Welcome to my Bloodfeast.

I know my previous entry is filled with optimism and eludes to the misconception that I'm grounded, so to speak, that I have a good head on my shoulders. Well, you know what? I don't.

I opened my 2 million paged biology book tonight and had a full-blown panic attack, complete with crying and hyperventilating. Monosaccharide? What is that? Polysaccharide? Maybe mono's mom? I just didn't know. Disaccharide? Yes, please! Die!

I'm sure you are all familiar with the snowball effect. One thing leads to another, piles on as you roll uncontrollably down the hill to despair, growing bigger and bigger until you finally reach rock bottom. Population: You and Me.

First it was biology. Then it was college. Then it was California. Then it was my parents. Then it was a career. Then it was having a garage sale. And then there was none.

The cheese stands alone. I'm cheese, nice to meet you.

I did something tonight I haven't done in a long time. I allowed myself to cry. I allowed myself to grieve over my lost childhood, over my overbearing, dependant, controlling parents, over the money I spent on foolishness, over the fact that I became a slacker, over the fact that I cannot stand my friends, but most importantly, I allowed myself to grieve what's now in the past...I finally, after all this time, allowed myself to grieve over the grave of the girl I once was, or wasn't, so to speak.

After being tied up in relationship after relationship (major suckfest) in the past years which were vital to my actual maturing and "growing up," I never actually got to experience myself over these periods of transition. I was too wrapped up in who I was seeing to be seeing myself. And now, here I am, suddenly alone, and I'm scared. I'm not independant. I'm not career-oriented. I'm not ready.

I don't know where to start. I don't know my left from my right. I don't feel I can do this. I can't see myself without the people who have defined me all my life. I can't see myself as a 20 year old. I can't see myself in 10 years with a career. A career. Having a job. Making a life with money I am making from my career. I am not supposed to do that. That's for other people. Not me. Too bad that way of thinking is not logical anymore, not that it ever was. I just doesn't make sense anymore. It used to.

I don't know where all this time went. The time between A and B. The time where my brother had a part-time job and lived home, to now where he has a career and a wife and lives down the street. The time when my sister wore my brother's clothes and played basketball to now, when she's working full-time, drinking and painting her toenails (not at the same time, tee-hee.) The time when my parents seemed old to now, where they actually are old. It's scary. I can see it. My dad's hair used to be jet black, and now it's way past salt and pepper stage. Where did the time go? When did I start wearing high heels and smoking cigarettes (those few times) and taking birth control? When did I start college? When did I graduate? When did I stop playing with Barbies and start playing with boys instead? When did boys stop having cooties? Damn, I knew the old adage "time flies when you're having fun," but I wasn't even having fun! When does the fun part begin? Does it ever begin? Being married, having babies and a career doesn't sound fun to me! Sounds like a bunch of work!

Does the work ever stop? Do we just spend our entire lives working for some unknown universal cause that we may never even see the outcome of? Are we all working like spiders in a web of connections that are translucent to the individuality we crave? What does this all mean? Why do we do it? Why do we have to do it? What happens if we don't?

What is the other option to not doing all of the above mentioned? Is anyone really happy with their lives? Their careers? Their choices?

I don't see why life is the way it is. Maybe I think too much about it, I don't know.