Let the good times roll

I never really dated much in high school. I'm making up for it now though. I've met some great people who are fun to talk to and live interesting lives. Dark days seem far behind me. There is definitely some more heart break in my future, but for now I'm enjoying the fact guys are swarming me for attention.

Last night: Friend time!

I had so much fun with all my high school friends last night: Alyssa, Maddy, Adam, Jenny, Sam, Rachel, Dino and Alyssa's boyfriend Nevin. We went out for dinner at Turtle Jacks and discussed many inappropriate topics in front of the waitress... then went to see I am Number Four. It was one of those movies that is just so terrible, but you're with good people so you make the best of it by laughing at cheesy lines and making many dumb jokes.

I feel so lucky that I have so many great people in my life. They make dark days seem distant (hurray for cheesy lines!)

Valentine's ;)

Everyone I know is making cute handmade cards, cakes, pies, and cds for their loved ones. It makes me happy to know that there is so much love in the world.

I'm also glad I'm full of love
and not hate this fine Valentine's.

Here's some funny Valentines!

Going For a Drive

I went for a drive with my friend. His car smelt like cherries. It was fun being in a car for the first time in months. Hopefully I'll get my license soon so I wont feel like a dependent child anymore.

I can't wait to go home for Christmas. I miss my family. It's going to suck leaving my friends though, but the holiday will fly by. I hope that I get to see my friends and arrange a party or something. I haven't ever really partied with them without doing something stupid and ruining it. Maybe I'll buy some p for Maddy haha. She's been up to no good in university ;) I miss her. A lot of people and conversations here are reminding me of how awesome my friends back at home are.

I have 3 exams left. English on Tuesday, Sociology on Thursday and Philosophy on Friday. :D It's almost over!!!!

Repost: Wholesum Family Fun (July 2nd, 2008)

I should be babysitting right now. I should be sitting on the couch with nothing on my mind. I should be happy knowing that I haven't made my mom cry. But I'm not. I'm here, luckily. I'm here at this desk typing. Typing, without stopping to think about what I did. To myself. But most of all to those around me. I can't forget the people in the park with their kids. It was right after we drank. We were falling. And stopped at the side of the trail. I remember the people. The last thing I remember actually. They were happy. Really happy. Genuinely. They didn't need alcohol. Fucking goofy smiles.
Two days later.
I haven't been able to complete this post. Wait... Let me rephrase. I just didn't want to think about it really. I'm ashamed. The hospital gave me more than I deserved. I deserve to feel like shit, puking up my guts. I want to remember it all, so I can hate myself. They drained me. They took the poison from my vanes. I'm finding it hard to spell. My head is pounding. I just wanted to confront it. I've been punched in the chest. They told me my heart was beating irregularly. I want to look at all that happened and see the damage. I need it written down. In plain sight. I can see a little better now. I couldn't see my parents faces. I knew they were there, sitting beside my bed. They are hurt. I hurt them. I can't see their faces. I don't want to see them. To see pain. They will always remember the pain. I can't. I was unconscious. Is it any better? To be oblivious to the hurt? This isn't going to blow over fast. They will look at me. I made a mistake. they will talk. It was stupid. They will judge. I deserve it all. They will see me. It's more than I could ever do. Take a good look. I'm finding it so hard to see. I can't breathe, I can't spell and I can't stand it anymore. I'm so fucking stupid. I pride myself on being so fucking smart. I'm not. Not really. At least everyone will see it now. I'm not who they thought I was. I've been hiding from this. But now it's out in the open. Written down. I can't delete it now. I can see everything. I made a mistake. It's nobodies fault but mine. I could have been dead. But I'm not. I'm here, luckily.

The Fine Art of Finding Yourself

I love the fact I get goose bumps when I hear a certain song. Even kisses give me the bumps. My lips are ticklish and my heart is weak. Today I learned that we are all trapped by our inability to be socially imaginative. I wish I could see the greater implication of myself in this big picture.

Everyday I push my boundaries, silence the screams of my inner super shy girl, and take daring steps in an untraveled land. I meet new people constantly, each eager to find someone to replace a certain best friend they left at home.

I never thought I could be this happy without my family around me. But the thing is, if ever I'm sad or aching for human contact, I have a floor full of friends to talk to. I never thought I would be reading so much in so little time. I enjoy keeping bust though. I can't imagine myself anywhere else at this point. A social environment was what I always needed.

