Well, I guess it's time to change the world.

Fear of Change

I won't tell you to never change, because that's selfish and impossible.

But I'm scared, you know? Of you changing into something that just doesn't mesh well with me. And then I'll have to let you go.


There's.... perks...

It's not all that bad.

I almost believe it.

Slowly, I believe it almost wholeheartedly.

Because I've learned how to lie to myself.

Even the other voices in my head begin to say something, but think better of it.

The Almost,

Imagining worlds and scenarios that are so impossible that they'd never happen, that's okay. I can handle that. Such scenarios lull me to sleep on almost a nightly basis.

But imagining situations that are so close, but so far away. That would change my life completely, and are almost plausible?

Situations that I direly want. Direly need. That I think there's some chance of a yes, that I might actually get something I deserve. That I might be part of a great family that loves each other.

That it all is almost worth it.

That doing what I have to do to get away, to finally be happy, is so close to being worth it that  I would, I could, but I just can't.

I can't. I can't think of them.

It hurts so much.

And now I can't breathe.


I'd do anything.

You have no idea.

I just couldn't give up everything.

And that revelation is what hurts the most.

The Dreams of an Impossible Future

Every time I laughed and asked you if you wanted a new sister,
Every time I smiled and suggested you take me in and said I'll live in the closet,
Every time I looked into the distance and told you how great it'd be if we could find a place of our own, together,

We burst into laughter and smiles and dreamy looks, we joked and imagined.

And I wonder if you knew I was serious.

Every time.


It's a lull.

But is it real?

Or is it just because everyone's been removed from the situation, so there's no longer a situation?

If everyone's put back in the situation, will it dissipate anyways?

And if it does, will anyone believe me?

That's what's so difficult. Everything changes. Everything goes in waves. Life is like a tide. So why shouldn't this be any different?

But people don't see that.

Waves are too complex for us.

All or nothing, and when in doubt: the option that requires less effort as a whole.

That' right.

Deny it ever happened.


I spend the day wanting to fall into my dreams, wanting to go someplace else. Someplace warm.

I spend the night annoyed that I have to take time out to sleep, when all I want to do is continue on.

Thoughts run through my head, buzzing and swarming.

They don't let up anyways...

It's better not to realize that you're constantly on the edge of hyperventilating whenever you're at home.

And when you do finally realize it, you can't stop.

It's going to keep you up for another hour. Tomorrow will be hell, but you've got stuff to do anyways. Presents to finish making, so you can make someone else happy. And if someone else is happy, someone you actually care about, someone who deserves to be happy, well maybe you will be a reflection of them. Maybe you'll be happy.

You will be happy. There's no doubt about that.

You're just counting on that. Waiting for it. Anxiously.

A thank you for things you didn't realize till recently. And for everything else you have yet to realize, as well.
Don't call me a grinch, a scrooge, or anything else.

But I just want to sleep through Christmas.

Press fast-forward.

I don't want to accept gifts from people who have ignored me for the past month.

Even more, I don't want everything to be dragged on. To be ignored through the morning and the night.

Or maybe that would be better. I don't know. I just don't want to face it.

It takes more strength than I sometimes believe I have to get through everything.

I want to skip to spring. The time of new hope. Go back to the warm days, so I don't have to be cold both inside and out.

And I type this and I feel so pathetic. I should be stronger than this. But the continuity of it is wearing me down.

Everything is dead around here. The city lights aren't enough anymore. They never were.

a space all my own

I don't mind small spaces. I'm not claustrophobic, like most everyone I know. I actually kind of like small spaces, as long as there's no chance of spiders or bugs.

But I need room for my stuff and my things. I need a place to stretch and move and dance and watch and call my own. I need a place to expand and explode.

And after all that, I need a place to shrink and settle. Curl up into a ball and feel safe. Reach my hands up and around and know that there's something there, something tangible. Not a great, vast darkness where anyone or anything could be looming.

All Comes Round

You know, I might as well not be a part of this family at all, what with all they acknowledge my presence.

Well. This will be a perfect way to end a year that started out rather... well, let's face it. It started a fuse that eventually blew up.

I don't regret any of it. Still, I wish things were different.

