Twisted Fate

All of the "should have"s, "would have been"s, and "could possibly still be"s buzz in my head from time to time. I can't help but wonder and think and dream...

It's strange to think that you are over a break up, but still feel affection for the person. I am not one who hates and is spiteful, and pushes away all the bad memories. I will look on those memories and smile. I  have lost too many good friends, and too much precious time, in hate, and trying to use anger to forget love. Why would anyone wish to forget love? That is a better question.

It is strange to see that a relationship, not even nescessarily romantic, that has lasted years to dissipate in a matter of seconds, and soon that person is just another face in the crowd. Perhaps it is a face who's person's intimate details you are aware of, but that fact is pushed into the dark recesses of the mind so that we might not feel pain at the loss. We as human beings, creatures of a loving nature, could we not still remember the pleasant memories and not feel pain? Why is it so strange for me to smile at the memories? Why do others think I must stop reminiscing? I remember all of those memories and I can smile.

Love. Faith. Hope. I live my life by these things.
Faith in God, and in others as well as an innate good. Hope that all of the things I believe in are truly good. Love, because without it the other two might as well be dust in the wind.

At one point in time you and I were inseperable. People argue, but if they were able to be friends before, why can't we be that again?

Faith

We will never get back to the "pure and untainted love" that I've last written about. That will never be possible, the only place that love that I spoke of can exist is with God himself. We can still have a pure love though, a love that can fight everything from stupid teenagers that make me cry to the senility of old age.
To be avoided, to be happy and ignore the wall between us. I still miss his company, his laugh, the days when his eyes were the brightest blue. Now whenever I see them they are the steely blue that make me feel so cold. There are moments when they are bright again, and I can smile, and laugh. To see his eyes at all and I am happy.
I am constantly in prayer for what to do, for guidance and strength, and I am constantly reminded that "Love is patient". I am not a patient girl, but I am learning to have faith in what God tells me, what my heart tells me, and what you, my love, what you tell me. I must wait for you to be ready to talk to me, but my head is filled with doubts that you will never be ready. You do not lie though, so I must trust you that you will talk to me when you are good and ready, but for now I wait.
This is a cut, and we can either choose to let it heal raggedly untended and the scar rise above the skin or we can choose to heal it cleanly and the scar will fade away over time just like the scar on my arm.
You are my best friend, and I want to do everything in my power to never lose you, but God is telling me I must sit back and allow him to do his work.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

I have hope, and faith in you and your love for me, the love you said you had for me. Do you have faith in me too?

So here I am

Writing. Not that I know what I am writing about, or what I want to write about. There is so much going on all the time and I just can’t keep up with life. It’s always ‘this person against that person’ and ‘this person did this’ but ‘that person did that’ and things just get so confusing that it’s hard to know which way is up. And most of the time it’s nearly impossible to tell if the information you’re given is the whole truth or just something that has been passed along through the eyes of too many diluting it to something that is sort of, kind of, the truth but not really.

Then you get when things become so convoluted and somehow the different drama stories that you’ve been keeping up with this whole time start to become intertwined with one another. For example, I have two different friends, who like two different guys. Yet, these two different guys, both like the same girl. And she is one of those girls who goes on flirting with every guy she lays eyes on and leads them all on to think that they have a chance with her when really, she doesn’t want them. And in the process she’s hurting people and even though she KNOWS she’s hurting people she continues to do it anyway.

People come to me. All the time. And I listen. That’s easy enough. They start to ask me for advice and I must say, that’s a tad harder. I do my best, but I don’t know the secrets of the world, and I know nothing about guys. That’s what all these girls come to me about. Yet, I know nothing about this. I have no experience whatsoever. And while they all know this, they all seem to think that I know something that they don’t. As one girl so kindly pointed out when I tried to help her: I have no experience with anything like this anyway.

I do my best just trying to look at things from an objective point of view. So here I am, sitting, and hoping that the advice I am giving these girls is the right advice to give.

