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All Or Nothing

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[2001-07-26]-[11:10 a.m.]

Sorry I didn't write yesterday, diary. I had lunch with Max yesterday. That guy is so damn funny. He rocks. Pop rocks. So sweet. I wrote and handed in my resignation letter yesterday. It sucked. I thought I would be able to do it with no emotion, and be cool and slick and not give a fuck about a job I've had for four fucking years. Four years is a long time when you're 18 years old. I thought wrong. I wrote it and this odd feeling hit me: a tingling feeling in the center of my stomach, hitting my throat, my eyes. I didn't cry. I kind of felt like it though. The museum, despite everything and everyone I hate there, has helped me get through some fucking tough times and they've paid me even when I would run off in the middle of the day to take the bus crosstown to go pick up heroin and make it back two hours later, eyes glazed, and pretending to never have left. My boss kept my job for me when I went to rehab for a month or two, and when I had to stop working four days a week so I could focus on school, she cut it down to two days. She's so damn cool. The museum has taught me a whole lot, from how to talk to a six year old without patronizing him to how not to kill coworkers who deserve brutal violent death. I got a bit sentimental reminiscing with my boss about the years past there, yesterday. There's only one kid in this department that has been there as long me. I feel old compared to most of the kids now. It's a scary feeling, but one I relish.

Scott came to work with me. He stayed all evening. What a guy. Then we went back to his place and slept and fooled around this morning before he went to work. I forgot to take my fucking insulin last night, so I awoke with high blood sugar at like 4 a.m. this morning. (Go me!) I think that this is the first time that I've totally just forgotten about it. I didn't feel too hot this morning, and I wanted to hit myself for being so dumb. But I recovered. I only really mind because I probably disturbed Scotty sleeping when I had to get up to shoot insulin. I don't like waking him up, but I end up doing it almost every day. It's so sweet watching him sleep and just holding him. (Wow, this is getting disgustingly cute. Fuck this.)

Supposedly Laura ran into Chris yesterday at Sean's house. I sort of wish I'd gone, but oh well! She said he looked like shit. He said 'hi' to her, and then something along the lines of 'oh, wait, you're friends with Chuck. You probably don't think too highly of me.' I hope he knows how I feel. I think I've spelled it out pretty clearly to him. I doubt he acknowledges anything he did, but maybe, hopefully he does. I know I was sort of fucked to him, by being obsessive, angry, wanting more than I knew he would ever give me. I know it. But I don't think I lied. I think he did. Both to me, and to himself.

I wish I wasn't still angry about this. I doubt he even thinks about it anymore. I do though. Oh well. I feel good about myself. I rock balls. I love Scotty. That's enough for me. My real friends are still awesome, and they don't lie.

Cheesy. I know.

'I've had enough of watching scenes of schizophrenic, ego-centric, paranoiac, prima-donnas. All I want is the truth now. Just gimme some truth now.' ----'Gimme Some Truth' by John Lennon (although I was just listening to the Ash version)

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