one more night

lonely summer.
i feel like i've been killing time until i get out of here.
just passing the days, waiting for the one when i wake up and know i'm free.
when i was younger i was always promised things that never were true. i will always remember the time my parents sat me and my sister down and told us we were going to disney land. i was so excited. i made a calendar and counted down the days. as time went on, the plans became less definate and more unsure. eventually they stopped talking about it, i suppose hoping we would forget about it and stop asking. that's how things have always been in my life. exciting, wonderful things promised and then never ever followed through with.
the one time i thought things weren't going to be like that, they turned on me and became a prime example and my great aunt took back her pledge of money for university.
every day brings me closer to university and every day i wake up and wonder, how many more days until things fall through and i get the news that i'm not going?
i don't know if i can take another blow.
my spirit has been so built up and broken down, i'm sick and tired of the setbacks. the promises and big dreams, they're not reality.
reality is this. this day to day waiting for something great to happen. the wasting of my time. the entire summers passing by with nothing accomplished.
i'm working very hard almost every day but i'm having such a hard time saving when theres so many things i must pay for myself and no one helps me. i feel like i live alone. i come home late from work, exhausted and dirty, and all the lights are out and the house is silent. mom is at her boyfriends, again, and liss is at her friends. she seems to live at friend's houses now. and when she isn't out, her and mom are home fighting. they fight all the time and she's always in trouble, yet she gets to do so much more than me and mom goes so out of her way to do things with her.
the only thing i wanted to do this entire summer was go see stars in halifax this weekend. i got myself so excited and made all these elaborate plans in my mind. and then no one could come with me. friends kept cancelling out left and right. now tonight, my selfish mom told me she cant drive and pick me up anymore.
so now i can't even go.
i'm just so sick of this. i want things to work out for me. i want to be happy. i know i sound selfish. i know this entry is very personal. this isn't how i write on this blog normally, this is how i would write in my diary but i can't help it.
i'm exhausted and defeated and i don't know what to do. i work so much and i get walked all over there. i get walked all over at home.
it's been a lonely lonely summer and i want it to be over.
but summer being over brings the scariest of possible dissapointments; if something happens and i can't go to university ... i honestly don't know what i will do. i need to get out of here, for the sake of my sanity.

a picture is worth three words; i miss you.

each picture slides by and i'm struck by the complete and total happiness in each one. the smiles, the sincerity, the memories.

the thing about pictures is that they capture the moment and all the happiness in it, and the leave out the fights, the drama, the heartaches and the breakups. who doesn't smile and look happy for a picture? who doesn't act like they're having the time of thier lives?

i'm sitting here, going through all the pictures of the past year, and it strikes me like a horrible horrible omen. these people, these friends and boyfriends and family members, even acquaintences, they are my life. they keep me sane. they keep me stable. they keep me happy and keep me grounded in life.

it's a constant battle with my innermost self but the eventual outcome is one of utter helplessness. what can i honestly do? i feel the need to run, to escape, to clain my own identity but i cling to these moments in time, these people in my life as if they are the only things keeping me alive.

so here's to the old friends. here's to the old memories. senior year. house parties. beach tares. camping trips. dances. here's to it all. to every person i carried on a lasting battle with, (what was the point?) to every ex i held harsh feelings against, (i'm over it now) to everyone i didn't think of as a close friend, (i realize now that you are) here's to the end.

a picture is worth a thousand words, right? wrong. a picture is worth simply three; "i miss you", and those are the words that will go through your mind as you reminise. those are the words i know will be running through mine, as a year from now i am somewhere new and completely free of any emotional attachments.

i'd like to thank my...

it's so hard to believe that i started this blog in grade nine, and now here i sit tonight, writing my grad write-up to go along side my photo in the yearbook. it's so hard to think of the right things to say, the right names to name, the right things to write down so you won't ever forget.

my biggest fear is that i'm travelling through time at an alarming speed and i won't slow down until it's too late.

trans-canada search

i awoke this morning with the intention of checking my email with hopes of a reply from juicy couture marketing (which i indeed found :). it was afterwards that i began casually scrolling through old blog comments, which forward to my email and sort themselves into their own folder. a lot of them i never read because i knew i would see them on here at one time or another, but one caught my eye for some reason. the sender's id was nanai, the name sounded so familiar, and my heart stopped fast.

