Just knowing... (I think)

that you might be thinking of me too makes me happy. Maybe you're thinking how much you're happier without me or how much you miss the person I used to be. I think about you every second, even if I'm dancing, smiling, eating or sleeping. I think about all the things I should have said on the phone but didn't. I know I miss you more than ever. I wish you would call, but I know you don't want to and wont.

I think being told that my personality isn't the personality you fell in love with made me calm down and appreciate the people that love me just as much as they did before. (MADDY!) It also made me look at the world around me and question why it is so important to do the things I do. I thank you for that.

I think that I'm trying to find happiness here. This might be a school where people drink excessively, but the key is to find those genuine moments where a stranger holds a door for you, smiles at you as you pass by, makes the awkward elevator ride less awkward, or simply asks you how you are doing. The stars still shine here and at the end of the day everyone goes to bed after working their hardest.

I'm still miserable without you and cry when I'm alone in my bed. I wake up every time my phone vibrates with the hope that it's you.

I still miss my home and the days of sitting in my high school's hallways and eating lunch with you on the hill. I'm confused because in my mind I'm that same girl, just in a different environment. It hurts that you'll never talk to me again because you think I'm different and that I'll never be able to prove you wrong.

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!!!!

My Youth

Last week I went home. I wish I could say that I was happy, but I wasn't. I took the small amount of time I had there for granted and now I miss it more than ever. Driving home, the closer and closer I got, the more I realized that I would have to leave too soon. I would be soon going back to an environment of stress that I could not escape. I am not as strong as I would like to think I am. I rely on my roots, my family, my home for support I could never get elsewhere.

Here I'm surrounded by my future. I think about what would happen if I failed. If I ended up disappointing my family. I'm not some rich kid who can throw away money for education. My parents are struggling to keep me here.

I prefer living in my past. The cozy, quiet past.

But if my parents have worked hard to put me here, then I'm going to work my ass off to stay here. This is the struggle that what will make or break me. There's no doubt that I will stress, or that I will turn to my internet diary for support. As long as I have my thoughts and my love of learning, I will become a stronger person. At the end of the day, all you have is yourself. One day I wish to be happy and I hope that I'm on the right path that will lead me there.

This is my home now. It's about time I put my heart into it.

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.

Robert Browning and the Jealousy

For the first time on my blog, I have to recommend an amazing poem to the masses. We read it today in English class and like most things taught in English, one may assume that it is some Shakespearean bull. But, don't judge too soon, for the haunting after effects the poem leaves, can easily make it hard for you to sleep tonight or to look your loved one in the eyes. So, without much further ado, I give you my new favourite poem from the great lyrical poet, Robert Browning.

Porphyria's Lover














The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me--she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipped me; surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!

Creative Writing EXAM 92% BITCHES

“By bus or car, By the sway of train over a long bridge,/ We wanted to get out.” Gary Soto

The Children of Light

by Jessica Shelley

The City’s gray cement horizons prevented early risers from rising with the sun and daydreamers from dreaming. The dull gray light perpetually shown down upon the massive waves of people walking to and from their jobs at equal paces. The faces in the crowd were always solemn, the lack of light casting shadows across sagging cheeks and wrinkled skin. Small children held onto their mothers with equal misery plastered around their eyes and little to no hope of innocence left within them. Their tiny limbs were lost in the sea of bodies. There was no use swimming and so they held on to their parents, their sinking ship, as it was all they had ever known. For these were the people and the children of the future that you may have read about, all fifty billion of them, all equal, all the same, in every miserable way.

The absence of sound in the City just reassured us that our own personal misery was mutual. It was as if the entire population was resting and the City was just waiting for me to take my first breath.

We used ancient clocks that beeped at the turn of every hour to count the days. Without these decaying devises, we would never know of the passage of time. When I was born, my mother told me that the clocks beeped 14 times before I decided to leave her womb. Harper, she called me.

Our building number was #46,990,234 and there was little that a young boy could do in the City except play with the other miserable children.

“Harper, don’t ask if you can go play with the other children in the other buildings. That’s forbidden.” His mother groaned with annoyance, her face drooping ever more with a pathetic frown.

“But, why?” he asked with defeat, even though he knew the answer, since he had heard it many times before.

“All the buildings are the same. The people are the same. Just play with the children in this building.”

And that was that. Harper stayed within his own building with his mother as his only companion for the first twelve years of his life. He had no father. Before Harper was born, his father had decided that he had had enough of living in the City. During his three hundred and fifty thousandth, three hundred and ninety-ninth hour, without telling his pregnant wife, Harper’s father ventured into building #1 with hundreds of others and spent his last hour waiting in a line to be incinerated. He had heard the clocks beep 350, 400 times. He died along with the masses of people who spent their final hours in a line waiting to die, knowing that there was no heaven in a world without a sky.

