September the Nineteenth of Two Thousand and Ten

I'm not sure how to feel anymore. One day, I'm crazy, but the next... I'm unsure. It can't be this grievous pain that is ailing me, for it has only bothered me for the last few days. Yet, this has been burrowed in the back of my head for at least a week. I keep going up and down like my whole world is head-banging. Is there no middle ground? Is the path I am choosing to become impasse? Oh, world, don't do this to me. I care, and I do not like conflict.

According to my horoscope, you were suposed to make your move on the eleventh. Now, everytime I see you, I'm waiting for you to make your move. I doubt that day will ever come, but a girl may always dream. However, a Taurus girl hates conflict; if it were a person, she would burn it at the stake and scream, "WITCH! WITCH!" even if doesn't believe in witches at all. So, I am yet again conflicted. I know this situation is not innocuous.

To go slightly off topic today, my little brother just insulted me. I try to convey a relevent point to someone, my brother is talking about the football game with my father, and I try to mention to him the run during the Cardinal's game today. Yeah, they ran some ninety yards into the end zone, only to get called on holding and loose the seven points. Anyways, I'm telling him about it and he says, "I don't even care. I don't care what they did." That bothers me. I try to reach out to someone, only to be put down. "You can never trust a boy."

Back to the conflicting situation, I am trying my hardest to reach out to you. I mean, I do feel guilty at times, but that feeling is over-ruled by my Capricorn. (Yes, I have recently discovered that my Capricorn loves to break and test rules that she won't get in trouble for.) My flirting has become a hyperbole. I push my giggling to new limits, hoping you will reach back to me. I practically intgratiate to you. Honestly, I am sure I have a seriously problem with senseless flirting. Maybe I just want to know that someone who doesn't have to like me, does. Maybe my Taurus just needs the reassurance of her sex appeal. I don't know. My poor boyfriend.

On the other hand, I can not really say about him either. Your personality has become hermetic, and I am not a man. Getting lids off of pickle jars is a man's work; unfortunately, I cannot help you. If you are impervious to letting someone into your soul, then how do you expect me to make it through lines of armed guards? I'm not invincible. I kind of blame myself. There must have been something I did to drive you away. Why won't you tell me what has gotten you so upset? I've been intimate with you for almost a year now. When will you show me who you are? Another thing is, I'm not gullible or stupid. I am a Virgo. So, if you don't tell me and I know something is wrong (which I will; it's called a woman's intuition), then I will automatically blame myself. My brain says, 'Did you insult him? Are you not making him happy anymore? Does he not love you? Does he suspect you? Has he simply lost interest in you? What did you do to him?' And it is those questions that make me lie awake at night and dread the next day. The questions that make me pull my hair out and cry myself to sleep. In my head, I can picture me falling to the ground and groveling to you. I would demean myself, fall on the floor and make myself into soemthing completely worthless, if only to know what you think of me. There is something between us; I can feel it. Nevertheless, when I ask you, you become intransigent to your original answer; "I'm fine. Nothing is wrong." You're breathing lies to me and I can't breath anything but double oxygen molecules. I will always wish to be homogenous to you, but never shall we be with the attitude I see.

Okay, seriously, Dude, that was just cruel. You were one of the reasons for sacrifice, one of the reasons everything is about to change very quickly. I can feel the drama heading towards us like a storm; the dirt is already kicking up and getting in my eyes. I wish to call you so many names, including an ingrate. You must have no idea of the sacrifice that there was involved. You have no idea what that decision put her through. Everyone is only proving to her that no one really does care for her, when truly it's wrong. If I watch her self-esteem plummet once more, someone will lose their head. And you guys are nic people too, we never saw this coming. Not even a text. Not even a "Wish I could be there." Not even a "Happy Birthday!" Nothing. Someone will be punished for this. Back to you, I want the truth. Be explicit with me. Tell me why you did not arrive; why there wasn't even a text or a call. "You can never trust a boy." Oh, and you (other boy), the Cory muscle you can't pull here. We can read straight through your lies.

Furthermore, I would like to say that you can't conduct a full interogation on her. This isn't some inquest; it was a sleepover. You have to understand, things don't get forced out of people without them resenting it. She seems to be ingenuous. Let her dark side reveal itself as it wishes. I understand that it's frustrating, waiting for her to tell you. We just want to help. Don't force her though. She's intractable. I see at least one Earth sign behind her. She's got the stubborness of a Taurus. Trust me, there's no forcing that wall down. You simply have to wait for it to crumble. You can't imbue that wall.

