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Somewhat empty (or trying to be).

I honest to god cannot decide how I feel tonight; no one, including myself, will ever understand this. Whatever it is, I'm not as sad as I should be, yet not as happy as I should be if it weren't affecting me at all. Does that make sense? No? Not to me, either. I hate this feeling.

I don't know how I'm getting to school tomorrow. I mean, I can walk, but it's been so unbareably cold lately that I'm not looking forward to it. I know for a fact that I'll have to walk home, though, because even with finding a ride to school, everyone will be at work or school themselves by the time I get out. I'm also not looking forward to spending so much time alone during free periods...I'm not looking forward to doing a hell of a lot alone, I'll tell you that. I need people with me to feel comfortable, and I hate myself incredibly for being so damned crippled, relying on people like I do.

In the end, I don't know what I want and I don't know how I feel. I just tried to do my homework and my heart's not in it. I know, I know, whose heart is ever in homework? But it's not that. Usually, I can at least get it done, we do it together and anything one of us doesn't understand the other either knows or helps to figure out. Tonight I don't feel right about it. I want to look over and make sure he's getting it, but he's not here. Then I want to call and make sure he's going to do it at all so that I'm not getting a grade that he isn't. That's the way our relationships always been, and it's going to be a hell of a chore getting myself out of this mindset.

It's not fair that the human mind does this to us, is it? We get into routines and while circumstances can change in an istant, our brains hold on to the memories and the knee-jerk reactions to those we've loved, emotions remain where we're trying to shed them, and we're left to hurt and sting because our minds are huge douchebags. I don't know about anyone else, but when I've gone through something unusually painful or traumatic, I certainly don't want to keep reliving it through reverie because my brain's gone off on holiday. No, not fair at all.

I'm so fucking sorry.

Some say they're too different but truthfully, with us it's just that we're still the same. Nothing's changed, and everything will continue to be the same for the rest of eternity, boring us into a blasé old age that we're too feeble to escape.

I don't know the future, but I am almost sure that I don't want it and absolutely certain that I won't be able to handle it. I am too uncertain, and that is exactly what's gotten us here, this place that neither of us are truly happy but we both want to pretend we are.

I'm sure it's because we're afraid. We may be afraid of being alone, but mostly it's of losing the love that we had in the beginning (why didn't we realize it was already gone?). We're stewing in our unhappiness because we don't want to admit to ourselves or anyone else that we were wrong, but it's probably time to swallow our pride and just move on now, don't you agree? We'll get over it eventually, and we can find happiness elsewhere (I know there was happiness here once, but I've become too entirely depressed and tired to look for it again).

It's much easier just to go. I know that they swear by never taking the easy way out, but I've always gone against that. You know this, because it's something that you hate about me. You can watch it happen just once more and then move on, find someone else to take the rocky path with you to what I hope is a stable and beautiful future. I'm sorry that it can't be with me. I'm truly, deeply sorry, and I won't lie and say that this doesn't hurt me more than I can remember hurting since Allen died, but I also can't lie to you anymore.

I do love you. Don't ever be so blind as to believe that I don't love you, because I always will, and that is not anything close to a lie. I just can't do this anymore. I can't hold you here, because it's not fair. It's not fair to me, because I'm sacrificing my happiness to try and make yours, and failing still. It's not fair to you, because you're looking to me to make you happy and I'm no good at it. It's not fair to you because you're looking for solace in me and I can't offer you that. Because you're looking for something for the rest of your life and I have more doubts than I've ever been able to tell you, for fear of hurting you.

The last thing I want to do is hurt you, and I've been tiptoeing around this relationship because of that. And my god, it's just not fair.


It's a damn cruel world.

Today, Tidwell assured us that throughout our college careers, we will be changing drastically, understanding the world more and more each day to the point that we will ultimately and inevitably become different people. Comforting, isn't it?

Not only that, but he further went on to point out that, without a doubt, our relationships will begin to form and perhaps even deteriorate along with these things inside of us, and there's nothing that is going to stop any of this.

A sentence he shared went along the lines of "As you begin to step out of your comfort zones, DO NOT expect your friends and family to come along with you!" and isn't that so true? Boyfriends will leave because sentences have grown longer but kisses haven't, parents will scowl because their child is learning more of the world today than they're caught up with, and said child will be left in the dark because they enlightened themselves.

