October 21, 2013.

So I've come to realize a few things about this second period health class. One: childbirth is the most disgusting thing ever. Two: all the races stick to eachother. Like, all the white folk talk to eachother, the Hispanics are within themselves, and the blacks sort of talk to everyone. So they're an exception. I don't know why I felt to share. Trying to get my mind off the gross video, I guess. It's about sex and reproduction and stuff like that. They guy narrating literally just said that sex isn't fun. Pfft! Okay, bro. Nah, I'm #TeamVirgin. We watched childbirth happen. Seriously nasty shit. The kid just shoots out! You know those machines that shoot out tennis balls? Yeah, it's like that. This whole video makes my body hurt. Like, the babies got stuck and oh my god it looked painful as all hell. My wrists hurt. Like my scars are throbbing. The redness will go down for about thirty minutes and then the bottom one will get all red again. I'm not complaining, though. I like my scars. They're battle scars, ya know? I don't want them to go away. Because I'm scared I'll lose the constant reminders to not do it again. Not like I could, though, if I wanted to. I don't have anything to do it with. I broke my lay one after the last time. Sayin as I broke my promise and all. I really wish I wasn't so shy in this class. In every other class, I'm outgoing an noticed but not in this one. Heh, I bet the people in this class could never imagine me being not shy. I'm not sure why I am in this class. I hope Nathan's bruise goes away soon.

I've never been this stressed before.

And the thing is, I don't even know why I am. Like, I do. But I don't know how to put it in words. Let's start off by saying I'm stupid. Holy shit, am I dumb. I wish I was smart. You know, intelligent. Like him. He's really smart. There are times where I'll be sitting in class and tney ask a question. Nobody is raising their hand, right? So I'll do the problem in my head. Then the teacher will say the answer and it'll be what I got when I did it in my head. So then I feel stupid for not saying my answer and passing up an opportunity to appear smart. Now let's talk about how I'm not good enough for him. Yeah, he can switch it around and tell me that he doesn't think he's good enough for me but whatever. We all know it's the other way around. And we also have to throw in the fact that I'm a terrible French kisser. Top of the stairs today? Ha. Must've messed up every other time. No, it's not cute. So don't tell me it is. At this point, I should know what I'm doing and I don't. God, I'm so pathetic. So at this point, the only thing I've got going is a half decent face with a terrible body. He's got a fucking v-line! Automatically makes me the fat one in the relationship. Which is partially why I started working out. Who know, maybe I'll start eating light ranch, too. That sounded mean. You know I love you. I'm not mad at him, so don't think I am. I'm frustrated at myself for letting myself go from a nobody to a somebody to a nobody again. Oh! And that's another thing! He knows everybody. And none of them know who I am. Maybe if I was popular like him, I wouldn't be hating myself as much. I'm not saying I hate myself because of him. Definitely not saying that. I'm just saying that I hate myself because I've finally realized who I am. Or who I'm not. Either one.