My heart - for what it's worth.

Careless
I want to be the one that dies
Just to see if they'll forget
And the one who sits and cries
Just to see if he will come
And yet no matter how I try or fall
He's always one step farther
Can't he see? He's got the rope
Pulling out my heart, pulls me apart
I haven't got the strength to say
When he's not here, I'm scared to feel
It's hard to know what hurts the most
He says “it isn't meant to be”
And slowly, word by simple word,
He kills the only part of me
That crumbles now within his grasp
The only part that ever really mattered.


I'm very close to considering posting this where he will be able to read it. Can I do it?

Question: Will he care?

Answer? Not bloody likely.

So much for only 33 posts this month.

A Poem for A Poem

Pitter patter, shattered heart

And give away what you won't feel

Pitter patter, broken wish

Please fall upon some other girl."

I wrote that sort of as an addition to the title of my newest poem. Now that I've mentioned it, I suppose I'll just type up the poem itself. This was one of those I wanted only him to read. Tell me, is this how it's supposed to be?

Pitter Patter, Shattered Heart
The wind is howling outside
I think it hears the turmoil
The closing gate each time a tear
Falls slowly, slowly down my face
The place for fighting back the fear
Has gone unnoticed, once again.

I think the sky knows what I feel
It could not cry out otherwise
Or know this blinding terror
Making shards and pixie dust
Playing with my shattered heart
As though there isn't one thing left
To care about or even feel.

My world is fractured, like a mirror
Jagged pieces which reflect
My pain, the cloud surrounding me
And just beyond my bedroom walls
The storm, the storm, it knows
That though I manage to forgive him
Every time that he's not here
Still it hurts to know, to realize.

I'm not the one he'll need or love
When every day is past and through
And not the face that he expects
I'll give the storm another piece
Another part that's breaking off
The wind will snatch it, swallowed whole
And give my aching soul
Another reason to forgive the rain
That falls upon my doorstep every day.

--
Something I add to my poems sometimes, when I don't rhyme the lines, is where each stanza, in order, has another line. In this poem, the first has six, and every one gains another, until you get to the last stanza, with nine lines. I've never thought anyone has ever noticed before. Shows to go, even when I have no pattern in my poems, I have to add in a pattern. *smiles* I've never been able to explain that before, either, and I didn't explain it very eloquently here either. Lol. Oh well. You get the point, relatively.

Anyway, I just noticed, for two months in succession, for the most part (which means: if I don't post another . . . uh, post, before the month is out), I will have exactly the same number of posts in each month. 33 for November, the same for December. Huh. Terribly ordered. I think I want some more variety, but I can't help how much I type sometimes. *grins*

"Open me up and you will see
I'm a gallery of broken hearts.
I'm beyond repair, let me be
And give me back my broken parts."
Be Ok - Ingrid Michaelson.

That song just came up on my playlist, so it's flashing through my mind at the moment. That song is terribly uplifting, if you listen to the beat, not necessarily the lyrics. *smiles* But it's a good song, and L. introduced me to it. God love her for it.

"Know that maybe I will be okay."

Good lyrics, sometimes, though.

Anyway. I feel as though I'm simply trying to fill up space with nothing. I'm tired, but I don't want to go to sleep. I think I want to go read another love story, and imagine everything coming out just right, for once. I'll be able to immerse myself in that (as C. frankly, and piggishly if I were to admit it, put it once) "faerie tale." Hmph. He calls himself a romantic, yet he's probably the most cynical, bitter (and please excuse me for this word, it's too late in the evening to still be accounted for what I say) bastard I've ever met. *shrugs*

Am I one of those saps who believes they'll be able to change that, be able to change him? *scoffs* Huh. Yeah, I guess, deep down, I am. I really sort of am. *sighs*

One tree.

I just had one thought I wanted to relate, for this post. One thought which prompted me to begin writing, and I'm sure I'll get that thought out, but I know I'll write much much more than that.

I don't know if it is just me, but I think I always seem to live right where the best trees are. If you haven't learned yet, I have quite a fascination with trees. Everything about them just draws me in, like watching another person standing there, completely frozen. And the trees by my house, they're the best ones. Or perhaps, I simply become so attached to them that they become ever more beautiful to me. Definitely like people, then. *smiles*

I'm supposed to go to a friend's house tomorrow, a nice big "sleep-over." My friend called me to tell me she was picking me up, and to bring some good "Chick Flick" movies from my sister's stash. Now, I put this in quotations for a reason. When I asked her what kinds of movies, in particular, she was thinking of, she came up with one: 300. You know, the one with Gerard Butler, full of over-ripped abs and guys in less clothes than I would trust in my own bedroom. *grins* Not exactly chick flick material, more 'chick drool' material. Lol. I'm not that big a fan of the whole movie, but Gerard is definitely a sweety (because everytime I think of him I remember the movie "PS I love you"). But regardless, I found that rather amusing.

Anyway, C. seems to be making it a habit to talk to me now. I almost wish he wouldn't, but oh well. But you know what? I was seconds away from writing: "You don't read my stuff anymore." and something else along that line, in the form of a statement. I know he wouldn't actually deny it if I told him that, but before I could, he logged off. Almost as though he could read my mind. If we were in person, talking, I'd stick my tongue out at him and wack him on the head, hard, with a nice hardback book. Yes, that would be very nice. . . .

I almost hate vacations. They give me so little to actually do that I become a veritable hermit, and sloth. I don't do a damn thing when I don't have to. A bit sad, but nevertheless true.

I'm getting impatient, waiting for my camera in the mail. I almost feel as though it will never come. I want to be reasonable, but it's so very annoying to have to wait for it. I want it, and I want it now, and yes I will mentally stomp my foot on the ground just to say that. *grins*

I know there is a lot else that I haven't said that I want to say, but I can't gather it around me long enough to know what it is, and subsequently type it out. So, I suppose I'll just give it up for the moment, and contemplate for the remainder of the night. *sighs*

Well, good night then. Or good day, or whatever phrase is appropriate. :)

We'll be okay, in the end. It's just taking a while.

Alright

*takes deep, deep breath*

We're going to try this over again.

"Always on my Mind" - Phantom Planet. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kykU5X33ry0) Namely, at .42 seconds into the song. I like that part.

