it's
funny how i've always meant to keep a
journal. when i'm
writing i guess the
inner voice doing the dictating seems too
self-absorbed. but now it seems i have far too many things to say and no one to say them to. and there's that unstoppable fear of
being honest.
i want to
quit smoking. i
need to quit smoking. but it's become the
addiction i thought could never hold me.
i need that in my mouth. that or food and i'm trying to stop
eating so much because nearly everyone here has the
skinny body of a nameless model.
i can't decide whether to try and
join in here or just stay in my room. i know that certain people wonder about me (the rest don't know me and
don't care). so at this point i'm trying to think of myself as
separate from the other
girls here. but i still wish i could match the
self-discipline they seem to have concerning their bodies. i wonder how far down to smoke this
cigarette? if i had stopped halfway would my throat be less scratchy? they're so
bad for me, and expensive, but the
temptation is very strong to smoke a pack down to the butts in rapid succession.
i'm trying to become the
strong woman i want to tell people i am. but i'm not doing anything about it. i'm not bothering to keep the
promises i make to myself about the
nicotine issue, or about food, or
exercise. you'd think that with the looks people give me at
dinner i could hold back, but some part of myself will not cooperate.
in my head i'm assigning guilt to all the girls (
i will not call them women) around me. as though they as
upper class hold me back from their little
cliques. but i doubt the reason is truly
financial. i'm not an interesting person, and certainly not an
extrovert. much as i'd like to, i can't really fault them for excluding me. i want these months to pass and deposit me home
another year closer to graduation and a goodbye to this little society. but who knows how i'll feel after a month, vs. a week. maybe by then i'll carve a
niche for myself where i socialize to some extent in structured groups with lofty
academic or social goals and am satiated by that small degree of
human interaction.
i am
lonely. i can't hide that. i want to people to come in and comment on the
pieces of my life so boldly displayed in my little room. but i don't want them here all the time. i don't want
distractions from the classes i know will be hard. i think that as usual i will try small things to
twist fate but ultimately
allow events to decide themselves.
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notes from the little black book