Dead and Gone.

I wish.

Anyways, I just got my books for this upcoming semester. Did you know that I'm going to graduate with my bachelor's degree this year? That's so scary to think how close I am, and then there's graduate school... I've got about 5 schools in mind, 6 if you include one out of the country. My Mom, whom I have been getting along much better with, is moving and I'll be getting my own place. All of these things, it's so weird.
I'm working on a story right now, it's 8 pages double-spaced, and I plan on using it towards my final portfolio to get into graduate school. Right now it should go under the genre of 'Love Story' but I plan on twisting it around, like I do with most of my writings.
I must admit, I am still irritated with a number of things. For one, I just the semester to start again, since I am itching to finish. Another is how my wireless internet won't work for what seems more than 5 minutes at a time, but the most annoyance is my knee. My goddamn right knee. I wake up every day around 9-10am in extreme pain, so I slap my brace on, take some pain medicine and get ready to start the day. It also doesn't help me that I just lost my job as well.
Here's a monologue I wrote::
"Me? Crazy? No, why would I be crazy? Why would I be angry all the time? What reasons do I have? The fact that I’m going to be living on medication for the rest of my life due to my mental illnesses, or the fact that I should never have kids? But, oh hey, can’t have kids until you find someone to have kids with, which will never happen ever again. It might be the fact that I feel like my family hates me and so does everyone else, or the fact that no matter how normal I try to be I’m not. Why would that make me crazy? It is the fact that no matter what I do I always seem to screw things up? Or could it be the fact that no matter what I do things never go my way? People treat me like I’m a child when really I’m an adult. I feel like I need to prove myself when really I shouldn’t. People need to stop being such assholes to me. I wouldn’t be like this if people were nice to me and actually did what they said they were going to do. Help me out when I need help, comfort me when I need comfort. Shit like that. But no, let’s hit me again; beat the crap out of me, and see where that gets me. Let’s shove pills down my throat and as I look through the world with numbing eyes and suicidal thoughts since the medication still doesn’t work because you want me to be normal. I want to be normal. I will never be normal. What the hell is normal anyways? Why am I so angry? Why do people make me so mad? Why am I like this? Why can’t I just die already? I don’t get it why you people think you can fix me when really I don’t think you can. I think I’m duped to live like this the rest of my life."

I wrote that a few months ago with the thought of a younger me in mind; a me in my teenage years. I would like to use that in a play, but I don't know if I ever will.