inside the email was a birthday wish for me, on my fifteenth birthday, posted on my post "more than a feeling". i had never seen this before, ever. curious, i went back to my inbox and found another comment from her also, this one from "nanai hoshi", asking why i was so sad in another of my posts. these comments are both from 2005 and there have been none since.

background information would probably assist in the matter, so here i go. i grew up moving from city to city and town to town constantly. often times i became confused as to whether my name was katelyn or "new girl" because i was called the latter so often. my childhood memories are filled with random sleepovers and lunch-time hang outs with people who either i can't remember or who i know would never in a million years remember me, their second grade friend for one year.

that's the thing that always hurts me the most probably. when everyone around me begins talking about elementary or how they've all known each other since kindergarten. i wonder if somewhere, some group of kids is reminiscing and someone goes, "oh yeah, remember katelyn was there too? remember, the little blond one? gee, i wonder whatever happened to her..." i wish that with painstaking frequency.

during elementary, i lived in a small village in the mountain region of british columbia, armstrong. it was here that i perhaps felt the most wanted and included in all of my childhood years. it was perhaps surreal, i had many friends, nice friends, there wasn't a lot of childish drama or fighting, no mean girls that picked on me, we had a beautiful house, and my family was still together and happy, and best of all, i had a best friend. her name was nanai hoshi, and i thought she was probably the nicest girl ever.

when i try to bring back old memories, certain aspects fog but i do remember some things for sure. we wrote notes back and forth every day on pink paper. i'm not sure where the pink paper came from, if it was mine or hers, but i know somewhere in one of my storage bins i still have a box with every single note inside. she put butterfly clips in her hair, i remember that much. those little sparkley ones that came in a rainbow of colors. perhaps she gave me some, i'm not sure, or perhaps i was just copying her but i think i still have some somewhere. she also did beasding, tiny little seed beads and she would weave them with fishing line into tiny bracelets or rings. i have one from her, also, in the box if i'm not mistaken. she used to make them for me and i would study them for hours, trying to figure out how she did it. when i finally figured it out and began making my own i don't even think she was mad that i copied. she was just an all around nice person and everyone liked her.

when i moved away, i remember crying. the two of us crying that is. and i remember, we continued to write notes back in forth on pink paper and mail them to each other on almost a weekly basis. getting letters from her was possibly one of the greatest things, who doesn't love getting a letter? and they were always sparkley and pretty and sometimes even with a tiny ring or bracelet inside. we continued our correspondance throughout my stay in calgary, but i think it was when i moved back to new brunswick, to a little tiny house in barnesville, and i began middle school, i think it was then that we lost touch. i remember a phone call, i was sitting on my bed and i remember calling. things may have been different on the phone, maybe it had been too long since last talking, maybe we had changed too much. maybe she had made new friends, i know i had also. but the point is, we lost touch. and perhaps i didn't think of it so much then, didn't mourn the friendship because i was preoccupied. but now looking back, the saddest part of my childhood was letting go of friends. the hardest part was knowing when it was stupid to keep holding on.

seeing these blog comments from over two years ago thus affected me so deeply. to know that someone, somewhere, still thought, whatever happened to katelyn? someone, somewhere, thought to search me online and follow links to find me. knowing that somewhere, childhood memories live on in someone else's mind other than mine gave me hope and a lift that i greatly needed.

nanai, i hope you read this. i have searched for you online and on facebook, and have spent my whole morning digging through old address books trying to find yours. thank you for finding me, and if you never check back here again, the gesture was not lost. but i hope you do and i hope we get the chance to talk and find out where our lives have taken us.

and if anyone is reading this and can think of someway to help locate her, it would be greatly appreciated.

miss lonely

i've come to some conclusions. the first is, if you decide to let fate takes it's course, it will. the second is that it is completely possible to be loved and love in return and still be indecisive. the third is you can be surrounded by the most loving and caring friends in the world, and still feel completely and utterly alone.