"Fall to Pieces" - Avril Lavigne. I've listened to this song so many times today, it almost isn't even pathetic anymore. Almost. Just a select few lines, which I expressed in the previous post, are what attract me the most. But I love the song in entirety, as well. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGh0CcbVoPQ)

"Nothing Better" - The Postal Service. Rewritten a bit, by this guy whose name I haven't a clue of. The singing isn't necessarily the best, but it still gives me shivers to listen and watch him singing this song. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHqdxVea4oI)

"Be Still My Heart" - The Postal Service. Well, I don't know. The beginning bit, before any of the lyrics start, isn't so bad in itself. The video itself rather annoys me, actually, all jumpy and moving around and stuff, but the song isn't so bad. The chorus, really, is all that draws me to this song. I'll admit, I haven't listened to it much tonight. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MS0E9yKh-Y)

"Take me Away" - Lifehouse. Yes, this is definitely on the playlist for tonight. Lifehouse always works. I have no words to describe what this music does to me. His barely moving voice, the words, they always seem to be able to penetrate my heart more than any other music. Or maybe I exaggerate. Regardless, this is on the list, most deservedly. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oX4Xvy6vcGw)

And now that I've focused on something else for a few minutes or so, I'm going to jump to a different topic, aren't I?

I believe, now that I've been reading so many stories on HPFF lately, and finding so many that I enjoy, I'm going to start another little column on my page for that list. Kind of like how I make a list of the books I've read this year, and am reading. We'll do this, maybe so I won't ever forget those I've read. I do so like the ones I have. *smiles faintly* It's hard to really smile at this point in time, but I suppose I can manage it a little. *bites lip* Well, once, at least.

Anyway. *stretches neck hesitantly* I'm pretty sure that's all I should say for tonight.

This is more than anyone with minimal patience could ever get through. Perhaps, it's only for me. So I don't forget. Yeah, that's it. No one's going to read this, so I'm writing for myself. I like that idea, I think. Then again, maybe I don't.

My words are still invisible, aren't they? Yeah. They are.

Again, and again, and again, it seems.

I don't really feel like anything, at the moment. I want to write a post, but I don't feel like it.

I have got a lot of poems, which I want to post, yet I don't. There are a select few, very few, people who I want to read these poems, and no more. Yet, I can't just send the poems to them, or that would seem rather blatantly obvious, and pathetic. I hate pathetic, so much. How can you tell someone something, without actually telling them? *rolls eyes* It's rather impossible, especially if that someone is hardly willing to listen, or care.

I have a few poems, and I really feel the need to share them, even though no one cares, nor will read them anyway. Fuck. I'm rather hopeless. And earlier, just when I was thinking to myself, I'm not going to talk to him, I'm just going to tell him the truth, that "I don't feel great at all," just tell him to "Bugger off" and all that nonsense, and well, I didn't. No, I talked to him. I did, finally, though, simply tell him I didn't feel all that great, and that I would call it a night, but not soon enough. Fuck, I'm pathetic.

Next time we talk, I swear, I'll just say, "You don't actually read my poetry at all." Just say it, get it over with. But I can't, obviously. I'm too chickenshit.

"And I don't want a conversation
I just want to cry in front of you.
I don't want to talk about it."
Fall to Pieces - Avril Lavigne.

I told him, "You want to know how I'm feeling right now?" and posted the link to the damn song and he said, and I quote him exactly: "If you feel like an avril lavigne song, I think you should kill yourself. xDDD" Obviously, just another part of his cynical, sarcastic, rather more than sardonic "wit" but still, that hurt. Disregard. Complete and total disregard. I fucking hate him, I do. I don't. Fuck, I don't know. *narrows eyes at computer screen*

Please, suck me into the vortex when you're feeling depressed, but as soon as I show some goddamn human emotion, you go all fucking sarcastic and frustratingly carefree and thoughtless and just so goddamned unburdened. God. What am I doing? It isn't as though I was telling him I love him or anything, fuck. He probably thought so, too, you know that. I could just throttle the careless son of a bitch right now, strangle the sarcasm and cynicism right out of him. Wouldn't work, I grant you, but still. That would be ultimately very satisfying.

Part of the fucking lyrics, but not part of me. Namely "I don't want to fall to pieces/ I just want to sit and stare at you/.../I don't want to talk about/ Cause I'm in love with you" Psht. Fuck, this is so frustrating, infuriating. Why do I even let him get to me? It isn't as though any of this is supposed to mean anything. *rolls eyes, grits teeth* I'm just so, arrrrggh, pissed off.

Anyway.

Now what do I say? Now that I've basically attempted to purge my system of this highly irritating subject. I've nothing to discuss. Do I? *closes eyes*

My head aches, my neck is so sore, throbbing and all out of place, tense and not at all the way I feel like feeling. I would curse again, but I've probably done enough for the month. And yes, my fingers are itching to type my favorite word (at the moment) again and again and again. Maybe just a line or so.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK! *growling in frustration, screeching like a goddamn pissed off fucking tiger* This is beyond my irritation. And the most agonizing part of it all, I have to stay silent because it's after 11 o'clock, and everyone's in bed. As I should be.

F U C K !

Perhaps I should start another post. I'm not going to accomplish any civilized conversation in this one, it seems. Maybe not even at all tonight. So, goodnight. I hope yours is better than mine.

Speak of the devil . . . .

And he shall come.

The first thing he starts off with is (duh duh duh) a complaint. I could flatter myself and say that maybe that's the only way he knows to initiate a conversation with me, but I'm not that wonderful a conversationalist. I'm sure he has better talking skills than that . . . right?

Anyway. Off to chat some more, it seems. :P

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVPhq9eP1_Q - Very relaxing, almost like listening to pianos and violins, isn't it? *smiles* (Because the little smiley faces on here remind me of aliens --> :) See what I mean?)

And a poem to go with it, I suppose. (http://mattclendon.wordpress.com/2008/12/11/maybe-im-amazed/)

Vacation.

I think I was better off when he was too busy for conversation, too busy for me.

Hm.

A couple more weeks then, and I should be safe. *rolls eyes*

And before I forget, this song, well, self explanatory. If you take it into context with this and the last post, well, I guess it takes on an ironic tone. :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFZnoNNM1ew
"Your Love is King" - Will Young

Lots and lots of Thinking. (yes, capitalized.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SjaGB62SYCM
I'm really liking this song, but I won't even begin to attempt to spell the title. :)
Oh, and this one (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qNqQC7R_Me4) isn't too bad either.

There is something vaguely reminiscent about today, something which reminds me how little importance I hold in others' hearts. My mother promised to take me shopping today for some much needed pants (as I only have one pair, technically, now), and she's still sleeping, well past the appointed hour. Of course. Not that I have any money to buy more than one pair, if that, if I even find one pair (which I probably won't, or wouldn't). *grimaces*

And maybe that's it, but it's still enough to make me stop and wonder: do I really mean as much as I hope I do? I just feel this vague sense of neglect, like everyone is slowly forgetting about me, and I'm not really as important as I used to be, if I ever was. I hate to think it.

Something people don't need. If it's true, then there it is. And if people respond to my lamentations of neglect, it's obligation which drives them, resignation their motivation. I can't seem to feel like the attention is deserved, it feels more like habitual duty, they did it before and suppose they must do it still. But anyway.

