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?

Nineteen Liepa of Twenty Eleven

I wish I could revert back to my innocence. I'm sure that everyone wishes they could go back sometimes. I know that people miss the easy days of childhood being crayons, juice, recess, and nap time. Last night, I curled up in bed, fearing ghosts and people, and stuck my thumb in my mouth. I don't know why I did it, maybe I was trying to wipe away my fast-approaching adulthood. I think my first reaction was to be surprised how well it still fit. I remember my dentists telling me that my mouth was fitted to my thumb because I had sucked my thumb for so long. (I haven't sucked my thumb in years). Even though I was exhausted, I couldn't get past drifting to sleep with my thumb there. Maybe it's a metaphor for going back; there's no way I can do it. I mean, I can't escape my fate or my regrets by pretending to be someone I once was. In order to sleep, I had to remove my thumb and accept my actions.

I'm having trouble understand myself. Summer has only shown me what kind of girl I always hated, and yet I am her. I'm a lying, cheating, backstabbing, whore. Where did the girl with morals go? (I think I had more self-conservation when I was an atheist). I still can't figure out why, which is probably the most frustrating part. I know what's wrong and right to be doing, but I guess I've never had the strength to say no. And I mean, it makes sense. I've never been able to completely reject boys by straight up saying, "No." I've always been so evasive. Anyways, I'm off topic. I don't know why I did what I did. I used to flirt with guys to get their flattery, but I wasn't flirting here, I was falling. I did everything possible to dodge until I was tired of it. (It's funny, I was pretty insulted by what he said might have happened. I would never have done that.) I don't even like him.

I guess that's the next thing I have to point out is that I don't like anyone but him. I can't think about anyone that I would want to try to keep a relationship with him. I'm moving away for college, but I want to come home for him. I want him to hold my hand and look in my eyes. It's funny. When I drove away from his house, I said, "I love you" and even though he didn't say it back, it was alright. Because I said it in person and I god damn meant it. These last few months have only taught me how valuable he really is to me.

I think I'm going to top off my second love album tonight because I'm feeling feminine.

'Petals dance beneath her eyes,
revealing nineteen souls in question.
Omission is still a sin,
rapture never said.
Don't create my history
without me.'

Eighteen Liepa of Twenty Eleven

It's funny how distance is interpreted. I feel as though a galaxy has separated us because without his words, he could go any distance near or far from me, but I would still feel that gap. Even though I know perfectly well where he is, sleeping in his bed, not more than a few towns over. It's funny how isolated being without him makes me feel. It's actually kind of pathetic. Last night, I sat around and tried to picture what he was doing, when he went to bed, but mainly I pondered why he wasn't responding. It was long before he went anywhere. Is he mad at me? (I always ask this question first) I always have to reason with myself that, no, he isn't mad at me because he would tell me so. But then what? Is he too busy to talk? It's never been that way before. Maybe he's just stressed. There's not really anyway for me to make reason.
Everywhere I know he is, there's no response. "Love is Patience."

I don't know what's going on anymore. I was so excited to have one friend, someone who wasn't interested in me, someone who wanted to talk about girls, politics, and anything other than getting in my pants. I guess I was wrong about having a friend like that. (Here's where the tears come.) I've been so desperate for a superficial companionship, nothing that involved romance. I miss the friends I, so easily, threw away and can never see again. I know now that he was the last one left and that now I have no friends. I guess this is what I get for picking guys.

It came directly out-of-the-blue too. I mean, sure, some things about these plans seem suspicious, but I like to give the benefit of the doubt. As we chatted, I was so elated to have a friend who would gossip with me and we could talk about the social circle that we were once in and what a jerk that other guy was. I remember him saying that he didn't even seem remorseful after everything he messed up. Even though it was my fault too, he knew what he was destroying and he never even cared. Then, it was like they had just switched bodies and he was acting like him. It made me sick. All of a sudden it was like he turned into the immature, hormonal teenager that I had just been so disgusted with. I don't know what to do anymore.

I have six hours and no friends.

'Forced down,
she stays trapped in guilt,
hidden with fear.
Begging for someone to speak.
Light the way.
Buried beneath herself
and the oppressor's weight.'

He actually is mad. :/

Things are being resolved. This quote sucks, "Jesus christ, I apparently wasn't wrong that public opinion of you paints you as a total whore,"

Thirteen Liepa of Twenty Eleven

I don't understand what the feeling is. No one ever tells you that there's a certain experience you'll have and that's how you'll know. I guess lots of things in life will have no definition...and other things are just hard to accept. It's like I knew that Fourth of July was coming, but once it was here, I wondered where June had went.

Life moves forward pretty quickly. Only a month ago, I could leave the house and say I was going out with my boyfriend. What's odd is that the song itself never changed, but that word is like a bad note (probably too flat). I hope that someday I can get every piece of the song in tune. Hard work and time will smooth out the faltered lines.

I want to stay here forever. In this moment, in these times. I think I've grasped a very valuable concept in life within these months with him. The way to be happy. I went through old notebooks where all I did was complain, wish pain would go away, and claim depression. I seemed so weak at that point, unable to find any light in a life I'm sure was brilliant. Now, I can see every shining star in the worst of times. Not everything is perfect, in fact things are pretty fucked, but I can handle it without sitting on my bed and bleeding.
That's what means it to me.

What a cliche angle for cake, right? But I love it. It contrasts the bright outside with a plain, vanilla inside. Ice cream cake or not, it's still vanilla.

Fuck you, world; I like vanilla.

'Simple and quick guitar,
play notes against my heart.
I want to hear you sing against my ear.
Words desperate for love.
Whisper to me our connection,
and I'll cry you our story forever.'

For A Past Love

I recently stumbled upon our old notebook. Where we talking about "failboating," Winter formal, and how much we hated the world. We had all our own jokes, and every memory is like a jewel. It still makes me smile to think that I had someone so sweet that I could call my own.

-wipes tear from cheek and chuckles lightly- Remember when you knocked the table into the pool?

I've never actually stopped to figure out why everything happened so quickly with our relationship fading. I think it was falling apart all that month, even over our year. I knew that no matter what I did, this was the end. It wasn't my intention to fall out of love, and I wish I had never been accused of never loving you at all. I couldn't stop you from leaving, so I had to let go on my own.
It's the only conclusion I could really ever draw.

I'm sorry that you want this goodbye, but I want you to do what is best for you. I love you, but I'm not in love with you anymore.

Life has changed here and for you as well; things can never be the same between us. However, it still makes me sad to see how much I've hurt you. I was hoping that your ability to reach out had shown that you were trying to move forward and be a better person than I ever was.

P.S. I still remember your wish, and you can have it now if you want.

"Dear --------,
It's nice to finally write to you...Yes, we did make it through the first weekend of 2010. And I assure you that we can make it through the next 51. It's nice during the week, being all sweet and lovey-dovey..."

'Forgotten memories,
and secret words.
Aren't you glad I had you date those posts.
I miss you,
and what person you are to me.
I'll sing my melody,
I hope yours is in the same key.'