Because I only use this when in a bad mood.
Who knows. Maybe it's an incredible summer coming to a close and the beginning of senior year. Oh, dear lord. As stupidly cliched as it sounds, I've learned a lot about myself this summer. Some good. Some bad. But I may have found a place I felt I belonged. Even if I didn't, being home has made me feel like I'm missing something. Something that's big and important and effervescent and just so ALIVE. It's some desire to be needed, not just endured. Loved, not just appreciated. A desire to observe a change in others while impacting change not only in myself, but my world. To know that the people for which I would do anything know that I'm here, and, if I'm at all lucky, care that I'm here. I see people. Go out. Do whatever. As though I'm searching for some ridiculous, unattainable goal -- you know, the kind that only exists in the movies. But of course, none of this is anything new. No one is original. I'm just another teenage girl, sitting around wallowing about some boy she thinks she can never have because she's too fucking chicken to talk about how she feels anyway. She's close to letting something remotely great slip away from fear of the unknown. Oh, the unknown. The worst part about it is its entirety. I've lost that spark. Or maybe I just never had it. Or I just have some illusion of it that initially makes me absolutely fascinating, but then the jig is up, and I'm the old toy left in the back of the closet for its batteries to leak everywhere and give people whatever horrible fate suffers those that touch battery juice then their eyes. Cliche cliche cliche. I'm a walking, talking caricature of a girl with a brain, heart, and soul. He doesn't mean what the songs say. They're just there for the sake of being something. Having something. Or perhaps just wanting something - anything - that will resurrect what's, in reality, gone forever. So we all just sit here. Watching the day go by. Driving to see friends that we'd rather avoid. Driving to see friends we feel would rather avoid us. What's even accomplished? You sit, you talk, you eat dinner, you watch the movie. Together. No one makes a move. Are you both too scared? Does one of you NOT EVEN CARE? No. As in, no one knows even. Everyone just lets things happen. Keeping their input to themselves, for, if it was voiced, the bitch label is arbitrarily thrown around and this person and that person have hurt feelings and broken hearts. When am I going to go for the inevitable "fuck it" move that makes the change? I crave the change, no matter which way it goes. The worst part being how little of a deal this is in retrospect. What's going to happen once everything starts up again? His friends, my friends, her friends, our friends. Everything starts spinning; the whirlpool effect goes on and on. Honestly, who even cares? "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened." Yeah, what do you do while it's happening? Bawl your eyes out because "you never know what you've got until it's gone." It all comes back to haunt you someday. Talking like someone fifty years older. Sometimes I wish I had an escape from my own mind. Shut up everything that's going on in there. I just lost the game. Make it all stop for maybe just a night. Stare vacantly at the tv screen. Not absorbing anything, but not keeping anything out. It all just passes through - quite literally, in one ear and out the other. On and on - the voices, the movements. All staged. Why do we act? We are scared of real life. Actors are shells of people. I love acting. I especially love breaking through someone's shell. When you finally connect. Past all the common courtesies and polite chit chat. You find the real person beneath the facade. Why is it ever so hard to do? That's how we want it. Build up your shell. Keep out the predators. Or keep in the predators. Keep everything that is yours IN and CLOSE BY you as to not lose it to some scum for no reason. How do you even approach that? Just blurt it out? Yeah, then hope for the best. When it all breaks down, you have the constant shit to stand by. You know. Books. Plays. Movies. Whatever bakes your cake. Which we all want to have and eat it too. One thing I want is simple. Everything I want is beyond the seven letters of 'complex.' But it always is. Fuck this cliched litany of complaints and typical teen angst. End this stream of conscience bullshit. It all digresses anyhow.