I don't know, until I'd thought of it, truly, today didn't really have anything more than an off sense, a deja vu quality. I've done this before, I've been here, I've thought this. There is simply something about this moment that doesn't quite fit. Perhaps I'm forgetting to do something, perhaps I'm the one who feels the obligation, the need, the lead weight of resignation. Maybe I feel like I don't need them, but then I'd be lying. Perhaps it is simply at this very moment in time I don't need them.

I've been writing some poems lately, but I haven't really finished many, and those I have have quite astounded me. Then again, I don't know. Maybe they haven't. I keep my poetry here, if you're interested. Doubtful, but nonetheless. I don't mind readers of this blog to cross over to there, because my poetry is basically like my subtly worded journal, another extension. To have readers of my poetry cross over to this site, my more (how do you say?) explicitly worded journal, well, that would be beyond embarrassing. Anyway (my new favorite word, it seems), that's that, isn't it? I like to keep the illusion of privacy and anonymity, as well as I can. There are a few visitors to my poetry blog that I definitely wouldn't want to see this. But I need a new topic.

Unfortunately, I haven't anything else to say. Hmm. Except to say that my new camera is in the mail, coming to me soon. I'll be snapping pictures left and right, I'm sure, in all the frenzy and euphoria of having a new camera. :) I cannot wait, I really cannot.

Though this present of mine (only the second from my entire family, mind you) will still feel like an obligation, an old promise that someone had to keep, rather than wanted. *sighs* Still, I'll enjoy it immensely, after I get over my guilt at having asked for something from someone.

I am now doubly sure that I am only a distraction for C. A distraction, and not necessarily a much enjoyed one at times. Simply, one that's there, a sort of "what the hell, why not?" distraction for conversation. No, he doesn't read my poetry. Not anymore. He did momentarily, for a while. I know this, because he used to comment, and I mean actually comment. He doesn't anymore, not even a little. If he did read my things, he'd have more to say, or rather, something to say. Wow, that makes me feel a bit worthless. I should know better, obviously, but still, it kind of hurts to realize this. I know I'm simply something he takes for granted, so I really want to somehow show him that I'm not really always going to be available for conversation centered around him, but it's rather a hard thing to maneuver, if I was to be completely honest. I just get a great big shot of whatever-that-happy-hormone-it-is-that-makes-you-feel-absolutely-splendid-after-exercising that just makes me grin from cheek to cheek. Yeah, like I've said, I'm pathetic.

Here, this oughta cover it. I love this song, just discovered it yesterday. "Out of Reach" by Gabrielle. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qHbvfLp2WVc)

I wonder, if he was to read this blog, what would he think? No, better yet, I wonder if he would even take the time to read this blog at all? Likely the latter, if I was honest. And I wonder if I would want him to, if I would care that he knows something more about me, something more that he might be able to discard as rubbish, useless information that he didn't even want to know in the first place?

I wonder if I should stop wondering? Yeah, that sounds the safest bet.

Yeah. . .

Slept 34 hours, if you were wondering, after staying up for about 51 hours straight (minus a one-hour nap around 1 o'clock. It was wonderfully refreshing. Didn't quite eliminate my dark circles, but then, I don't think anything will anymore.

Yesterday was absolutely fabulous. I'm really enjoying my vacation. Apart from being hounded by an old friend to edit all of her college essays (while I'm still on break!!) and getting a total of ONE present from my entire family. I got more presents from my friends than I did my family, and not even from my own mother. Psht. Life is lovely.

Anyway, I finally got the recipe for my grandma's delicious mystery bars. I can't wait to make some, they'll be fabulous. Something different than brownies, that's for sure.

I'm supposed to be going to L's house today, this afternoon, but my clothes are still drying in my defunct dryer and I still have to take a shower. *smiles* Life is wonderful.

L. is a bit obsessed (or a little less so) with Harry Potter Fan Fiction, and whenever she comes across an especially amazing story, she passes it along to me to read. Needless to say, I read one yesterday that is to die for, if you'll pardon the cliche-d phrase. It's called Tongue Tied by queenspuppet at
(http://www.harrypotterfanfiction.com/viewstory.php?psid=217050).
I love this story, right next to one called Match. by mental
(http://www.harrypotterfanfiction.com/viewstory.php?psid=192912)
which is sadly not finished yet, but soon to be.

Anyway. Good reading material, if I do say so myself. I'm a dork, but that's okay. At least I can say with dignity that I haven't read any of the Harry Potter books more than once. I just love those fan fictions, they're like reading a teenage romance novel, or something like that. You go through all the range of emotions while reading them, and I just love that. But now I'm really going out of topic here.

I have to take a shower, but I don't feel like it at the moment. I do know that I don't feel like I've gotten enough sleep at all. I chatted with C. last night again, and, well, I've finally deduced that he probably doesn't even read my stuff anymore. Prat. I really am hopeless. The only reason he likes talking to me is so he can complain about his life, debate about things I couldn't really care less about (sometimes), and have me read his stuff. Psht.

Phones ringing, gotta go. :)

By the hour.

It's looking like about 48 hours exactly since last I slept.

I'm not too bothered with it, this whole lack of sleep, but I know if I chose to, I could fall asleep without a seconds hesitation. Easily. But. . . . I won't. Yet. I'll go to bed early tonight (my first of break) but I won't go to bed now. It's too early. :D

So I've gotten a record number of gifts this year, let's see: One each from W. & A., one from L, one from B., and two from M. (He honestly shouldn't have, what am I going to do? He thinks I like him, and he just won't back off. I can't stay nice while telling him that I don't like him, to back off, to leave me alone and get over me. The only recourse would be to be mean and blunt, and I couldn't do that to anyone.) I'm absolutely overwhelmed, and I feel guilty too, for not having gotten anyone else anything. I am, after all, next to a pauper. :)

I have an idea in my head, for gifts. I kind of want to find a poem for each person I'd give a gift to, a poem that reminds me of them and fits them to perfection. Then, write that poem on a beautiful piece of paper (cardstock), which I'm sort of out of. Lol. *rolls eyes*

All I have to do is expend that effort to first find the poems, then find the paper, then write with the best script I can. :D I wonder how that'll pan out.

Anyway, that's what I promised myself I'd do right now, instead of typing a post, so I'm going to end this here.

PS. Vacation!!!! :D

Chat, chat,*yaawwwnnn* chat.

Gad, am I so tired.

I didn't go to bed at all last night, and it's looking like I won't tonight.

Still have a couple paragraphs to write, and a lab report to finish off with.

It's getting very hard to keep my eyes open, heavy and dreary.

