"look, tom, it's easy..."

Não é TPM, e disso eu tenho certeza, já que, hoje, a cólica me acordou às 5h30 da manhã e me avisou que estava prestes a começar mais uma semana-mais-gostosa-do-mês para mim.
Maybe it's this book I'm reading, cause that Holden guy is really depressing.
All I know is that, boy, I'm feeling lonely. And weird. And I've been judging people a lot, which is annoying.
I wish I could just turn around and ask the guy who sits next to me in class all of these things that bug me, I wish he'd know exactly what to tell me, I wish he'd answer all of these stupid questions just as fast and certain as he does when I ask him what day it is.
Agora estou na aula de física, com uma cólica do cão, morrendo de sono, sem energia nem força de vontade para tentar entender o que o professor está falando. Instead, estou aqui me lamentando e pensando em como, uma vez, num filme de quando a Dakota Fanning ainda era fofinha e fazia filmes interessantes (aliás, agora é irmãzinha dela que está ocupando essa posição) e a Brittany Murphy ainda estava viva, ouvi dizer que as pessoas sempre vão te decepcionar, e que você precisa fazer alguma coisa para você, alguma coisa que te faz bem, to like, get you going.
Only, God, that is just so confusing. To me, it feels like there's such a thin line between not caring about other people and caring too much, between being auto-suficiente and being a huge, anti-social, pain in the ass.
Plus, I don't know what I can do, I don't know what could help me, and get me going, and everything. Because, now that I think about it, I don't think I'm particularly good at anything.
Take my dad, for example. Ele, numa discussão familiar ocorrida esse fim de semana mesmo, disse ter uma paixão inexplicável pelo ciclismo desde que era mais novo do que eu. Que essa paixão é uma coisa que vem de dentro dele. Que não, mesmo depois de mais um acidente, ele não ia parar. It got my mom pretty damn mad, essa declaração, but it also got me thinking: será que todo mundo tem isso?
Comecei aula de yôga a um mês, e estou tendo tanta dificuldade... Maybe one day, eventually, I'll be good at it. I really hope so. I really hope that, one day, it becomes, to me, that little-thing-that-gets-me-going. And, if ever it isn't yôga, that little-thing-that-gets-me-going, well, then I just hope I find out what it is.
Because the only thing I am actually good at is writing. And, if you think about it, even though the writing does help me, não é uma atividade auto-suficiente, because someone will always have to read it. It sort of feels incomplete, if no one reads it.

Oh God. Maybe it's just me. It's probably time I stop being such a pussy (I like using that word after a scene where Tom's little sister says it to him in 500 Days of Summer) (estou muito filmeira hoje.. Mais cedo, na aula de inglês, I was thinking of how, in the end of the Princess Diaries, Mia tells Michael she loves him because he saw her when she was invisible. That's just so dumb. First of all, it's no reason to love someone. Ok, maybe it is, I don't know. But the thing is (e isso ia ser o "second of all"), you can't see someone who's invisible. And I mean that literalmente e metaforicamente falando).
Anyway, I was talking about my being-a-pussy-ness.
Maybe it really is time I stop being such a pussy. 'Cause the writing really did help. It just made me feel a little better, and a little less of a pussy. E meu melhor amigo acabou de me dar uma carta. E ele nunca escreve cartas. E, que bom, que tem pessoas como ele na minha vida. No meio de tantos tantos tantos pussys.