This update is like a journal of things I can't seem to find the opportunity to tell other people, the cleansing and venting of these thoughts so they might stop racking around my brain. I read two excerpts that recently talked about the use of blogging. One stated that it was like an uncomfortable stumble upon one's thoughts, as if you've seen something you weren't meant to see.

I find that observation a little untrue, as the author phrased it. If you type it in the blog, then it's meant to be out there, if not batlantly, then at least humbly. What I would think would be a little unsettling, as described, would be peeking into one's bedroom window and discovering a private, hygenial secret. That is quite inappropiate.

In all, I'm a middle class, American teenage girl. This label holds enough stereotypes to form an impression of me, does it not? So on with that, do not expect much else, for otherwise, it would be a disappointment.

Lately (as in, since junior year started), I've been gradually using more and more makeup. Sometimes, my face itches from the layers applied. I think the pictures of all the sexy models on Tumblr has given me a goal of beauty that is beyond my grasp. One of the reasons I kept smoking was to be thinner, like the pictures. It worked. Until I quit.

But overall, I've just made myself ugly. I look smothered in makeup, and my pores are crying. However I did my makeup when I was a freshman that made me feel pretty, I can't find it. Can't seem to get that look.

Although, maybe it's not the makeup, but the mentality. Sometimes in the bathroom, I'll keep fixing it and fixing it even though I know I'll be late for class. I'll be so disatisfied, almost like a BDD thing of "I can't go out yet, until I look pretty, because otherwise everyone will stare." Other times, I'll look in the mirror, with the enthusiasm I had as an underclassman, and be completely satisfied and content with how I look, almost enflating my arrogant confidence.

But it's become a problem. I'm becoming more and more disatisfied. I'm already completely dependant, but now that my new friend is addicted to makeup as well, it's like as if I feel encouraged to hide my ugly face even more. I need help, physical, actual help. But I don't know where to look, who'd understand. When I try saying it, it sounds like I'm complaining or whining about something stupid.

Also, of the late, I've lost my relationship with my mother. Her depression is swinging, and on days she tries to be nice, I push her away because I know it's all an act. I can't stand her, how lazy she is. How she stays home all day, how she is always watching TV on the single set we have in the house. How much she sleeps. How unresponsive she is.

If I ask her for help on homework or a memory, she'll state, "I don't know," and refuse to exert any energy to help. Just brushes me aside like a bastard child. She enjoys the dogs more than me, buys them gifts and talks to them.

Other than that, she does everything for my father. She knows I'm a vegetarian, and she always cooks meat, tells me to "pick the meat out" if I'm that hungry. She cooks him his favorite meals, stops watching TV or using the desktop only if he says so. In my nostalgic, selfish manner, I miss when she actually made breakfast for me, back in preschool. Hasn't done it since.

When she talks to me, especially in her phases of depression, she'll say things to make me feel bad. Sometimes I've already antagonized her and deserve the crap, sometimes I haven't.

Her words conclude my feeling of worthlessness. "Everything is my fault." "I bring everything on myself." "I"m the spawn of Satan."

Now, just the sound of her voice makes me sick. I noticed that she seems to shout with everything she says, especially with my father. It screeches through the thin walls, about pointless ideas, always when I'm right in the middle of concentrating on…something.

She disgusts me, and yet, at the same time, I feel disappointed in her, like she's a lost link I can't get back. It's like an ex-boyfriend or friend, as if you can't go back, and despite your great potential, you're both living in separate planes.

My depression sneaked back on me a day or so ago. I feel like slamming a knife through the meat of my arm.

But hey.

I haven't cut in 19 months.

So. Oh well. The only thing I can do is concentrate on the future, the SAT, the ACT, research papers, finding a job, college applications, volunteering, driver's license, AP tests, fine arts competitions.

I mean, it's all I have. Might as well be a good, studious Asian, and succeed in school.