that is what this post is about. feeling alone.

actually, i'm not even sure if it's that i feel alone anymore, i think it may be that i feel excluded from some sort of event that everyone else is partaking in.

i'm graduating this year. i'm seventeen. i have the world at my feet, or at least, i did. i feel i threw it all away somehow these past two months and i don't know how to get back on track. i know to start, i need to first ask for help but i am a selfish and secluded person who hates asking for direction.

it's all very frustrating.

yet, at the same time, i disgust myself because i think i like things this way. complete and total disarray. i create situations for myself almost, tearing myself away from people, ruining relationships and friendships, breaking my own heart by my own choices more than anyone else ever has.

so going back to conclusion number one, fate is a bitch. now, i am very scientific in my beliefs and i don't tend to buy into that whole, divine ruler with a master plan for everyone, but i do tend to think that who and what we shall become is embedded in our very bodies when we're born and we don't have much say in it. i like throwing myself into the wind with the point of view that whatever shall happen, will. however, i also know this is a rather romantic way of thinking, and fate is not always merciful. we all get caught up in aspects of life that throw our choices one way or another, and all that i'm caught up in right now is self-pity it seems. then, following self-pity, resentment. resentment of others who are making things work for themselves and seem to be in control of the situation.

i need to get out, and get away, more than anything. just run, and go, and travel, and be free. this is what i need.

but what i got was high school drama, and random relationships with boys i could care less about. i'm afraid of intensity, afraid of passion and afraid to give myself into love to find it isn't returned in it's entirety.

conclusion number two; i get very emotionally attached. i imagine myself the starring actress in a hollywood love-story and every boy i meet is a possible main man. this frame of mind makes it very difficult for me to let go, even when i have already physically moved on, i can't let go of the idea that possibly we were meant to be together. i like the idea of, 'the one'. i like to think that i found mine, but the situations and the circumstances weren't right for things to really prosper. just the whole fact that i spent this summer giving bits and pieces of my heart away to boys i now must face everyday is very depressing. and as they begin to move on and talk to new girls, i get very jealous and upset, even if i'm seeing another guy. and it's simply because i think in my mind, what if they were 'the one'? and.. well, what if they were? then what.

conclusion number three; i am a lonely girl. i'm lonely in the fact that the voice i hear the most is my own, in my head, constantly narrating the pitiful excuse for a life i've been having. and in case you haven't noticed, i'm pretty cynical. so the whole narration thing... it isn't going so well.

i honestly just am fed up with myself. it's like what i aspire for and hope for can't be expressed through this lazy, procrastinating blob that i'm living inside of. i know these things are my own fault but it's disgusting. i'm failing english for crying out loud. what is that. i doubt my teacher would guess, but i happened to be qualified as gifted in english all through middle school and was reading always 2-3 years above my grade level. i scored in the 97th percentile in the country, and now i am failing? all of my marks are terrible! what happened to wanting to be a writer?! what happened to wanting to go to university?

why am i constantly stuck on this lame excuse for a friend, my computer, meddling in other people's lives. why, even when i should be, don't i ever have a good time anymore. why do i drink so much. why do i give myself up so easily. why do i consider myself damaged goods... why do some memories hurt me so. bad. and. deeply. that. it's. like. i'm. gasping. for. breath... ?

i like to think that things are in fate's hands but i know that is my romantic thinking again. the consequences of my choices are my consequences and that's what i have to deal with now. i just need to learn how to stand up and conquer other than cower and hide.

and i need to stop listening to sad music.



i wrote this post on my anonymous blog about three months ago, and i thought it was so beautiful when i went back to read it that i wanted to share.

To be or not to be, anonymous that is.

So, incase you haven't realized the whole, writing on here every day thing didn't quite work out. I think it mostly has to do with the fact that I lead a rather secretive and mysterious life and that I'd rather not have my personal thoughts shown online to some specific readers. It really upsets me though when I have people comment on this blog saying words of encouragement still or that they've really missed me, because to be honest, in the golden days, this was quite the blog. Quite the reatreat, and I did some of my best writing on here.

