2010

A whole year has passed and you're the best part to come from it.

fuck.

Words.

Words are funny things. How sometimes the wrong one makes all the difference. How choosing them can mean everything and a lack of them can mean just as much. Sometimes I'm really good with words. But most of the time I'm just good with thoughts. Because what's the significance of an unspoken thought? It's not validated. You can't even really prove you had a certain thought. You can just say, "Yeah, that's what I was thinking," after the fact.

But here's the thing. I want you to know something. You who is not reading this. You who means more to me than you should. You who I don't even really know. I like you. I like who I've made you up to be anyways. I want to know you. I want so much from you that it hurts. And I don't really know why. I don't know anything.

This isn't even original, ya know? The whole Someone Has Already Thought What You Have Thought, You're Not Unique In This Sense. It makes me seem so insignificant. How could I ever mean anything to anyone when I'm so insignificant? I don't deserve to feel loved. I don't deserve to be anything BUT loved. I don't think I know what I want or what I need or who I am or who you are or what the fuck anything is any more. I'm so full of hate and love and bitterness and sadness and lust and all of this is so overwhelming.

How does any one person handle life? How are you supposed to manage all of these emotions? It doesn't make sense. I'm not making any sense.

I just want someone to use words for me and really mean them. I just want a real emotion.

The Nightmare.

So I was walking through this apartment that was supposedly mine (though, in reality, it was definitely, definitely not mine), attempting to steer past the hordes of party guests I didn't know. They were like circus freaks, sort of. I mean, not in the conventional sense. None of the ladies had beards. No strange malformations. Just a general Moulin Rouge like quality; sinister grins and gratuitous nudity, eerie, booming laughter at every turn. These were not my friends, and I couldn't help but wonder what they were doing at my party.

I was looking for someone; a boy, one I actually knew. Occasionally I'd catch a glimpse of his glasses or his hair, but when I'd inch closer, hoping to slide into his frame of vision, he'd disappear once again, and I'd be left to my own devices. Or vices.

I drank something that was sitting on a nearby counter. It stung me in every way. In the best way.

Every now and again I'd spot my sister, laughing drunkenly with a group of people she seemed to know. I couldn't tell. They were all strangers to me. But still, I was searching for this face. A familiar one, a safe one, a face that didn't make me feel scared or threatened. And as the night passed, faces like that were fewer and far between. Even my sister disappeared at one point. But I never stopped looking. The lonelier, more scared I felt, the harder I searched.

Until a large, bald man asked the question I couldn't bear to ask myself. "Why are you looking so hard? What do you want with him?"

I lied to the guest. "I JUST WANT TO HAVE SEX." It seemed like a concept he would understand, even in his state of increasing inebriation. His laughter echoed in my ears, etching a scowl onto my face as I prowled past him.

The truth was that I had no idea what I was after. Perhaps I was just looking for someone to sit in a quiet corner with me and talk, or play guitar. Maybe I really was after sex. But I couldn't help but wonder if all of those things were too insignificant to warrant this endless search.

The sheer horror of this thought thrust me into the waking world, my body drenched in sweat. I'm very much awake, but the nightmare is present.

Sigh No More, Ladies

"Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,

Men were deceivers ever;

One foot in sea, and one on shore,

To one thing constant never.

Then sigh not so, but let them go,

And be you blithe and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no moe

Of dumps so dull and heavy;

The fraud of men were ever so

Since summer first was leavy.

Then sigh not so, but let them go,

And be you blithe and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into hey nonny, nonny."

-William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

This is my pick-me-up of the moment.

Frigid Night.

"The wind whipped at her hair, making it fly about her face. It was one of the first truly frigid winter nights, though time was well into December, and she shivered beneath her woefully thin jacket. She fought the wind; one step closer. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it, watching the tobacco burn bright orange under the flame. The cigarette burned merrily and she thought briefly of Christmas, before her expression turned sour. The cold bit at her hands. 'I've got to stop smoking,' she mumbled, though she knew it was a promise she wasn't likely to keep. She took one final drag and threw the cigarette on the ground, stepping on it and extinguishing the last of its glow. She stood in front her building, looking up at it, unready to enter despite the freezing cold. Entering meant her night was over, and over she was still not comfortable with.
It had been a decent night, for once. It was a night spent with friends. She was alone, of course. Always alone, wherever she was, but she had the illusion of company for a precious few hours. She knew it was her own fault. She wasn't even present for the last hug she gave, her mind somewhere else entirely. It pained her, the way this detached person she had become could not even let her guard down for one of the few people in the world that meant something to her.