As Harper grew up, he found it incredibly difficult to play with the children in his building. The other children had an amazing ability to make him feel as hopeless as them, trapped within their concrete boxes, playing with their concrete toys. Harper would try to spend time with them, but just couldn’t bare it. He’d run back to his room and pull out his crayons. With various shades of blue, yellow, pink and orange, Harper would recreate the place in his dreams.

Harper began to spend more and more time within his whitewashed bedroom, drawing pictures and placing them on his walls. But Harper soon realized that he didn’t want to spend all his time in his room, talking to himself and drawing pictures of a world that he’d never find within his own concrete box. So he devised a plan. He waited until his mother was sound asleep and snuck past the incompetent patrol at the door, too dumb to see the young boy crawling on the floor in front of his desk. When Harper reacted the outside, no alarms were ringing in his ears and he was free.

This was the first time that Harper had been in the streets without the massive crowd pushing its way past the buildings. The street was deserted. Harper closed his eyes, took a slow breath and began walking along the street. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that he wondered if the sound of it would alert the patrols. This only made it beat harder. Harper stalled to take a look around him in apprehension, not a single thing moved. That is, until a building’s door across the street was jerked open and a tiny voice called out, “Hey! Hey You! Are you stupid or something? There’s a patrol coming by in the next 10 seconds. Get your butt in here!”

Shocked by the broken silence, Harper crouched and ran, covering his head. When he reached the building, two small hands jutted out and grabbed him by his perfectly pressed dress shirt. “You are crazy or are you stupid? Geez. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.”

Harper looked over the boy sitting in front of him. He had curly blonde hair tossed on top of his pasty white head and a mouth that seemed to never know when to stop moving. “… and why the heck were you covering you head? There’s no use trying to protect your head with your hands, unless your hands are bulletproof!”

Impervious to the boy’s abuse, Harper introduced himself.

“Why hello Harper, I’m Jackson, the boy who just saved your stupid life. You’re lucky I was here, waiting for the patrol to pass so that I could go out in the street too. You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me.” He replied, irritated by Harper’s lack of gratitude. “Anyways, I think you should come with me.”

Harper followed the boy, wondering where exactly Jackson was taking him. He climbed about ten flights of stairs and when he reached the eleventh landing, Jackson motioned for him to go through an ominous steel door, situated before him. Harper gave Jackson a quick inquisitive glance and then turned towards the door. Without looking back, he turned the knob and was instantly blinded.

He awoke to the sounds of a girl’s giggling voice. “I love it when they faint.” Harper strained his eyes trying to find the girl who spoke, but found it impossible to see. He cleared his throat and pleaded, “Please help me. I can’t see.”

A boy’s voice this time, “Wow, this one sure is a whiner. Where’d you find him Jackson? Cause, I propose we send him back.”

Another voice joined the conversation, “Quiet Lyle, you act as if you were born first. I’m five minutes older. Therefore, I’m five minutes wiser and I say that we give this whiner a chance. Jackson obviously knows what he’s do-"

Harper interrupted the second girl “Excuse me, but who are you? What have you done to me?”

“Don’t worry Harper, you’ll get used to the light soon enough.”

Harper was almost overwhelmed hearing Jackson’s familiar voice among the strangers. But, the words he spoke confused him even more. Light? The light in the City never blinded him before.

“I don’t understand.” Harper’s vision was slowly coming back and he could make out five blurry figures standing around him.

The other boy’s voice started up again, “Well, seems you’re the newest member of the Children of Light. The sixth. Jackson chose you because… so why did you chose him anyways?”

Jackson gave Harper a friendly punch on the arm. “I chose Harper because he was daring enough to go out into the streets while a patrol was roaming.”

The other figures shook their heads and laughed at his carelessness in the face of death. At the same time they patted him on the back and Harper felt a rush of pride turn his face bright red.

Now that Harper’s vision had returned to normal he could see that he was sitting on the floor of a generic whitewashed room. Yet, there seemed to be a brightness emanating from a small crack in one of the walls. None of the strangers spoke to Harper as he made his way to the wall. The brightness that had blinded him earlier was now dancing upon his skin. He moved his fingertips over the crack and felt that it was warm. How was it possible?

“This is amazing. Jackson, this is light?”

The five strangers just nodded and smiled, amused at Harper’s amazement.

They eventually introduced themselves and Harper soon began his true exploration of the City and of the light.