Now that I'm writing anonymously it comes at the price of not being able to tell certain readers my new adress for fear that they might be actual people I know. And I haven't yet found a way around that yet...

new camera

So I plan on buying a new camera with my next pay. I'm thinking of this nice Casio Exilim model in pink of coure, to match my cell phone. I'm not even one for pink usually but I like having everything match so I figured it's the logical choice.

Bubblegum :)

Anyway, I decided to shop around online to check and make sure I was getting the best price. I found it at Future shop for 146$, but thats a 20$ off sale that only lasts for two more days, and I'm not getting paid until next thursday. I then decided to check out ebay.

Now I'm somewhat new to this whole ebay thing. I've never actually used it myself but I've had some friends use it and come up with some pretty cool stuff. I guess I'm just like overly cautious because I'm scared I won't end up getting what I want or maybe just being ripped off completely and them taking my money and running. But, I found it on there for 194$, brand new. I just have to pay shipping and handling which is only like 20$ so eventually I will be saving a good 50$ or so.

I'm going to ask around and ask my mom about the whole ebay thing, and then I might very well scoop it up before someone else does :)

lovely

Somedays just start off so typically dull and dreary. I wake up and my entire room seems engulfed by the fog. Outside, dew clings to every blade of grass while the sky heaves it's heavy load of rain over our heads.

I hate rainy days. I hate the feeling you get when everything remains grey. It's like a heaviness, a sleepy blanket. I usually stay in bed long into the day. I don't get dressed, I don't clean up after myself, I don't do anything productive. Mostly, every rainy foggy day is a lazy day for me.

Today, the fog seems to close in around me. It clouds my mind into strange thinking and ponderings. Isn't that always the case?

It's summer. I anticipated clear blue skies and hot humid days. Sitting on the beach and watching my cares float away with the tide. This isn't how i imagined it. Nothing is it seems. Everything is always overrated and I find myself already wishing to be back in school. At least there I was doing something productive with myself day after day. I guess, things just never turn out the way you expect them to. People are never who you expect them to be.

I always leave this and end up returning. As much of a pain in the ass it is to keep up with, it just feels so natural to sit here and type away. I don't even care much if anyone reads what I have to say. Maybe it's best that way anyway. I'll just continue doing what I do and you continue how you like. Maybe now that all the hype over blogs have died down there won't be so much drama. I like that idea.

I tried the whole re-vamped thing. I designed and entire new blog and template, and honestly, I still like this the most. I like how people can go back and read past posts I have wrote. Some of them are actually worth reading.

Anyway. I can't promise anything. But I know how much I love the feeling of releasing everything onto this. That seems enough of a gaurentee that I'll be back to me.

I Met A Girl I'd Like To Know Better

"Save it", I plead. "It doesn't matter what you have to say anymore."

Taken off guard, your eyes reveal a twinge of confusion mixed in with the deep green sea of guilt. You hide both quickly; you were never one to show emotion. Not to me, at least.

You're killing me, and so I push you away. There is just nothing to say. This time your cologne is chasing after me instead of you; begging forgiveness.

I used to love the way your paint-stained hands held mine. The way your lips mumbled the words before you ever got them written down. When you spoke, the world fell at your feet just to catch a fragment of a sentence. You commanded the room and the attention of everyone in it. You had everything under control and I gave up all control to you.

I was stupid and foolish enough to believe that you could ever fathom what I felt for you and feel it maybe in return. I suppose I am a stupid and foolish person altogether; I never noticed any of the signs or maybe I just pretended not to see, not to hear, not to smell, not to feel. Now that I think about it, I could probably taste her lips off yours when you kissed me goodbye. I never did pay attention to those kind of details. I never could say things quite the way you could. I was never one for art; the brush became just an object that got in my way. Yours seemed an elongated version of your arm, moving in swift, gentle gestures; sweeping over me.

It was evident to everyone I suppose; you were light years out of my grasp. Yours was a light I could never muster.

I do not have much to be proud of. I'm not beautiful. I don't excel too often. There was nothing special about me really, besides you. And even then, I was merely your shadow; travelling along on all of your adventures. My parents always tried to install some form of pride into me so that I was not easily mistreated or taken advantage of. Those ethics went out the door the day you walked in.