Inside she went. She'd grown used to the frigidity, but it occurred to her that she really wasn't any less alone outside."

(I find myself reading this time and time again...)

That is the fear. (old)

I've been thinking way too much today. Which isn't really surprising. Considering that's all I seem to do any more. Think too much about things I really shouldn't spend so much time pondering over. But, as it is. I've been watching House. A lot. I used to watch Grey's Anatomy a lot. Until the bomb episode and when Denny died and then it got too sad for me. And so, I started watching House. Because House is cynical. And it's not easy to get sad when he's cynical. But. One episode I watched...House was scared, sad. And. This probably seems so stupid, but. If House gets scared, how in the world am I going to make it as a doctor?

I've never once faltered in my decision to be a doctor. I -want- to do it. I want to help people. I want to make things in this world a little more bearable. I believe things can be cured and I want to help find the answer. I don't like seeing people in pain. I don't like seeing family or friends watching someone they love in pain. Because I don't want to know anyone going through pain like that. I'm a sensitive soul. Things upset me easily. Which. It just doesn't seem smart for me to be a doctor. Not that I'm not smart enough. I know I'm a smart girl, I do. But I get so attached. I cried over Alaska. I cried over Denny. I cried over Marissa. And I fucking broke down over Will. I cry over characters that haven't really died. I feel completely broken when people in real life die. And. Me and Will weren't even close. So, how do I deal with it when someone close to me dies? I have to stop thinking about that because I can't afford to think about it.

But what do I do when someone, a patient in the future, dies? It's going to happen. There is such a lack of courage on my part in that confirmation. Because as real as that is, I don't want to deal with it. I don't want to be the one to look into someone's eyes and tell them someone they love has died. Not under my care. Hell, not under anyone's care. It's not right. It hurts to think about now.

The fact is, the future is coming soon. A whole lot sooner than I expected. I don't feel like I should be in college yet. I was just in high school. And. Things keep moving faster and faster and I feel like if they don't slow down, I'm going to burst in flames. I'm so scared. I'm absolutely petrified. This is a huge decision on my part. I don't feel like I know enough to make the decision yet. I'm just a kid. Who am I to decide what I need to do?

I know that you can't save everyone. It doesn't make it any easier to deal with. I know that I'll save more than I don't. But are 100 lives saved worth 10 innocent people dying? I don't believe in 'everything happens for a reason.' If I did, I wouldn't be able to even want to be a doctor. Because if everything happened for a reason, then I'd have no purpose in life. I'd have nothing to live for because I'd have nothing to die for. I believe you make your own destiny. You make choices. Every day, all day. And those decisions are yours. Not someone else's. I don't believe in preconceived destiny because I am not worthless enough to sit back and just accept that everything will fall into place. We were given the puzzle. We have to solve it.

At the same time. I don't think things in life should be so random. I mean, I don't believe someone who has lived a life doing nothing but bad and never giving a damn about anyone else should live over a perfectly innocent person. And that happens. Every day and I hate it. Why is Castro still alive when little kids are dying from cancer, starvation? It doesn't make sense. There's no balance. I believe everyone, EVERYONE, has a worth. Even scumbags. But I don't believe they have more of a worth than innocent kids. It's not right, it's not right, it's not right. I hate it. I can't make sense out of it. And I don't like things that don't make sense.

There's no answer to this. No one can reason out the puzzle that is life. Life isn't structured enough to make sense of it.



It's so hard to do what's right when even the best you can do has some amount of wrong in it.

It's what humans do, and they pass on through. (old)

My story isn't so different from the thousands of new students that will be on college campuses, half scared, half ecstatic this fall.
Nor is it so different from those who move miles away from their friends, family, and lifestyle that aren't in college.
I'm not so different.

