I’m going to call my sister tomorrow and tell her I love her. Last time I did this, it was about mid December last year. She cried. I wanna do it again, not because she cried of course, but because I love her. And if she cried, that means she needed it.
I know she hasn’t been doing too well. I know she’s been under alot of stress with school and her social life and whatnot. But I really love her, like truly and I want her to know that because she’s my best friend. I love her.
Someday, she might see this. See that I talk about loving her even when she’s not here.
My bath water has two settings, luke warm and scalding hot. So as you can imagine, it’s a tricky business, trying to get the two perfectly balanced. Every time I take a bath I get Rubber Ducky stuck in my head. Thanks mom and dad.
He sat slumped in his chair. Or maybe they were a she. But why does it matter, they’re slumped and that’s all that matters. Because the only reason why anyone slumps that low is if they are truly hurt. Like, stabbed in the heart. Or maybe the soul. But why does it matter, they’re hurt. The only way you can be hurt that bad is if someone else hurt you. Maybe like a punch or mean words. But why does it matter, someone did it to them.
I’m going to share a poem I wrote last year, during school. Maybe this will go unseen, but at the very least I wont feel like I’m hoarding a dirty secret. I write poetry sometimes okay?
Come to think of it, this “poem” is more on the monologue side, enjoy!
Maybe it is a good thing to judge. Maybe. It’s times like these, when I walk home after school that I think of these things. Cold. Cold. So very cold. But it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t come home. But I always do. It’s too far away. But why don’t you hold on? There has to a type of prize for all of this. Torturing myself on a weekly basis. Of course, I could always go to your house, after all it’s much closer. But if I did, that would mean I forgive you and I don’t. I don’t. I don’t. But Life is better with you than without. My hands are blistering on the edges from typing far too much. Perhaps this is a good problem to have. Creativeness seeping it’s way to the outside. Perhaps. perhaps . perhaps. One thing I like about you is how charming you are. You smile and I fall away. But that’s just buttery. sugarcoated. But the truth is I wish we had another place to be. To be together. But I would never have a place. We would never have a place. We are caged in, trapped. No way out. But that’s alright. No hurt. Just pain. No dull ache only sharp. Some say distance drives us closer. It might but they make it sound so charming. Charming. Charming. I beg to leave. But not without you. I would rather walk a hundred miles then the one mile home. The reward. Either sickness or health. Both lead to the same result, you. One longer than the other. But even if I picked fast, if I picked sickness, I am lacking a lot of information. Too much it’s just Impossible, Impossible, Impossible. What do I do but wait in health and continue through to cold. Cold. cold. To the house. Only one mile away. Only. only.
That no one will ever find these paragraphs. But it’s nice to know that I’m alone. Gee that sounded kind of sad. But its not. Its nice. At least so far it is. I picture this to be my hole in the wall, my secret hiding place. where I can hide and write away from all the people I know. Perhaps someone will stumble upon these. perhaps.
I just read some of the recommended long reads, you know, to see what I was getting myself into. Like, am I going to fit in? Sort of deal. But all the blogs I saw were written by hardcore-wannabe-writers/professors. Hopefully this website will take clues from my own style of writing and recommend some blogs I will actually enjoy.
Not to be harsh or anything, but I don’t give a cluck about your dying career as a professor, please tell me about YOU, not your job.
Please enjoy the following photos I took on my webcam 🙂
Hey, it’s me. Tomorrow I start my second day of school. But I’m not going to bore you with those details. Everyone goes to school and everyone has a bad day and everyone is extremely tired or ‘can’t find the time’. I’m writing this blog so that I force myself to find time and do something I love everyday, even if it’s just typing a few words. Enjoy. *I really love the following quote, I found it where every 15 year old girl finds her quotes, on my Pintrest*
“She is a mermaid, but approach her with caution. Her mind swims at depths most would drown in.”
To give you an idea of who I am, I’m going to describe where I am right now.
I am sitting, no, slouching under a blanket smack dab in the middle of my bedroom floor. Obviously, I live with my parents because I am on 15 at this time and I have no real reason to run away, although sometimes I’d like to. Behind me, there is a large window sill that houses eight flower pots, a faux sheepskin of my cat, some books, and a Cd player singing Coldplay’s Parachutes album on repeat. If you’re wondering, my favorite song in Spies, track two. Against the window sill is my desk. It’s not really a desk. It’s a small retro dinner table my parents found second hand to use at our last apartment.
Gosh, what was the point of writing all of that??? I mean, I’m going to change, aren’t I? So why am I describing my room, the most visible form of my changing? Well I guess the best way to know me is to read my blogs 😉