October the Thirtieth of Two Thousand and Ten

No. Whatever was thought, planned, meticulously pondered, considered, and believed stands true. If anything, it is only more solid with the light on in the room. Never once had I considered what was real until I knew what it was. I am the lucky one who left from the cave ("Allegory of a Dark Cave" by Plato). I saw the sun, and though it blinded me at first, I know only what is real.


"I am completely satisfied without the time."

You have to understand, I cannot reach out to you. I love you, it is true, but I can't do it. You know that this anger comes from somewhere else, and I hate to lash out at you, but I feel like you're always giving me a double standard. Always tell me what's wrong with me. Not crediting me with any intelligence. Not giving me any leeway. I want to talk to you, but I'm too upset. I can't even tell you that I can't talk to you. There just isn't a way for me to do this. The reason why we always talk when they're around leads me to my next paragraph (and the one after that)...

I finally figured it out. After all the suggestions for last night, and the endless possibilities, it only hit me this morning. And it smacked me right in the face (how cliché). It's my family (but more specifically my father). I realize now that I always felt that even though he always (had to) love(d) me, I strive for his approval too. In order to receive this, I must intelligent and have no controversial opinions at all. This comes to what defines me: I sit down, shut up, and take it. Take how he criticizes my every move, how he rejects my every proposal, how I will never be good enough, how immature I am, how (on and on and on). I only wanted to be his girl, the daughter he always wanted. I took a few steps off the trail and got lost, and now I'm on a separate path. He'll never understand why I believe what I do because he hasn't seen what I have seen (and the reverse). [Never again shall I underestimate the effect a parent may have on a child.] "[My child], I am so glad you agree with me on everything! I couldn't have said it better!" He just said that to me about the way I described the political propositions of this year. I...want him to love me, so I let my anger dwell within.

Onto you. It frustrates me. How things are between us. In at least two ways. The first being the fact that no matter how independent from men I wish I could be, I will rely on you (heavily), and I already find you quite helpful (for my sanity and stuff). It's so aggravating to think that I will need you eventually and it is so..confusing. I don't know how to feel about this. It makes me nervous. I can only hope that you would never betray me without my deserving, but I am afraid to trust my friends. I have lost them so easily, and they have cut me so deeply. You know what it is like to hurt and be hurt.

'Rising with the sun,
a blood stained flag waves.
Shut, then open, shut,
Falling and soaring.
Jump and caught.
Turned to smile,
Neptune and Pluto switch,
Uranus admires.'

October the Twenty-Fourth of Two Thousand and Ten

Day One with Six Days and Eight Days:

I don't want to remember what was happening last year on this night. All those happy memories. It's not easy to think back on those times and smile, thinking, 'That was a good day.' I'm sorry, but it will never be like that again. I remember us sitting against the wall, listening to heavy metal, leaning against each other's bodies...It makes me want to vomit. Because it was so pretty. And now, it feels dirty. Even those cornfield moments, I don't know what to think. You ran from me, but you kissed me too. My heart beat fast.

Smiling. That wasn't my idea of what I'd be doing today when I woke up. I felt the end coming. I dragged myself around the house and tried to stay active. Every time something would happen, I would cry. CRY. Over absolutely nothing. Like, I went outside and asked my parents if I could have cinnamon roll and some fruit. My mom said, "Of course." I walk to the kitchen and before I can even eat, I start crying. Sobbing. I don't even know. My parents kept bothering me about the dishes. I knew I had to do them, accept the responsibility, but it kept tearing me apart. I sobbed for hours and hours, without anyone asking. I didn't know what was wrong, why I was so upset, and the frustrating thing is that I still don't.

Our conversations always make my day. They always make me smile and get me thinking. Don't fade away. I really love it. I will always thank you. I will always appreciate who you are. Try not to change. I will always try to be there for you, even in the toughest of times. And I love to listen to you rant.

'Without the sun,
the Earth doesn't live.
Without the moon,
Earth knows know beauty.
Without love,
the heart goes on.
Without air,
there is no heart.'

October the Twenty-Third Two Thousand and Ten

Day Five with Eight Days:

I remember now what life was. Anger, not pain, not feeling. Everything inside consumed by hatred, eating me from the inside out. Everyone gets lashed out on. Everyone loses. Even me. I squeeze my hands together, trying to keep myself from feeling anything but loathing. I can not relapse; I must always remember. But that's just me, I am too stubborn. That's the thing. No one would know; no one could care. My dirty little secret, and I would never need to hide. Nevertheless, I would only come to hate myself more and thus begin the destructive process over again. I think that if I fell from the edge, I wouldn't be able to stop. And someday, I would just be a piece of blood.

I hold myself tight, clutching my arms, trying not to die. I cry because it leaves me gasping for breath. I found that life is about feeling anything in life. Anything but anger. That may be the only thing I feel anymore. What is this rumored sadness? A happy day? Where these times go?

'A whitened soul,
found in tiny spaces.
Never live an open soul.
Hold a you to never.'

October the Twentieth of Two Thousand Ten

Day Three:

Big surprise how you make me feel.

Our arguments hit me deep, but I do not forget. I remember when he used to say, "You'll be sacrificing everything we worked for. Our world together." -sob- I will never pity you again. Your broken heart is my play toy, for my innocent one was yours. I have forgiven, but will never forget. I watch carefully from a distance, only revealing what I must.

Nevertheless, you still make my heart beat fast. I'm sure that you are magic. When I see you, I want to make out with you. That would be inappropriate, though.

What is the theme behind your wounding? Broken Trust.
How? It's simple. I believed in someone, to be a good person, who destroyed my life.
This is my dedication to you, boy. You ruined everything I ever had going for me. You ruined who I was as a person; I still can't trust completely. I let you know me, and understand me, but you violated me. Never again can I be the same. Furthermore, for the longest time it was like I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THE TRUTH. Everything was so wrong that I couldn't even tell myself what happened. Now that I know, I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop dreaming about it. I can't stop hating over it. I was seven, and you were eleven. You know what you were doing, and I had no clue. Sometimes, consensual sound be defined.

'Looking around,
I fight away the light.
Can't stop water from spinning,
the time keeps dripping.
Is this a broken mind,
or a working soul?'

October the Nineteenth of Two Thousand and Twelve

Day Two:

Everyone can see that we have hit our rough patch. We're such Tauruses about it too. Stubbornly sticking to our principles, instead of trying to compromise. Telling everyone that we don't care what happens, and who knows if it's true...

Out of everything, it's disappointment that hit me hardest.

I'm placing the same set of letters on the table, spelling out a single word. Everyone else does the same. I place another set of letters, and they place their previous. I'm not really sure, but I think that everyone is convinced that if they make the same argument over and over eventually I'll see their point.

'Intertwined fingers, pulling,
walk along the rocky shore.
Separate directions without a care.
Don't look back,
I'm 242 gone.'

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.'