Everyone here is going a little bit crazy. To an outside observer we are all crazy teens drinking too much and making noise in a quiet world. That outsider was me for the most part of my life. I was miserable and hateful of those people. I even told myself it was because they were just "crazy teens". Now that I'm in the center of it all, I can rightfully say that we are exactly what people fucking say. I'm crazy, I've always been crazy. The fact that I write that sentence with a grin on my face makes me crazier.

So, in my mind what's the point of living if you never test your limits? In this life there is but death. Why not intoxicate myself with new experiences based on love, drugs, feelings, people and knowledge? I'm experimenting with this new world I'm in and it sure as hell ain't quiet.

Before Boys and Broken Hearts

It's been a month today since I last wrote on this lovely blog and I think it's about time I reflect on who I am. Things haven't been very clear to me for awhile. I've been crying much more than normally and had two panic attacks last month. I stress way too much about things I can't control, but I think the major factor is that I put too much pressure on myself to be perfect all the time, which is obviously impossible. If I understood myself and my limits I would be able to get through scratch free. But lately I've come to realize the power one person's opinion can have on your well-being. Two people I love are telling me two different things about who I am and how I present myself to them. It's sad that I have to rely on other people to understand myself, but that's why there's people who are paid to do so. Anyways, I'm feeling much like the awful person that I've been told to be right now. I wish I could see who I am and understand why my actions might hurt, but I'm not sure where to start. Well, I'll guess I'll begin by reflecting on my life before boys and broken hearts.

For the longest time I was never comfortable with the girl in the mirror or the girl in pictures, many teenage girls/boys likely go through the same thing. Luckily I am blessed with amazing friends who are unique and fun. Unknowingly they helped me through rough times by simply being there and in that way managed to shape me into who I am today. Because of their presence and influence, soon I began to view the good intentioned (sometimes major fuck-up) yet stubborn vegetarian looking back at me in the mirror as a good thing. The girl behind the glasses was changing for the better (in my opinion). I started working out, eventually I became confident enough to wear nicer/tighter clothes (that I never wore because I was ashamed) thus attracting compliments from family and friends. I lost weight, but I also lost the bulk of clothes designed for people to hide in. I began to push myself hard in school because for one I love learning and two I thrive off receiving praise for my hard work. - I was finally getting the much needed ego boost that I had denied myself for the longest time, which had left me miserable and lonely. I am so lucky to have such a great family, environment and group of friends to support me and make me feel loved.

Now let's get to the boys and broken hearts part. Don't get me wrong, I did attract the attention of boys before my boyfriend, but I never understood why they would want to date me. I know eh? Pity party for me! But, seriously, it never occurred to me that they might find me pretty or that maybe I had a personally that appealed to them or something. I'd turn them down thinking I was doing THEM a favor. Jesus. My "oh pity me" ways not only hurt myself, but also those boys that probably genuinely liked me as a person. In the words of my father: "you're a heart breaker, that's not a good thing." When I would turn them down, I saw myself getting more and more miserable, burying myself in giant sweaters from value and hating people for some retarded reason. My actions made me hate myself and I was spiraling into some metaphysical pit of permanent isolation. Then the craziest thing happened, one boy managed to get through my defenses. For some crazy reason he found the giant sweater wearing awkward girl to his liking. At this point I was already beginning to change myself (working out, becoming more friendly, etc.).

So now back to these conflicting attitudes. This brave boy, who saw me at my weakest point, doesn't like the person I've become. Lately I've been celebrating my confidence by wearing girly clothes, by painting my nails neon pink and loving the way my bikini looks on me. Some might call me fake or something, hypocritical etc etc. But I'm finally doing what makes me happy and sadly I haven't been happy for a long time. Too bad that it doesn't make the people who count happy. Well, I don't think my personality has changed much, I'm still a goof ball, jokester, obnoxious, sifi nerd, non-gossip, loner and often shy girl. I am proud to say that I'm not afraid to speak my mind anymore. My teachers helped a lot in that department, but also the eye surgery that I received helped with my fear of eye contact. I never really mentioned that. But that also made me avoid boys because who would want to date the crazy-cock-eyed girl who was afraid to take off her glasses. All in all, I had believed these changes were for the better but, I think I'm as vulnerable now as when I started. I hear that I'm a good person from my mom, as to be expected. But on the other hand I'm told I'm a bitch and a slut, with no one in mind except herself. I take it all to heart even if they are jokes because I'm stupid and weak and I'm left with old miserable self once more and I not sure what to think about the confident girl in the mirror anymore. I think I'll miss her when she's gone, even if she wasn't a great person. I know that I never intend to do awful things, I believe that I have good intentions. But did I have to pay a price to get to this point? I think I have, for I feel so unloved right now despite being surrounded by my family.

