Twenty-One Rugpjūtis of Twenty Eleven

Normally, I begin my blogs with some sort of introductory paragraph, telling you how I'm feeling and what my blog will be about. It's odd that I've been doing this instinctively instead of purposefully drafting my blogs into a useful paragraph. Only recently has my school-trained mind noticed that I've been doing this.

It was really hard to leave home. I went and did my rounds, saying goodbye to Sproggy, then Moo, then Simba, and then Mittens. I was making it through fine, but I was sitting there, rubbing Mittens' paw, and I just lost it. I cried and cried and cried. I walked to the car in tears and I even had to go back and grab a stuff animal to hold while we drove away. I really didn't want to let go of it. That was my house; I had so many memories there. I grew up there. I loved and lost. I got hit and I was loved. That was my home, and I had to leave it behind. (A little over-dramatic since I'll be back in thirteen days).

After that, leaving wasn't so bad. Moving in was a BITCH and the room was a lot different than I expected, but it's good. I kind of like having a place to myself, although I really don't mind having people around too. I was so grateful to have my family come and help me move in; there was so much stuff and they were eager to help me. My brother and mother stayed over night on Friday and we caught lunch together Saturday and bought some finally things (like shelves for my fridge and microwave).

To tell the truth I am getting kind of lonely. It's weird because I, as I expected, people are awkward and difficult to talk to, but it's even more challenging because you can talk to a girl for fifteen minutes, but she can run off like the little slut she is in an instant. (Man, that girl REALLY wasn't my type). I'm hoping that actual classes (which start tomorrow OMG) will make it easier to have real friends. I've been in social situations for two days now and I can say that I MIGHT have gained a couple friends today. But yesterday was AWFUL. I went to a big party hosted by the school that was made so people could learn where things were on campus and get to know each other. I was alone 97% of the hour I was there and miserable, basically, the entire time. The thing is not that I'm particularly shy (I've actually been quite outgoing when it comes to talking to people, and groups, in college), but more of that everyone who was there seemed to be with someone else. There weren't any loners I could reach out to. It was groups, couples, and roommates. So, I was the forever alone meme that night. Walking home was probably the worst part of it though, because I desperately tried to call him, tried to text him, and I got no response. I was lonely, and I wanted to his wonderful voice so I could feel better. But he wasn't there.

This morning I got up at seven and made myself breakfast (I had cinnamon toast crunch with bananas) and I watched Southpark. Then, at around eight forty when I was all done doing stereotypical "morning things," I went and found all my buildings on campus. I still feel a little lost when it comes to where most my classes are (mostly because I couldn't open the building and find out), but I'm SUPER excited for school to start tomorrow. Although, I am absolutely terrified of the work that's going to get piled on. Everyone's heard the rumors, I mean, we know how college works. And I get to be one of those crazy medical students that's questing for A's, so that will be fun.

Okay, internet, wanna hear something embarrassing? This is something I really don't like to talk about and it's making me uncomfortable thinking about it, but I suppose it's a very natural thing and it happens, so whatever. Let me start by saying that I hate public restrooms. I hate everything about them. I never used school toilets for "number two" and I think that adjusting to any apartment or room involves the acceptance of using the loo. So. Yesterday, I couldn't procrastinate the fate that comes with eating. And OF COURSE something goes wrong. I don't want to explain what, but it really embarrassed me and it just sucked a lot. But, I suppose that's how life will be.

Alright, I'm off to eat; bye, internet!

'Tiny noodles fill my head
with schoolwork and acceptance.
Friendships or sexships?
Head and engagement in the next room.
Cover songs with techno fill my head and I just love it'

Seventeen Rugpjūtis of Twenty Eleven

Isn't it odd how one fate has been bothering me for the last few weeks, yet within the last few days my worries have been placed in other dilemmas? Like, only yesterday, I feared for being something I will never desire or never seeing him again. But today, I have this. A fear of something much greater. The possibility of never making it to college. How?