So, why does it feel like I'm the only one who is so anxious about leaving..well, leaving everything?
I don't know if I'm 2% nervous and 98% excited, or vice versa. Though, if I'm being honest, it's probably best that way. I do a bit better when I don't know the specifics of some things. Because sometimes knowing too much ruins the allure (isn't that a funny word?) of anything.
It is SO selfish of me to want the best of both worlds. (I just quoted Miley Cyrus. Oh my.) But, can you blame me? Who wouldn't want the luxury of making new friends while keeping the same old ones? It's just..preferable. Alas, people move on when you move away. I know this, I'm preparing for it, I'm hoping it won't happen..I'm petrified it will. Then again, I'm being hypocritical. I'll be making new friends. (For the love of all that's holy, I hope I will, at least.) I'll be getting close to people that before August 20th, I didn't know existed. People my friends now won't know. So, I should get over the fact that they'll be getting closer, eating hashbrowns at 1 in the morning, making three person seat in the back of a charter bus memories, shouldn't I? Wrongwrongwrong. It's so wrong. If I think about what I'm missing, it'll kill me.

Though, that might be the problem. I shouldn't be thinking about what I might miss (what I will miss) when I'll have so many things I won't be missing. It's easier said than done, I know. Oh, how well do I know. But at least I'm acknowledging it. That's better than nothing. I think, at least.


So, a lot is on my mind. And I'm in a ranting mood. And by ranting mood, I mean it's 2:30 in the morning and I have nothing to do but sleep or think and I'm clearly not sleeping making thinking top priority, regardless of the fact that I'd rather be sleeping because too much thinking equals too many emotions and I'm too stressed to have a lot of emotions roaming wild.
Shartzer would kill me for that run-on.

Mmkay, so I'm a nice person. Or, I am most of the time. I think I am, rather. I'm sure there's a few people who'd disagree and who'd put me on the top of their People That Are So Not Nice List. If people make such lists. But, anyways. I don't like to be mean. I truly don't because my guilty conscience likes to live up to its name and I can't stand it. And though I do sometimes judge people based solely on their outward appearance/first impression (isn't that the same thing? All I ever get on first impressions are outward appearances. So, I guess it's the same.), I don't try to. And I'm the type of person who, once I get to know the person, generally has my first impressions slapped in my face because it was so wrong. Some people are like that and some are not. Not that I think either way is right or wrong, per se, just that I don't generally like when people meet someone, get their first impression (and seriously, not everyone makes amazing first impressions. Mine are typically shitty.), and then don't change their opinion on that person despite the fact that their first impression is clearly not right. And. Some of my closest friends do this. And it bothers me tremendously. (Don't yell at me for this! Just because I said 'Some of my closest friends' does not mean that if you are a close friend of mine, I'm talking about you! Just. SOME of them. Goodness.)

And this seems to happen to me frequently. Where I say something, someone misinterprets it and then doesn't let me explain how I meant it to be interpreted. It drives me crazy. And I get flustered so easily, so when the person is being mad or whatever at me, it doesn't help me explain anything at all. I hate being misunderstood. It's not difficult to hear someone out. So, try it.

I have realized that I apologize a lot. Probably too much. And by too much, I mean I apologize for a lot for things I have no reason to apologize for. Mainly because I hate seeing people upset or getting in arguments, so I'll say sorry for arguments sake. And. I'm tired of doing it. I'm not going to apologize for something when I've done nothing wrong. Or when I'm not to blame. Or because it makes you feel better that I did. False apologies are like white lies that start off harmless but can snowball into some huge mistake.

I have noticed this a lot over the past year or so, and I don't think I'm alone in this. I have either A) recently become super jealous for stupid reasons or B) always been a jealous person, but never let it get the best of me until recently or C) have always been a jealous, selfish bitch and I just haven't realized it until now. And this is specifically for five people. (If you must know, feel free to ask) To them, I AM sorry for being so green eyed. (literally, I'm not sorry for having green eyes, ha. Though I am metaphorically sorry for being green with envy.) I am seriously working on this flaw. It's taking effort. And time. So, be patient with me. Not that I deserve your patience, but it would be nice. It's not an excuse, either. It is what it is.


So, I have some burdens and worries and troubles on my mind.
Don't we all?

We all have worries. We all get scared. We all have been hypocritical.
It's what humans do, and they pass on through.


I have irrefutably changed. I don't take back anything I've done because I have lessons to learn. I make mistakes. But at least I'm learning. I'm still learning.