I'm going to Kingston in September. I'll hopefully be making new friends and will be beginning to stand on my own. My worst fear is that I'll lose the girl in the mirror. I think I like her - despite some negative reviews.

I've grown so much since I first started this blog. I'm proud of who I have become. The scary thing is, I'm not sure how long I can keep telling myself that if I don't really believe it.

Friends vs. Lovers

In the end, all you need is a friend. You know the cliche: "Let's just be friends." ? Well it's true. Friends are much better than lovers. Why else would most people want friendship after a relationship ends? Sad, yes. Even in some relationships you cannot be friends with the one you love, that is, until you break up of course.

When it comes to friends, your heart is never broken, they don't feel the need to protect you from the world and they love you no matter what. The love they give you never hurts and they are always there for you, to pat you on the back and tell you that you did everything you could and that everything you did was just. They're not scared of your tears. When they console you, it's because they care. They take your side and understand you. You can fight with them and they wont hold anything against you. That's what makes my friends more valuable than anything in the world.

And finally they are with you when and after you fuck up constantly.

At seventeen I've realized this one thing that most children find out immediately. Better late than never.

Radical Face: Wrapped in Piano Strings, and Others

Just a short post, but very important nonetheless. If you're looking for some awesome indie tunes, make sure to check out Radical Face.( http://www.myspace.com/radicalface) *Fav song: Wrapped in Piano Strings. Thanks to Adam for the referral!

Also, some other really cool artists:

Chad VanGaalen, check out his album Skelliconnection for some cool Alternative beats.
(http://www.myspace.com/chadvangaalen)

Kaiser Chiefs are key when it come to sweet UK music, but if you haven't enjoyed their music in the past, take a look: (http://www.myspace.com/kaiserchiefs)

Lastly, if you feel like some vintage French sexy music, try some Edith Piaf.

Here it is.

I find it easier to write my thoughts down when I have nothing to do. When my mind is occupied with thoughts of another kind, I will write frantically -but, with a cause, which is unlike now since I am writing about writing about nothing in particular- and make no sense. Maybe I'll write another poem about life in general or a story about growing up and how it is so hard. By now you have probably realized that I'm making fun of myself. If you have not, then sorry for wasting your time.

I hate how my friends never write on their blogs. I wish they didn't have lives and were more like me!

I complain a lot. I complain about complaining a lot. I think that by pointing out my flaws, somehow that makes them ok. It probably just makes them worse.

I'm going to cut and paste some poems that I wrote for english because I'm too lazy to write some more stuff. -I totally forgot that I started writing a book/novella last summer. I'm probably never going to finish it- I just got an awesome idea for a book! Since there are millions of half-finished books out in the world, I should take some and make a book out of them. The stories would never end, but there would be dozens of blank pages after each story so the reader could just write their own ending... that sounds awful. But, here are some of my half-finished stories so I can pretend that I wrote something on my blog.

This is my favorite half-finished story because it has attitude! Here's I Sold My Soul For Drug Money:

Chapter I – Laced Intentions

“Hi. My name is Johnny.”

“To be honest Johnny, I don’t give a flying fuck. Here.” He shoved a medical mask into the boy’s hands. Johnny didn’t hesitate to put it on. Then the man motioned for the boy to follow. Johnny could smell it in the air; the mask couldn’t prevent it from getting to him. It made him hate himself. The need was killing him and there was no doubt that it would be successful. So, he gave in to it, like he always managed to do after the doubt kicked in and followed the man down the hallway, one that looked like in belonged in a horror movie.

“Your family is dead if you told anyone where you are and what you are doing. Then…” The power that he had over the boy went to his thick head and he paused for a second to intensify the words to follow, turning around to poke his thick finger into Johnny’s gut. “We’ll come after you.” The large gun in the man’s hand told Johnny that this was no empty threat. And with that, he saw himself, bloody and limbless, crawling down this very hallway after being subject to the torture of the big man in front of him. That was enough to silence him for the next millennium.