The Hundreth Post Which Just Like The Others Is About Life and Love

Dear... How do i start with dear in these sort of things?
     What's more appropriate? Hey? What's up? -Nick? Yes, that one?
Nick,    
     I'm at a loss for words and yet I write. My speech flows more when I write but I'm also much more uncensored. So please, bear with me?
     I've never been good with the English language. I speak before I think, just trusting the immediate meaning of a word rather than it's connotations. I'm self centered, think way too often about myself instead of seeing what I do to those around me. In retrospect do I realize what I've done what I do. Many times I make the same mistake again before I finally learn.
     I just thought about this, but sorry if this is hard to read.      
     I'm still a child. I make mistakes and I try my best to learn from them, but I don't. I'm a far cry from the young woman I want to be. I'm anxious all the time. I choose to expect the worst because I'm so afraid of getting my hopes up. I'm afraid of the world failing me and life pushing me down. I've learned to expect the least, to be happy with what I have. I know I don't deserve to have the things I do. I don't deserve to be happy, and yet I am. I push away those who love me, and don't let them get close to me. that way when they leave me I won't miss them as much. I think, feel, and believe such desolate things, and I'm sorry you had to suffer through it all. There is that hopeful part of me, though it doesn't seem to come out in private too often. I dwell in the past, afraid it will dictate my future. When I see a similarity suddenly I worry that I'm going down the same path. I either worry continuously until I've forgotten about it, or I fight too hard against it, instead of seeing what will be I only see what was.
    I have flaws. I make mistakes, and I'm only human. I'm sorry. Sorry that I've caused you pain. I'm sorry that I've hurt someone who means so much to me. I'm sorry I looked at the darker side of things. I'm so happy around you that none of it could possibly be real. Something had to be wrong and i had to find it.     
     I'm sorry i brought up my ex's all the time, they meant a lot to me, but they're the past (you are were are were) You're my present. I didn't see what was in front of me because I was too focused on what was behind me rather then treating you like my boyfriend I still tried to act like you were my best friend. I wasn't careful about what I said, I should have changed, been more willing to move forward but I didn't. I'm sorry for drifting out of reality. For not smiling every time I saw you or letting you know how much i love you each and every moment I'm sorry for not appreciating all the little things you've done for me over the years. even the big things like being my shoulder to cry on, and my friend. for loving me. 
     There's still so much to learn and understand about each other. There are so many sides to you, and I should put in the effort to figure it out.
     This isn't as important, but I'm soo sorry about your glasses! I really didn't mean to! I'm sorry.
     I should probably explain what the random puzzle pieces are. they were supposed to be a scavenger hunt for our 3 month anniversary. Start with an empty jar and a clue which led you to a puzzle piece, then another and so on and so forth. The gift was meant for you, so here, and happy new year. They were supposed to be in different places that (are) were important to us from freshman year on
     If I ever appeared to be trying to change you, then I'm sorry. I love you just the way you are. You've seen me at my worst and at my best. you mean so much to me, and I love you. I don't know any other way to say it.     
     Well I suppose this is my final plea. for now I can't think of much else save for I wasn't trying to play games, toy with emotions. This is what I'm thinking. I want the chance to talk to you face to face and talk about this    

Love, Sincerely? Both? how do you end this sort of letter... thing?
Paulina

I want to work things out. I need to work out my issues and I'm asking you to bear with me. you promised you'd never forget that I loved you no matter what. Please don't break that promise.



I'm sorry. I know you don't even know about this blog, and you'll get the original handwritten version but I'm so sorry. I love you. I want to be around you. I want to have you in my life. You've made me stronger. And I hope to God I didn't do the opposite for you. Thank you for that.

What’s the best choice?

That, is the question that everyone answers at every point in time. Some choices are no-brainers and you don’t even realize that you’re making them. Others, take much more thought. I made a choice to start writing right now instead of continuing to study for my Government test (and quiz) on Wednesday. I ended up choosing a topic to start writing about. I am still trying to choose whether or not i am going to eat ice cream before I go to bed and whether or not I am going to do the math homework I was assigned today. I am thinking yes on ice cream and no on homework, but that’s just me. The homework probably won’t even be collected tomorrow, so I am not going to stress about it, I am tired. So tired. I have gotten to that point where I am just typing and I am no longer actually thinking about what I am putting down on this paper. If it can be called paper…

There are some choices that are much harder than others. The choice of whether or not to tell someone what you think about them is an incredibly tough choice. Is it worth it? What if the other person does not reciprocate? Then what? Did you just make a good friendship awkward for nothing? In Economics, a decision is made by weighing the costs and the benefits. What if you don’t know the costs, and you don’t know the benefits? So many things can happen by just that one statement that there is absolutely no way that you can know what is going to happen if you just utter those words. If the feelings are mutual, sure it was worth it, but if they aren’t, then, in turn, it’s not worth it. So, at what point can you decide whether or not the benefit is worth the cost.

