October the Sixteenth of Two Thousand and Ten

She stands at the far end of the block. One of her arms is held, actually her hand, by a tall source of warmth. She turns to him and smiles, flashing him a caring look. She turned back and stares down the street. The sound of construction workers and heavy machinery hit her before the actual sight of orange vests and torn up streets. The road was a busy place, not only full of life with revision, but with people making their way along the road, stopping in stores or continuing on to work. Squinting, she could view a girl in bright, vivid blue. Lifting her free arm, she flailed her arm about at the figure. Her intentions were to have the girl recognize her, but also a small beckon for her to join them. However, the girl did not move. She saw a few guys pass by. Nothing changed. She turned again to face the man behind her and gave a weak smile. She pushed herself onto her tip-toes and kissed him. She turned back, squeezing his hand, and waited for the girl in blue.

I'll always wonder my life will take me. I am a being of curiosity. I someday picture myself older and sitting in a rocking chair. Surrounded by no one. I always have. No grandchildren, no children, and no man. I wonder why that is. Am I to die alone? It couldn't really be that bad. Or will I just never get over you?

I spend all my time, now, wondering what we're going to do. It's awful being in love. I see the last day of school (before winter break) over and over again in my head, replaying the same sad movie. We're sitting together on the bench, like we used to every day before this year/before it got hot again. I'm holding your hand. I read the text that your mom sent you (because you had your phone out. [We were texting each other.]) and told you that you should go. (She'd been there for five minutes waiting). I kiss you. I tell you to wait a second and grab my backpack. I pull out our black notebook and hand it to you with hopeful eyes. We stand. You grab my waist and we kiss again. You look into my eyes and say, "Goodbye." Then, you head over to the parking lot and get into the car and you're gone. Sometimes, it kills me inside. I laid awake yesterday and couldn't sleep. You're leaving, I know. It's hard to accept, but yes, you're going and there's nothing I can do. Or you can do. I want you to go; it's your destiny. It is the path that fate has chosen you to take; don't sacrifice all that you were meant to experience. Don't deny your life. I'm just your girlfriend.

Sometimes I wonder if this feeling inside me really is love. I always knew it to be heartbreak. That's always how it's felt. It kind of feels that way now. I act like it will be over when you go. But won't it? We'll be so far apart. It'll be so hard.

The only thing I can think of to say is... I don't want to go on without you.

'Quickly grab and open heart,
pull you through the door.
Go in,
I must leave.
You can be happy,
the hallway is for me.'

October the Fifteenth of Two Thousand and Ten

I figured it out. I am a chronic flirt, which you should all know by now. I realized why. I feel like I need to flirt with a guy to keep him around, to keep him caring about me, to keep him being my friend. It is unacceptable for me to act this way. I am a grown woman, mature (or, in the least, maturing). It is almost ridiculous for me to continue my life this way. I AM NOT SOME CHILD. I will not flaunt around to build a friendship. If anything, I should do the opposite. I should keep my distance and stay away.

"I don't want the day to come when he says, 'Goodbye' and it means forever." I don't want that day to come. I spend so many nights thinking about it, crying over it. I can't ever tempt destiny...

'Holding you hand,
your eyes look so warm.
I move close to you,
and you slip away.
Looking back,
I'm not sure if you
were ever there at all.'

October the Fourteenth of Two Thousand and Ten

I kept running out of breath today.

Was it on account of my seeing you? :/

'Heart saved,
heart broken.
I have a virus.
They're coming in the mail.
Me wrong with what?'

October the Thirteenth of Two Thousand Ten

After a long day of shopping, there are few things I still have to say.

I still believe you have everything. You do not have to believe it, but it's true. Yes, everything isn't perfect; however, it doesn't want to be better. Without the hard times, you wouldn't be who you are now. You have money, and security. You will never have to wonder where the next dollar is coming from or how your dreams are now crushed. You have everything you could ask for, including your own computer. You have friends who care about you, an overwhelming number. You're smart; you can add faster than I can count and have a strategy like no other. You are a good person with a good heart and an honest viewpoint. I could never replace you. To me, that seems like everything.

I feel kind of bad. Taking her place? I never would have thought. If anything, I thought that my friend would take her place; you two seem kind of closer. I didn't mean to push her off the hill, but I kind of understand how it happened. I didn't know I was up there 'til you told me. There's only one thing I can never step into her shoes for though....

'Jump, skip, jump,
flutter, flutter,
FALL.
Looking into the darkness,
I knew it all along.
She led you away.
I was still waiting for you.'