'These curses surround me,
the Devil's magic takes my soul.
I can only fight for so long.
Please, save me.
I pray to the only hope I know.
One person,
his back is turned to me.
Thank you, God.'

September Seventh of Two Thousand and Ten

You can never trust a boy. We've said it again and again. It is just another one of those things girl tell each other to comfort them. Not because they need comforting, because we all need to hear the truth. No matter how many times it's said, someone forgets, and we have to start all over again. We can't help but believe that you would be better. It only takes a certain amount of time before we decide to test you, putting some of us in your hands and seeing if you'll drop us. When you don't, we think, 'Hey, maybe he's different," but you're not. You're the same as all the rest of them, and eventually you'll let us down, destroy our trust, and lose hope. Just when we last expect it, another beautiful boy will come wandering by, pick up our hearts, dust them off, give them back to us, and sit down to ask us why we chucked that lovely heart across the room at the wall. We'll adore him like we adored you. Hurt, we will heal with time. And thus, the cycle continues.

I miss you, maturity. I loved you with all my heart; why aren't you here anymore? I saw you yesterday. I tried to love you again. But then I remembered, I'm in love with someone else. I'm kind of tied down right now. Don't worry, I will have you soon enough.

'Hello again,
my love.
Your secrets revealed,
a smile spreads across my face.
You make me laugh.
I already love the sun.'

September the Fourth of Two Thousand and Ten

"I Stand Here Ironing" and "A Rose For Emily." So many ways to view each epic tale. I hate them both with a fire that burns inside my soul like the sun. They just, simply, bore me to death. I want to tear them to shreds. Scratch that, I want to glare at them until someone takes the book away from me because I am creeping them out. You want to know how much I hate these stories? Remember our old "pal" Tim O'Brien? Yeah, the fuckface that decided to make no decision at all and go to Vietnam-off to the war he doesn't believe in. Well, Tillie Olsen and William Faulkner make Tim O'Brien seem fun. This was my thought reading Olsen and Walkner, 'I need a break; I think I'll read The Things They Carried.' Exact thought. I terribly hate that book; I hate reading Tim O'Brien. He angers me. That man is a small girl with no balls at all and I swear to God, I am more of a man than he is. (Honestly, I'm more of a man than a lot of guys I know. I'm a super tomboy). Maybe I should take that back. What we read in Principles of English II made me hate him. What's in the Senior AP English book isn't all that bad. It's actually kind of fun. ...Now I can't make up my own mind FML.

Speaking of that, I just browsed through mylifeisaverage.com, love.givesmehope.com, and fmylife.com. Best websites ever. Haven't been there? Then, stop being a fucking loser and look 'em up. You'll laugh your ass off, go AWWWWWWW~, and then think, 'your life does suck.' My neighbors love gives me hope.

I shall return another day.

'Smile a moment,
hold your breath.
His moon is the light,
and your breath is the trees.
Run like an angel,
speak like the wind,
and hold onto you.'

September First of Two Thousand and Ten

Yes, we all know about the salmonella in...is it Iowa? Well, national news could only lead us to that. As such, we learned that one of the farms where the salmonella was found was just a truly disgusting place. Even workers weren't treated right; some employees had filed multiple counts of sexual harassment. Some guy (of course) in the back pipes up, since it wasn't clarified, "Wait, the workers or the..." Everyone laughs and then our teacher interrupts, "CHICKENS HAVE RIGHTS TOO!" Then, the whole class only feel into a larger fit of laughter and we couldn't even move on to the next subject for five minutes. I love that class. (Fifteen hundred Americans have gotten sick from salmonella so far [well, last week]. People should really cook their eggs; we're not Rambo.)

I would like to take a moment now to kind of apologize. I mean, I'm not taking back anything I said, but I may have SLIGHTLY over-exxagerated. I mean, you're certainly not related to Satan in any way, but I'm just not very godly, so take it as a compliment. And no, I don't actually want to have your children-aslo an over-exxageration. I'm just saying here, honestly, that was not stuff that I was spitting out at random. There's a lot of weirdness going on in my head.

Has anyone noticed that I am a giant feminist? I swear, I cannot stand weak boys. I just want to punch them in their guy parts and laugh evilly. Seriously, you're a man (or going to be one) so GROW UP! I hate it when boys act like small girls, ignorant and immature. I HATE IT SO MUCH I COULD CALL SATAN AND SLAUGHTER THEM ALL.

'Oh, demons and angels,
future isn't yours to choose.
Jumped and fell,
he held the sword.
Can't help him now,
he will...'

