I feel like I should apologise for that last journal entry; if not for the content, then at least for the length and the whining. But everything I said was basically true. I'm an outsider within my own family, and I always have been. I'm not denying that they love me, but I don't fit in.

Maybe it is my fault; maybe I've let circumstances and things that have happened harden me to the point where I shut out my own family. My parents aren't entirely to blame - they had a hostile, resentful and rebellious person on their hands and the only way they knew how to deal with that was by imposing even more rules and being strict and unyeilding. But like I said, at least they're gone for a couple of days and I have a bit of a breather. My sister is still here as bitchy and opinionated as ever because the entire world isn't rotating her way, but I can work around that.

I've been thinking, and I realize I can't expect anyone to constantly be there for me, because nobody ever will. That's an impossibly high standard and to place that on anyone would be truly unfair. Any relationship would buckle under the strain of such a demand. Relying on another human being for emotional security means the risk of disappointment and hurt; and it can be hard, sometimes impossible, to separate the hurt you might feel because of someone's actions from the feelings you may have for the actual person. If that happens, and they ever do let you down, you end up blaming and punishing them for their inabilty to meet your expectations. It becomes a lose-lose situation.

I need to find the love and acceptance that I crave within myself and within God - the only person who could love me like that and never let me down. I can't keep screwing up my friendships and my relationships and throwing them away just because my standards and/or expectations weren't met. I need to learn to accept that nobody is perfect and that just because people screw up, make mistakes or let me down, that doesn't mean they don't love me; it just means they're human.

N. posed some pretty tough questions today, whether he realized it or not; and I don't know that I can answer them just yet. I grabbed my towel and headed for the pool, metaphorically speaking, and I have to admit the water looks nice. But now that I'm here I don't know how ready I am to jump into the deep end... maybe I just need to paddle in the shallow end for a while.

• Feeling: Thoughtful
• Eating/drinking: Movie popcorn
• Wearing: Brown cargos, grey jumper

Friday 26/12/03 11.14pm -

It’s nights like these when I feel like I’ve reached the end of my rope… where I take a good look around at my life and what I’ve become and ask myself, “Is this it? Is this all there ever will be for me?” And then I think that if the answer is ‘yes’, I might as well kill myself now and be done with it, cos I can’t live like this anymore - not another year, not another day, not another minute.

I was actually having a good day, spending some time over at N.’s place just chilling and hanging out. We made some tentative plans to go on a picnic tomorrow and everything was ending on a good note. Okay, maybe I wasn’t feeling euphorically ecstatic but I was definitely feeling good, nice and mellow. But I come home and now I feel like shit because as soon as I walk through the door I am literally hit with this familiar wall of negativity and hate.

Catalyst? Pumpkin Pie. I haven’t had pumpkin pie in close to a decade because it’s an American tradition served only around the holidays. Dad brought back two cans of Libby’s Pumpkin last time he was there so I made some pies on Christmas eve. I had one piece after the Christmas meal yesterday and was looking forward to having another piece tonight, or maybe taking some with me tomorrow if we go on the picnic. But dad (who is, in fact, a diabetic) has eaten practically the whole lot, except for six pieces accounted for between myself, mum, my sister and my sister’s friend. So now I have to make more pie, waste my last can of pumpkin just cos my dad’s a pig who ate close to 10 pieces of pie over the space of two days.

Why is that such a big deal? It’s not, I guess. It’s just an example of the inconsideration that goes on in this house. And I guess it just sums up a lot of stuff that’s been going on for years. You’d think that I’d be used to being the outcast around here, you’d think I’d be used to being the mode of transport my mother takes her guilt trips on, or the whipping post on which my sister can sharpen her verbal claws. You’d think I’d be used to my dad’s apathy and constant absence. You’d think I wouldn’t care anymore. But dad is blissfully asleep as always and the others are laughing in front of the tv while I’m in here in the dark crying and stuffing myself with leftover Xmas chocolate. How the hell did I get to be so pathetic?

All I want, all I have ever wanted is to find someplace where I fit, somewhere I belong. I’ve been searching for most of my life, adopting people as my surrogate family, investing myself emotionally time and again only to get hurt and betrayed in return. I know it’s unfair to expect so much from another person. I know it’s weak to need so much love and acceptance, and I try so hard not to need anybody in that way. But just once, just once I’d like to know that there is someone out there who will love me and take care of me and always be there for me or always be on my side when I need support.

I even bought a puppy this year, in a last ditch hope to find that unconditional love I’ve been searching for, and do you think they’d let me keep it? No. I had to give him away because my family doesn’t care that I am desperately lonely. If I try to explain to them how I always feel like the odd one out, like I don’t belong, if I try to ask them to stop the negativity or to take a little interest in the health of the family unit, they go on the defensive, call me selfish or deluded or blame me for the rift. They can’t deal with the truth. And maybe in a way they’re right. Maybe it is my fault. Because it seems to me that everyone else in my family gets along just fine. It’s just me that doesn’t fit.

The thing is, people can say they love you and are always going to be there for you. They can say they will always be your friend, no matter what. But those are just words. There are no constants in this world, nothing that can be relied on to always stay the same or stand true, and relationships are no exception to the rule. And every time I fall for that same old line, every time I get suckered into believing the lie – because I so desperately want to believe that “this time” will be different – I end up weak and vulnerable and hurt all over again.

I know I’m a grown up now, and it’s time to move on with my life and stop regretting and resenting everything that has happened to me because I can’t take any of it back. But as much as I hate to admit it, there is a lost little girl inside me who needs the impossible. The only person who has ever come close to being that for me is only a phone call away, and I can’t bring myself to phone him, because I promised myself I wouldn’t rely on him like that ever again and I can’t (and won’t) break that promise.