I woke up this morning from my little brother singing loudly (and well) in the bathroom. I went to the kitchen to take some ibuprofen (I haven't been feeling well) and I sat down at the table to converse with my mother. "Did [he] contact you yesterday?" The question came quite out-of-the-blue for me and I was wondering what had caused such a sudden outburst on her part. "No, why?" I looked at her questioningly. "He came over yesterday." All of a sudden everything was falling apart. He came over yesterday. He came over yesterday. He came over yesterday. He came over yesterday. The sentence was repeating in my mind as I tried to grasp the severity of what was happening. Apparently, my brother had strolled in and interjected at this point. "He asked if you were home and when we told him you weren't, he wanted to know where you were..." Oh God. "Since I knew you were on a 'date' I told him we didn't know. He said that he knew where you were and left." WHAT?!!!!! What happened yesterday was beyond shocking, it was downright scary. My mother warned me to be very careful opening the door today, worrying he might try to come over again. Where did this come from? Why did he come to my door? Why was he trying to find me?

I sit on my bed, with the door the my room locked, in complete silence and paralyzing fear. What if he comes over today? How will I convince him to leave? Will I have to call the police. What if he breaks in? I don't understand where this is coming from. Has he decided out of no where to try to contact me? He couldn't have called or texted? My mother told me this morning that jealousy can make people do crazy things, so I shouldn't leave the house today. All of a sudden, my life is in danger. All of a sudden, my safety is compromised and my personal life exposed. Who knows how long he's possibly been waiting to see me? Has he been waiting in the shadows?

I never mentioned this incident, except once to my mother, but I feel that now could be an very critical time to bring it up. It was Friday afternoon and I was arriving home from a sleepover. As we approached the curb of my house, I noticed a van sitting down the road that looked a lot like the one he owned. As I got out of the car, I saw the van pull away and I was unable to make out the driver. But I know it was him. It all falls in place too well.

How long has he been watching me come home? Why is he showing up on my doorstep? Why can't I just go to college with some sort of peace of mind?!

'Ribbons on shadows adorn her,
gripping her limbs,
but never clutching her heart.
A mile away is the light of love,
she fights to get across her fear,
mistakes,
troubles,
worries,
lies,
deception,
and sass,
to make it to him,
and to shake her ribbons away.'

Fifteen Rugpjūtis of Twenty Eleven

Every moment is becoming a very tiny countdown. Everything I'm doing now is in preparation. But it's not a trip. It's moving. Only seven years ago, I moved out and took all my toys somewhere new. This place I call home. Where I'm going now is will become my home. I shouldn't be scared; I should be happy. I'm getting my freedom, and everything that comes with it. I get to decorate~~~ (Shouldn't that be enough in itself?) I have a laptop and I get to design my own schedule and take classes I want to take! I should be delighted.

Some part of me thinks I was more ready to face it when the concept of seeing him again was ahead. I suppose that you don't always get what you want in life. Oh well.

What problems arise since February? I certainly didn't expect this. I hope that it is a simple matter of time and paranoia. If not, this will certainly be a predicament.

'Shiny globes in golden letters,
lead my into a new hope,
and a style I can call my own.
Sprinkles tickle my desserts
with smiles and friendship.'

Thirteen Rugpjūtis of Twenty Eleven

I hate the fact that everything is changing. Here are all the stuff animals I grew up with, that I never had the heart to give away, and I've got to sell them. Them and all the memories that I have with them. Sometimes, I really don't want to grow up.

What's worse is when you're PMSing and growing up at the same time.

It's funny. I wasn't counting the days when I realized I was PMSing, I was listening to Taylor Swift. All of a sudden, the line comes, "I can't breathe without you, but I have to." I just lost it. I don't want anything to change, but everything is going to. There are pieces of me that I know aren't ready to move on. Pieces that still hold my toys from childhood and shed a tear thinking of them gone. Is it wrong to want to hold onto the past?

Maybe the debate should really about holding onto people from the past. There they sit, on my friends list, living their lives. They hate me, judge me, and listen to the bias that I made myself. They are not really my friends. Yet, I valued what we once had. I worked so desperately to be everything they wanted in a fried, like common values and interests. They taught me a lot about the person I could chose to be with my life, and sides of the world (and the internet) that I had never known. However, in my desperation, I lost touch with who I really am. I covered up the sides of me that made me, the reality of everything. I realize now that I never really knew them; they were all just tiny people reposts. They repeated what they had heard, copied others' genius, and only followed their group and friends. I fell to that. Because I wanted to be accepted. I want to be loved by the people I was growing/graduating with and I lost myself trying to get there. So, there they sit on my friend's list, and I'm still not ready to delete them.