Well, these are the options for most people. For me, I have only one option. I won’t say anything. I don’t believe that it’s worth it. And, not being worth it, there is no point in me even going through this whole though process, yet, I do it anyway. That’s alright, at least I can say I thought about the option, I just don’t see it as an actual option for me. But, oh well. What can I do about that?

Words

Words. No one knows exactly what they can do. Sometimes, they do nothing, they are just there, but sometimes, they can change a person's life.

The other day, I watched this show. There was a man, and his son (whose names I can't remember). The man's business was failing, and he blamed alot of people for his problems and the things that happened. One day he took his son, who was 15, to a cabin he owned in the woods. They talked, and after a while, he asked his son to go outside and gather firewood for him. As the son is coming back, he hears a shot, and when he finally figures out what it was, he finds his dad. His dad had committed suicide and left the son (who had no mom) all alone in the world. In his suicide note, he gave examples of people who just didn't care, who were unkind to him. He wrote that he was too cowardly to take his son with him, and finally, that no one cared.

But the son cared.

For the next few months, he killed everyone who he thought was responsible for his father's death. All of the people that were named in the letter were killed because they had to do their job. When the boy grew up, he had a lot of financial problems too, and began to blame others for his problems. When he was the same age his father was when he killed himself, he began killing again. He killed those people he blames, people who told him that "no one cares." In the end, he was ready to kill his wife, then himself.

Words. They can make a person's day, but they can ruin it too. They can change a person's life. They changed the life of that boy who didn't know what to do. The one thing he remembers about his father's note was that he wrote that no one cares. It hurt him to the core, because he cared about his father, and that death scarred him for life.

So, one thing that you can never forget: no matter how angry you get, how sad you feel, you can never carelessly throw words out there. Someone may remember those words for the rest of their life, and unless they're good words, you don't want to be responsible for the well-being of a person to be worse off than it could have been.

Be careful with words, they can be dangerous weapons, but they can also be the best medicine.

Suffering is Joy?

As I was going through all of the posts on this blog, and trying to label each blog entry concerning it's topic, something came across my mind. Why is it that so many of my entries are so unhappy? Is it that I am an unhappy person at heart, despite my "bubblyness"? Is it possibly that I truly can't tap into the happy state of mind that I at least seem to put myself out as? I cannot even begin to enter the realm of being able to say "I am truly happy". Or can I? I suppose it would depend on your definition of happiness at first.
A friend of mine used to say that true happiness cannot exist, because when one is happy all the time, they forget sadness and it becomes non-existent for them. And with the philosophy that cold is only the absence of heat, one could state that happiness is only the absence of sadness. What if it was the other way around though? What if sadness is the absence of happiness?
Then this thought crossed my mind: "Why isn't the great question of happiness wildly discussed?"
The greatest philosophers in the history of all mankind have questioned happiness, why doesn't the common man? Great philosophers accepted sadness, and the common man questions it?
Perhaps those great philosophers have accepted the fact that sadness exists in our lives. If one is to dwell in their sadness they can never receive the joy from the things in life that give it out. The common man though searches to escape suffering... What if the key to our suffering is our suffering itself?
I don't write about my happy thoughts or feelings as often, because I am contented to stew in my joy and hold onto it for as long as I can. When I am sad... I write to try and push all that sadness out of me, and to get past that sadness to reach my joy. To try and turn fortune's wheel a little bit faster. I, like the rest of society, don't want to suffer. Yet these great thinkers among men have accepted their suffering and lived perfectly wonderful lives. In a sense, because they were doing what they wanted to do, they were happy.
When we suffer, we appreciate those happy moments more. When we are happy those suffering moments are all the more distant. Most definitely not similar to a state of balanced equilibrium, chemically speaking. So maybe those philosophers do have it right. Maybe we were made to suffer, so that happy moments are all the better for us. Like yin and yang, you can't have one without the other. You cannot be happy if you have never been sad. You cannot feel joy if you have never suffered.
So perhaps it is this, for you my readers. It is not that I am not a happy person. It is not that I can't tap into the happy parts of myself when I write. It is not that I am a young girl obsessed with the drama of life. It is that when I am happy, I am at peace.

