Flash · Required

ah... my first entry. but what to write? my livejournal friends list mirrors that of my "real" life. no friends therefore no life. scratch that. i have been shopping. infact ive been shopping every weekend since i got back to the heavenly hell called bangkok. im considering taking up permanent residence in siam square. one of those itsy-bitsy dents in the cement could double as my home and my place of employment. i wonder if it would be considered child labour if i worked for myself.. perhaps id have to hire "qualified adults" to sew my designs. even to draw them for me as well. oi. shopping is my therapist (i pay him dearly) and living with your therapist is not the awesomest of ideas (i can analyze my emotions on my own time thank you very much) ack. shit. complete shit. ive lost my talent my voice my sanity.. whats next my legs? the encyclopedia was right - alienation can cause abnormalities in behavior. of course in the ency they were thinking more along the lines of alienation inflicted by others not self induced lonliness.. its all my fault. i can never think of anything to say when the opportunity to make a new friend arises. of course i realise this stems from isabel's "no offense but whenever we have to hang out alone together alone its boring"s "im bored" when said as an accusation is one of the most evil ego diminishing insanity inducing phrases ever created by man. i tried everythng. everything save stripping to get people interested and yet i am alone. am an undesirable in more ways than one. maybe itll always be that way maybe not. maybe i will move on and banish this period to the depths of the pond that is my mind as i have done countless times before. dammit i have analyzed myself over and over and over and over again but to no avail. each theory has a flaw. no. each theory does not cure me. thats the real problem. why is it that in every "oh-no-ive-gone-thru-something-horrible-and-ive-lost-myself" YA novels the heroine ends up with an ecclectic group of loving friends who dont care that she is painfully dull and doesnt speak much. maybe its the sympathy thing. maybe all i need to get friends is to have my goldfish die. could i be anymore teen-angst-y? yeah. yeah i could. mean its not as if ive started writing poetry and cutting and getting high off household cleaning aids. or have i.. i wouldnt remember. i dont remember anything anymore. each day is a clean mirror of hope when i awake and when i fall asleep its been smashed. and i dont clean it up becvause its common knowledge that if you clean it up before seven hours youll have bad luck fro seven years. or monthes. im not really sure which. ai okay. the television calls and i cant say no.