Complaints of a Lonely(ish) Soul

I'm cleaning my room, going through my drawings and other stuff that I saved from college, and looking at other drawings and stuff that I've saved. I have some cool stuff, and with every thing that I look at, the memories come back so clearly, even with stuff from, like, elementary school. It is so amazing, and so awesome, and I love it. Some of my drawings are crap, some are cool, some are hilarious. I've saved cards, notes, and even a glasses case that I had people sign. I wish I could show people this, because I feel like no one (besides my mum, whom I love, and who will always and forever be my absolute best friend in the world, even though I don't even tell her everything) has ever really gotten to know me, every part of me, and understands me. I would love to talk to my mum all the time, but she's busy. And I'm not terribly close with any of my sibs in that way either. All my friends are scattered across the country or are in Rexburg. So I've only myself to tell about me, and I do care, but it can be pretty repetitive, telling myself things that I already know. 

Whenever I do talk to people, my family included, the conversation always gets turned to the other person, and they talk about themselves, and I have to just stuff all my words back down my throat. Even when I came back from college, and I demanded that I have some time to just talk about me, everyone except my lovely mum scattered after about 10 minutes, and I couldn't tell stories about class, or life, or anything, and I felt like mum wasn't even really caring all that much. And it sucks, because when I talk to other people about their lives, I give them my whole attention, and mean what I say, and feel for them, and if I have to, I pretend to be enthusiastic. I let people dump on me, but when I try to dump, I either get ignored, no one cares (or maybe just don't express their caring, which is just as sucky), or I feel like a jerk for just talking about me. I feel spoiled for talking about myself on my own blog.

I'm not saying all this in an "emo" way, or to get comments, or to have people feel sorry for me or whatever. I just don't get it. Does this happen to other people? I can't be the only one who gets screwed all the time like this. What's probably going on is that my perspective on myself is warped, I'm not actually as nice or awesome as I think I am, and I'm just a stupid person who complains too much. It's probably that. But you don't have to read what I say, so go away, and I'll just keep myself company and wallow in my whateverness, and tell myself how cool I am from my crazy, warped perspective.

SO there!

And to keep me from dying of boredom, I've decided to give myself a report to do each week, due on Saturday. This week's topic: Nailpolish. I'm also learning music stuff, practising piano, and I've typed up some worksheets so I can learn from those medical terminology cards. AND I may do job-shadowing at the hospital. Sweetness, huh? But it'll all probably end up as words on my blog, and I won't actually do any of it.

But I still want to go back. I miss college, and my friends. Facebook just doesn't cut it.

Oh, and we had FHE for the first time in FOREVER (seriously) last night, and it's my job to do the lesson, and people didn't really pay attention, but I learned, and I cried. I hate crying when I bear my testimony. It's a big reason why I don't bear it more often. I hate crying in front of people, even my family. I go and hide in my room.

And that's the end. Back to organising, then to work on that report. Ciao, my draculas!