Screw the New Year

Well, seeing as I was all excited for the new year, this isn't the best thing to say. To be honest, I am just doing my best to just pretend that this is a test for the new year. This is a test to make sure that I am going to continue to live that happy life that I was striving for in the new year. And, I will pass. No matter what happens, I will make it through the new year, and I will be okay through it all. So weird how already, there seems to be hardships. Somehow, I know that I will be fine. Again. Welcome to the New Year (just not as amazing as it seemed a month ago...)

Daggers.

I feels as if a knife was slowly pushed into my heart, then twisted hard then ripped out. I feel like crying. I can feel the tears, and my heart like a stone pulling me down. i want to sleep, to hide in the dark and never come out. I want night to never end. I want stars, cold air on my skin. I feel like my bones are ripped from my body. Yet I am holding myself up. Yet my eyes are dry. yet I am discussing transcendentalism. I am in so much pain, and yet I can keep it all in. I can breathe, live in the physical. Mentally I exist for what this horrendous system gives me. It's so odd on how I hate the system and yet I crave teh education, the knowledge. Emotionally I'm dying. I love, and yet the pain I feel so so constantly manifested by the sharp pain I feel in my shest. It's throbbed and stabs at me now for hours. I won't even make it go away. It is a reminder of my pain. A physical manifestation of what is occuring in my emotional sphere.

Tustin Beat Foothill at 9:11 P.M. on 9/11

One sleepless night
Two boxes of tissues
Three friends shoulders
Four good cry sessions
Five times trying to suck it up
Six packets of pancit canton
Seven filipino hot dogs
Eight times an article read over
Nine attempts to begin homework
and Ten thoughts of feeling sick tired and sorry for myself,
the usual, stereotypical of the event thoughts for a girl ran through my head,
Why me? Why now? Why so sudden? etc etc etc.
but I also couldn't help but think the (also kinda sorta stereotypical)
What happened to forever? What happened to us? Why couldn't we work it out? Why aren't I trying harder? Why do i feel like he's giving up on me? even worse on us...?
I wandered out into the dark last night and cried. I cried my heart out alone in that cold dark, night. I sobbed, lying on wet grass. Eventually a friend found me, and made me laugh, but I still don't feel any better.
What happened to trying to work it out together? What happened to trying to pull through it all? What happened to loving me, and not wanting to hurt me? What happened to all of that?
I won't get sleep for a little bit of time, and we may have to buy more tissues than we used to, but... but what. what's the bright side in all of this?

The worst part of all?
That i won't die of broken heart syndrome, and don't have the guts to do anything else.
Hey my heart is pretty weak, maybe it'll shatter into as many pieces as I feel like it is right now.
The worst part is that I won't die, or waste away, now matter how hard I cry, or how much I want to disappear.
The very very worst part is that I'll be okay...
(heart screams out: yup, i'll be okay in months... years... decades... CENTURIES. -_- )

I Should Have...But I Didn't

He was right there... He was so close. So close that I could remember the feeling of his arms around me. Why didn't I just run into them and stop this silly little fight. All because he didn't call me back...He knew I was upset though, why didn't he call me back and tell me he was joking? That only enflamed me more.
Why didn't he sweep me up into his arms... I was so close. Wasn't he thinking the same thing? I know that I can be silly and stubborn at times, but why didn't he?
It's in my pride, my pride for keeping up my emotions, possibly why I hold grudges for so long. I couldn't possibly run to him now. But I don't want to sit around and wait for him to come to me, and tell me he's sorry so that I can give in and say I'm sorry too. He can't read my thoughts like he used to be able to, or my body language, or the tone in my voice.
If this is what only two weeks apart will do to us, then I fear for the years to come.

To any of my current readers, my future readers. If you love someone. When you love someone. Don't let them go. Hold them close. Even if you're fighting, just run into their arms, and hold each other. What was that saying?
Never lie in life, but if you must lie, lie in the arms of one you love.

101 Cute Aminals

"State the obvious... I didn't get my perfect fantasy."

