06.10.2002 | 4:01 p.m.
Sea Change + Period = No Seritonin

I wish there was some way I could separate my intangible self - my thoughts, my emotions, my brains, my heart (in the non-physical sense of the word), my voice - from my face and body. I wish there was some way I could put all of it neatly in a box, wrap it with silver paper and a complimentary ribbon. Then that box would be me. And what's more unique than a box who talks, a box who laughs, a box who sings, and box who falls in love? My face and body can stick out of dumpsters, for all I care. Sometimes even the Catcher in the Rye metaphor seems too simplistic and inadequate for the way I feel about attraction and love and relationships. I will never, can never, understand the dichotomy of loving someone as much you possibly can and being in love with someone else altogether.

Last night, Daisy and I finally watched My Big Greek Fat Wedding . I realised that even feel- good movies are going to depress me because there's always this niggling voice in my head that says, "Things don't work that way in real life. And if they do, they ignore your existence completely." I didn't hate the movie. I didn't think it was spectacular. I laughed at the jokes. I also knew they weren't very original. The script played off stereotypes that everyone who comes from an 'ethnic' heritage can relate to, and can probably even refute. But still, it left me with this feeling of despair and desperation and excruciating loneliness.

Consequently, this morning at 3:30 a.m, I was on the kitchen counter in a oversized sweater, eating spoons of cottage cheese and crying. Monica sat across from me, listening intently. The sad truth of the matter is that boys aren't sexually attracted to me. The paedophiles on the H37 definitely don't count. I can't understand why someone can love me so much, and still not be in love with me. How many times has that happened to me? Um. It'd be depressing to actually make a list. Boys want to ruffle my hair and hold my hand when I cross the street. They tell me I'm perfect and I understand them like no one else does, and yet, they're usually in love with someone else. What confounds me more is the fact that usually they look through their negative aspects, and will look beyond them. I'm not really complaining. I love being so close to people as wonderful and Matthew and Vivek and Theo, and it means the world to me that they love and respect me. But...it's just the way things are. It happens again and again and again. My disillusionment produces movies like 'My Best Friend's Wedding' -that's quite a burden to live with.

I also pulled a Penny Lane and cried into my sweater, "Why doesn't _____ love me,Monica?" She said she'd didn't know. She said she didn't want to live in a world where he wouldn't fall in love with me. She said he didn't know what he was missing, and when I looked at her, voluptuous tears rolled down her cheek. Enid says the same thing in Ghost World to Seymour - "I don't want to live in a world where someone like you can't get a girlfriend." She also says "Only stupid people have good relationships." Maybe I'm bitter, but I want really badly to believe in that. I want to believe that though _______ isn't in love with me,he should be. I want to believe that this hurt serves an ultimate purpose, and that perhaps, I won't die cold and crazy, surrounded by my 70 cats.

Baby, I'm a lost cause...I'm tired of fighting, fighting for a lost cause....

deja vu? | jamais vu?