Don't you believe me anymore?

I've been so aware of the short time of school we have now. I won't make any promises like I have before. I can't say that I'll enjoy these last 40 days or so of school, and I can't say that I won't. I don't know. Making promises only leaves the danger of being horribly disappointed at the end. I've learned my lesson with that. Fuck promises to myself, they never work out.

My cousin told me about this band The Jealous Sound a few months ago, and I just recently checked them out. They're cool. If you like Story of the Year, you will like The Jealous Sound. Their music is alike. "Anxious Arms" is nice. Even if it sounds kind of angry. Eh...makes me kinda sad, and if you heard it, you could probably guess why. Gosh I hate that crap.

Things I should be doing right now:
--sleeping
--or reading "The Scottish Play"
Whatever. Anyway. Inside I can feel myself hitting the walls. I'm going crazy. Its almost the end of high school and I feel like I still have so much to do. But what? I can't figure it out. I still have to tell my parents where I want to go to college. Berkeley responds on Wednesday...but I've already told them I won't get accepted. I knew I should have applied under Psychology there. They want me to go to San Francisco State and come home every weekend. In my head I laugh because I don't want to come home every weekend. I want to know what it feels like to just be away. I know what its like, but....that was a while ago, and this time, I'll be an adult. Well, in an chronological sense. Biologically, I'll be an adult. Mentally, it would take time. That's what I want. To develop...get used to making my own decisions and having to only care for myself for once. And not have to babysit for my crackhead family or pick-up my cousins and my sister anymore, though I love them. It makes me kind of sad, but its something that's necessary. And if I have to stay here, I can already feel the anger and resentment that I'll have. I don't want to wait four more years to get out here. I just want to tell them, it'll only be four years I'll be away, and then I'll come back. They don't understand. They won't let go. No one will. No one in my family wants me to leave. They're like chains, and I don't want to resent them. But I do. And I will if I have to stay here.

Shit. How did this get serious?