2002-04-07 @ 11:01 p.m.
i swear i'm not schizophrenic.
i spend far too much time feeling sorry for myself. there's two parts of me - the happy part and the sad part.happy: jon will call. he asked for your number, didn't he? he'll totally call you.
sad: he probably just asked for your number because he wanted kim's number and didn't want you to feel like crap.
happy: shut up, don't talk to her like that. he'll call you. besides, he gave you his number, so if he doesn't call in a few days, you can always call him.
sad: but you won't, because you're chickenshit.
happy: how many times do i have to tell you, shut up! (cat proceeds to cry) come on, cat, stop crying. first of all, turn off this depressing music, listen to something happy.
sad: (defends the mp3 player) you're not turning on any happy shit. this shit is perfectly fine. (turns up the volume on "my december") now listen, cat, what you need to do is go get some vodka, and drink a lot of it. then proceed to collapse onto your bed in a drunken fit of tears and cry your eyes out.
happy: (hits sad) alcohol is bad for you.
sad: she doesn't care.
happy: (rolls eyes) come on, cat, cheer up! just think, he'll call you, you'll become friends, you'll become MORE than friends, and everyone will be jealous because you're dating such a fun guy!
sad: or not. he's not the hottest guy, you know. people will just make fun of her, because he's not hot, and people are so goddamn superficial. i mean, look at all the people who don't like cat because she's fat.
happy: SHE'S NOT FAT, SHUT UP!
sad: (shrugs) whatever you want to think, optimist extraordinaire.
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