Two months ago, I cracked the screen of my iTouch. Last week, I lost my phone and as a result have to use this old ghetto phone that my sister used a billion years ago. Its so shitty that its missing the back cover that holds the battery and I had to tape it up. When I finally came back home Saturday night from being at friend's houses and doing all sorts of other nonsense, my sister announced the death of my laptop. GREAT.
The laptop is actually working right now though because my dad figured out that it was the part of the laptop where the charger is connected that was messed up but it will probably randomly turn off while I type this...sigh. I've come to the conclusion that I should not be trusted with electronic devices or most other material possessions because putting them in my hands is just a recipe for disaster. Unfortunately, I'm so irresponsible with these things that I broke my brother's PSP only a few months after he bought it. This may well be a reflection of my personality, I know. I don't want to make some cheesy analogy between these broken items and myself to say that I'm a "broken" soul because I'm far from it.
Maybe it is my aggressiveness that makes me such a bad candidate for the possession of technological items. I think I often don't handle things with care and just bust out my inner Hulk instead of behaving in a calm and dignified manner. My handwriting also reflects this nature as well. You know how people say that girls often have noticably neat and bubbly handwriting? Well, I'm one of the few that writes worse than a preschooler. Some have even gone as far to say that my handwriting looks like Chinese...it really isn't THAT bad, I don't think.
My room is a disaster as well. If my mom wouldn't go into my room when I'm away to clean (and check out what kind of romantic letters are hidden behind my closet...yeah Mom, I know), my room would be a fort of papers covering the entire area, shielding me from the clear thoughts that wish they could occupy my mind. My book bag needs major help, but I've gotten better. It used to be so bad that in middle school and during my freshman year I'd get 0's on assignments because I couldn't find them in my extensive portfolio of garbage. The bag may as well have been called a BFI garbage disposal.
For as long as I have remembered, I have been the same scattered-brained, disorganized, way-too-outspoken (it at times seems as though I have no verbal filter), manic person. There must be something wrong with me. In fact, my depersonalization disorder may be a product of a bigger picture that I long ago failed to notice. In a way, I like being this way though.
It gives me more balls than some guys I know. There are a number of things wrong with each person in this world, especially me. Mother Earth doesn't cater much to the weak, now does it?
Not cleaning my room or book bag,
Dina Starr
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