AUGH

nights like tonight have me wondering if i'm in a communications bubble, because i can't seem to get ahold of anyone.

everyone important to me disappears right when i need them. so here i am again, writing in crisis because i have no other recourse. that's a bit melodramatic. still.

slc feminists will be known as the great trainwreck-cluster fuck disaster of my sophomore year.

the name brigid black fills me with nothing but resentment, an emotion more powerful (but followed quickly by) a seething anger and loathing feeling.

and pain. i'm actually really very sad about this. in the way that one is sad when the mean kids come kick down your sandcastle at the beach. sad like that.

want to hear a secret about me? i've only been in positions of leadership twice in my life. both times were spectacular failures. i'm, like, a failure at being an aries - we're natural born leaders, you know. except me. the only place i lead is straight down, kids. better to remain an advisor, advice columnist, and general counselor. it is i who directs other people to take courses of action - i do not take them myself.

the real secret about me is i'm scared. i'm scared to death of other people. in general. i do not trust them. it is ridiculous, and i know this. there are many things i comprehend in my head that have nothing to do with the dictates of my heart (look at my choice of love[r]s if you need more proof). i'm terrified of failure, of looking stupid, of exposing myself to ridicule. ya know what that makes you, if you're a poet? a real shitty one. one of the requirements of any art is a certain willingness to suck, and i haven't found mine yet. that's why art is terrifying and exhilarating - the emotional risk-taking involved. i am still playing it safe. i write funny poems, or poems that don't matter and aren't about anything. because i can, because i'm still skillful with words, because people like wit. it's easy for me, it's sexy for everyone else. flashy.

so. me, as the leader of the feminists, without any help or encouragement, plus a co-chair that would've made a banana sloth look productive, paired with a rival feminista group on campus peopled by more experienced kids, equals one spectacular dose of horrid.

it's so craptacular, in fact, i might be impressed. if i weren't so upset. and everything else in my life was going so swimmingly. motherfuckinggoddamnit.