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Friday, March 16, 2001 @ 7:50 AM
Today is off to a bad start. I should have kept pretending to be asleep for a little while longer, then I wouldn't have had to deal with my mother at all. That would have been much better. I'm still not exactly sure when Dan wants to leave to go to Peoria, last I heard around 9:00 but I don't really know because it kinda depends on Eric. Right now I'm offline so that Dan can get through to me, and when I finish this I'm going to have to get back on and publish. I'm drinking Mountain Dew, which I hoped would wake me up but is really just succeeding in making me feel sick. I was going to do some laundry, but I was too freaked out to go into the basement. I have succeeded in scaring myself. (Do you know what Blogger needs? SpellChek. I just thought of that. Anyway...) Our basement is really scary, and I am, in the deep recesses of the silly part of my brain, convinced there is a psychopathic homeless man hiding down there waiting to rape/kill me. This is why I don't do laundry. It's not really laziness, it's that frickin' scary fictional old man. (I am delusional.) I got to thinking while I was lying in bed this morning that I don't really allow people to know me at all. Like, for instance, I lie to my mother to make her think that I am too innocent to smoke, drive too fast, drink, have sex, etc. So she really doesn't know me, she knows this special "Good Kellie," who doesn't really exist. And there are things about me that I've kept even from my friends because I was too embarassed or afraid to tell anyone. I would rather be open and honest with people, but then my mother would never trust me or let me do anything I wanted, and my friends would spend always be telling me that I was doing the wrong things. Is it more of a mistake to lie to people, or is it more of a mistake to tell the truth and lose all ability to make unhindered future mistakes? (Did that make any sense?) I am listening to "Pepper" and it reminds me of Logan because Logan loves that song. "I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes." I have a shirt of his, and it smells like him, so I put it on my pillow instead of a pillowcase, and every night this week, I've curled up next to it and cried. I really want things to work out. I really do. But I don't know how much I can take. He is supposed to meet us at the coffee house tonight after we get back from Peoria. I already have this feeling that he's not going to show up, and I'm going to just sit back and burst into tears and that is when it will be over.
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