I left out so much...useless rant.
I should probably make an LJCut, but I just don't feel that nice right now. I feel...rage? Anger? Blood dripping down the sides of their heads anger? Yes, that must be it. The funny thing is I have no idea why. Change, why have you come? Roman must be right, an alliance is being formed without my knowledgde. But, why? Why now? Why does this feeling go away as fast as it comes? I want to love you so much, you don't understand. I have far too much to give and I'm sure you know this by now. The truth is: everytime I leave you without telling you I love you I feel guilty and I feel like I've wasted yet another day fighting and trying for something I will never have. Love. No, like. Like...very much. Like...with an 'isimo' at the end. I find the more I press you and the more I try, the farther away you get. Goals: to get close to a person at the same time they want to be close to me.
"That's me, blown sideways through life." And it shouldn't be this hard, should it? The best years of my life, huh? Because when I look into the next two years spent wondering aimlessly through the halls of Carroll High all I can see is work, work, work. I am so pessimistic right now. Why is it that I can never provide myself with the advice I provide others? I am such a hypocrit. So, today I'm running an errand for Ms. Sharp. I'm walking past the lockers, going down the stairs, past the old 'nipple block', remembering the awkward encounters as I turned that very corner. Where did the time go? Freshman year, where are you? All I could think of was the first time Coach Hiller asked me to run and errand for him. I remember being exquisitely cheesy when walking down those halls and thinking "This is it. This is my place. This is Carroll High." And I remember feeling so excited and elite and mature. I wanted random people from my past to pop out and see me, this young 14 year old girl, walking the halls with her head held high and her ridiculously girly fashion sense, and I wanted them to be jealous and envious and wowed by me. Why was I like that? Why do I remember feeling so cheesily elite? What a dork.
Sabrina at the end of Freshman Year = painfully naiive, wayy too girly, curly hair.
I think the things that define you most and make you feel the most free will always inevitably go back to the way they were. I think the dirty truth may be that you can change and transform all you want but in the end if it's not the real you, your old ways will eventually come back. The exception to that rule would be a personal growth. The new and improved Sophomore Sabrina sported straight hair, makeup she could not maintain, and impossible dresscode trends. Observe...
Sabrina at the end of Sophomore Year = "Uncoiling" and nothing more. But curly hair, again.
Life is piling up. It's speeding up and not slowing down. The bitch. Don't worry, I'll never forget to let you down. I really do need to expand my horizons...where did I get that phrase? I think it was off Monica's bag. I don't want to do anything. I've been juggling over whether to isolate myself completely this summer or to get out there as much as possible. So much to do, so little time. And it only goes by faster and faster. Can you believe that I am going to be 17 this year?! 17. Seventeen years old. Holy shit. Wasn't I just, like, 12 yesterday? What's up with this?
What am I feeling at this moment in time? Nothing. Well, something. I feel everything. But, I can feel myself hardening again. I guess that's a good thing. I feel frustratiion, jealousy, regret, contentment, guilt. But I don't...feel. Do you understand? I wake up. Freak out about how I am going to get through another day. Get to school, occupy myself by shouting out random obscenities with my big mouth. Go through school, never knowing for sure where the hell I'm going or how the hell I get there. Learn, forget. Make it all the way through my agonizing dance class, find solace in my seventh period. Go home, cry about how lonely I was that day to a best friend who's been going to a different school for two years now. Study. Talk to you. Worry about the next day and how I'm going to get through it. Sleep. Repeat. Maybe it's the end of the year. I really need to spice up my life. Psh...
I am so ready for it. I am ready and willing and waiting. I want it now. "Will you be my thousand fucks."