Here's Tina the Troubled Teen. Aren't stereotypes fun? Here's what she thinks
of her world today:
7/17/98
I think it's my own fault for having normal friends. Whatever it is I need
or am expecting, and I'm not quite sure what that is, tho the traces are all
around me I almost choke on them, I surely can't get from those who are actually
healthy. I want to hide.
7/17/98 (later)
I keep trying to prevent myself from being defined as a fucked-up chick.
But how do you stop yourself from being a prisoner of your own mind? You
can't escape your own thoughts, urges, problems, trip-ups...I don't want to
be this depression freak, I want to be social and fun and like the rest of
my friends, but there's just one thing...I AM DEPRESSED. I DO Suffer from a
Mental Illness. It sucks, but it is that way. I knew it wouldn't go away
forever, not w/o more of a fight...but I'm damned tired...I've fought so much,
and the shitty thing is it's all w/ myself. Seems like a waste. I'm sick of
the way everything is "supposed" to be...all the stereotypical expectations,
of females, teenagers, human beings in general. Fuck it all to hell. I'm me,
and there ain't shit I can do about it. I'm so tired of this.
Nite time is the worse time for being alone, but day time ain't no joy
either.
7/21/98
"All I really want to do is, baby, be friends with you." Sitting on my
front porch and listening to Bob Dylan, reading some Ogden Nash and other
Urban Hymns, I'm thinking I really want to learn how to play the fiddle. A
bit of surprise, because I'm shaking, but it's not like yesterday shaking,
this time I don't have a knife with me, and I'm not in dry tears (perhaps
it's because today I'm not too disappointed that I'm alive). Maybe
I'll take up the harmonica today. After one more cigarette. One more
ciggarette. I'm off to the library. Just one more, tho, for the road.
8/27/98
