(no subject)
Okay. In order to validate my existence on LJ, for those of you I've recently added, and who probably have seen little in the way of impressive entries (because they are few and far between here, assured), I will now take the time to surmise what has happened in the last week or so that has made my life complete shit in a burlap sack.
Salt, you are my only true friend.
Two weeks. I suppose that's time enough to recap. I did it today for my little nosenose friend once he'd added me properly to Y!M, and I'll get it done now. If I don't talk to you regularly via instant messengers or real life (gasp! real life?!), then this will possibly explain the rather cryptic entries I've been making. (Ethan, I suggest you turn away because this is the sort of "explanation entry" you despise. And you know what's going on anyway.)
"Going on." Bold words for situations such as these. I've mentioned, in brief, oh, how-so brief, that Kelly was leaving. She has. She now attends PHS, the school I had believed I was headed for since the fourth grade and subtly, unconsciously feared ending up at. The only consolations were 1) taking French, and 2) meeting Brendan and spending two glorious highschool years with him until he graduated and I chased him to college. (This has not happened, obviously.) (Sometimes I think this year, and last year, has been so dysfunctional because I didn't write an end-of-second-semester letter to him, like I'd done three years running. Not that he ever responded, or that he even got them, but that closure was often necessary to flip the page to the next chapter.) So yes. Kelly now attends the "normal highschool" that none of us know (yet.) (Yet? Are you leaving, Lydia? Are you? No, no I'm not. I chose to stick it out sometime last year; see what it's landed me. Perhaps I will reassess when the time comes for reassessment.) She has Diana, Edalmarys, possibly Akeem and possibly J to keep her company over there, where the lockers are outside and the lunchroom is wall-to-wall snack machines.
Her last Dove chocolate to me: "Call an old friend." I nearly cried.
This was Thursday. I saw her briefly this morning before she was whisked away to register elsewhere. There was never a proper goodbye. I wouldn't allow there to be one.
Rewind to Monday night. Why? Because I'd like to. Monday night I painted myself blue, as evidenced by photograph a few entries below this. There are other things painted, actual forms and shapes, which can be found on my DevART account, which is the link above you. The glowing arm effect I'm especially proud of. I wonder what Ethan thinks.
Monday-day was Kelly's dentist appointment, and "tour of PHS." Subsequent days were spent inanimate and aloof in either disbelief or defeat. This was the second low blow of these two weeks.
Rewind back to the previous Thursday. You all know the gypsy, the massage therapist, the gitano bonito, if only even vaguely. He is no more. He is a she and she is married. Everything I loved was a lie, as well as an illusion of grandieur and perfection. I severed ties the Friday following because although I am strong, I am not that strong. I take it Ethan still speaks with her. I rarely speak with Ethan. I want to paint him blue someday.
Rewind further to the Tuesday prior: I had a major paper due, I believe. I didn't write it, nor turnt it in. (Yes, I just used the word "turnt.") Haven't. Fastforward to today: Price attempted to tell me of the FCAT and its magical properties. I told her in the least sugar-coated way that I'd been doing it for years and she can back off. I think she got the hint. I asked Evan later if it was noticable: he said yes. Score one to me.
Zip backwards to the Monday before that Tuesday: I chose to stay home from school due to complaint of illness, though I worked on chemistry regardless. That instructor's father died and he was attending a funeral.
Cheyvonne was attending a funeral Monday through Wednesday, that of her grandmother. So strikes a side-blow for a friend.
My grandmother has taken up smoking again after my uncle's death and her sister's turmoil. I rarely speak to my mother of anything more important than a ride to school. I haven't been able to look through my archives to organize them; the finding of the white camisole brought little solace, though I wished it so.
Things that haven't survived: any long-term happiness not tinged with sorrow; my favorite/lucky number; a good portion of my "future dreams"; a collective distaste, though with little action; any good sleeping habits (been out for a long while); my ability to crawl out of bed in the morning; the ability to write coherent LJ entries full of wit and/or lacking it.