I wonder, maybe I can get them back now. I know I am broken, but perhaps this isn't the end of the world as it seems. I am weak, but I can gain strength. I want to be able to take control of my own situations. I want to have a light within me. Maybe not as strong as yours, but I can glow for the time being. I can work with that, and go from there.

I'd like to say I hate you for what you did to me, but I think I might actually be grateful. This strange feeling of freedom is coming over me, and I think I like it. I now realize this is how I should have felt all along.

I pause. Do I really have it in me? I think I do. I think you placed it inside of me, along with your words of regret. How can you truly regret your actions anyway? Didn't you figure you would regret them from the start? I don't have time to ask myself these questions. I make a one-eighty.

"Hey! Hey, wait!" You are way ahead of me, walking quickly, shoulders hunched against the cold. I thought maybe you hadn't heard me the first time, but you slowly turn and your face reveals recognition. It configures into a grin as I glide towards you. You think I'm changing my mind, don't you?

We're face to face and I can feel you breathing a sigh of relief. Maybe I really did mean something to you, in some sick kind of way. I suppose we don't appreciate what is ours until it's not ours anymore.

I reach around my throat and rip the locket from its resting spot. I didn't actually think it would break off so easily, you didn't pay that much for it, did you? It breaks; half of the heart falls to the ground along with the miniature picture of me and you.

"Here," I gasp. I'm still out of breath from the last minute dash. "I have no need of this anymore." I'm ending it, for good. I wonder if you realize.

Your mouth is gaping. I wish you'd close it, you look rather ridiculous. I smile and I know you know it's the last time you will see it. Then I walk away, and you know what? The cold, it doesn't bother me so much anymore. I like the cold. I am the cold. And I can feel it taking over my bones. Everything is going to be just fine.

I met a girl I'd like to know better. Thank you for the introduction.

I Met A Girl - Wheat

But You Know All The Right Things To Say

My words, so small and timid, become lost in the definitions and meanings. Yours, on the other hand, so powerful and overbearing, demand attention and slowly choke the life from anything I have to say.

I hope someday you realize all the things that you've done wrong.

Too Little Too Late - Jo Jo

The Strong Scent Of Evergreen From The Passenger Seat; As You Are Driving Me Home

Images were spinning through her awkward mind. Humming incoherently, she reflected.

There's a sad widow, recollecting the love of her departed husband, with a single tear welling up in her large and caring eyes. Two teenage girls, embracing and sniffling in the girl's bathroom. A solitary young woman, lying on her bed in the dark. She holds the picture of a boy and tries her best to hold her heart together at the same time.

Such love and compassion. Such emotion. Oh, how the world is a pitiful place, she thought. How people hurt sometimes. How the love of something or someone can literally break you into two.

Smiling to herself, she stepped off the city bus into the mist and serenity. The fresh smell of the evergreens. How she loved the smell of the rain. How she loved the world, with it's global warming and homeless people. How she loved days like today; so quiet and thoughtful. Such an absolute dread of a day, how wonderful.

Treading home, the thought arose. Suppose the only point of falling in love was to then fall out. The only purpose of the excitement and anticipation was to progress to the dissapointment and depression. Yes, this had to be it. And in finding the answer, she felt much ease. Hopefully, those pour souls would find the same.

When she entered her room and saw his picture looking up at her from the makeup stained pillow, she gave it a dazzling smile. "So long," she said, while tossing it into the trash. "I won't be playing russian roulette with my heart anymore."



* The title's of my posts from now on, will be lines from songs that are either inspiring my writing or stuck in my head at the moment. At the bottom of each entry, I shall make note of the artist and song name.

Passenger Seat - Death Cab For Cutie

Yesterday's; Your Ex-Lover Is Dead - Stars

And In That Moment It Started To Pour

Tra-lala-la-la. Work was boring tonight. I'm pretty sure I did absolutely nothing but talk to Stephen all night and make it look like I was folding tables. I happen to be talented at that. But yeah, feet = killing me. I don't know why every morning when I am running for my bus I don't think to bring the comfortable work shoes. But I just don't, so now I have three rather large holes almost in the back of my left heel. Gross.