I guess that's kind of impossible isn't it? A perfect fantasy is so far out of reach but I guess it's pretty close if you're in that blissful contentment that's so close to happiness that isn't quite there. Because a perfect world, ISN'T a happy one.

But we're human, so we try...
I don't think I'm lost, rather i'm confused.
Or rather he's knocking me upside the head and I'm so hard-headed that I haven't even realized it...
Yes I'm prideful, but I haven't been so prideful as to admit that It was my fault. I'm so sorry, and I don't have the words to say it all.

88 Calender Pages

13 of them Being Double Days

That's

101 Days without you. (no pun intended on the dalmations I SWEAR!)

88 pages of cuteness that we haven't awed over

and 101 days that I haven't learned how to deal with things, and how to stand up for my own problems.

If there's one thing in my inexperienced life that I've learned, it's that a true friend could never be replaced, especially if they're a best friend. Even more so when that friend is you to I.
I'm sorry.
There are a lot of things I have to tell you too.

My Friend

This is taken directly from my thoughts. I wonder if you'll ever actually read it. Though the other things I have planned to write here haven't actually been written, I am determined that this one will.

Dear Best Friend,
Yes, you are still the best friend I ever had. I miss you. And I know deep down,you miss me too, even if you are too prideful to admit it. I have been on my first retreat without you, and I do not think I want to do it again, but I will if I must. My friend, you have let yourself be led away from God. You have alowed yourself to be led away from His path for you, doing thing that would not make Him happy. I know you say you are a good Catholic girl, but dear friend, you have begun to cease following Him. He has led us to each other, and we allowed His will to be undone. Sure, you may argue that you have lots of friends that you can count on and rely on and you don't need me, but, answer to yourself honestly, is the true connection there? Can they really supplement everything? If your answer is yes, consider the following:
Can they finish your sentences?
Know your thoughts?
Know when you're hurting, even if they don't say anything?
Make up the same song you are, at the same time?
Are they always honest with you?
Do they go to church with you?
Will/Can they sing and dance with you?
If they do, is their voice a perfect match with yours?
Will they trust you, even if they can't trust themselves?
Were they ever called your hip-attachment, or vice-versa?
If they walk into a room, does everyone ask where you are, or vice-versa?
Even if it happened, could the question be answered?
Would people confuse you, even if you look nothing alike (even someone like Kim Scott, yes, it happened at the retreat)?
Would they overdose on pixie-stix with you?
Sit in the same chair as you?
Sleep in the same bed?
Climb a tree with you?
Would they save you from a car, or save themselves first?
Can you tell them anything, and they won't freak out (I did my best)?
Do they know where those scars came from?
Would they have waited for you for so long, or would they have become prideful or 'over it' saying they don't need you?
Did they bring you Latin that neither of you know, yet somehow knew?
Would they judge you when you told them something, or keep an open mind?
My friend, you and I both know that the list can continue on forever, but we don't have the time. It would take too long. My only hope is that you understand and do the right thing. May God bless you, now and for always.
Your Best Friend (still),
Me (who else?)
P.S. I still pray for you every night
P.S.S. I have so much to tell you!

Ice Queen

It's so cold. I am. I feel So Cold. It only reminds me of how warm he was. How hot his hand was in mine. I hope he is warm now. I hope he's drifting off into sleep now. I hope he is having sweet dreams. I hope he is thinking of me.
I hold TJ close. He is so warm on my skin. I feel sick, and I am scared. My head is spinning. Oh I love him. Can I learn to live without him?
I still am cold. His heart is too far away to...no. His heart is in my chest. Beating inside of me. When I thinnk of his love I suddenly get warm, then cold again. I go back and forth. Why all of a sudden do I need him so much? Why can't I bear to live without him for only two weeks. I feel so dependent as if my legs can't carry themselves

Why is it so painful to remember the happy?