Things that have survived: me, you, and the bamboo tree.
Thank you, and goodnight.
Salt, you are my only true friend.
Two weeks. I suppose that's time enough to recap. I did it today for my little nosenose friend once he'd added me properly to Y!M, and I'll get it done now. If I don't talk to you regularly via instant messengers or real life (gasp! real life?!), then this will possibly explain the rather cryptic entries I've been making. (Ethan, I suggest you turn away because this is the sort of "explanation entry" you despise. And you know what's going on anyway.)
"Going on." Bold words for situations such as these. I've mentioned, in brief, oh, how-so brief, that Kelly was leaving. She has. She now attends PHS, the school I had believed I was headed for since the fourth grade and subtly, unconsciously feared ending up at. The only consolations were 1) taking French, and 2) meeting Brendan and spending two glorious highschool years with him until he graduated and I chased him to college. (This has not happened, obviously.) (Sometimes I think this year, and last year, has been so dysfunctional because I didn't write an end-of-second-semester letter to him, like I'd done three years running. Not that he ever responded, or that he even got them, but that closure was often necessary to flip the page to the next chapter.) So yes. Kelly now attends the "normal highschool" that none of us know (yet.) (Yet? Are you leaving, Lydia? Are you? No, no I'm not. I chose to stick it out sometime last year; see what it's landed me. Perhaps I will reassess when the time comes for reassessment.) She has Diana, Edalmarys, possibly Akeem and possibly J to keep her company over there, where the lockers are outside and the lunchroom is wall-to-wall snack machines.
Her last Dove chocolate to me: "Call an old friend." I nearly cried.
This was Thursday. I saw her briefly this morning before she was whisked away to register elsewhere. There was never a proper goodbye. I wouldn't allow there to be one.
Rewind to Monday night. Why? Because I'd like to. Monday night I painted myself blue, as evidenced by photograph a few entries below this. There are other things painted, actual forms and shapes, which can be found on my DevART account, which is the link above you. The glowing arm effect I'm especially proud of. I wonder what Ethan thinks.
Monday-day was Kelly's dentist appointment, and "tour of PHS." Subsequent days were spent inanimate and aloof in either disbelief or defeat. This was the second low blow of these two weeks.
Rewind back to the previous Thursday. You all know the gypsy, the massage therapist, the gitano bonito, if only even vaguely. He is no more. He is a she and she is married. Everything I loved was a lie, as well as an illusion of grandieur and perfection. I severed ties the Friday following because although I am strong, I am not that strong. I take it Ethan still speaks with her. I rarely speak with Ethan. I want to paint him blue someday.
Rewind further to the Tuesday prior: I had a major paper due, I believe. I didn't write it, nor turnt it in. (Yes, I just used the word "turnt.") Haven't. Fastforward to today: Price attempted to tell me of the FCAT and its magical properties. I told her in the least sugar-coated way that I'd been doing it for years and she can back off. I think she got the hint. I asked Evan later if it was noticable: he said yes. Score one to me.
Zip backwards to the Monday before that Tuesday: I chose to stay home from school due to complaint of illness, though I worked on chemistry regardless. That instructor's father died and he was attending a funeral.
Cheyvonne was attending a funeral Monday through Wednesday, that of her grandmother. So strikes a side-blow for a friend.
My grandmother has taken up smoking again after my uncle's death and her sister's turmoil. I rarely speak to my mother of anything more important than a ride to school. I haven't been able to look through my archives to organize them; the finding of the white camisole brought little solace, though I wished it so.
Things that haven't survived: any long-term happiness not tinged with sorrow; my favorite/lucky number; a good portion of my "future dreams"; a collective distaste, though with little action; any good sleeping habits (been out for a long while); my ability to crawl out of bed in the morning; the ability to write coherent LJ entries full of wit and/or lacking it.
Things that have survived: me, you, and the bamboo tree.
Thank you, and goodnight.