With his mouth-sewn shut with invisible thread, Johnny matched his speed to the long strides of the man until they reached a large room that was so smoky that the ceiling was practically nonexistent. The first thing that set him back was the amount of people working. Not a sound was heard while they were in the hallway and even now, of the approximately twenty people in the room, not one lifted their head from what they were doing. Johnny could see that this had nothing to do with concentration as he looked back at the gun, one that he knew the man would use and had likely used before.

I guess I have to explain to you how I ended up here, the twenty five year old high school drop out, druggie and loner. It’s that one word, the one substance, and one of the many ways to screw up your life. A very expensive “pass time.” I’m telling you, it’ll explain everything. It reveals the reason behind the twitching, the coughing, the hallucinations and the whole mess that comes as bonus gifts in the package of a cocaine addict. Did you find it in that last ramble? Well here’s another clue for you. Cocaine, cocaine, cocaine and goddamned cocaine.

I’ve been told that if I had finished high school and gotten a “real” job I wouldn’t be an addict, but how does that make any sense? At the risk of coming across retarded, let me reiterate, cocaine is an expensive pass time and mostly only people with “real” jobs can afford to get high off it. But, men like me would sell their soul for a single line. Sadly, what I learned, my soul was worth shit.

“Snap out of it, you dumb fuck.”

And snap I did, as the butt of the gun was jabbed into my side. I tried not to cough up my lungs, while the big man giggled as if the whole “causing internal bleeding” idea amused him.

Once I managed to find my breath, I asked, cautiously, “When can I start?”

“The Boss, in other words “the guy you don’t want to fuck with”, will tell you.”

Nodding, not looking into his eyes, and managing to hide the tears, I once again followed the stupid, ass-faced motherfucker deeper into the depths.

Chapter II – Wasn’t Always a Fuck Up

I may have dropped out of school, but you first have to understand that I grew up in a perfect family in suburbia. I’m not entirely sure if all suburban kids turn to drugs… but now that I think about it, that wouldn’t surprise me if they did. Well, who else would be able to afford the expensive ones?

Meet my mom:

“How many carbs are in juice? Maybe I’ll stop drinking liquids altogether.”

“Mom, what about water?”

“Of course I’ll drink water. I’m not stupid.”

“You are stupid enough to screw the mailman.”

“Yes. And you are smart enough to keep your mouth shut.”

Meet my Father:

“Are you happy son? Cause I didn’t buy you that new bike so you could cry on it.”

“Dad, I think I might be depressed.”

“Son… rich people don’t get depressed. Now go for a ride while I work late with my secretary.... Son…”

“Ya Dad?”

“Good things come to those who keep secrets. Things like tuition to a prestigious school.”

“What I’d like is a soul to sell.”

“You have a soul son. Just like me...”

“…and mom?”

“I’ll pay for the therapist.”

(to be continued....?)

This is a poem that I finished last summer with the intent of giving it to my mom and dad, but I decided against it...

We are all deformed by our views of perfection - a poem

Look at me as I am,

I am your daughter, the fuck up.

You can’t see me if you don’t know what you are looking at.

I may be a tarnish canvas, but you’ve never seen the painting beneath.

Never cared to look, did you?

I’ll give you my heart on paper -- you can eat my soul.

That’s why I give it to you,

I like the pain that you give me,

You like the pain that I get.

Judge who I am before you get to know me

Get to know me, then judge who I have become

You knew me, I changed, the end

I can hear your brain throbbing

Throbbing

Throbbing

Robbing me of wordssss

I can see your eyes darting

Darting

Darting

Starting this sweat

Dripping into my veins

I love you, but I made a mistake.

I write about your forgiveness,

But have yet to receive it

You didn’t forget.

You are there, up on your throne

I am here, all on my own

No one fights for my reputation

I never fought the losing battle that I began

All I did was fall, I have yet to get up

You have your hand on my shoulder

It should be comforting that you’re there

Your warmth should make the coldness in my lungs cease to exist

Your hand is strong

I try to get up

But you are holding me down

I panic

You smile

I cry

You smile

I look at you for help

You smile

I scream

You laugh

I give up

You laugh

I stop breathing

You laugh

I am dying

You laugh

I’m gone

You shake your head

It was my fault you say

It was my fault

It was my mistake

It was my deformity

And that was the end

I was at an end

My mistake made a fucking end

It ripped through to the other side and spilled my guts for the first time,

Sorry, my mistake

Read my suicide note

It will tell you everything,

Just not anything you want to hear.

