1:18 p.m. - 2007-01-25
I do remember worrying about Chloe's high school life. I know, she's only 9. BUT what and who you are in high school is something that will either keep you cheerful during bouts of low self-esteem or haunt you with the viciousness of 1000 shots of cheap tequila on an empty stomach. I think I have the tequila kind of memories, not the warm and fuzzies.
I wasn't a bad girl in high school. I was just unobservantly aware that the lame, trite-ass ideals and angst that I felt were my LIFE for christfuckinsakes! was in reality, just stupid shit that most teenagers revel in. Fucking the man. Down with society. Legalize mary jane. Black clothes. Big hair. Short, ssshhhoooort skirts. Padded bras and Rikki Rocket teal green eyeliner. I was obnoxious. And dangerously smart. Somewhat of a bitch (that still holds true today) and I'm not very proud of who I was back in the d'izzay.
I want Chloe to be the girl who finishes first, with a genuine smile and a kind heart. Not so kind that she's a fucking doormat, but nice enough so that I don't strangle her before we pack her shit for college. Self-confident. Smart, not a smart ass. A lovely daughter with the world in her eyes. I want her to be wise enough to enjoy her youth and youthful enough to not realize that she's wise. No smoking pot by the bucketfuls. No short skirts and slutty make up.
Honestly though, am I just wanting my child to attone for my teenage mistakes? I'm not sure attone is the right word to use. I don't feel the need to apologize for the things I did, mistakes I made. I just Chloe to do better, and have wonderful, bittersweet memories of youth.
Damn, there sure are a lot of mo-fucking 'I's' in this entry. I, I, I! Me, Me, Me! That's so boring. My deepest apologies.