The countdown gets closer to zero every day as I get ready to leave my life and start anew. I'm sad that it has to start like this, but as a good friend of mine would say, "Shit Happens." Not the point of this paragraph. Can we talk about why I was crying? (OMG SO EMBARRASSING!!11!!!!11!) It was really odd because I didn't expect it. Normally, these sort of things show up minutes before, not seconds. Yet, I managed to spontaneously burst into tears in his doorway. If I asked why, the answer would be simple: Because I don't want to face the fact that our time is wearing thin, and who knows that will happen next between us. (Oh, and I'm not ready to let go). I held him in my arms like I was going to embrace that moment forever. That goodbye started to represent the eminent and final goodbyes that we knew would come.

Even long from now when I've had time to reflect on my past, I'm never going to be able to fully express why I am so in love with this man. Is it the way that he guides me in the right direction when I need help? Is it the way that he's interested in holding me? Is it the way that he listens to me when I talk? Is it the way that he thinks I'm too skinny, not too fat or is it that he thinks that I look beautiful without makeup? Is it the way that he tells his own jokes and doesn't repeat the internet? Is it the way that he can relate to things I'm going through and gives advice? Is it the way he loves my cats? Is it the sensitivity that shows through when he's drunk? Is it the way he's up for everything? Is it the way that he always tells the truth and more? Is it the way that he protects his friends, but knows when to give up? Is it how he lets me call him when I'm scared? Is it the way that he always has something interesting to talk about or the way he says everything just right? Is it the intelligence or that rockin' body? Is it the way he says things like hungey and uguuu? Is it, possibly, the way he's proud of my achievements and hard work? Is it that he's always on the lookout for me and my well-being? Is it the way he thinks I'm adorable or the way he holds my hand in public? Is it the way that his kisses are perfect? Is it the way that he knows just how to tease me? Is it how he's amazing and making anyone smile? Is it his maturity or responsibility? It is that he loves to spend time with me? Is it his praise or acceptance of when he's wrong? Is it the knick-knacks that he loves and wants to share/show? Is it the way he thinks I'm beautiful when I'm not dressed up? Nope. I'm debating whether it's because he still cares about me, but he's too shy/stubborn/proud (who knows) to admit it (and it's AWDORABLE!) or because he is everything I'd ever want to be, and everything I'd ever want to be with.

I've never really been one for sweets.
The cupcake was perfect. She had finally grown into a perfect confetti pink paper shell and her body was fluffy and golden brown. The baker eyed her over as she came out of the oven, with the others (f course), but she looked especially scrumptious. Her curve was just the correct size to lick frosting off, but more than that, to take a bite out of. But, the baker didn't realize that this cupcake was perfect where it stood. Perfection is not when you have no more to add, but when you have no more to take away. The baker was ignorant and pulled from the tray and set in line to be frosted. The cupcake looked around the lines of her companions, trying to understand why they were excited to be frosted, why this was encouraged, or even what they wanted. There was no face in the crowd to agree with her own, so she was frosted like the others. Taken advantage of and disrespected. That baker knew he would ruin her with the frosting. (What a jerk).



'Rough sugar on my lips,
the poison candy coat of deception.
Lollipops, gumdrops, and guns satisfy
the lies that everyone sweeps under the rug.
Is there sugar in your carpet?
Can you taste the artificial days?'

All of a sudden I have this strong urge to contact her. To say something, just so we could talk again. I mean, she was a big part of my life for a long time. Does that really mean we can't be...Nope. I'm not even gonna say it. Look where my friendless-ness has left me. Scrounging around for old friends and lost moments. I can't go trying to be someone I'm not just to fit it. The first thing I need to do is figure out who I am again.

Ten Rugpjūtis of Twenty Eleven

School starts today for the publicly educated (at least in my district). It's odd, realizing that I am not one of them; that I have moved on to a world that doesn't follow the rules of state, or of a district, but of real life. A college starts and ends when it wants. Classes are how teachers want them to be, not how a board of supervisors and a necessary test deem it. No, college decides what grade letters to use (like E instead of F) and what days the students get off. Every college is like an ecosystem, operating with all the life forms. It interacts with National Holidays, students, professors, administrators while still holding a delicate balance between it and the other ecosystems.

