You're no good
07 October 2003 at 9:15 am

I get the feeling that Jon is incredulous at how much I get his movie. I'm used to having connections with people, to delving into their heads and discovering what they believe in and what they think about this and that, to figuring out what makes them care about the things they do, to finding out why they bother to exist at all. I'm a natural sociology major (though my dad would scoff if that's what I got a degree in). Anyway, Jon's not used to this.

I'm not used to being on the receiving end of being figured out, but I haven't had to worry about that too much, especially as of late. I've found people around whom I can be myself, but they don't understand why. Which is fine. I don't feel like explaining it all the time.

Not that I'm any more complex than the next person. I just put more effort into figuring people out. Which means that, logically, I should have a better grasp of who I am. Which means that it doesn't make any sense that I want to go back into therapy in San Francisco.

As much as I positively adore therapy, I don't really understand it. I know what my problems are (father, brother, boyfriend...humm, all men). I know why certain things bug me more than others (traumatic sexual history). I know why I'm sad most of the time (stupid chemicals). I think the real problem lies in my compulsive need for distraction. I have this theory --well, more of a thought, really -- that life is merely to distract us from death. And I keep myself busy all the time, throwing myself into work and making friends more of a priority than myself and sleeping all the time and living vicariously through movies and books so that I don't have to deal with the vicious thoughts that are constantly circulating around my brain.

My last therapist thought it was very healthy of me to force myself to do things, if for no other reason than to have a story to tell, an interesting answer to "So what did you do last night?" I guess that reasoning sounds healthy, but truly, I just wanted something to talk about other than the problems at hand. When she would ask me about my dad or my brother, I would tell her I didn't want to talk about that because then I would cry. As she pointed out during our last session, isn't that the point?

During my meeting with a fellow diarylander (who, I have a feeling, prefers to remain anonymous), she said that I wasn't how she expected (shorter, apparently, and more soft-spoken). I was surprised that anyone would have expectations of me.

But I guess it was to be expected.

one year ago today: "i have a new crush, but what else is new?" and "at least my mum's honest with herself."

two years ago today: "i gave him a "wow, you're a bigger loser than i am" smirk and he ratpacked away. "

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.