I'm sick/tired of being me

I had a blog back in 2002. I dumped it because I was sick of the person I was becoming. I started another one that I wrote in concurrently with the first blog, then dumped that one, and then picked it up again after I dumped the FIRST blog. Now I'm here. I'm sick of the person I'm becoming.

I recently wrote a letter to one of my best friends, who will for the time be called Alice, since I don't have her permission to use her name. The letter goes something like:

Note to self (to Alice):

I need tighter jeans, chunkier Nikes, bigger-framed glasses, uglier sweaters, neon-colored t-shirts, gold and glittering accessories. I need quality lingo, quicker quips, a more rambunctious attitude, a more destructive way of life. I need more body hair, facial hair, chest hair, none of it smothered in deodorant or sprayed with cologne. I need a faster life, an easier life, a night-life, something to get me out of bed at two in the morning to look for trouble.

This will go on, I assure you, in another installment to you.

Love- Julain

PS: I am changing my name.

I'm pretty sure I still feel this way. I'm pretty sure nothing has changed about me except a URL and my energy level (the last thing I ate was a slice of homemade coconut cake, fatty fatty fatty.)

I'm pretty sure nothing has changed about me, and I'm tired, I'm sick of me. And I thought angst was supposed to eventually evaporate, like radio signals in space.