30 December, 1999

I want out.
I want out from west.  I want out from my stupid clique of friends.  I want out of this house.  I want out from my family.  I want out from going to the same buildings every day.  I want out of getting up at 9 every Sunday to get to church on time.  I want out from mountain biking.  I want out from skiing.  I want out from Utah.  I want to leave everything behind.  I want my parents to get me an apartment in some little city in a nice part of Boulder, Colorado, and let me go to high school there for the next year and a half.  I don't ever want to come back to Utah.  I don't ever want to see my "friends" again.  I hate feeling alone.  I hate feeling empty.  I hate walking out of somewhere without my friends, having none of them wave goodbye as I drive off alone.  I hate my family pretending to care.  I hate people thinking they're better than me.  I hate everybody writing me off as some freak, labeling me as something they don't ever understand or want to understand, and letting me rot in that box.  I'm sick of life in general but know that suicide isn't the answer.  I just want to get hit by a truck or something.  Hopefully I'll die on Y2K eve or whatever.  I'd be just as happy 6 feet under as I am right now.  Things can only go up, anyhow.