Had a chat with C. tonight. Probably why I'm so behind in my work, but oh well. This conversation went a lot better than our last. We talked about, I don't know, three hours or so. Not bad. He wasn't quite as irritating, and he isn't, when he's not focusing on himself and how his life sucks. He can be very skillful in manipulating a conversation back to him. *insert rueful smile* What's wrong with me?

Anyway, I'm not going to expect anything. I won't even expect a repeat of tonight. It was just a random fluke and nothing more. He means nothing to me, I mean nothing to him. *rolls eyes*

I really am tired. I really should be getting sleep. Too bad my research paper's due tomorrow. Just one day left, one day, and I'll have vacation.

Thank you thank you thank you whomever controls the fates.

I really need my sleep.

*long-suffering sigh*

What am I going to do with her?

Hideaway - The Weepies
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEo0OHoRlmY

Bitch.

My mom is being such a bitch tonight. Well, that's every night, but right now she's really pissing me off.

She wants me to hurry up and finish my research paper for English, a paper worth nearly 200 pts, so that she can chat online with a bunch of fucking idiot guys who are saying that they 'love' her after one or two times chatting online. Is she fucking crazy?!!? When I told her that One: it's my computer, and TWO: I'm doing homework and she's not, she says "I've had to raise you guys, it's time for me to have a life. Do I not get to have a life?" Are you fucking kidding me?!? Does she want me to have an A in this class, or a goddamn C?

I could just rip her head off, scream to oblivion. She's such a fucking child, she acts like she's thirteen, and this computer is her goddamn world. She doesn't even know these fucking, gold-digging people. That's all they are. Goddamnit!!!

Can you tell I'm a little pissed off?! This is why I can't stand to be here anymore. I don't have a parent, I have a child I have to take care of. And it's always about her, isn't it? "I don't have a life, do I not deserve one?" I just want to get on the goddamn computer to do my fucking homework when she's been on all day, literally, chatting. Petulant, spoiled, immature, childish bitch. And you know what? The only reason she's still talking to these guys, though she knows they only want the money she doesn't have, is because they're flattering her, making her feel better, so she continues talking to them, hogging the computer, sitting here getting my keyboard all full of crumbs and shit. (!!!!!?LKE#$JNM@#$*&A%&@_+!!!) Why do I have to have a child for a mother?

I really hope I get my own laptop for christmas, because I cannot share a computer with her anymore. I'm not even getting to use my own computer. If I want to use it, I have to get on after 11 o'clock, or before 6:30 in the morning. Seriously. This needs to stop. And she really needs to grow up.

Mourn.

My heart is aching for something, though I don't even know what. The unknown possibility, the life I did not lead, the hope crushed on my sleeve.

If I close my eyes, I can picture a scene. A tall, lean build, laughter in his eyes, a dark blue sweater that fits him to perfection, dark jeans and a smile. I run into his arms, and I'm engulfed. I can feel his joy in the rumble of his chest against my face, the ways his arms tighten around me. I don't know who he is, but his eyes are the deepest, darkest color of the rainbow, rich and vibrantly hued.

Another unanswered prayer. A road that may have been, if one choice years ago had not been made, and my heart aches for its possibilities.

A world I'll never see, a life I'll never know. Winter in spring, and summer in fall. Autumn leaves torn from their grave and sprinkled over the snow. A smile, a laugh, and a promise. A sweet song of love and a kiss.

Be Ok - Ingrid Michaelson
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeD86IT1Gl4
Valley Winter Song - Fountains of Wayne
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P9UXk1CXrUg

Who needs a bloody title?

"Who said that it's better to have loved and lost?
I wish that I had never loved at all."
-Up Against the Wall (Boys Like Girls)

I'm really trying very hard not to think about this, because I'm sure I'll simply make myself more nervous and afraid and less likely to do it. Family is supposed to be there for you, right? Forever, no matter what? *shakes head* It isn't like that anymore. The ties between members are more fragile, thinner and less of a bond forged to protect against the outside world.

We're all on our own in this world we call home.

If you're wondering who I'm talking of, it's my father. Or used to be. Why does it always seem to be the father, when you're talking of that one family member who isn't where they should be? Well, except in the case of L. The roles are reversed in her case. But nevertheless, it's him. I want to fashion a present for him for Christmas, or maybe New Year's. A note attached "Because I'm trying not to be vindictive." I don't know if I'll ever send said present. I probably won't. And if I do, I'll likely be crushed when I still don't hear back from him, like it's been for the past four years.

My invisible words.

I know I've told myself, and my mother, that I don't really care anymore. But I'm not the kind to just abandon a relationship, of whatever nature it is, with no regard for the other involved. I'm not the kind who can simply give up, not try at all. I want to believe that October of 2004 isn't the last I'll ever hear from him, that the letter he sent won't be the last he ever thinks of me. I've always wondered, or at least I have recently, if I'll never hear from him again until that one day I get a phone call, the phone call. Am I still in his will? Or will I never hear from him again? Not a single word exchanged, nor thought provoked.

It hurts, obviously. You can't live through this sort of rejection without wondering, without thinking or believing, that it's your fault, your flaw. His reasons are entirely unknown, so I can't help but ask myself over and again if it was something I did or didn't do, if I simply wasn't good enough, if I simply wasn't enough. I shouldn't blame myself, but somehow, for some reason, I still feel it's my duty to mend this rift, if that's all it is, my responsibility to make the first move, because I still remember him, things related to him, so many memories that can't ever fade. He's part of my past, but can I accept that he might not be a part of my present, my future? Will he never know of me again after I've turned eighteen and graduated and he isn't required to send child support every month (though he's only sent it sporadically at best since last year)? Do I mean so little to him? Does he even think of me at all?

Perhaps that is part of where my drive to get good grades comes from. If I can manage a 4.0 GPA all four years, I'll have something to rub in his face, something to show and say "See, I really am worthy of your time. Please look at me." Pathetic even in my own head. Would he ever feel pride? Regret for not being there? Indifference? If I can manage complete control of my own life, does that make me worthy of his?

I'm procrastinating, though. I'm forgetting the Common Application, my Physics lab report, my English paper, my sleep. I'm abandoning myself in the hopes it will all work out on its own.

Alarm clocks

All manner of things have this result effected.

Twice in a row now I've woken up an hour late. It's winter outside, so I must leave ten minutes earlier. I've always had trouble with the time I had. Now I have even less.

Frustrating much?

I'd say YES.

Smile at this one. . .

Take a look at this. I love how poor Paul Jones is being rather, well, harrassed by the female audience as he attempts to sing. Don't worry, it escalates as the song comes to a close. ;) It just makes you want to laugh because you know that if you were one of the girls (provided you are a girl in the first place) in that position, you'd probably be doing the same thing. Well, maybe not. Or maybe you'd be doing something a bit more than that. But who really knows? *smiles*

But really, watch this, listen to the song, but mainly, just watch this.