August Twenty-Sixth of Two Thousand and Ten

Even though sometimes it goes by really slowly, I do particularly enjoy school. All six hours of it. My classes are, at times, challenging, but three are AP (advanced placement), how could they not be? Nevertheless, I love them and I am satisfied.

First hour is AP government. Every week, three days a week, we bring in editorials about America and discuss them. You should watch our class blow up when we talk about gay marriage or the mosque in New York! Our class is mainly one-sided, but it's fun to watch everyone get upset over people not believing the same thing they do. However, the most exciting thing of all is this one Mormon. I AM SO BIASED WHEN IT COMES TO MORMONS-typicallly. But there he was, shining in the light, like an angel of Satan. This LDS believes gay marriage isn't wrong. He believes that the mosque should be accepted instead of hated. And I just want to run up to him and spawn his Mormon children! (I don't even want kids!) He restored my faith in humanity. It was beautiful.

Then, there's English. I was more scared on the first few days that it was going to be really difficult. Ends up, I've got better grammar than a lot of kids around me. And, a kid in my class is gay! :DDD "[Cute, fuzzy bunnies] going prowling for carrots." Right now, I'm doing a story analysis on "The Story of an Hour." It's about Louise Mallard, a now, widow with a heart problem. When she hears her husband is dead, she disappears to her room to celebrate. However, he turns out to be alive and she dies of a heart attack from shock. And that's how that went. The more I analyze it, the more I think about the subtle evil that could be there. Did Josephine know Brently was downstairs and was trying to kill her sister, Louise? If so, does Josephine have a secret crush on Brently and wants him to love her, so she's killing his wife? Did Richards lie all along to help this evil plot? Why is Josephine so eager to get Louise out of the room? Too many questions, so little answers.

Third hour is orchestra, which is always amazing. My teacher makes orchestra so much fun and everyone loves him. Right now, my orchestra class is playing "Ididarod," "Love Song from Kanding," and "The Tempest." They are all very different pieces, but all very fun. I'm so happy to finally be a first violin. Yay~

Lunch is amazing. Pokemon FTW. Battled a friend today who beat me with his level one hundred Gengar, Estella. I knew I was going to lose, but Christ, I killed five of his pokemon and I had three left. Fuck cakes. My table is pretty interesting. I'm the only girl left at our table now that my best friend has LEFT ME! But it's all good because I'm a dude between the ears. I love our political and economic debates. <3

Fourth hour is MY class. Sure, it's tough, but psychology is where it's at. I'd like to be a clinical psychologist when I grow up and help out those crazies. I love the crazies. The classwork is tough and the reading is BORING! But notes and review time are really helpful, so I'm grateful for that.

Fifth hour anatomy. Dear God, just when you think all the memorizing is over HERE COMES SO MORE, MOTHERFUCKER! Christ, and that class takes forever! But at least there are some of my friends in there, that's the only thing that keeps me going. "So, Daughter, what did you do in anatomy today?" "We made babies!"

Sixth hour, I'm a student aid. I miss having that class. But I realize now, it was, no matter how amazing, too easy. And my teacher was tough. She's great and the best teacher I've had so far. I love working with her. She makes me want to be an english teacher, So inspirational. <3~

P.S., World, I really want to kiss him again. I keep playing it over and over in my mind and I swear, I will kiss him. I will.


'Wants, desires,
secret fires.
Burn within me,
light of eternity.
Wish and dream,
thought of stream.
Hopeless bliss,
from you-a kiss.'

August the Twenty-Fifth of Two Thousand and Ten

Oh, August twenty-fifth, tell me what is wrong. Tell me why I am so sad. Tell me why I do not care. Tell me, day, I demand an answer. I feel hopeless inside and everything around me is slowly, but surely, coming to an end.

Everything means nothing to me, and nothing still means nothing. When will this apathy end? When will I understand my own self. High school is for growth and change, but I already know what I believe in and who I am. Christ, why can't I understand the way I feel?!

It feels like a rock, like I swallowed a rock. Inside me, there is a bag of sand. A bag of lump. A bag of something. A bag of nothingness. A bag of despair. And yes, I swallowed it. For there it sits inside me with a pleased look of satisfaction on its face as I cry myself to sleep. As I stare aimless at my friends. As I start to find no desire for anything. It poisons my system, takes over my brain. My prefrontal cortex, my emotions system, decomposes and this nothingness, this lump, carries a smug look and hates me. It just loathes my existence and my life. It despises me so much, that it made me swallow it, so that it could evilly destroy me from the inside out. So, day, when I die, I guess everyone will know why.