Feels kinda cool to be writing in this again. I understand entirely this won't be my best piece of work; I'm merely warming up. I look back on some of the old stuff, damn, it was good. (Damn, I am conceited.) So I'm hoping the little site make-over will cause me to feel the desire to blog. I'm thinking about having one post per week to catch up on what's been going on, as this one does, and then the rest will be either poetry, short story or randomness. It will be good, I promise.

Okay so yeah. I now work at Zeller's, since like July, and I've decided that each shift is like a fight to stay alive. If I can conquer the night and make it till closing, then I am a stronger person. That is seriously what it feels like though. Every night absolutely drags by, especially in fashions where I happen to be stationed. Everyone else is so slack and has right the good time, and here I am stuck in like old men's socks... for an eternity.

Of course, it has some form of compensation for this or I wouldn't still be there. Well, for one, the hours aren't too bad, (When I'm actually getting them) and I recently acquired a raise from 6.70$ to 7.00$. So yay for me. The people I work with are all pretty cool so that makes it a bit better. Oh, and I'm forgetting all the sweet people I meet! *roll eyes*. Yeah, the other night, two pervey french men came in who spoke limited English. They were looking for tight fitting faded jeans, and could only describe them in french, so they're damn lucky I'm fluent or I would have had no idea and they would have been mightily disappointed. Anyhow, I found the first french perve a rather skin-tight pair and sent him into the changing rooms to try them on. About two minutes later, the man comes out, holding the pants in his hand and wearing... none! He starts rambling in French about how they weren't tight enough (Oh, they were tight enough) and walks over to find a different pair in his faded tightie-whities. The sight alone near induced vomiting. The man was walking through jean aisles in his underwear! Like what is wrong with some people!? Luckily, he went back in to try on another pair before I had to actually say something. Jeeze.

Tomorrow is pay-day! But that doesn't really matter because my mom is making me pay her a sick amount for going over my limit on my cell phone bill. I still just love pay-day though, makes it all feel worthwhile.

School's going alright. Classes aren't too bad, for the most part they're all right slack except for English. Of course, the only times we have homework in that class anyway are when Mr Killen's not wearing crocs. When he is, he never assigns any! It's been true every single instance now, those things must be damn comfortable I tell you, though I've vowed never to try them on.

Hannah and I went lunch shopping today to Caldwell's and Manchester. I found an adorable Guess wallet that I'll be going back for, and a mat & nat bag. We also found super-cute BCBG girl shoes in our sizes with extreme high heels. Then we headed to the market, making it back to class, ouu, about three minutes late hah.

Sorry to cut this short though everyone, I'm rambling for no apparent reason, and I'd really much rather prefer to go to bed. But expect another post, as in tomorrow. Perhaps something worth reading.

Moving Day

Make the move with me, I've decided to re-name the blog and give it an easier-to-remember address. I'll post the new adress for a week or so before I move it to make sure everyone copies it down. And I'll leave reminders on all my favorite sites.

It's time to bring the piano back.

Edge of Sixteen

We're failing our exams
We're cuffing math class
We're cheating on tests
And expecting to pass

We're sneaking out late
We're drinking strong beer
We know childhood is short
We're beginning to fear

We're tired and hungover
We're hyper, we're high
We're convinced we're immortal
We will never die

We're backstabbing bitches
We're talking of friends
We're beginning relationships
Before other ones end

We're meeting new people
We're forgetting the past
We're ditching our friends
For romances that won't last

We're partying on beaches
We're partying on hills
We're trashing our houses
And cleaning up spills

We're falling in love
We're growing apart
We're mending each cut
In our mistreated hearts

We're burying our friends
We're mourning thier loss
We're blaming someone
Anyone; at any cost

We're silent and sombre
We're crying soft tears
We're opening feelings
And confessing deep fears

We're all friends of some sort
We're all so alike
We're all searching for something
That will somehow feel right

We all still hurt
We all still breathe
We've all still tried drinking
Drugs, maybe weed

We're on the brink of something big
We're on the edge of sixteen
We're all in it together
Waking up from a dream

Someone's Been Eating Carrots

So that's what happens when you put puke-covered towels in the laundry machine. I've always wondered.
Haha! Too funny.