It's called: "Come Tomorrow" by Manfred Mann, a British band in the 1960s.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tBQ_nJGXaB0

Oh, and PS.
Doesn't he just have the best voice? *grins*
Made you laugh, didn't it? *nods* Thought so. ;)

Spelling eccentricities.

I have learned tonight, in the way I've learned all other random spelling rules (by accident, and happy chance), that some words are spelled in more than one way for a reason, or simply have other (correct) spellings.

That didn't come out as I had meant it to, but nevertheless.

As I was reading a book of mine, I noticed that the word "fiance" had been spelled in a different way than I thought it was. I looked it up in the dictionary, and I discovered something that makes me a bit giddy to know. Fiance (with just one 'e') is meant to be a "man engaged to get married." If you add an extra 'e' to the end of it, fiancee, it means a female engaged to be married. I love these little spelling eccentricities, they make me happy.

Just like the time I discovered the word blonde is spelled with an 'e' to describe a female, and without an 'e' (as in "blond") to describe a man. Or that the word judgment can be spelled with an 'e' (judgement) or without an 'e'. Or all of those words that can be spelled in the British sense of the word, with an added 'u' in words such as colour, honour, and so on. Or even, with an 'x' instead of 'ct' in words like connexion. Isn't it just wonderful? *grins* Yes, I realize you find this infinitely less amazing than I do. But that's okay.

On the bright side, the weather here is now officially and technically, according to the six o'clock news, blizzard weather conditions. (Sustained or frequent gusts of wind more than 35 mph; heavy, consistent snow; and visibility at 1/4 of a mile or less. Or something to that effect.) Exciting. I'm certain I'm quite relieved and a little dissapointed that I have absolutely no reason to go outside. Not a single one. *sighs* I almost wish I did.

Until then, I'll be cold and you'll be. . . . lucky enough to be in another part of the country, at least for the most part. *smiles*

Snow, snow, and more snow.

I'm supposed to start the Common Application today. I'm petrified - I don't know how or where to begin. I should talk to my councelor on monday, but I feel the greatest hesitancy to do so, the greatest reluctance. I'm really thinking on restarting writing on my book. I've looked at it so closely today, I'm considering printing it out, possibly rereading what I've already written so I can continue to write. It may be the only thing to get me back on track, at the moment. It might focus my frenzied, restless energy, calm my stressed and wound-up nerves. Or maybe not, who knows.

It's snowing like crazy today. I'd say like a blizzard, but it's not that much, nor that bad. But there are several inches on the ground yet, and the snow hasn't abated. My heart clenches when I think on all the animals left outside. It cannot be anywhere near to . . . anything I can imagine. But still, I'm reminded of a book I read "The Children's Blizzard" by David Laskin. It was about a blizzard that swept through this area and the Dakotas in 1888 and killed so many for how quickly it came on. All I can remember from that book was how at the very end, when the blizzard was over the next morning, a young man (who had been huddling in a hay stack for the duration of the storm with his little sister) decided to get out and get help for her. He got ten steps away before he had a heart attack and died from the sudden rush of cold blood to his heart after staying in one position all night. That's all I can see, and it hurts to witness in my mind.

That's the only thing I do not like about continual snow and freezing temperatures. They remind of what they shouldn't.

Anyway. I really must concentrate on other things. I really really must. I can't. I'll try.

"Gravity" The Fold
"From Where You Are" Lifehouse
"We Looked Like Giants" Death Cab For Cutie
"Everywhere You Go" Taxiride
"Stop and Stare" OneRepublic

Random thought.

How many great poets of the past were not alone, in the end?

Very few that are my favorites, is all I have to say.

As I said. . . (warned, really)

Once the words start coming, they never seem to stop.

So, apparently, M. is getting me a gift for christmas. He told me so last period today. All I could respond with was "Why?" when inwardly I was thinking "Dear god no, why me? Why does he continue doing this? What reason has he to get me a present?" *sighs*

I suppose it is partially my fault. He probably thinks I'm flirting with him a lot of the time, and if I am, I can't really help it - it's in my nature, a helpless habit, kind of like tripping. I've noticed at lunch, now, that he tends to stand right in front of me to talk, even if someone else is talking and I really want to hear what they're saying and I've been talking with them for quite some time before he had to show up and effectively cut that into shreds, and yet he doesn't back off even if I'm not really listening to him or paying attention because I can't listen to two *insert curse word* conversations at the same time. *drops head into hand, sighs, shakes head*

He just moves, closer, closer, until he's right in front of me, successfully blocking everyone else off and *rolls eyes* making it blatantly obvious that he likes me. *closes eyes tightly* He honestly, and in this I do not lie, honestly thinks that I don't know that he likes me. And, he also probably thinks that I like him as well. *insert a slew of curse words*

Lately I can't help but throw a glance at this guy C. while he sits on the floor and witnesses all this helpless exploitation by a guy I never really liked in the first place but couldn't help but go on a date with or be nice to because I'm a nice person and can't stand hurting someone so obviously. . . . This is shit, isn't it? I'm screwed. Only six more months to endure. *sighs*

Oh, and have I mentioned? I'm entirely screwed in all different ways when it comes to college apps. The colleges I really want to go to are due on Monday. I have so many things to do for them, it's too stressful to even consider. I'm panicking, terrified, petrified, and expected to do this with absolutely no help nor background knowledge/experience. I'm supposed to know how to do this, and get everything done while juggling all my stupid homework. Oh, did I mention either? Yesterday, I had three tests, one in Physics, Latin, and Governemnt (which I got a 64% on, damn impossible tests, regardless of studying). The day before, a test in Math. The day before that, a semi-test in English. And today, another semi-test in English. Life is absolutely fabulous isn't it? I also have to write a six paragraph minimum research/literary analysis by Monday, because the teacher loves to spring deadlines on you, and completely minimize your time to work on any papers at all. I've never been expected to write such a paper so quickly.

I hate life - I'm considering dropping out of it. Leaving, quitting, giving up on the whole institution altogether. Or at least, giving up high school and college, or at the very least, just college. It would be easier. Why don't I just go to a state school for a year? . . . Hm, let me think on that: because I'm a masochistic, mildly-suicidal, brain-ready-to-explode, ex-valedictorian who loves to pile on as much stress on herself as possible. Yeah, that would be it.

Anyway, it's nearing midnight, and my eyes are watering for some odd reason, as though someone is blowing wind right into my eyes or I've held them open for one minute too long. They won't stop this irritating feeling. So I'm going to go to sleep before my stomach convinces me that I need to eat something.

This happens. . .

I really don't feel like writing. I have no inclination. Not even a little. Every time I think about jotting down a brilliant post, outlining my boring day, something, anything, I pause and think, "Why?" Is there a purpose to this? I'm not sure there is. *sighs* Oh well. I'll give it a shot. After all, I'm good at faking enthusiasm when the situation calls for it. Then again, once I start writing, it's hard for me to stop or slow down. Witness - the acceleration.