So, he had found friends in the other buildings after all. Their leader, Jackson was from building #46,990,231, the twins Lyle and Mona from were building #46,990,249, and the stern Wallace and the constantly giggling Rhea were from #46,990, 230. They became fast friends due to their shared rebelliousness that led them from their buildings while their parents slept, and into the streets of the City. With their quick feet and youthful energy, not yet destroyed by the hopelessness of the City, the six mischievous companions made their way through the streets, narrowly avoiding the armored men patrolling the area.

There was no space in between the concrete buildings to hide from the patrols; the only space was the one you could stare up at, two miles above your head. Occasionally you could spot an elderly gazing up at the sky for just a moment, but then they would lower their head once again and sigh. It was no longer the sky, the sky they had known, before the buildings were masses of concrete and the light was gray. All they had known, was now a lifeless gray void hovering heavily above their heads.

(not finished)

This is where my story was going:

- sky obscured by buildings, only gray light

- Harper born, finds crack of light in room, mesmerized by it

- Gang of children from several buildings, led by Jackson, become Children of the Light, so Harper, Jackson, Lyle and Mona (twins), Wallace and Rea.

- ends with massive earth quake, tears down city

- sets people free to explore, but instead adults cower in the rubble of the city and the Children of the Light go explore new world

- shows the innocence and adventurous nature of children

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. 

Try This On For Size

The pigheadedness of people is astounding. It's curious how the fangs appear, as if from thin air, once the person is backed into a corner. The corner closes in and the only way out is through the person blocking you in. Either you can go through them, blast them down or wait until the waves of insults/arguments are passed. Just try to ignore their smug sense of satisfaction as you gather your bloodied parts, wipe their spit from your face and slink by them. The other ways involve confidence, a suicide wish and a few more brain cells. See, if you spend all your life getting beaten up by the "facts", you lose brain cells needed to find the facts. That is their point. To stop you from finding your own way and your own facts. I'm giving up on convincing others to believe what I believe. There is no point, because I could be wrong and I'm only preventing them from finding their own way, plus I've been beaten up by the "facts" way too many times. Just like raising children to be a certain religion or even vegetarian. You have to wait until they can see the facts that you feed them. You tell them the story and let them choose, they'll thank you for it later and they'll understand why they are the way they are. They'll see that they are the product of their own choice and belief. Ex. I've been baptised. It means nothing to me, because I found my own way. I sometime start to wonder what would have happened if my mother took me too church every Sunday. I'd probably not hangout with the people I do, I wouldn't swear, I wouldn't be a vegetarian, I would be scared of gay people, I would read the bible-- not Cosmopolitan, I would be a happy person, I would confess to some "bad things I do", I wouldn't think about suicide (don't worry, haven't in a year since I began writing), I wouldn't have ended up in the hospital, I wouldn't have gone to Centennial and learned about sex and evolution, I would have joined a production course to realize that all the swears have been blacked out (that fucking sucks ass), my blog would be more boring and everything will be very opposite. That scares me to death. It's not those facts, it's the possibility that my mom determined my whole future with that one decision. Power is not always as obvious as a blazing gun. If the whole world was full of god-loving, animal murdering crazies then there would be no nature-loving, plant eating crazies to balance out the whole equation. It's simple science. It's that my mom made the decision to deal with a animal loving crazy when she let me choose. I grew up and I will continue to grow up until I find my way. I'm getting old enough to see the infinite things that could make or break me. I've got a lifetime to figure out if this crazy is right for me, there is always another crazy waiting to be tried on.

Ten Ways to Fit Your Whole Summer Into One Day

10. The night before, stay up until 4:00am playing FFXII.

9. Wake up at noon and play FFXII until 3:00pm.

8. Eat lunch just because your stomach is eating you from the inside out.

7. Play with your bunny and get annoyed when she tries to bite wires.

6. Put bunny away and play FFXII.

5. Get stuck in game and look on gamefaqs for a walkthrough. Should take awhile if you have dial up...

4. Realize that school is tomorrow and that you have to decorate your binders with picture of random crap.

3. Step outside, thinking that you should get some sun for once, and realize that the house is a lot cooler, by twenty degrees.

2. Stay inside and stare at the clock, wishing that you could freeze time.

1. Do nothing. The same thing that you have been doing all summer.

Exams Over / WordPress

Exams are over for me, but not for others... sucks. And if any of you are reading this that should be studying... well... get back to work lazy.

I'm thinking of switching to WordPress to see if I can handle advanced blogging. I'll still have this one though. I just looked it up and I can not understand any of it. Guess I'm still a beginner. :)