Whoa, it's an update

Wow, so here I am, I can't even find the motivation in myself to dig around for my journal, because it's somewhere in the messes that have accumulated underneath my piles of unread books and notebooks and papers and obligations to unknown faces who are helping me and not the other way around.
I hate feeling so out of control
And let's be serious here,
Really serious,
I don't like it when CJ jokes like that
Because,
In all
brutal
harsh
ugly
unfriendly
honesty
I can't actually tell if he's joking.
And I know I have friends here,
but everything's so tentative.
and I really want to know who I can trust
but I can't even trust myself
to handle everything
because
let's face it
I'm not that mature.
and wow
look at me
I'm fucking cultured
but Ginsberg can't save me from my own bad habits
and I need to print
and write
and send in applications
and everything is so impersonal
how could I make a name for myself?
I'm scared
scared that I can't handle it
scared that everything is getting the better of me
that I'm missing out on opportunities that
should
have
been
but I can't do
everything
we all know that no one can do that
and yet
it's almost like I don't want to do
anything
and that just seems
damn ridiculous.
WORDS
Fucking words
how do they work
when it's my job to be
impartial
objective
to think and
act
and play the music
that radiates from inside the
pumping
pulsing
aura
of my dead pink brain
I need to be in control
and after a weekend like that
control needs me
because
i can't work
when my body is running
at a speed so different from my mind
that the green flag and the checkered flag
fly at the same goddamn time
oh this is shit
this beat poetry
it's so stupid the way the words all form
hate
because i hate hating
and I hate being mad
but I haven't written in days
and for me that's a fucking lifetime
all bent out of shape
I can't fucking handle it
I'm a lazy bum
I'm a fucking writer
I don't get shit done
I observe it happening
then
much like fucking
masturbation
I write for myself
HA.
Isn't that novel
I write for my fucking self
I wish
I wish the world worked in a way
where people CARED
that I wrote for myself
but then
i would be writing for them
and even though I'm not saying JACK FUCKING SHIT
right now
the feeling of angrily pounding the keyboards
is the same goddamn release I used yesterday to
get rid of my stupid menstrual cramps
and YES YES YES
but we don't get any privacy here
and all I want is a little love
because
I don't fucking know
not anything
I don't know anything.
It kind of hurts
being this out of control
I like to know what's going on
to command the respect of
the environment
by at least being competent enough
to comprehend it
but here
but here
i don't know shit.
and that's not totally true
I just really wish that CJ
wouldn't joke like that
because
he's kind of a dick
and it doesn't mean to hurt
at least
I dont think it does
but it does anyway
in a weird
twisted
kind of pumping slow poison
where you do have to wonder
what is your self worth
and I don't want to go home
exactly, but
I wouldn't mind seeing my friends
not to say that these aren't
but they're still distant from knowing who i really am
fuck
I'm still distant from knowing who i really am
and I would appreciate it
if they stopped judging me
and by they I mean a couple different people
and i should stop
because this is stupid
and it puts ideas into my head
but I really wouldn't mind being allowed to be
competent at something
CJ
because your little bullshit routine
well
it actually isn't cute
or funny
and wow
i sound bitter
and I hope no one judges me on
this
but fuck it if they do
fuck the whole fucking thing
Im entitled to being who i am
and all that i want is a little respect from a friend
who doesn't realize that he isn't joking
when he thinks he
because
guess what
I think I have self-worth problems
oh yeah,
who doesn't?
and I flirt with boys because
I like feeling loved
and I need the constant reassurance that
I'm doing it right
yeah,
so thanks
for that little esteem boost
babe
you sure as heck helped me
feel peachy.