Going away to college is such a turning point in life, one of the first molding blocks of the human resolve, something that ultimately strengthens us more than we ever asked to be. It's the first moment that we realize that we can actually, TRULY grasp what's going on in the world around us and that we really don't want to know.

It's a damn cruel world.


Good day and good night.

Life's been a big mess lately, which I'm sure any of you can confirm - because when is it not? This time, however, it's not so much a bad mess as a wonderful, dizzying one, and that's just fine with me. Sure, there are downs to any up, but I can't say that I'm unhappy, at least not when it comes to the big picture. I've got a best friend again (you have no idea how wonderful it feels to say that) and I'm getting out of the house more. Being a hermit wasn't exactly my greatest achievement, so I'm extremely happy to find this happening. It also means that Troy's getting some alone time with his own friends, which is absolutely wonderful. Sometimes couples need time apart to thrive, and equally so, no one can properly survive without friends - I honestly don't care how in love they are with their partner, it's not going to happen. Therefore, our lives are currently taking a turn for the better, at least in my opinion.

I am also glad to say that I have seen another wonderful addition into my life - my best friend's baby daughter. She's the cutest thing I have ever seen, and the pair of them absolutely brighten my day. I spent the night with them last night - both my first time spending the night with my friend in a number of years, and my first time spending a night away from my own house in at least six months. It was nice to be away and to have Troy out of the house without feeling guilty, which he always seems to do. Life's definitely looking up.

I'm sorry that I've been disappearing more and more frequently and then going on about what a problem it is - but I am not going to be shy in saying that it will, absolutely with 0% of a doubt, continue to happen, until I may eventually just seem to disappear completely. This sucks, but I know myself and I therefore cannot trust myself to promise that I won't let it happen. I'm sorry that I'm the way I am, but I will always come back...eventually. I hope you're all doing well, and I hope that you continue to do well for as long as it takes me to come back and repeat this.



There have been much longer gaps between my entries as time goes on, haven't there? My disappearances, which I tried to pretend wouldn't happen, were absolutely inevitable. That's life. I'll try and make my way back into this lifestyle, which is actually one that I enjoy, but which is also difficult to maintain while trying to nurture a full schedule toward a healthy end.

Of course, school is playing an enormous role on my life right now and I actually am determined to finish toward the top, much more well off than I've done in my past. I hope I can accomplish it, and I hope I can figure out what I want to do in my future and transfer with a nice start on whatever it happens to be. In the end, I believe in myself, and that's more than I've done in the past. I hope it lasts.

In the meantime, I'll try to update as frequently as possible with a forgetful mind and a busy life. I'm thinking about trying a few writer's blocks to get my thoughts flowing. My mind hasn't exactly been in that place for a while, seeing that I'm very picky, and getting the words in a decent order is usually very hard to do...if that makes sense. If you're in the place that I am, you'll understand.

All in all, I hope that anyone who is bothering to read this has been doing well in the time that I've been away. I'll be back, and I hope that I can promise it to be soon. Be happy, everyone!


The reply I should be sending.

I’m assuming that I should take your silence as a hint? It’s definitely understandable that the girl wouldn’t like me, after all – who the hell am I to try and so suddenly claw my way into her business, into her life?

It’s just, we were talking, chatting, making plans. I started to consider myself her friend, and in some bleak hopes forgot that she may not have been doing the same. I apologize for my audacity, and I plan to slowly fade away – you two will never have to remember this, and if you do, only as something to laugh at, to bitch about, while you’re hugging and gossiping and carrying on as the best of friends.

I’ll be meaningless again.


I watched that movie tonight.

Remember, Kiki’s Delivery Service? I loved it so much when we were little, and it came on Disney Channel pretty much every time we turned it on. I never knew Kirsten Dunst played the main character!

I didn’t even take the time to part my hair after I took a shower. For me, that’s the routine. Instead, tonight, I laid down next to Troy without even brushing my fingers through it (everyone knows I don’t use a brush) and just let it air dry with no ruling whatsoever.

My night was wonderful.


Writer's Block: Little White Lies

Do you think it's okay to tell little lies about small things to avoid hurting someone's feelings? Or is there no such thing as a harmless lie?

I'm definitely one of those people that believes in telling those "little white lies."