You never wanted to listen

I told you so many times

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

But, you didn’t believe me

You held my hand

I couldn’t see you, but I knew you were there

You held my hand

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

You held my hand

I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hear

But I could feel the heat of your stare.

The disappointment burning through my lucid skin.

Skin soaked in the aftermath of my mistake.

The mistake that put me here,

With all this voices talking about me,

I’m here!

I’m here!

Aren’t I?

I can speak.

I think… I just wanted to say…

I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.

You let go.

Gettin' Ova It

Here I am again! Am I happy? Sure. I'm fucking elated.

I've begun to realize that one mood cannot define your life. You are a mixture of all your ups and downs. The downs suck. Obviously, as one could tell from my last "depressoid" post. I love reading over what I wrote in the past because at the time it felt so good to just write what I felt. I wrote stuff on the internet that I could not tell a human being face to face. Then again, that was at a time where I thought that I didn't have anyone that was willing to listen to my troubles. But, now I've learned that my friends are troubled too and love to talk about the shit that happens.

So far this year I've learned 10 epic things about my life and the people in it:

1) My mom is totally cool when it comes to dating and she wont make me come home at 10 pm on a Saturday night.

2) My dad knows that I hate him. He wants to change? Naa he likes being an asshole.

3) My parents are not all-knowing beings, it took me 16 years to discover this? Yes.

4) My friends are cool when it comes to venting for hours and staying up all night.

5) Never babysit a kid with a foot-fetish.

6) Being a nerd and a total loser doesn't mean that guys wont talk to you ;)

7) If I'm not making people happy, I feel like crap. Therefore, I know why I want to be a therapist.

8) I don't think I want to write professionally anymore.

9) I can't imagine doing anything in the future that requires effort.

10) I'm incredibly annoying.

Please Don't Bring Me Down

I have feelings... tons of feelings.

Ones that well up and burst,

others that I suppress only to hold onto them as long as possible.

I find myself only attracted to complete strangers.

An unhealthy habit. I know. 

Maybe I love too easily, attraction is a second. Love immediately after.

I feel in love with a guy who smiled at me. I'm riding a streetcar named love :)

No wonder I have so much trouble talking to people.

I'm insecure, outside, inside, every side. 

I'm a tired person. 

I'm tired of trying to hide from fuck heads and their fuck-headed comments.

People who can't understand their own words. 

I'm not made of metal. Your sticks and stones will break my bones. I shatter. I'm glass. Words can hurt me. They will always do damage. 

So why don't you stop wondering why I'm not talking to you anymore? 

If you put this much thought into what you say, then what you said...

I don't what to think about you anymore... because it only reminds me of what you said.

No one ever made fun of my flaws before you. I saw them. Now I think that everyone else sees them too. Are you happy now??? ARE YOU HAPPY??? You didn't know me. 

But you thought you saw me. 

I've realized who my true friends are, I've got one back ;) I'm closer to others and I'm just glad that you never got close enough to do damage. With a knife perhaps?

I heard stories and I decided to form my own opinion. 

You are a sad, sad boy who has no idea how to make friends. 

Me. I'm a loner. I don't hurt anyone. 

You Call That Mature?

Fact: People grow up. Another fact: People put too much importance on maturity. Maturity is just a word. Like many other words it is used too much, to frequently inflate peoples' egos.

People tell you that you are mature for your age. BTW: not a complement. AKA: You are not as stupid and annoying as I assumed you would be when I found out that you were a teenager. Immaturity makes life interesting. If the whole world was made of mature people, topics on a rainy day would range from tax returns to what specific colour the wall paint is. So let's PLEASE stop acting like mature adults while we still have our childhood. Someday you will look back on yourself and hate that you never embraced your childish natures. But, if you had put so much importance on maturity, you will also see your childish self as an idiot. When, truly, that's just the way we start out. And you'll ask yourself in the most secluded part of your mature brain what you were thinking when you did those supposedly "MATURE" things, because to the future you, you were as egotistical as they come. I was there with you when you bragged about being so much more fucking mature than us, sorry to tell you but, it was kind of ironic. Do you really think that a mature person would brag about being mature? Jesus fucking Christ. You call that mature? Keep denying that immaturity is biting at your heels, keep running and looking behind you. I seriously hope you trip and fall, because once you do, there will be no one there to pick you up off your ass. Maturity means nothing, neither does immaturity. It's the way people act that make them mature or immature individuals. Mature means being responsible, responsible for your actions, responsible for your stupidity, and responsible for your health. But, that's just me looking through your smoke filled eyes and don't try telling me that your life is so bad that you have to do all this shit. Try thinking about people who matter for once. Your problems, my problems, are not worth reading. I hope this is a phase and that it ends soon.