Today was absolutely stunning. Last night, as I was perusing my old journals (of which there are three), I found and subsequently read a scene from the sequel (which I haven't written yet) to the book I haven't finished yet. . . don't try to decipher the chaos . . . . and it made me so giddy happy that I actually hugged myself before clapping in utter bliss like an idiot. That's how great this little, less-than-a-page scene was. Yeah, I know. *nods sagely* :P

Anyway, so that put me in a good mood for most of the day. I almost, keyword almost, tripped going up the last flight of stairs (again) on my way to the third floor for second period (again). Have I reiterated enough the word 'again'? Luckily, I didn't face plant it, nor did I bang my knee or spill my books and calculator for the world to see. *grins* I caught myself, so it wasn't a major skip-the-step incident, just a minor one, while my friend grabbed my arm rather quickly to make sure I didn't face plant it . . . again. We've concluded, unanimously, that I need to relearn how to walk. *smiles* What can I say? It did give me quite the adrenaline rush though (which may have been caused by the combination of walking up three flights of stairs, adrenaline hyperventilation/panic at another incident that could have ended badly [but thankfully didn't], and laughing/retelling the story that should never be mentioned again) which lasted all through the rest of passing period, and a few minutes into class as well.

On the bright side, when I was walking up the stairs last week with another of my friends, she remarked on how gracefully I seemed to flow up the stairs. Big ego boost, wouldn't you say? I told her, as I will tell you, that because I am rather large-er chested (and please never ask me just how much larger) than all of my high school friends (and possibly even acquaintances, though you would never really notice, nor can tell all that much, thankfully) I have perfected the way I walk on the stairs to minimize, and god this phrase is embarrassing even in my head, all possible, and inevitable, bounce-age. *laughs, shakes head at self* Needless to say, it still hasn't prevented me from not quite stepping on the steps at times, and losing my already precarious (though hopefully at least slightly graceful . . . ?) balance. *grins* Yeah, I'm sure I lost you way back at the last paragraph, didn't I? Still laughing? Good.

Moving on.

This weekend will be such murder to the senses, I don't even know where to begin. I believe Sunday actually has a high of -8 and a low of -18, not counting the 40 mph wind speed. I think it comes to around -65 degrees, all in total. Ouch. Good thing I don't really have to leave the house. *smiles devilishly* Mom does though.

Wow, I have a lot of convoluted sentences today. Very lengthy, full of much parentheses action and commas. Sorry. I'm sure it is quite arduous to read so that at least a fraction of it comes out in coherent, understandable phrases. Oops. I tend to get caught up in the words. I never know when to stop a sentence when I'm in this mood, because hey, every single word is important. . . . right? *sighs, rolls eyes*

Oh, and by the way, I'm apparently quite laughable when I say the word (part of my childhood culture. . . . too dramatic?) . . . . . . get ready for it . . . . . . . . y'all. Yeah, it ain't special when my English teacher used it, my friend L. made that all too clear when I pointed it out to her in class. My y'all is special because, apparently *insert eye roll*, I say it with a twang, a little country/southern accent and something or other. *scoffs* Whatever. I don't know. Maybe I say it a bit differently since I am, after all, from the south. And who wants to waste breath, mouth maneuverability, and all around effort saying "you all" when they could quite easily simplify it and use y'all? *sighs* It's beyond my mental capacity to entirely dissect this puzzling . . . puzzle.

But I've overstayed my post. Anyway. I just read this book (a very quick read, by the way) called "First Kiss (Then Tell)" by Cylin Busby (great name, eh?). It caught my eye in the library (which happens a lot, and is why I never do my homework in the library, as you can often see me coming out with a stack of twenty books and a little time card that says "Sorry - full, no room nor time to read"), and I just had to read it. It is a multitude of short retellings by various authors/poets/comic book writers, all discussing their real-life, true - not fabricated, "First Kiss." It is alternately hilarious, disgusting, and overall sweet/dissapointing. I loved it. I laughed quite a bit, too. So, if you feel like it, there ya go. It's a very good fluff book, quite endearing and priceless.

And now that I've done ramblin' this evenin', y'all have a good night. *insert southern accent*

*rolls eyes* ;)

This song.

I'm really liking this song.

This voice, it washes over me quite perfectly. The gentle lull of the waves as they clear the sand of debris, the warm blanket wrapped around your shivering body in the middle of the night, the first kiss of wind on a stifling summer day.

I think this song is my new favorite. Thank you L. and your beautiful satellite radio for finding this song for me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMoKI02WgIg

And this song. . . . *sighs* A bit like, I don't know, cream cheese frosting and dark chocolate brownies; fresh, untouched snow on Christmas morning; waking up to the birds chattering in the trees outside your window. Something familiar, this comfort.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ewrAwrnspZA

Oh,

Did I mention?

When I told my mom (the source of my need to get out of this damned house) that I'd started knitting, she replied in a short, unsurprising sentence:

"It's easy to do."

Gee Mom, thanks. That's not really the point, is it?

She wonders why I'm pissed at her.

Let me guess.

Back, not that you missed me.

I took a bit of a "sabbatical." Or rather, a vacation from home. I couldn't take it anymore. I came home Thursday after school to grab my things, and then I went to a friends house. I just got home tonight. *looks down* I'm fighting tears, but when has that ever been new lately?

I didn't forget to write in my journal, so I'll just type that here. It isn't very long, but gets to the point nicely.

12/4 - Thursday
There is a voice screaming inside my head. A wordless sound.
But I am silent, very much so. More than ever before because this is a subdued, must-stay-contained silence. I am unobtrusive, more so than ever.
I'm staying at a friend's (L.'s) house.
This can't go on, can't continue.
I'm not sure I can stay at my house any time soon. Tomorrow is Friday, then there's the weekend.

12/5 - Friday
There is a wordless panic in my head.
My MP3 is dead. I have nothing to drown in, nothing to drown out the voice that continues to scream emotions at me; wordless, chaotic and desperate. I am adrift and lost. I'm not sure how to cope without that numbness.

--

The first couple movies we watched, I couldn't even pay attention to them, I couldn't focus on them at all. I haven't completely eliminated that voice in my head, but I'm trying. I'm back home here, Sunday night. I'm not sure if I want to be, but I need to do some laundry in any case. I'm going to start an experiment. When I was getting ready earlier, before I left for home, I looked in the mirror, and my eyes were a nice clear, bright, soft green. They were beautiful like that, I'm not sure it lasted very long after walking back into my front door. I'm going to check and see how their color changes. What moods produce which colors.