But it is more than that. I can't stop lying to you-as you got a taste of today. I'm done, fed up. I'm not kidding around anymore. You know, and yet you continue. Stop choking it down to bad decisions, because people worth my time learn from their mistakes. I'm not laughing it off anymore because it was never funny in the first place. Stop demanding from me too. Not cool. If you ever bothered to fully read the black note I left you it said something to this effect, "And I kissed him because I wanted to. Not because I was forced to. [He] would never do that." It's like you broke my heart. BROKE IT. "My heart's not a spring." I can't just grab some duct tape and fix it myself. Maybe that's why it's so sour to say those three words. Because my hearts broken. And know I'm falling out of love. I am sorry that this happened. That I spoke up at all. Or that until you read this, I will keep lying to you.

No, this isn't PMS. This is me. Finally. I've snapped. So, watch out world; here I come.


'Treat me right,
start a fight.
I keep waiting
for the sky to fall.
The Earth trembles
and he leads me away.'

August the Twleveth of Two Thousand and Ten

My home is an aerie, and I am a death hawk. I rip through friendships like a shredder to paper, and manage to destroy them irrevocably. Without even trying to. Maybe I am a little vague and ambivalent, but you are the one who keeps abstaining from seeing me. We have plans and one little detail gets changed, or one little thing changes, and soon enough, we can't hang out anymore. Faster than that, our friendship falls apart.

We can't just wait for someone to shout to us from the belfry and tell us what to do. We need to act of our own accord, make plans and stick to them, have ideas for chilling. We have to be adults here or else this is never going to work out. And if our friendship falls apart, I'm going to cry like a girl who was assailed and raped.

Remember when you promised me that'd you always be there? What happened to that? Or, is it a constant thing that boys do-this lying to girls thing? I never thought I could trust a boy, but my heart is breaking at the thought of you leaving, so clearly I beleieved that you were honest. Out of nowhere, our friendship is apathetic to you. It's not like I couldn't feel you drifting away, but today it was almost a slap in the face when you just left. You didn't know where you were going, but it seemed better than where you were-with me.

Can't we comprimise or make an amalgamation? I want to work this out. I...don't want to lose you. I believe in you. And you should know as well as I do that I might have been your only advocate for a long while there. I know you're good; our friendship is not based around pity.

I promised you that I'd be there too. Maybe it's banal, to promise anymore, but I still did. I want to hold out that promise. Without friendship though, it turns me into a stalker...and that's not really awkward at all, is it? And yes, this is all a little ambiguous, but I'm trying to reach out to you! I'm trying to articulate my voice and say that I LOVE YOU! And I cannot bear to lose you as a friend. I never thought you were this important.

Even though I was an advocate, I knew I was a little antagonistic sometimes. Through all those times I wouldn't speak to you, I just didn't have words to say. I couldn't think of how to address the problem, so I basically ran away from it. But I am done running; I'm here to stay.

Saralynn told me straight out that we could not be friends anymore. Personally, I could not tell you if it alleviated the pain at all. I was still broken up inside, still hurt. But, I guess, blunt it best. Can't this be easier? I'm not tryong to adulterate our friendship here, but can't we try and work this out? Give it another go? I'm your friend, and that should be a god damn axiom.

Remember how long we have known each other. All the times we have shared. Every memory and every moment. Our friendship now is archaic, it's developed by our past, just like we are. Every day changes us more and more; we grow and mature. I want us to grow together though, like two heads of broccoli. I'd rather us be analogous than nothing at all. Even though that was already slightly, okay majorly, implied.

You've affected my life, though. I hate to admit it, but it's true. You made my heart skip beats and made me do stupid, crazy, girly things. I'll never forget that. Maybe I seem austere now, but I'm not. Someday, maybe you'll make me that same girl I was in ninth grade. But up until that acme, we should stay friends.

You're aesthetic, did you know? To me, at least. I see you with arbitrating eyes, completely unbais. Do you see me the same? Or, have I mistakenly crossed the borderline?

Christ, I feel audacious and irregularly bombastic, but this is how I feel. The only way I can even begin to think of how to tell you how important this friendship is to me. And I'm not sure if you fully comprehend, but I want you to know that you are muy importante para mi. Those are my arbitrary feelings. I'm sorry if I offended you.

Maybe this will only be an abeyance...

'Where is my amulet
to ward this evil off my back?
This pain destoys me.
I close my mind,
shut out this world.
Spinning, I can only see you.
Don't leave this.
Don't leave me.'