Life, in general.

I don't really know where to start. I've been reading this book called Hard Love, by Ellen Wittlinger, in which a seventeen year old boy, well, I guess you could say that he "enriches his life" after discovering "zines." He's been living in kind of a bubble since his parents got divorced seven years ago, and while it seems like it's entirely self-imposed, as most seventeen year olds' bubbles are, it isn't.
And he's me.
Okay, so I know he isn't actually me, and I'm not trying to say that he's actually me. I mean, he has a penis for crying out loud. But still, he's me.
He doesn't really know who he is or what he wants. He doesn't feel much (as a direct result of the aforementioned bubble), which actually isn't always like me. My sensibility comes and goes. Sometimes I feel nothing and sometimes I feel too much. His best friend - really his only friend - is trying to get involved, trying to do something with his life, and he puts it down - not because he actually thinks it's stupid, but (he doesn't discover it right away, but he really does feel it) because he doesn't know how to join. He stands on the outside looking in, not knowing how to get inside and saying - to convince himself - "well, I didn't want to be in there anyway."
That's me. I sit and I read and I write and I watch life happen and I don't know how to jump in and make it happen to ME. And then I say, "well, I didn't really want to anyway."
Life doesn't really happen the way it does in novels and movies. People don't really act that way. The scared, shy wallflower never actually gets asked to dance, the quiet girl never gets asked out by the captain of the football team OR the head of the popular group. Money doesn't grow on trees and good doesn't always prevail. I realize that it sounds trite and cliche, but there's nothing I can do about it.
I don't actually usually try to be bitter, but sometimes it just happens and I can't help it. I'm not a happy person. Get over it.
I would say that I try not to blame my parents, but really, who am I kidding. I completely blame them. It probably isn't fair, but again, that's the way it is. I was brought up in a house completely filled with apathy. Nothing mattered so long as everyone was healthy and doing their homework. It'd be nice if the house was clean once in a while, but it doesn't really matter so long as we're not having guests. You really should eat your vegetables, but nothing's going to happen if you don't. And recently, my dad - who I usually find loveable and sympathetic - who's been overweight my entire life telling me that I should lose a few pounds. I'm by no means skinny, and I'm most likely way unhealthy, but I'm also not a child and I don't live with him, and it would be nice if on those few times a year that I see him if he'd lay off the sensitive topics. Made all the more sensitive because as far as I can tell he's never had this conversation with my sister who (let's face it) has a boyfriend who's planning to eventually marry her so it doesn't really matter anymore.
I'd like to say that I'm not shallow, but today seems to be my day to tell the truth, so to be honest, I am. I'm shallow. I can't help it. I'm shallow and I want to be beautiful and sometimes I hate myself for the way that I look. I'm judgemental and sometimes I look at people and think that they're disgusting and fat and need to lose weight and then am forced to admit to myself just exactly what kind of a hypocrite I'm being. But again, I come back to apathy. I say to myself, okay, this is going to change NOW and work out for a few days, try to eat healthier, and then I have a bad day and determine that since I am seeing exactly no results and I'm majorly craving tacos or pizza or a cheeseburger from McD's, I'm going to give up. Again. And I wish for a cheap, easy way to do it with no effort. Let's face it. Most of the "beautiful people" did not get there by working for it. They got lucky with good genes and got involved when they were young. I wanted to be involved. I wanted to do all of those things that bitter judgemental high school girls make fun of, but I couldn't.
My parents didn't have time.
So yes, I blame my parents for the way I am. I quit trying to stop blaming them. And I'd like to say that I'm going to change it, but really, I'd be lying to you and to myself, and while I am by no means stopping THAT, today is my day to be honest and I'm embracing the opportunity wholeheartedly.
And now I have to go run in a circle around the library to see if there's even anybody still here.