October the Eleventh of Two Thousand and Ten

When I got home from college, I cried. I don't know, I must do that a lot. Actually, I know I do it a lot. However, it is better than a lot of things I have done before. Terribly, I wished I could have relapsed today. I wish I could have fallen apart and watched pieces of myself fall to the floor. I wanted to hurt. I wanted to feel something, anything, other than anger. Yet, I stayed normal. I cried until it hurt. It's all I have left.

I'm terribly suicidal. You want to know why world? (And I figured this out as I was yelling at my mother in a tangent)... I'm going to end up in community college. Not so bad? IT'S TERRIBLE. When I was younger, I dreamed of going to Harvard, the most amazing school in the United States. I still envy anyone who goes there. So, all my days, I've tried my best. Knowing that I could never get into Harvard, yes, but always secretly wishing. Ever since I can remember, half of my money has gone to college. Now, it's all thrown away. I did not even want to stay in state. I WORKED HARD SO I COULD BE BETTER THAN THAT. ...Now, I can't be better than that. I don't have the money. I'm left with the the people who never tried. Who didn't care. Who could have slept through class. The D students. All the people I hated. Everything I never wanted. I worked all my life, sacrificing friendship, food, and hours of sleep (and growth) to work. To study. To dream. It was sacrificed.

If I were to die, all my troubles would fade away...

'Dream without me,
take a few steps back.
We'll meet again.
I would never play the game you did,
attempting to twist the fates of others.
Now, I see only a tumbleweed.
It lives.'

October the Eighth of Two Thousand and Ten

I'm pretty sure you ruined my day. I could only hope so hard that you could live up to expectations, mine and those that people previous to you have set. However, you fail me. Not only that, but you disgust me. You make me want to vomit until I cough up blood and then continue. For me to rid my body of its entire contents before I begin having dry heaves. I wish I could spit acid on you.

Do you even know what you did? You gave me a seventy-five. However, that's not even the half of it. You refused to acknowledge or try to comprehend a new idea. I didn't follow the POTW (purpose of the writing)? Honestly, that's your excuse? You did not write it! Walter Van Tilburgh Clark did. Are you him? I didn't think so. Your perspective v. mine. Excuse me for being different. More than that, if she didn't write it, could she be wrong? Should she refuse to see another viewpoint? Another possible reason for writing? I don't think so. It's like saying, "I'm your teacher and I'm a Catholic; you wrote an essay about why you're atheist and backed it up with valid points, but that's not a correct interpretation of life, thus you get an F." It feels like I wasn't graded on my skill as a writer, but why I was wrong in my viewpoints. And that is just depressing. (Isn't there always an underlying possibility?)

I don't have a dairy. I don't have a heart. I have a blog and a soul, and it's all I've got to cling to.

I love it how you tell the truth. You're doing me a big favor. Yet, it breaks me up inside. I tell you something for you to shut me down. I can't fight back because I need you to help me. I will forever be trampled. It feels like I could never win you over either. You will always see my flaws and you may always be in love. I'll sit along the sidelines and watch...

'Dear heart,
far away from darkness.
Where does this feeling arise?
Toss you between two letters,
pieces fall.
Can't believe I'm falling apart,
all over you...'

October the Third of Two Thousand and Ten

I was having a good day up until I got that text. It's so simple, so innocent, yet it makes me want to scream. "She needs cat ears to be [his] girl." Oh! That just makes me want to punch her in the face! I mean, I love him (platonically. He's sweet, kind, funny, smart, and more. But this girl! Ugh! Originally, I could understand why he likes her; she's attractive in a way. But with him, it will always be more than skin deep. She's there for him. However, not enough. When he really needs someone by his side to have and to hold, she'll walk away. Everything is lost. She's known him long enough to know him. but to care...I sort of doubt that she ever really will.

I really care about this boy. We are getting married, if the world did not know. (YAY! I'M ENGAGED, BITCHES!) I kind of feel like I already know him, like I can understand what he means. (Even though he does articulate his meaning quite well). However, I think it goes deeper than that. When I speak to him and her (another her), it feels like we're all connected, as if our feelings were attached to a string. We can all pick up on each other. The best part is, I feel as though I can trust you. I mean, it's only been a year and I've already told you some of my most personal secrets. You stayed at my house 'til one A.M. talking. I feel like we could just chill forever. Even more, it feels like we could talk and talk and talk. There's nothing we would not talk about, yet we never run out of things to say.

I am pleased with life at the moment.

"If it were an object, I'd just want to walk up to her with and smack her, screaming, 'Look at this, bitch! Look what we did!'"

'Spread apart the open sky,
stars keep the dark.
Close me behind the last one,
and break a time over me.'