My friend assures me I can stay at her house. I'm tempted. But even her house can become too much. I don't know. I don't want to feel the burden everywhere. It's inevitable at home, and it's becoming more so with L. This really sucks.

I've learned how to knit. I'm rather proud of myself. I started yesterday, and I've already finished a scarf tonight. I'm rather fast, it's pretty cool. This is almost a relief. Knitting is almost like doing origami, reading, listening to music: repetitive. Endlessly the same, easy to get caught up in so that the time flies for you, swift and fleet. I'm glad. Now all I need to do is buy yarn and needles with money that I don't have. I'm thrilled. . . . . Sense my sarcasm?

Yeah, me too.

If I relax my face, if I don't pay attention, my eyes will widen in panic I'm sure. I'm not really sure how I'm going to get through the next few months.

"I Still Ain't Over You" Augustana
"Scars" Papa Roach
"Right Here" Hawk Nelson
"Rain" Breaking Benjamin
"I'd Rather Be With You" Joshua Radin

So . . .

Tuesday night I didn't got to sleep at all, which isn't something altogether very remarkable. The remarkable part is that I didn't tell anyone. Not like I usually do, where I end up slipping and at least telling my friends when they complain to me about being so tired yesterday. But I didn't say a single thing, and silly or misplaced as it might sound, I'm proud of myself. To be able to keep that to myself, well, I've just never done that before.

Maybe you're wondering how I fared after a night without sleep. I didn't do so bad. There was a bit of a shaky point in second period, when my physics teacher was teaching the next lesson, I had the hardest time keeping my eyes focused. But for the most part, I didn't have any issues. It also probably helps that I left for the second half of the day to decorate a christmas tree for Key Club to raise money for families and children that need it. It was a lot of fun. Our tree had a Frosty the Snowman theme, so we gave it a black (short) tophat, a plastic carrot nose, some funky ornaments for eyes, and long, silver and glitter covered arms. It was a pathetic tree. It doesn't help that it was only a scraggly little six footer. A lot of us came out of that (all six, including me) with an unseen vision. The tree didn't look like what we had imagined, it looked more . . . odd. I'll post the picture whenever I get one, so don't worry, you'll get to see.

Last night, when I finally got home at eight, I sat on my bed (bad idea) and started doing my math homework. I think I got through about four or five very long problems when I started dozing off without realizing it. When I started writing down the next problem, I fell asleep halfway through the problem and then writing down, I would assume, whatever it was that I was dreaming (which happened twice yesterday) So you see the beginning of a math problem, and at the end about four scribbled words that don't really make sense. That happened to me in first period yesterday as well, which was odd. I "fell" asleep and started dreaming of people sneaking into a window or something, opened my eyes, and I had written something about "window sneaking into trail" in pretty illegible writing. *laughs* I might have to experiment with this some other time. It intrigues me. But anyway, after falling asleep over my math homework at least ten times, I decided I would take a nap (though I still had about four assignments left to do, which are due today) and woke up at one o'clock. So, that was shot down.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I have a test fifth, and all the assignments are due by the end of class. Crap. I've screwed myself, so I'm almost thinking I'll skip that class. I've never done that before. I cringe even at the thought, I'm not sure if I could execute such a thing. *wimpers* I brought it on myself, but honestly, I'm not sure what else I could have done.

And now I honestly have to get ready for school before I lose the nerve and decide to skip. That would be very nice. . . but I'm sure my friend would kick my ass. *sighs* Why does she have to act like a grown-up? Sometimes it's so bad that I actually feel reprimanded. *laughs*

O.O

Two words: Holy Shit.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0pkigApKEw

Oh, and this always makes me sigh. I love this song with a passion.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lm68kGuChcw
&
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6p8WE6ZemY

Um, okay.

It finally started snowing today. It started this morning, and I don't believe it's stopped all day long. Started off light, and now it's pretty wet and heavy. I can't wait to see what it will look like in the morning. Pristine, white, crystal clear. *sighs*

I wonder. Do they really not see anything, or (if they do) why do they do nothing? *shakes head* I feel like I live my life full of blind horses, stumbling in the directions they've followed before, assuming the world is still the same. I'm trying hard not to flaunt what they can't see. But, in my heart, I really want to, to see their reactions - shock, disbelief, or ever more studious denial.

I could barely find the energy, today, to reach across my desk for my pencil, much less go up and down the stairs multiple times. I could hardly stay standing. A lot of my friends, in school, said that after last night, they really wanted to come over to my house and give me a hug. I almost wish they had. *sighs heavily* Today was really difficult. Tomorrow will be doubly so, I know. I'm not sure if I want to make it through alive, when I'm not really whole. If you could call this anything, I suppose it would be a "death wish." I don't have the will to kill or cut myself, but I really don't want to survive this. In study hall, in the cafeteria, I kept imagining some sort of Columbine-like event, hoping beyond hope they would find me first.

I'm tired of being strong, because being strong means being alone. I don't know if I can handle alone much longer, if I can stand it. It truly is painful. I keep expecting my heart to stop, my lungs to collapse, something to burst within my head. I'm becoming impatient. It hurts, and I've always had a low tolerance for pain.

I'm not sure if I've really stopped crying at all for about five hours now. I couldn't even produce the will to do my homework. And I have a lot of it. Most due in the next two days. Two due tomorrow, for the same class. I don't know if I can do it.

I don't want to go to sleep. But not because of what I might see. I'm afraid, in sleep, I will be enveloped in the darkness, in unawareness. I desperately need to feel this, whatever it is, every ache within my soul, every throbbing in my body, every part that hurts. I don't want to be shielded from this, I need to feel it. Call me a wallower, I don't know. I can't find the will, the desperation, to claw my way out of this one.

Do you know what I did tonight? I was lying on my bed, listening to my music, flat on my back, and I closed my eyes and I could have sworn I could feel J. there. I could feel his palm brushing my cheek, thumb wiping the tears, before he placed his face against mine and wrapped his arms around me. I could have sworn I felt something brush my lips. And then all the muscles in my face relaxed completely, like he was smoothing them down, cradling my face in his hands. I opened my eyes after a moment, fresh tears in my eyes, and I begged him, "Take me, take me with you. Please, don't leave me here alone. I can't do this, I'm tired of it, I don't want to." Well, of course he didn't.

You see, he's dead. I don't know if I've mentioned that before now. And I can imagine him pulling me up, up out of my body, straight into his arms, straight into the clouds. I'm not sure if I believe in a heaven, but where else could he be? I honestly can't see him anywhere less perfect, less - anything.

I feel hollow. I want something to happen on the ice tomorrow, because it will, without a doubt, be icy out there in the morning. Will I be reckless on purpose? Or just, not careful? I'm hoping I don't have to wait. I really hope I don't.

Mystery.