Tomorrow everything will be fine. Tomorrow my parents will be gone again and I don’t have to see them or deal with them for another three or four days. Tomorrow the sun will shine and birds will sing and I will get out of here for a while and everything will be better. But tonight… it’s always hard to make it through nights like this. I question myself; I question my feelings and my convictions, searching for a way to somehow make this all my fault. Because if I could make it be my fault, then at least I’d know who to blame.

I’m used to blaming myself… self-hatred is an old familiar face. What I fear most is the unknown. What if I’m right? What if my life really does suck and it’s not just my deluded paranoid mind - whom do I blame then… God? Treacherous ground that, blaming God, because that’s perilously close to saying that God doesn’t have His hand on things, that God has allowed things to get out of control. And can I honestly believe in or have faith in a God who is not in control?

If I don’t want to shake the entire foundations of my whole beliefs system, then I have no choice to believe that either a) I am blinded by self-pity and looking at my life through angst-tinted glasses, or b) God is in control and there is some purpose to all of this shit I am forced to go through. Either way I guess I have no justifiable cause to complain, so then why am I still writing this journal entry...?

• Listening to: "Somewhere I belong" - Linkin Park
• Feeling: Rejected
• Eating/drinking: Choc fruit and nut
• Wearing: Denim skirt, blue lace-up top

Tuesday 23/12/03 3:01pm -

I know these journal entries make it sound as if I am going through a lot of pain and angst right now, but that's not true. I have been a bit down and/or stressed about a few things lately, but there's nothing major going on.

My journal is an expression of how I feel, and if I feel down then I'll express that. It doesn't mean I'm about to kill myself or anything. I'm just an introspective person that likes to think about and talk about stuff from an objective angle, even things that other people might perceive as being "negative" and try to avoid talking about.

I believe that positive and negative forces have equal merit, when you break it down to the core. I know there's a difference between negative energy and positive vibes, but does that mean everything that is negative is bad or evil? No way!

The negative things in life are important, because it's through comparison that we know what "good" is. Think about it - if all we ever experienced was good stuff, we wouldn't really know that it was good because it would just be standard or average. But when something bad happens, we then can see by contrast that what we had before was better. Therefore we fully understand and appreciate the good stuff in light of the bad.

And on a more personal note, I'm getting sick of being treated with sympathy, like I'm some sort of invalid. People always asking how i'm doing or if I'm "okay". Please pull off the kid gloves, I'm a big girl and I don't need special handling. I know you're concerned and I feel flattered, but I don't need that overly sensitive crap right now.

I express things in my journal so that I don't have to talk about it with anyone. This is my chosen method of catharsis. I don't mind if people want to comment but it's not necessary and not always welcome. That's why I didn't make this journal interactive, like some blogs out there. Obviously, I'm putting this stuff out here in the public eye, and I don't expect people to ignore it or not bring it up if they have questions. I just don't like feeling like I'm under interrogation or like I have to justify myself to anyone.

And another thing that really pisses me off. What is it about modern society that makes us forget our manners? I'm not mentioning names and I'm not talking about any one individual in particular, but I don't care what society or culture you come from - it's rude to turn up several hours late to an event without being properly apologetic, it's rude to dominate a conversation with topics that exclude some or most of the people in the group, and it's rude to have blatant disrespect for other people's property or possessions.

Okay, I'm done ranting. You can all breathe easier now.

• Feeling: Pissed off
• Eating/drinking: Pink Lemonade
• Wearing: Striped pajama top (and black panties for all you pervs out there)

Monday 22/12/03 4:02pm -

I hate being a disappointment to others, and I have the feeling that I've let a few people down lately. I don't like to disappoint anyone, and maybe I'm just being overly paranoid but it seems that everyone wants or expects something from me, and it's impossible for me to please everyone at once - especially when I don't even know what it is that they want or expect.

And it's impossible for me to please people who have unrealistic expectations of me. I am who I am, and I can't change that. I want to be liked and appreciated for who I am, and anyone who claims to be a true friend of mine probably does, but I still feel bad that I can't meet every single demand placed on me.

Why do I feel so responsible for others' reactions to me? Maybe it's because I have so many expectations of my own, and I know how it feels when they aren't met. Don't get me wrong; just because someone isn't exactly who I want them to be or do exactly what I want them to do, doesn't mean I'm not going to be their friend or accept them for who they are. But there is a bit of disappointment, a bit of a sting in the tail, and anyone who denies that is kidding themselves.

Nobody ever accepts anyone at face value. There's always a "if only." As in, "I really love my boyfriend, IF ONLY he were a bit more handsome"; "I really like this chick, IF ONLY she were a bit smarter"; "I love hanging out my friend, IF ONLY she didn't have such a dumb laugh - it's so embarrassing!" And sometimes we let those 'if only' statements ruin a beautiful friendship or relationship because we start to look at cuter guys or smarter girls or we start avoiding our friends because they don't meet our standards.

I don't know, maybe I'm just shallow. Maybe the world isn't really like this. All I know is that sometimes I wish with all my heart that I could make people feel the same way about me as I feel about them. Sometimes I wish I could make them forget about or be oblivious to my flaws and shortcomings. Sometimes I desperately wish I could forget about theirs and just enjoy them for the person that they are.

It would be so nice to live in a world where nobody had any pre-conceptions of each other, where nobody judged each other and everybody accepted each other without question. But that's not going to happen... not in this lifetime.

• Listening to: An electric fan
• Feeling: Hungry
• Eating/drinking: Something orange
• Wearing: black t-shirt and jeans