i think my sleep is broken.
i'm tired still. i slept like a rock last night for i don't know how long. long enough, but not too long. my lemonade still sits on the table, covered by a paper plate to keep out the bugs that don't come down here. this truly is a sensory deprivation chamber. without the tv on, i have no idea of what time it is. my morning clock is based on what's on the food network. if it's infomercials, then it's before ten. it was like that when i slept upstairs too. i had the radio on...99.5 because those songs are always the same and i'm not interested in listening half the time. if the hot morning mess was on, it was before ten. anyway, last night i think i was happy. to give you an idea of how long it's been since i could actually say i was happy, i thought i was high or something because it felt weird. i had like...energy. i was ready to go (not in a sexual sense, carolyn...haha). i felt like being productive and that my life was going in the right direction. i was...social(?!) for once in my fucking life. the only thing that brought me down was at the end of the night when i realized i couldn't drive. i love driving. it's my happy place, where i can think and just go. i love just going (my term of the day) because i never "just go". i always hesitate, i think. when i can just go impulsively, i feel liberated. what else do i love? ...i love performing, strangely enough. i love impressing people and hearing their reactions. like last night i made a dessert..and i brought it downstairs just so i could give it to the servers and hear them tell me how amazing it was. i knew that would happen, and i just wanted to do it. i loved being in marching band...even though there was only like one person out there most of the time cheering for me, i still love cheering. i get all...haha TEARY when i hear cheering. like the happy kind. i just get so...ahh it's intoxicating. however, i'm too much of a pussy to actually perform anything when i'll be noticed. i know that with acclaim comes criticism. i take it all to heart, so i don't even want to try. still, i know i'll be something great, because with a name like nikita corbliss, who isn't going to be great? my name is going to be famous. i'm not sure what for, but it will be. my passion is being the best, so i fucking will be. i love my random creativity. i've been told on many, many occasions that i'm "different". my thought processes, my sense of humor, my everything. it's different. i'm fucking HAPPY i'm not some cookie cutter dyke or whatever other people define me as. that's my point. THEY CAN'T DEFINE ME. i'm nikita corbliss. the one and only. nobody could touch this. and you know what? some people have already come to this conclusion, and they hate it. and i love it. finally, after 18 years of being a sad little peanut stuck in the shell, i have burst out onto the scene and now you all fucking know. and you're wondering...how did that pineapple ever get in that peanut shell?