It's Finally Come to This.

It doesn't feel like Christmas here, needless to say.

I've only bought presents for two people.

I was going to make presents, but that was before I got put on exile.

Christmas will be just another day.


I wonder if my mother will talk to me, finally.

I wonder if it will last.

The Things Left Behind

Once upon a time, I'd have done anything to get out. Get away. Move to some far-off land and never look back.

It was the people who I called friends, in combination with those I called, and still call, family.

I don't want to stay here. But I don't hate this city for what it is. Just what it holds.

I want to see the world.

But I've got people here now. People who are good for me. People that outweigh those who hurt me still.

I don't know what I'll do when the time comes to decide.

I don't want to vacation everywhere.

I want to live everywhere.

And I guess I'll have to one day deal with the fact that yes, I will finally meet people I don't want to leave behind.

It's been so long without such people...

The Rainbow's Unpredictability.

If something was actually wrong with my mom... if she was a sociopath or something... would I be the bad person again?

They say that you need to get through the rain to see the rainbow.

But what if there's no rainbow after this storm?

I'm tired of being the bad one. The one blamed for everything. The one who can't do anything right.

Or what if the rainbow is too late coming?

This is all wrong. But what if something flips and it's no longer wrong? What if it becomes accepted, or the norm?

What if the rainbow is as unpredictable as everything else? How am I supposed to be assured of the rainbow's future presence?

I'm trying to flip this picture to something good, but it's fighting back. What if it just... falls out of my hands. What if it flips itself into something worse. A worse picture. A terrifying picture...

What then?

I want Christmas to be over. And New Years. And my birthday. I want to skip over it all. Move on. These weeks are hell, no way around it. Happiest time of year?

Maybe one day. After I'm out of here. Far away.

Run run run, as fast as you can. Make sure they don't catch you Mr. Gingerbread Man.

Lunar Eclipses and Shooting Stars

You take one last inventory of yourself and grab the miniature flashlight you use for reading late at night when you don't want to be noticed, remembering the dark nights at the cottage. Zip up your coat, slip on a fuzzy headband, and sneak as quietly as you can down the hall to the front door. Barely a sound is made. Even as you click on your flashlight to find your boots, and then zip them up, nothing stirs.

Opening the heavy wood front door, you think yourself silly for even comparing the country darkness to the city lights. It's like daylight out there, and though the flashlight is good for finding boots in the dark, it will do nothing out here.

Slowly, very slowly, you open the metal and glass front door, wincing as it makes creaking sound. But no one is asking you where you're going, or making any sounds, so you slip out quietly and search for the moon.

It's already nearly half gone. The moon has moved faster than you thought. Or is it the earth? You only half-glanced at the charts, simply wanting to know the times of things as you learned of the lunar eclipse only two hours before. Staring up at the moon, you're a little disappointed that you missed the first part nearly completely, but you still have the rest. You haven't missed the show.

You move in and out of the house, checking on the moon between moments of warming yourself up. On the fifth or sixth time out, you wonder if you should tell your dad. He's been ignoring you since last week, and he hasn't been kind otherwise. Why should you tell him? But by the time this happens again, he'll be in the ground, turning to dust. So you push away everything he's ever done to you, and the pile is quite large, and venture inside, as quiet as a ghost.

Opening his door, you whisper, "Dad? Dad?" and he replies with a moan. "Dad, do you like lunar eclipses?"

He gives an affirmative noise. So you go on. "There's one going on now, if you want to see it."

He says no, that's okay, but then barrages you with questions about times, etc. In the end, he gets up and says he'll take a peek at it. In the darkness, you smile, though he can't see it and your cheeks are just regaining feeling in them.

You're a ghost once again, drifting silently down the hall to your boots. But your dad stumbles and falters, grasps onto things and there's a loud thunk as he kicks his shoes. A noise from your mom. A questioning noise. Dad explains quickly that there's a lunar eclipse, and then you guys are out on the lawn and you're showing him and telling him everything you've learned about it in the past two hours.

And more. You don't stop at the moon facts. You're telling him about Jules and Abi and Dee, how they're watching it, or why they're not. How Abi is still studying, but Jules is done for three weeks.