Impressions are PITIFUL

It's scary in a way, that people are so reliant on the opinions of other people. Whether they need confirmation that they are accepted, beautiful, cool, smart or funny, many people lack the skills to make themselves feel good about themselves. Here's the sad part: Once you are complimented by a person, you strain to be like that, even if you aren't what they see you. At least you are being seen, right? That's when you become someone else, hungering for compliments, spewing pity through every pore, waiting for someone to clog them temporarily. They become you eventually. And that person no longer gets genuine compliments, just ones to shut them up. Is it wrong to stop complimenting that person--to stop encouraging their pity seeking pleas? It makes everyone sad, and a little tired. So, let's be ourselves... as if it was that simple. We'd all be so very beautiful, but for every beautiful person, there is an ugly one to make seem untouchable. We all hungry for something more, it's time to feed that stomach, but not with pity, with courage and eventually confidence. It goes the same way for insults, including ones that come from so called friends. But that's a whole other issue, that I'd prefer not to get into. It's buried under 3000 feet of sand, silt and clay.

The Very Preptarded Line Between Best Friend and Enemy

What do you do when two people you love fight? Me, I sit and try not to get involved. It helps everyone: I get to be lazy and they get to work it out or avoid each other. I know many people who will jump right into a problem and want to get into the thick of it. It just might make them important or something. Now, I used to spit advice at anyone who would take it, well at least nod and pretend, hell if I cared. Advice ranging from boy troubles, funny... coming from someone who has never had a boyfriend, to family issues, equally funny... coming from someone who has never really had any. So, now I'm just starting to learn to shut my trap and sit on my ass. Something that suits me fine. Until that one faithful day that someone yells at me for not caring about their life enough, this will continue. Gossip is a preptarded thing, the less you know the more you want to know, the more you know the more you complain about being in the middle of it. It's simple, step off the playing field, it's someone else's game.

Did We Become Our Shells?

The sad thing about getting hurt is that every time it happens, we put up these walls. Some become so fully enclosed in these barriers that we begin to doubt who we really are. So, my question is, are these shells still us, or are they a decoy, to distract the next possible attacker? It's like our security system, but it's more like those invisible red lasers they have in those jewel burglary movies. Once in a blue moon, someone or something might get through those lasers, whether they have laser viewing goggles or they are just lucky, they are still walking on egg shells once they are in. It's much easier and calmer to watch the sea, instead of jumping into the shark pit. So, we've learned to accept the shell as the person and get on with life. Is that wrong? -- cowardly even? We tell ourselves that it's what the person wants. Really, it's like hiding without the seek. They fall asleep in the closet, under the bed or behind the curtains and we are forgetting about them. They are still waiting to be found. Ignoring the fact that they are still hiding, makes the person behind our walls even uglier.

Please Baby Don't Cry

All of our lives we are told to be strong and not cry. But really it's these people telling us not to feel, who don't want to see the pain in you. They could care less if you held it in until you exploded, hurting yourself and maybe everyone around you. All that they can see is the present dilemma, the water leaking from your eyes, ignoring the pain leaking through your body. Invisible pain is so much easier for others' to live with. Will it always be this way? Will your loved ones let you cry until you are numb or will this "suffocation of emotions" continue until it's too late? I believe that their intentions are good, but they don't want to venture into the reason for the tears or see the pain on your face and know that they might be the reason behind it. And anyways, why should crying make you weak? Doesn't suppressing it make you weaker in the long run? Hiding from things that make you uncomfortable makes you weak. Actual strong people cry out their tears and get on with their life. Or they stand up at a funeral and tell their story, their memories and never ask the question "What if I had done..." because they did and there are no regrets. They face everyday with a new attitude, no matter how bad yesterday was. Yesterday was a day for crying, today is a day for finding things to smile about. I don't care what the text book definition of a strong person is, but too me, and I hope many others as well, it's all a bunch of bull crap.