The logical side of me is berating myself for my foolish tears. Telling me he will move on without me one day (or even worse I without him), and that I should help prepare him as best I can for the sake of society.
This emotional side of me that I had used to call weak tells me to cry it out. To curl into a little ball and let the world see my mixed feelings. Words such as pain, joy, sadness, frustration adn solitude only tough the surface of this scrambled feelings
A mime gets crushed by a tree in the forest when no one is around, does anyone hear him?
I cry alone in the dark when no one is around. I Know someone hears me.
I know I cannot be the only one in this state. My organs twisting around themselves and my mind pounding against my skull, threatening to explode
To think I thought my emotional side was weak. I always believed he thought my strength was in my will power and the choices I made. he thinks I am strong because of how I feel. has he slipped peacefully into sleep, or does he cry like me?
I am afraid of Junior year. I feel so alone, and I know I have so much to face.
Life is like a marathon and I hate running. But I have friends who I know will help me.
Is it wrong to miss him, even if he isn't gone?
18:54
I remember the first time that he adn I really talked. I was walking outside of the girl's locker room at THS. He was sitting against the gate by the girl's locker room. He was listening to his iPod. He saw me adn called me over. He asked me to listen to a song and it made me laugh. We chatted about the song, and I wanted to go join my friends, and he came with me. I think that was also the day I looked in his eyes and he looked right back at me. This boy had the audacity to look right back at me. when did someone last look at me straight in the eyes? With such ferocity.No boy had looked at me straight in the eyes. His eyes were locked on mine. While other boys either never held the gaze or looked without seeing. I can't even describe that first not-even-an-hour of starting to know this boy. To see this boy become a man. That was the beginning and it has been a long time since then. I know we are far from the end.

Dust

What am I to this world? I'm just dust in the wind, I forget where that saying is from. I am dust in the wind. As humans we'd like to believe that we are more than what we actually are. We are simply a result of evolution. We have destroyed so many beautiful things. I truly believe there is no hope for the human race. We are all terrible and ugly creatures. There is no hope at all for humans Even love is something we use to fool ourselves into happiness. It's a stupid drug and after our dose we're even worse off then we were before. The earth would be a better place if human's didn't exist.

So in the words of the famous Juliet
"what if this (poison) do not work at all? . . . No, no: this shall forbid it: lie thou there."
Blades are beautiful.

Evil Wishes

For the first time in a long time, I'm taking painkillers to sleep. All there's left to do is wait. If I stop long enough I can feel the blood pulsing through every vein and artery. The majority in my head. The hind of the left hemisphere to be exact. I hate chasing. I do not want to chase. I want to be chased. Right now I want to cry.
Two more pills, and I'm off.
No matter how evil it sounds, I hope someone out there is having worse thoughts than I tonight.

The Brink, The Edge, Whatever You Want To Call It

It's been so easy for me to put the appearance of happiness, or in the least contentment for so long. I've gotten so good at it that I can even truly trick those who really know me if I really wanted to. Now that I've kept everything inside, and locked up for so long, I can't hold it anymore. I can't stop crying, even when times I'm laughing tears escape me, and that's never happened before. Even little TJ can't help me anymore. He's at a loss of words for me. I'm at a loss of words for me.
The fact that my family calls me fat, stupid, ugly. Such simple and base words, but from my family they're so hurtful. From other people usually I can ignore, even make fun of, but from my own family, and for so long? Just thinking about it and I burst out into tears. The past hour has been filled with my tears. My family just passes me and they don't even notice... They can yell at me, be stern with me, be so cold with me, then go and laugh with each other. When they turn back to me they're so cold again though. How can they be so hurtful to me, then so warm to each other? Mon dieu! Water works again... I wish I could stop crying. Crying is weak. You shouldn't cry. There are so many people I know I can turn to, but for some reason I feel like I can't. I turn to a teddy bear. I can't call him that he's done too much for me. I turn to TJ, and he can't do anything for me right now... He's so helpless... Even listening to music, I still sing, but I blare it because I think my voice is terrible.
When I'm with those (or at least talking to those) who I know I truly love, and who honestly love me back, I feel a glimmer of hope that all of these damned emotions will pass, but I can't. Right now every time I start singing, instead I start sobbing. Now I'm learning how to appear emotioneless...It's the only way to stop the tears.
That's no way to live. I'd rather be dead.

Everyone is supposed to be happy... right?

