The Isolation of Skye.

Well, Skye’s out in the middle of nowhere, which I expected. What I didn’t expect is how far we are from even the civilisation in Skye.

Four miles. That’s how far the closest ANYTHING is: pub, store, PERSON (with the exception of the occasional farm or old person). And although Anne misled us with the hole thing, she can’t understand why we’re pissed and insisted we talk it out and try to resolve it. But see, there’s no ‘resolving it’, at this point: what’s done is done. And trying to justify it is admirable, but she doesn’t understand and getting in my face with me trying to explain (which I suck at, incidentally, unless I have time to think and write) just frustrated me and pisses me off.

Especially since she still continues to judge and tries to tell you what’s wrong with you while ignoring anything that’s wrong with her.

The two of us and her are just on two completely different levels.

So I took another Kava Kava and came out here to get away, think, and (it seems) cry.

I don’t know what I want, apart from people I know and can relate to, emphasis on the latter. People OTHER than Blair and Anne. I’m sick of their company but sick of my own too. If last week was the week in London or Edinburgh and really busy, then I’d love it here to recuperate and chill and be alone. But it wasn’t. It was spent with nobody except those two, and that’s how this week’ll be too. A big nothing. Can’t evem go to the beach or swim, here. I’m bored, lonely, and worst of all I DONT KNOW WHAT I WANT, only that it’s NOT THIS.

I need males. Pot. Not as a crutch but as a habit I enjoy. Mama mentioned once that people like us smoke because it helps us relate to people without being overcome by them. Like a different kind of shield.

Not to mention in situations like this it really helps one relax and wile away the empty hours. I just spent two days in a car doing nothing. I’m bord now because I’ve been at a lack of things to do for a while, and now that I’m free there’s nothing more to do.

Anne said snidely that I like to run.

Great way to describe her, snide.

I wanted to stab her.

Maybe so, but I’m aware of it and have my own ways of dealing with problems. When it’s something that’s my own problem that I need to work through, like this, I need to be alone and think and chill. Trying to explain this to her while she makes a snide comment (meaning judgment) at the end of every sentence I speak and yet still manages not to understand just makes me want to stab her more.

For all her supposed wisdom, she understands teenagers absolutely zero. She tried to use herself as a measuring stick for everyone. She doesn’t get that we’re not just different people, teens are literally a different species. We think differently and react differently.

We’re not just mini-adults all the time. We’re teens. Not just immature, DIFFERENT.

Stab stab stab stab.

And no relief by internet or even phone.

I want to smash my head against a tree until it’s bloody. You’d break the tree with your face.

Whew. I feel better slightly, having vomited all that out.

Lah.

Pink is Blair.