...A statement which probably seems to be either ominous or whiny. However, it's true and I think it's probably been true for a while.
I dunno, I just feel like there's so much "wrong" with me that I don't quite know where to start fixing myself. It's not like I'm never genuinely cheerful. There's just always this underlying feeling of dissatisfaction and occasionally even contempt directed at myself. For instance, I was supposed to do two things, both involving other people, before this week ended that I have yet to do and I feel extremely guilty about that and yet it's incredibly difficult to force myself to do them because I hate personally uncomfortable meetings with people. I mean, it's to the point where it's ridiculous and I consciously recognize that I'm being ridiculous but I still can't quite force myself to go through with it.
I feel like my solution to everything is to run away or avoid the problem, which is probably part of the reason why I'm so anxious to get away to college -- I'm really not happy with my life thus far and I just want to start over. Of course, that's impossible, and I don't really have a reason to be unhappy with my life, which again leads me back to the feeling that something is really wrong with me.
Wow, this is getting really heavy. I apologize. If you don't know me I probably sound incredibly depressed. I'm not. I'm just generally unhappy -- although not at all generally sad -- which is different, I think.
Have you noticed how our blogs have become more introspective, on the whole? That's probably a true sign of teenagerdom or something...
Anyway, I'm going to go reread Anna and the French Kiss (such a shockingly good book) and/or sleep, so see you soonish (have I mentioned that I'm now on spring break? Woohoohoo!).