Isn't it odd how people regret the smallest actions? I used to get coffee two to three times a week every week for an entire year. Eventually, the woman who worked there in the morning began to remember my drink and we usually chatted for a few minutes and kept up with each other. At one point, I had decided to try something new on the menu, and on that one day, she made my drink when she saw my car and when I came to the shop and she asked, "White mocha blended?" and showed me that she had made it. I define this as, probably, the first selfish thing I have ever done. I told her I wanted to try something else that day. Every time I see her now, I regret that moment. I should have just taken the drink and been so pleased that she cared enough to remember me: my name, my drink, my life. She listened; she didn't just hear it. Everything I did in that half-a-second was wrong. What came over me to make me deny her? Why didn't I just get both? Why was I so rude and selfish? Sometimes I sit around and senselessly ponder what I could have done differently; I inspect every element (that I can remember) and think of the finite possibilities of what I could have done.
That was one small moment in a million, and yet I regret it so vehemently that it cuts me like fresh wound every time I see her. She doesn't seem upset about it, but it always, and might always, bothered me that I pushed down the compassion that I looked for.

I suppose when I was typing this blog at eight or nine-ish, I was feeling jealous. I knew that there were other girls around, my competition. How could I not be jealous? He spent his time chatting with them, and I get put in the background, silently accepting/understanding my place. It's getting harder for me to let go.

Something weird is going on. I don't know how or what is happening. If I'm you, then who is me online? Who posts my name, or maybe just the word, online? I'm afraid. After my facebook was violated, everything because very risky, and the fact that there's more craziness is causing me to panic. I haven't done anything odd or out-of-the-norm online. Funnyjunk, facebook, and gaia are all that the online world sees, mostly. Now I have no idea what's safe anymore.

'Trust broken and fell,
the rules of one and two violated her.
Pity I take, but why her?
What is our connection at one?
Who cries in Lithuanian?'

Just don't think about it. The more you do, the more it's going to hurt. You can't stop this. I know it hurts; I'm here with you. I know it breaks you up inside to listen to him talk about this girl being everything you can't be and I know it's hard to fall to the way things should be. But like everything else you've learned in life, you must simply accept your actions and your past-things will work themselves out from there.

And here it is, where the fighting begins because you know that you're wrong. I can't help it; these matters of the heart are not for me to share. I should clam up and never speak of this again.

It's his life. Let him live it.

"Then don't ask. Don't tell me I'm not allowed to have my own opinions and my own feelings. And don't you ever try to tell me I can't feel replace because I'm not your girlfriend."

"Give me that fucking hammer, before I use it on your head." Uh, wow, I don't think that appropriate. Out of everything he's ever said to us, I've never heard him talk like that. Not only that, but he just talked about bashing a skull in with a hammer-threatened it, in fact. Is this really what it's come to? Death threats? Well, life certainly has it's hypocrisy. He said he would never be like him, never do what he did. Sometimes it feels like the only difference was between being sober. I wonder what would happen if he did drink... Situations like this make me fear for life.

Nine Rugpjūtis of Twenty Eleven

I don't really know what I'm supposed to say at this point. Sure, there's a lot I could say. I'm still trying to earn back the man I love, later today I find out if I get into psychology, I painted my nails. There's always something to say, I just don't know what it is.

I suppose I could talk about how things are going in my love life. I want to say well. I can't say that I've made any progress, but that can be expected. It's been about a week. I suppose that there's a lot less fighting since I've been grounded, and I think that's very good. Actually, I can say that is certainly progress. When I said progress before, I was referring particularly to the wish. But I suppose the lack of fighting would be included in the, possible, recovery of a relationship. Anyways, that isn't the point. I think things are going to be okay between us. I mean, yes, I still have my fair about of skanky, fat, and stupid competition (did I just type that out loud?), but why would he bother to keep me around unless he had strong enough feelings for me that he didn't want to let me go? (I just squee-d a little inside thinking about him caring about me that much).