Hmm. I actually don't know what to say, which is a very peculiar feeling seeing as how I couldn't get to sleep for an hour for the sheer number of words running in my head. This really isn't a good thing, but it seems as though, even when I'm not writing, I'm thinking of what I will write on this blog. So I have a perpetual post running through my head. It's almost becoming the way I analyze things. *sighs*

Well, I can't say I dreamt badly last night, my dreams were more nebulous. All I remember was the fact that I was sick, which translates to mean there'll be trouble and hardships ahead for me. But then, I already knew that. Then again, the focus was more on my eyes, which means something along the lines that I'll be beginning a new venture or will meet someone new (to put it in their words, a "new lover" *smiles involuntarily at the irony of the phrase*), which . . . well, I can't begin to describe what that would mean.

I have to admit, right now, I'm having a difficult time staying in the first person singular when I write. I keep wanting to write "we" instead of "I," though I am refraining from doing so. *smiles* I'm even starting to think in the plural, at least in my head and when I talk out loud to myself. I wonder what that means for my sanity? Hmm. Company, at the very least. *laughs*

I went thumbing through my third book of poetry (yes, there are more of them) where I record all the poems I write, and I came upon this, right at the beginning. I think I wrote it sometime at the beginning of the year.

Softly

The air flows through my fingers
Smooth as a velvet waterfall

Light and full of whispers
A drifting cloud on a summer’s eve

Falling down upon my skin
A sigh of something secret

A ribbon of silk and satin
Spilling over my upturned face

The night is full of promises
The sky waits for love only

A minute more, an hour long
This soft world of starry skies.

*sighs* It's so soothing. It makes me feel marginally better, just rereading it over and over, imagining the sensations all over again, almost like they were new. I love this poem. It makes me smile, almost content.

I don't really know what else to say. The past couple of mornings, I've been able to get up without a snooze button at all, right after my alarm clock goes off. It's quite nice. That gives me an extra half an hour to get ready in the morning, instead of the rushing I've been doing. I honestly wouldn't have this problem if I didn't have to share what little time I have with my sister - namely, if I didn't have to share the bathroom. She'll be in there from about 630 to 710-715, and by then I'm close to having to leave the house. Plus, my mom has to use the bathroom once she's done, so technically, the only time I have in the bathroom to myself is all the time before 630. But count in breakfast, shower, and getting dressed, it leaves me very little time to use the bathroom. Hmph. Oh well. It isn't as though I need to look especially . . . . spiffy. *quirks eyebrow* Weird word.

Wow, this post is becoming astronomically long. Yikes. What on earth will I do with myself?

-- T -- I -- T -- L -- E --

My heart is flooded. I cannot breathe, I refuse to think.

I didn't get it.

When I read the email, I was fine. Only now, now it hits me. I've crumpled into a heap, shattered into a thousand pieces, contained in close proximity to my heart, my core, my soul and spirit.

If a turning point looked like anything, this would be it. How dark can it get? Only time can tell, only time.

"I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing,
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain there is healing
In your name I find meaning
So I'm holding on, I'm holding on, I'm holding on
I'm barely holding on to you"
-Broken (Lifehouse)

Said beautifully, perfectly. Captures it all in all the right words.

Strike Three.

And you'd think it would burst my bubble, seeing as how it's such a major thing in my life.

Three words for you, which is ironic.

No such luck.

I didn't get the scholarship. No full-ride. Fuck.

Now I get to start from the beginning, all over again. Again. *closes eyes, takes deep breath*

But I'm not all that subdued at the moment, not much. My eyes only teared up a little, I haven't full on cried yet. *smiles-ish*

We'll wait and see.

Buble.

On my way home from school, while listening to the radio, the song 'Everything' by Michael Buble came on. *smiles blissfully*

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPUJIbXN0WY> (Hint: Listen while you read.) ;)

There is just something about his voice, it just makes me feel so delicious. His voice is humming, cashmere covered perfection. Like a bumble-bee, buzzing softly right through my heart. Yum. *smiles*

Have I said yet that I love his voice? . . . . Hmm. Well, I do.

Anyway. I got through most of the day accident free, no strike three. :)

I'm happy. And W. (she's one of my best friends) said today that my eyes were a really pretty green, very bright. *grins* I love it when people compliment my eyes. I think they're the only part of me that never has a bad day. Well, except for the circles under them, but that's a whole other story. Today was great. Perfect, actually.

I can't believe it but, I think, I'm actually happy right now. Completely, thoroughly, unbounded-ly carefree. It's such a great feeling. I'm absolutely loving it.

:)

Like a Ballerina. . .

Hmm. . . Let's see. Morning's going great at the moment. Let me tell you, I'm starting to feel more and more graceful and carefree. :D

The house is, for once, clean. I feel I can walk anywhere without having to dodge shoes, clothes, notebooks, papers, etc. It's very nice. I don't have to watch where I walk anymore. . . . Anyone see anything wrong with that?

Well. (sits up straighter)

While trying to lead my cat out of my room, doing some sort of mix of 'come-hither' and 'get-the-fuck-out-of-my-room-already' I walked into the outer corner in my hallway. Strike One. (Oh, and it didn't work, by the way. Something about me making a fool of myself that seemed to, um, make me less intimidating.)

Then, when sitting down at the desk, the chair twisted and my best finger (ie. my middle finger) got caught between a plastic place and a wooden place. Strike Two. (Though we're still well enough off that I can type as easily as ever.)

We've yet to see what strike three is, but, please let it not be tripping. I'm not sure I could handle the shame. *mock swoons*

There will indeed be an update. (and hopefully not soon . . .)

Finally.

Last night was . . . odd. Refreshing

I didn't have anything to think about, no guys on my mind, nothing. Nothing to worry about emotionally. It was strangely, wonderfully freeing.

I feel as though there's something I've missed, like there's something more and I just don't know it yet, some catch-22, but I don't care.

I think, if only for a short time, I'll revel in this feeling of freedom. It's been blessedly effective, this whole journal/blog thing. It hasn't been that long, but it has been extremely fruitful. I never knew I could know myself. Though, granted, I only know myself in part and in this moment alone, I don't care. I've worked out a small portion of my heart's confusion.

And I've realized, unremarkable as it may sound, I really have got everything to look forward to.

C. was really nothing to me. I can say that with the utmost sincerity, which makes me absolutely joyous. I've never been in love. Never. Nor have I yet found that one other human being with which I can connect on a supremely sublime, elemental level.

I'm still waiting. But the funny thing is, I find I can. After all, I suppose I have to be patient, and wait for my life to get itself in order first. (And wait for me to get myself in order as well, eh?) :)

(What prompted this? Hmm. A new, enlightening conversation, I'd say.) ;)

PS. We're going on two nights in a row - - no music, no dreams. *grins*