6:37 PM, Tuesday, Oct. 05, 2010
My mother says: the point of going to social is, to socialise, it's not a fashion contest. The point is to have fun on the night, instead of taking days just to find an outfit.
I agree, that's what it's meant to be for. But you know, I didn't even want to go in the first place, I was forced into it by my fucking friends (thanks for that, now I have to face hell). I don't think the night is going to be any fucking fun at all, what with the awkwardness between the people in my group and the other bloody sex, which is like a whole new species for them. What, with trying to avoid Joanna the entire night. What with Ticky becoming the paparazzi. What with no dinner or chairs.
And so since I think I won't enjoy the entire night at all, I go, well I might as well have fun with the dressing up bit, you fucking know? She threw a fit, because I wasted MY OWN time shopping, but I spend nothing (?) instead of staying at home in front of the computer all day...? THE FUCK. THERE IS NO LOGIC. It's not a waste of time, it's MY time which I was going to waste anyway, so I might as well walk around in the shopping centre instead of sitting in front of the computer all day.
I'm a girl, you don't understand what it's like for me, being so insecure about my looks, the clothes I wear. You don't know how I feel when someone like my best friend goes, that's an ugly mummy shirt, and even though they're just being honest, I pretend I don't care, when it actually sucks like shit.
Honestly? I'm not actually that picky. It's just that everything you pick out for me... happens to look like shit. I just want to look decent at least? And it's not just that, it's the price range. You think I wouldn't have found a dress by now? But no, I can't fucking spend that much money because it's a waste. Bullshit, the only part of this fucking social I was GOING to look forward to was my outfit. But that's not going to happen eh? I don't even want to fucking go! I want out. FUUCK!
You know it's not just that. Can't I care about my appearances? Growing up in a superficial society, I've become so materialistic, I probably won't bat an eye at your death. You haven't even seen the worst of superficial bimbos but you think I'm fucked up? You say that I'll have bigger problems in the future life, well it's NOT LIKE I DON'T KNOW THAT. But what, am I supposed to wait until that happens? You obviously haven't lived like me, so I can worry all the shit I want about something NOW instead of waiting to worry for something LATER.
FUCK YOU.
If you die tomorrow, the only thing I'll miss is the money from your income. But it's okay, that'll be covered by your life insurance.
And finally, I already know why you're so pissed today. If you didn't want to pick me up, just fucking say so. Go do your fucking slave snack buying for your office work. Ah but all you did was take it out on me. Take a chill pill, that's what you always tell me to do when I'm stressed, it's not like you care at all. Maybe that's why I don't give a shit about what happens to you?