Plans.

I'm probably making a pretty bad decision just for money. Yeah, I know that. That's not the point, anymore. It's a bit late for me to do anything - the benefits would be miniscule and the costs would be... probably about $120000, more or less. Obviously I partially wish I had acted years ago, but now it's nothing major, I'm just fed up in general and rather a bad person in that I do not forget. It's not a good thing. I wish I were better at forgetting. Alas, I am not. But that's not the point. (Actually, that's sort of not true. I can forget quite well. Rather, I don't think about it. Seriously, thinking about a couple of things right now makes me wonder why I AM sticking around. Pride? Appearances? I'm not sure.)

First and foremost, I absolutely need to finish high school with a B average and nothing lower than a C. Should be doable, I suppose. But I need to just do it. I worked my ass off to get into UCLA. Not even in terms of school, either. Just in the general terms of surviving and keeping a vaguely acceptable set of appearances up. (Which, fine, I've mostly let lapse, but I've done well enough for my own purposes.) No getting sidetracked by anything.

This summer I might get a job. I can't count on my current "job" for much longer, I can't count on my "family" for much at all, and that doesn't leave much room for me to exist happily. Either I'm going to bully someone into giving me money - family, relatives, random strangers, whatever - or I'm going to get a job. I don't much care how it shakes out by this point. Either that or I do. I'm not sure.

I also suppose I might as well explore my other options. I certainly don't think I have it in me to cut my family off completely, and that would be basically the only way for anything to change. I do owe them for teaching me to read, after all! No, they taught me to read, they pay the bills, every so often I get fed and clothed and all that shit, and sometimes I even get to do things I want to do! I only have to lie most of the time! CRAZY! That was... not the point, but still. They love me, and I love them. It's just that that's not really enough anymore, if it ever was. (Plus they have perfect golden child already. Maybe I don't want to disappoint her either. I do suppose I adore her.) I don't even think they understand that there is a problem, which is kind of bizarre. They're the "good guys," right? Always. Always always always. I guess I'm typecast as freaky fat liar chick. Hey, I've got to be able to do SOMETHING... though I guess I'm not that bad after all. Maybe.

I looked at myself in a mirror and I didn't go "who's that fucking fat chick? Ew. Ugly." Which is what my usual reaction is. I mean, I'm not GREAT-looking, probably, but I'm not hideous either. I'm also not morbidly obese! Never have been. I think this is actually the fattest I've ever been in my life and I look okay. (Also, my BMI is like... 23 or something. 22, 23, 24. I don't remember. I don't actually know how much I weigh, anyway. I'm also in pretty decent shape, so whatever.) I guess. I don't know. I honestly have NO idea if I'm objectively pretty or fat or whatever. Is it screwed up of me? Hell and YES it is, and I know that. I just don't know how to see that sort of thing in myself. (Unfortunately, I still loathe pictures of myself with the passion of 100000 firey suns.) Gosh, maybe I'll hire someone to give me their opinion, because I really don't have anything to base mine on. Maybe I'll hire a blind baby. That'd probably be about as based on reality as anything I have now. Um, for some reason I find this to be hilarious. Then again, I think everything is hilarious anyway.

I'm having a sudden attack of hypochondria. And don't talk to me about how I eat. I don't care if you think you have something new to say. You don't. Phobia? Yeah, no fucking SHIT. I probably should find a free clinic somewhere since I don't have a fucking doctor because I'm perfectly fine and healthy la la la la la la la. Haha, at least I have a regular period? OH WAIT I DON'T WANT ONE. I wouldn't mind losing the headaches. I do think some of it is physiological, some of it is psychological, and some of it is something in between. Whatever, I hardly see how it matters. Not much I can do about it right now.

Like I said before, if you can get away with murder, then don't assume you know anything about my life. It's a completely and unfortunately different sort of situation for a variety of reasons. Anyone wants to argue this with me, let me know. I'd be interested to hear the other side, and I know what I'm talking about! Haha! Hell and yes, baby. You. Me. Let's do it.

More later, I'm tired. And bored. Really, my own personal drama is boring me. This is why I don't really talk about details too often. Really, who gives a damn? I don't. Why would anyone else?