I don't know if I'm impatient or more logical than the people I'm associating with, but I'm having a pretty awful time dealing with setting up my college classes. Classes start two weeks from yesterday and that's not a lot of time to enroll for a class and pre-order books, especially with a major as popular as psychology. Even more, people take psychology classes for all sorts of things too. I want to get into my class really bad.

Yo pienso como espanol no ese bueno para me ahora. ( <-- And that sentence proves it). Maybe I should just take my two years of Russian instead.

I haven't painted my nails in a few weeks, but I decided to touch them up with some new paint on my fingers and toes. My fingers are in a shade called Always Amethyst and my toes are a baby blue (expect the big toe; it's black with teal sparkles). It's silly, I can only paint nine of my fingernails because I accidentally cut my finger shaving about three days ago. (Of course no one on the internet cares about this paragraph, or the rest of my blog, at all).

I hate to admit it, but I'm really worried about money in college. Sure, my parents are paying for all the major expenses (I got extremely lucky), but I'm still going to have to buy my little things that will run out. Makeup, food, cleaning supplies, tissues, and so much I'm not even thinking of at the moment. But it really scares me. My schedule is scattered around like crazy, and from what I've heard, being a freshmen is hard. I worry about making ends meet, I really do. Where could I even get a job? Everyone on campus is probably full, and even if I could get a job there, when would I work? My Friday nights and weekends? I have no problem with that except for the worry of homework booking my weekends instead. I haven't really been able to sleep much while the stress keeps me up at night.

I suppose I'm going to hang out with an old friend of mine in a couple days. We dated for a while about three years ago and he was my first kiss. He was much older than I am and he taught me a lot, but certainly not everything. We were both just kids and looking back on the whole relationship makes me giggle with immaturity now.

So, here I sit: computer on bed, five in the morning, watching a friend Livestream a game called Mistake of Pythagoras, wearing a pokemon t-shirt and men's Spongebob pants. My cats sleeping in my open drawer full of shorts and I painted Chinese on my wall. And I'm realizing now that for however much I want to be different, I'm really just like everybody else.

'My short conversation lasts the closed goodbye,
our hello was destined and met.
Where on the Aurora Borealis did our eyes first glance upon the other.
How regret stings the end of my words and breaths like mints in mouths of children.
Yet the roaring waves of reality pound down on me in my dreams,
spinning the stories I told myself as a child.
We fear the strangers to meet ourselves.'

One Rugpjūtis of Twenty Eleven

Hello, world. It seems I've reached my last couple weeks of summer in our new month.

Please, listen to Enya while reading this post:

July 26, 2011

I think I'm getting sick. Originally, it was more of a mental self-hatred; I would tear myself apart for my mistakes. There's already a word for that: guilt. Or, is it regret? That's not the point. It's spreading. It's making it hard for me to eat. I cry every time I think about it. I camp out, alone, wishing everything would be okay.

Now, I'm faced with wondering whether it's jealousy or replacement. Maybe it's both. The feeling of being replaced is always tough; you know, it makes you feel pretty worthless. This is why I think it's replacement eating away at me. I try everything to make things better. However, there's only so much I can do. Everything I can't change, where I'm going, my age, my parents (and my respect for them),...it's like he's rubbing it in my face. "We got a bottle of wine..." What am I supposed to do? I can't change how old I am, no matter how much I wish I could. Yet, maybe it's jealousy-they're with him, soaking it up, enjoying his company...

I did this

I'm sure he feels better without me. I'm sure I said the same things when he broke up with me. (I can only try so hard to be an adult.) I just want him to be happy. If he thinks that his life is improved without me, then I don't want to be around. I'll let him go. There's no use hanging onto someone who's already gone.

"He's the only one who's got enough of me to break my heart"
Everyone makes mistakes. I happened to make a big mistake. Does that mean that every ounce of regret is worthless?

Here's the paragraph where I should rant about fighting to get him back and that no girl can replace me. You know, the part where I rant the immaturities: "Life's not fair!" But that's the thing, life is just as fair as it should be. I can't do anything here for a good reason: I'm not allowed to fight for something I don't deserve. Even I can't deny that. No one who knew what happened could.

I really wish I could fight, though. I wouldn't like to know that this childish and immature love that I'm feeling (it's no adult love; I'm not an adult) is going to waste. I've done everything he asked. Told him the truth, kept him up-to-date, fight for my freedom, grow up lose all my friends. It's worth it. For his presence, his lectures, his knowledge, his advice-no, it would be worth it just for a moment of his time.