I Know...

You want to hate me. I can see it in your eyes. You wish you could hate me so bad. But at the end of the day, it just can't happen.

You've finally realized we're too much alike.

There there, don't cry too hard.

Hmm

Mom is only happy when there is the prospect of a man on the horizon. The only time she doesn't fight with me is when she is feeling like acting the part of the 'Great Mom' so as to impress future would-be's.

And yet, I seem to hate every single man she brings home. They are all trash and she can't seem to see that. Then this cycle begins when they break her heart and we must deal with terribly bitchy mom once more.

Please lord, don't let this continue the rest of my life ...

Sometimes I want to call my dad, and scream and yell at him that I am mad with him. Im so mad at him, and I don't say anything because I feel bad for him, and I think his life is bad enough at the moment without having his daughter say he is the biggest disspointment in her whole life.

But the truth is, I am mad at him. And what I want to do more than anything is tell him. Scream and yell at him and remind him that he is my father. Not some stranger to see on the streets. He's responsable for us.. and he is sitting back and being a wallflower in the midst of pure hell.

Sometimes I want to just call him and cry and beg that he could at least, for me of course, pretend to be in love with mom again so that she will be happy again and I will have my family back. And then I realize I sound like one of the dumbest, most selfish people on the face of this earth.

So then I wonder what it makes my mom when she wakes up crying for him still?

So Here I Am

And There I go.

I have to admit, keeping up with this thing is a lot harder than it sounds. Much too hard to just sit down in front of the computer anymore and have all these beautiful ideas blossoming forth from my brain. None the less, I do enjoy the feeling of typing something that people will read, whether they like it or not. So, here is my post.

Today is Sunday of a rather boring week. First one of the new term, of which I have the most terrible classes ever. Work-wise they arem, but people wise I must have hit a jackpot because I have at least three good friends in every one. The question is, Can I handle the workload or not? The home report we took home on Friday may be questionable. I went down in two of my major classes, English and Math, but went up by at least 8-10% in all others. Surprisingly, History was by far my best class. Still can't quite figure that one out.

So last night I quit my job. Job? you say. Yes, I had a job. It was actually a pretty decent one too, making more than minimum wage + tips and working with people who I didn't mind too too much. The only problem seemed to be in my hours. Fridays and Saterdays, 6-11:00 or sometimes later. That left me in school monday to friday, working both my weekend nights, leaving me really only Sunday night which is a weeknight almost as well. Another reason for quitting were my new courses this term. I'm taking ones I think are going to require a hell of work and I don't want to be tied down to working on a night that I need to finish a thousand word essay or something of the like.

Also, we're moving into a house. Mom's been approved for the mortgage and all that mumbo jumbo I don't really understand. She's already started looking, and has four at the moment she really likes, two being in grand bay, one on the east side and one in millidgeville. Of the choices, I'd much rather prefer to stay in millidgeville but the chances of that are slim... So long as it is a nice house though and I have my own decently sized room, I shall be okay. We should be moved in by April at the latest.

I wrote this sort of catch-up post in hopes that if I filled everyone in on my life lately that writing more posts would be a bit easier. I'm not sure if this is a likely theory or not, I suppose we shall see.

xox

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If you've ever cried yourself to sleep and woken up smiling.

Question...

Is it better to have something and lose it painfully, or to have never experienced having it at all and spend the rest of your life wondering?

Sometimes I wonder what it's all worth. The fighting and such. Why do we even bother? And why is the only advice I get to talk about it. I'm pretty sure that helps no one in situations like this.

I used to consider myself lucky. I suppose I still do to a degree, but hey, if you're reading this, do you? I know you have all these ideal concepts in your mind. They don't seem to fit the picture anymore, do they?

So instead of taking the message to heart, why don't you just fight with me some more.

And don't start with how it's my fault, cus I'm pretty sure I'm the one attempting.

But don't bother attempting yourself. Don't over exert yourself, wouldn't want to have to get off the couch now would we?

Parents! *rolls eyes.*