feel more than hate and hurt. I wish I wasn’t so damned *pathetic*. Hello, world? I’m still here.. for god’s sake, please notice me. Please..

I have absolutely no idea what I was so upset about, but it was evidently pretty epic to my 21-year-old self. The worst part? This is the least embarrassing journal entry I could find that I wouldn’t want to medicate myself for sharing. Ouch.

Other things I have learned about myself from 12+ years ago:

• While I often claim my current writing style of “stream of consciousness bullshit”, it’s nothing compared to what it used to be. I tend to write in a conversationalist style, but evidently I used to do this back then, too – except I ALSO used to write the little pauses in my “speech”. Almost every sentence I wrote had “hmm” “err” “huh” or my personal favourite, “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” in it. Luckily, I outgrew that. It is incredibly annoying to read, and I want to reach back and punch myself (and disable the exclamation point)
• I had a terrible, terrible habit of starting a new text file every single time I wanted to write – I don’t have one journal; I have a hundred or so of them with no easy way to sort them. This is also annoying.
• This post is #600 since I switched over to WordPress at the end of October 2006. That is many posts.
• I am tired of being sick.

As you were, then. If I can find a PC with a working floppy drive, I might be able to find the journals I wrote at home on my IBM PS/2 – usually written while my mother was screaming at me for one thing or another. I am dying to read those. I bet they’d be an abusive riot!

I really thought I was feeling better, but the violent uprising of last night’s dinner said otherwise. I’m currently wallowing in day number 5 of my marathon intestinal woes, and I am pretty damn tired of it all. I also don’t get sick days yet, so my gastro difficulties are not just annoying but damn expensive. There is nothing good about my being sick, let alone the surprise appearance of my womanly flows over a week early. I give, okay? I am crying uncle. I’ll learn it in another language if you want, just lay the fuck off with the things oozing out of my body.

I’ve been trying to hunt down my teenage angst in honour of the Teen Angst Poetry night that I can’t attend. I know I have years upon years of angsty teenage journal entries, but I was never really one for writing poetry – but I thought I’d look anyway, just in case. I didn’t find much in box number one and two and I really think I’m going to have to fire up the Mac Classic to find some of the textual gold I know I have from the days of yore. I did find almost all my report cards from kindergarten through “graduation”, though – and it was highly amusing to rediscover that I was apparently a mouthy little weirdo. In almost every report, the teacher of the year said the same thing – Kimli is a good student, but she is talkative and disruptive. Occasionally there will be examples of my burgeoning personality – I’ve already mentioned the “write about something other than Transformers” entry, but there were others. It’s also interesting to note that I hated PE since day one. My report cards were pretty much the same – A, A+, B+, B, A, A, A+, C+ – guess where the C came in. Even as a wee mouthy weirdo, I saw little purpose in running laps. Take that, organized exercise!

I am so bored. I think I’ll haul out the Mac Classic after all; see if I can’t find some early 90’s pain to rehash and laugh at.