A few days ago, I told my friend that she was the strongest person I knew. She embraces her emotions, one of the things that makes her such an amazing writer, and follows her own unique path. My life has been filled with many strong women who have taught me absolutely everything that I base myself on and I plan to admire them for the rest of my life. Screw the textbooks.

To Find A Friend

You know how it is like when you are young? You know! Like in kindergarten...

"Do you want to be my friend?"

"Sure! let's be best friends!"

"Sounds awesome! let's go talk about boys and dream about gumdrops and bubble gum castles."

The sad thing is that doesn't seem to work anymore. But, if you make friends in kindergarten then you wont have to worry about making anymore friends that way. My problem is that I have ditched all those people who wanted to be my friend way back in the day. Destined to be alone. Ha. I've made this for myself and only have yours truly to blame. Blame, it seems to be a hot topic in my life. Sad ain't it? Pity and blame. Can't we all just live with peace and love man? Hippies are totally gone! Why is that? They've all been ditched... Hatred and power are taking over and I'm the god damned leader of the pack. I'm pitiful. Pity me. I'm sick and I'm going to sleep. The only place I can hide from your eyes. Forgive me. I'm sort of sorry. Sorry. It is so overused these days. That was the topic of this post FYI. It sort of got lost between the lines a bit. But what I meant to say to those who I have hurt...

To find a friend, turn to the one closest to your left and look in their eyes. I have a feeling they wont be mine.

Does The World Actually Slow Down?

It's a question that I have asked myself before and thought about it on and off frequently. Just now the answer smacked me in the face as I checked to see if any of my friends had written anything on their blogs. A few weeks ago for Adam. One week for Yvonne and a couple of days for Maddy. Did they hit writer's block? Are they wanted by the government and in hiding? Are they frozen or something so out of this world that even I haven't thought about it? I will not know I guess, until they write about it. But, back to the world slowing. I find that when you are doing something the world seems to be frozen. Waiting for you to get back on its track. Like, my friends will remind me of my Canada Day retarded-ness. But, as long as I'm heading off to my brother's baseball every morning, I'm not thinking about it. About them. Is it cowardly? Ya sure, but eventually I will have to face what I did. And when that happens my worries will be put to rest and everything will by A.O.K. So, does this prove that by ignoring the obvious pile of shit I've stepped in... the world is just waiting for me to realize and wipe it off on a rock? I know that the world does not technically slow! I'm just saying that it feels like everyone and everything has stopped. Or maybe... It's all just waiting for me to face it. And the fact is... that shit ain't coming off, no matter how far I walk.

Wholesum Family Fun

I should be babysitting right now. I should be sitting on the couch with nothing on my mind. I should be happy knowing that I haven't made my mom cry. But I'm not. I'm here, luckily. I'm here at this desk typing. Typing, without stopping to think about what I did. To myself. But most of all to those around me. I can't forget the people in the park with their kids. It was right after we drank. We were falling. And stopped at the side of the trail. I remember the people. The last thing I remember actually. They were happy. Really happy. Genuinely. They didn't need alcohol. Fucking goofy smiles.
Two days later.
I haven't been able to complete this post. Wait... Let me rephrase. I just didn't want to think about it really. I'm ashamed. The hospital gave me more than I deserved. I deserve to feel like shit, puking up my guts. I want to remember it all, so I can hate myself. They drained me. They took the poison from my vanes. I'm finding it hard to spell. My head is pounding. I just wanted to confront it. I've been punched in the chest. They told me my heart was beating irregularly. I want to look at all that happened and see the damage. I need it written down. In plain sight. I can see a little better now. I couldn't see my parents faces. I knew they were there, sitting beside my bed. They are hurt. I hurt them. I can't see their faces. I don't want to see them. To see pain. They will always remember the pain. I can't. I was unconscious. Is it any better? To be oblivious to the hurt? This isn't going to blow over fast. They will look at me. I made a mistake. they will talk. It was stupid. They will judge. I deserve it all. They will see me. It's more than I could ever do. Take a good look. I'm finding it so hard to see. I can't breathe, I can't spell and I can't stand it anymore. I'm so fucking stupid. I pride myself on being so fucking smart. I'm not. Not really. At least everyone will see it now. I'm not who they thought I was. I've been hiding from this. But now it's out in the open. Written down. I can't delete it now. I can see everything. I made a mistake. It's nobodies fault but mine. I could have been dead. But I'm not. I'm here, luckily.