Of course, like anything else in this world, there are both good and bad points to that - on the one hand, telling the lie can keep from stirring up a raging storm between friends and family. It can keep things level, stable, it can keep from hurting everyone involved.

On the other hand, if it comes out that you were lying, the problem becomes so much larger than it would have been had you just told the truth. Not to mention the fact that having to keep up maintenance on a lie that has gotten too far out of hand really takes a toll on your life.

Even though I end up getting walked all over most of the time, and I end up having to deal with so much more than I ever wanted to (i.e. maintaining a friendship that I never actually wanted, cough), I'm usually the one telling lies here and there to protect others' feelings.

Sometimes I wish I didn't care about hurting people so damn much. I wish I could just be a bitch like every other girl on the damn planet and tell my (air quotes) friends (/air quotes) that they fucking suck, so I could distance myself from the people I've attached myself to in this world.

Letter I'll never send (though mostly because you deleted me).

Just for the record, you had no right to say the things you said to me. It was not your place, and I'm not entirely sure where you ever could have gotten the impression that it was.

On that note, how dare you say that I 'overreacted' to a comment you made? What gave you the right to make a comment, especially about my relationship? You don't know me, and you damn well don't know anything about what goes on when you're not around. Fuck you and your 'balls' (which, considering I've always been under the impression that you're female, comes as a shock). Not even you being transsexual would give you the freedom to treat your so-called friends that way, and I'm definitely not going to be the one to lie down and take your shit.

I'm tired of being a doormat, not only to you, but to every friend I've ever had. I'm not taking anything more from your loud, controlling, manipulative, drug-addicted mouth.

You had no right to tell me I was "ungrateful and immature." As if you would know what maturity is - what do you do on a daily basis? You sit around in your apartment that's paid for by the government, smoke worse than any chimney I've ever seen, fail school because you're too busy either spanning the town with friends, or partying in hotel rooms. You were too high to show up to your job on time (ever) and eventually, finally, got yourself fired. Now go ahead and tell me I'm irresponsible. That's totally your place.

I feel you deserved everything I said to you. I wasn't that fucking hard-ass about it, I didn't throw every piece of your shallow little life in your face. I could have, but I didn't. What makes you think you can return fire saying that I've done this all to myself? Quitting smoking and drinking turned you all against me? That was my only change, honestly. You all stopped talking to me because I spent time with him and stopped the harmful shit I was always willing to do in your presence. Oh, that's fucked.

In case you didn't know, every bitch uses the line, "I'm not a bitch. I'm just honest." It somehow makes them feel better about themselves, because they know deep inside that they really are a bitch. This rule doesn't just dissipate when applied to you, in case you didn't know. You're just as loud-mouthed and asshole-ish as anyone else out there. You're bossy, immature, and you don't even have anything good to say, so please stop opening your mouth in the first place.

And by the way, sitting around on the porch with friends and talking is okay. Asking me numerous (extremely detailed) questions about my sex life is not. That's just fucking creepy. If we were close friends, hanging out alone, it might be halfway decent. We, however, are not close friends. In fact, I've never liked you, and I haven't exactly been shy about that fact - did you not take the hint? My 'obligations' to do other things weren't a reality with all of my friends, merely you. Maybe that's where you got the impression that I had done this to myself.

Anyway, it doesn't matter. You're seriously not worth the time of day to me. I don't even feel sorry about the fact that I'm so disgusted by you - you have other friends that are stupid enough to like you, so you'll be just fine. You're a "big girl," and maybe someday you'll act like it.

I'm going to end with this - you have the lowest fucking self-esteem I've ever seen. Otherwise, you wouldn't wear clothes that are seriously way too fucking small for you (how could you NOT notice?!) and you wouldn't have sex with every male that came into your apartment. Grow the fuck up.

As an afterthought, if you're allegedly going to be an English major, you'd better learn to spell. Also, the pot still isn't making you sound smarter. And no, you're not more fun when you're on it, merely a lot more squeaky and fucking irritating.

12:34:56 7/8/9

Just sayin'.


Or is it just me?

Who else associates a chapel's scent with the idea of death? Attending a wedding or some other ceremony held within one, to me, just doesn't fit.

I'm fairly certain that as of now, I've decided I'm getting married elsewhere, should I choose to marry at all. Perhaps the outdoors?

Down to business.