Well, that's what they say anyway. I never understood this. Maybe for everyone else, this works. Maybe they all get to be happy with friends and boyfriends/girlfriends, but for some reason, this doesn't worki for me. People always seem to have this friend that they can talk to, whenever they want, someone or even a group of people that they can go and hang out with over the summer and weekends and breaks off of school. It is there for everybody. Everyone but me. People will only talk to me if I call them first, or if I bring up the fact that they were horrified that I spend every summer alone and promised to get me out of the house this year. But, I never do this. I won't remind them that I exist, that I am a person to, that they told me that we would hang out. This is hard for me.

It's like when realizing that my "friends" aren't really all there like they are for their other friends. Like realizing that your so-called best friend didn't really care when your friendship ended. When that happens, you realize that your entire friendship was a lie, and she doesn't care that everything is gone, that she doesn't care how much she hurt you, she doesn't care that everything she ever said, everything that she told you about your friendship together was a lie. Everything that you guys had said that you would do in the future, that it never will happen, and she knew that all along, and she doesn't care about what had been planned, she feels no loss in the loss of your friendship. She was done using you for the moment, and now she can go to her real friends. Maybe you try, you keep your mind open and when she comes to you, you tell her what she did wrong, yet she makes no effort to change anything. You look inside and see all of the pain that was inflicted, she had begun to fix your broken heart, and she took it rebroke it, and put it through a shredder, and she didn't take a second look at what she did to you.

Then you end up by yourself over the summer again. I know that I am going to spend the summer by myself, despite the people who promised to get me out of my house, where I am right now, by myself. Like always. I want desperately to be like everyone else. Maybe not in the sense that it seems though. I remember that one time, my friend said that she wished that she could be like me and fit in to so many groups of people. The thing that she didn't realize is that all those people may be friends, but they aren't FRIENDS. When ever they go places, I don't get invited with the group, because I don't fit in. She saw that I could go anywhere, but they are more like acquaintances, people who I can talk to, but that I don't hang out with. So, like every other summer of my life, I sit at home alone whole everyone else hangs out with friends and goes to the beach and has fun. Yet, for some reason, I miss people. I still want to talk to them, even though I know that this "friendship" isn't going to last (it never does for me), I want the company of people.

It's one of those things that you wish you could get used to; the hurt, the pain. I want desperately to get used to the pain of fake friendships, of the people who build up a lie, saying that they care about you, and that you'll always be friends, and that they won't leave you. Preparing and logging things for years from now is useless. I don't get to keep friends for that long. I am not that special. There is nothing special about me. Apparently, I don't have that thing that everyone else has that allows them to keep friends and keep people around them. All of this is going through my head all the time, but this is what I hide from people. I read books, and watch movies, and they feed into my fairy tale head, the one that says that I am going to live happily too. Then, every morning, a new wave of disappointment and hurt runs through me. I get reminded of all the empty promises and all of the fake friendships. Yet, for some reason, I let it continue. I continue to allow myself to trust people, to let myself get hurt, and every time, it just gets a little worse. It makes me hate myself.

You may say that people go through similar things all the time, and they all hurt to no end, and they are alone, and they hate themselves too. Well, those are the people that you usually see committing suicide. Taking their own lives. They have nothing else to live for. I refuse to do that. I refuse to take my own life, no matter the hurt. If anything, I will live for the everlasting life when I am dead. If anything, that is what I live for. That is the only thing that gets me up in the morning, and if not for that, I wouldn't be here anymore. I guess, I am thankful to have something in my life to look forward to, because it puts a dim light in a dark room. That's okay, because my room never lights up anyway, so the dim light saves me.

Fantasy

Throughout my life I have had fantasies. What girl doesn't? I've had dreams that never came true, and things I hope to be that never were. I fantasize. It is my downfall. The real world never seems good enough, and my fantasies grow less and less wonderful as I get older.
For once I wished my fantasies would come true, and come alive, but here I sit in a pool of tears. Not a single fantasy being reality.
I'm tired of chasing, I'm tired of not knowing what to do.
I should have ignored the voices in my head and stopped being so logical.
I got what I wanted but I cried because of it.
To those of you who read this who still fantasize. In my pain through reality I wish I could tell you to stop your fantasizing and get in touch with the real world, in the hopes of lessening your pain. I cannot though. My fantasies are my escape, even though their existence makes the return to the real world so hard, they are my times of bliss. Those fleeting moments where soma exists.
I got exactly what I had said I wanted. I cried for hours afterward.

It is not that I don't have faith in "us". Rather I do not have faith in me.