It's starting to scare me that I could lose him while I'm in college. Not the fact that I can't keep up, but the fact that he's already looking for my replacement. He said he was invested in me, that I was like a project (and I don't mind), but I can't stay if there's no flicker of light at the end of the tunnel that I could win him back. If some girl comes out of no where and stands in front of my light, I'm not going to push her out of the way or turn around and find a new tunnel. Nope. I'm going to sit right there and give up. Because what's the fucking point after that.

Still debating whether I have the heart to finish my surprise. We'll see, I suppose.
I found out yesterday that I'm no longer allergic to coconuts. I'm excited to eat them again.

Pushed away to different cities,
long drives for a loved one.
May I be blessed, Lord,
Or is it time to let the tide fade?'

-End Post-

I've got this new idea. I searched endlessly for the commercial that gave me the idea, but I search under the wrong brand name. I found it now. I nope mine can be any bit as good.

I'd like to reflect on my previous post. (The one above this). I remember that day quite clearly. It's funny how you can be so broken one day and in the next few you're singing like a bird in the Spring. I was really hurt by what was going on, but it's true that I don't get to fight it. I don't get the right. Also, I found out she kissed him. He told me, I played cool, told him I had to go take my contacts out and I'd call him back...I cried like a baby. She's taking him from me. He'll never find another cookie dough girl; I can count on that.

However, he certainly seems to have had a change of heart. Maybe it was just me being dramatic, or maybe he just really missed me today. Either way, I'm not really worried about this girl taking my place within the next few weeks. Let's just say that I've done the best thing I could for the time. Something done selfishly, but done innocently and based on faith in a piece of wood.

Who said there was anything wrong with believing in miracles? (Personally, it might be working.)

I've become strangely religious lately. God inspires such a mysterious grace in me; it's lovely. What's odd is that I want to give God my faith, my loyalty to Him and His Son. Yet, I still sin and don't plan to change some aspects of my life and operation. I believe in evolution, but I also believe that Adam and Eve existed. I believe in the Big Bang, but I also believe the God said, "Let there be light" and Chuck Norris said, "Only half a day." Either I am very mixed up inside and trying to sort it out with metaphoric scientific/religious debates or I think that the world had many processes to it's creation. Who cares anyways?

Here are some pictures I like!






Give us this day our wood,
with hope and tears inside.
A plastic bag of protein memories,
refusing to be thrown away.
Only so much of a princess grows,
as she hugs her unicorn plush.'

Afterthoughts:
Sometimes I wonder if he knew. I mean, it was so desperately obvious that I valued my other far before him. I texted in front of him, took his calls, and talked about him all the time. Why even try to pursue someone who put you second? Only an idiot would think that he was more important. I never fed him a lie about the way I felt about you. I've cried over you in front of him. Sometimes, I used to catch myself thinking about you while we hung out. He always knew.
It makes me disappointed to realize that he never cared.
Just like any other teenage boy, he only cared about getting what he wanted from me. He didn't care if there was anything in his way, or anyone for that matter. He didn't care what happened to me after that or what happened to anyone else who could have been effected. He came to score and he left.
It makes me disappointed to realize I let him get that far.

"Everything about him I hate. It secretly drives me crazy and makes me want to hit him. I want to tear him apart, limb for limb.
I hate the way he smells, the way he treats me,...MAINLY THE WAY HE DOESN'T GET IT. Stop poking me. Stop coming around. I DON'T EVEN LIKE YOU.
I hate the way that all he wants is my body. All he cares about is himself and me helping him do that. He wants me as an accessory, a toy to brag about and carry around."
It took two days to feel this way. Two days after.

"At least you get that now. That's what would have happened with fuckface once he got what he wanted from you
He would have said anything to get it a few more times until he got bored or you started realizing he was a dumb faggot and wasn't any good
then he would have just tossed you aside and fucked around on you
Because if he's enough of a scumbag to want to fuck another guy's girlfriend, what kind of a goddamned blind idiot do you have to be to think he'll be loyal to YOU, when he can't even be loyal to a good friend?"

How much regret can one man take?