I've been writing since the fifth grade, when a very pushy teacher forced us to sit down for an hour every few days and describe something that had happened to us in our lifetimes. Rough draft, final draft, that one draft I threw out because the handwriting was so bad; to a large group of eleven-year-olds, it felt like a punishment.

At school, I complained right alongside everyone else. At home, however, I would write just because I felt like it - about everything you can imagine. I had my story ideas set aside before she had even told us that it was time for a new one.

Nowadays, I've noticed that I haven't been writing as much as I usually would. I've lost nearly all of my work due to computer reboots and demolished papers, and I suppose I've lost a little bit of my morale right along with all of it. During my senior year of high school, I was a part of the school newspaper (recruited by the teacher), and I didn't exactly get my work in on time (or...practically ever). In fact, I'm fairly certain the editors hated me. The few things that I did do, though, I appreciated a lot. I'm certain I wasn't a terrible writer, merely a terrible worker. Don't tell my parents.

I've always began stories and never gotten anywhere with them. I'm not a planner, and I suppose that's a big part of my problem. I need to map out brainstorms and decide where I want to go with what I'm creating, but I either lack the patience or the attention span (probably both). I tend to just sit down and let a random thought flow into something larger, never going beyond a few pages.

Anyway, I'm not sure exactly where I'm heading (thought-wise) tonight. I'm just acting as my usual self - allowing things to flow, to end where they may. My thoughts aren't very controlled, are they? I'm certain I've gone in a million different directions here.

Maybe I haven't. A lot of times, I'll feel this way, but when I go back to re-read, it flows much better than I ever would have thought. Hopefully this is one of those situations. (End?)


Tad less insulting as a blog.

I've tried my very best to be a part of this world, only to be shown how worthless the things I've known are - especially my attempts at treading through, and its superficial promises. I don't want this, and I never actually needed any of you. Having any part in it only means living through a constant 97% disappointment. Then that rare 3% of time spent, to trick me into feeling like it may be worth the time, every time I'm ready to give up. A mockery, a way to prove that I'm really stupid enough to have believed that.

No more. I'm done with everyone that didn't take the time to prove I am worth the life I've been living. I deserve that much, of this I am (finally) completely sure.

I hope you have fun being yourselves.

Make something of the life you're living;Or else the people who make it what it is for you are going to keep handing you the leftovers, the crap that everyone else left behind in the scramble.

More than likely a rant.

The trouble is, nowadays I'm not sure what form a happy ending comes in.

I spend all of my time with the one person who completely understands me, instead of stretched and tangled between a string of people who never actually cared. I know I'm happy.

I wanted to let myself out, to weave my way back in to the life I used to have, even a small amount. The one person I gave my few minutes to, the only time I was willing to share with someone who wasn't my life, and he tried to give me reasons for why everything I knew wasn't real. He tried to wipe away the surface of my life, make everything I've ever known completely disappear.

The problem is, I don't need to start over. I don't need that cleanliness, that feeling that everything is going to be new from here on out. I don't need that. I need my familiarity. I need the repetitiveness, the same things I see every day happening every day STILL.

I need that to feel real. I've never been so happy. I've never completely been myself, completely known myself. Not until now.

The problem is, there are so many strangers in this world. People who feel worthless, and therefore try to make you feel just as hopeless alongside them. People who don't know themselves, and therefore can't give anything away.

There's nothing to share if you have absolutely nothing. It makes sense. So they have to make something of themselves, whether good or bad, something to be remembered. Something to be loved, even if superficially. Even if in the wrong ways.

Those who have turned their bodies into photographs, some small way to keep their memories alive. Those who will go to any means to numb themselves. Those who will swallow anything you have to offer, only to try and make themselves feel real.

There are so many people that hurt, so many people that are so unsure of what life truly has to offer. There are so many people that feel alone. There are so many damn people in this world that live their lives from one situation to the next, trusting nothing and absolutely no one. Believing not one thing anyone has to say and for good reason. There are people who have nothing to call their own, and there are people who don't want the things they have because of how absolutely miserable these things make them.

I wish life were easier, more promising. I wish there were a guarantee that you were going to go out with something good, something that made it all worthwhile.

I wish I could say everyone died without ever having known the bad in this world. Or at least that no one ever ended life without having had one good thing to call their own.

I wish it were possible.