A voice at the back of your mind is telling you to stop, because in the near future, you're going to regret letting him back in to even glimpse your life. But right now, standing side by side and watching something amazing, it's hard to believe you'll ever regret anything of today. Of right now.

Your dad dances from one foot to another and decides to go in to get warmed up a little. You follow, and you see your mom isn't happy. The whole house feels like it's been brought down with an angry sickness. Your dad goes over to your mom, and then comes back to you, to go back outside. You ask what's wrong, and he says that she's mad because you and him woke her up.

And you can feel it. All of it. You know what's happening.

You didn't wake her up. He did. You were a ghost. And you were just doing a nice thing. But that doesn't matter. Never does. You're inconsiderate because you didn't think of her, you woke her up, you were noisy, you just had to do whatever you wanted to do, without a thought for anyone else. Selfish, stupid, annoying, a bitch.

It's the same scenario over and over again, the topic is the only one that changes.  So everything replays in your mind a thousand times as you wait for your dad to put on his shoes once again. You feel tears welling up because it's just not fair, and you go on ahead because you're so angry.

You recall everything else she's ruined over the years- graduations, Christmases, birthdays, every single holiday. You refuse, refuse, to let her ruin this. But as you and dad watch the eclipse happen, the fear, worry, anger and sadness worm their way into you. You won't get away with this, that's not the way she goes. You'll pay, pay three times over. A hundred times over. A thousand, even. It all seems absurd, and it is. But it doesn't mean it's not true.

The earth blocks the sun, casting the moon in red shadows. Dad calls it, and goes in. You stand in the cold a little more, watch through the window at your dad going up to your mom. Imagining what she says as she's obscured by the Christmas tree. And as you, too, go in for shelter and warmth, you can feel everything crashing down.

You sit in the rocking chair by the door of the living room and get up every few minutes, as silent as you can be, to check the moon. You text your friends that are up for updates and just to chat.

Your dad gets up. Leaves the room. Your mom, who you thought had fallen asleep again, gathers all the blankets and gets up. You fear she's angry, but you try to suppress it. Maybe she's not. Maybe she's just... changing areas. No hard feelings.

But as her footsteps near and pass you, she increases their intensity until the house is shaking. You're not even exaggerating. The tree shakes, the TV shakes, the gas lamps on the top of the china cabinet shake. And you shake. Wince inside. Shrink.

She's mad at you.

You close your computer, toss it on your bed, bundle up again, and head out to the park. You can't stay at home anymore, and if you try, you'll end up broken and unable to fix yourself.

It takes everything you have not to run all the way to the park. When you see the swings, you quicken your pace and fall into one. Almost immediately, you start swinging. Push off, pump your legs, watch the moon.

Your eyes fall to your boots; tall, puffy, white. Fuzz-lined. The tops dusted with brown, black, and whatever else you want to call "dirty." And you remember all the hassle everyone gave you, and still give you, for getting white boots in the winter time. They'll get dirty too quickly. They'll be ugly in a week.

Not all untrue. But you also remember why you got them. There were black ones, and brown ones, but you wanted the white ones. White was nice. Everything else was black. White reminded you of snow. Pristine snow. The pretty, untouched snow. Beautiful. The way it sparkles in the night. So you argued until you could have them, the white boots. And while everyone never stops complaining about the boots you wear, you don't regret them one bit.

You look up at the moon again. The eclipse. It started, and everything was peaceful. When it ends, everything will be back the way it was. You will be ignored, or yelled at. Generally hated. And you'll regret telling your dad anything about your life now. The way it should be.

You keep swinging, determined to stay at the park until the moon starts to shine again. But it's cold, and you hear footsteps, and as much as you doubt someone would attack you at the park right now, you hop off and start down the street.

When you reach the house, you hop into the bed of your mom's truck and sit on the edge, watching the moon. It's no less cold here, but you're still determined to see the moon with a sliver of light to it. So you watch and you think.

And you have an imaginary conversation with your mom in your head.

In it, you tell her that you're sick of her. You tell her that she ruins every good event, but this was the last straw. Graduations happen a couple of times, birthdays and Christmas happens every year. But something that hasn't happened in 372 years, and won't happen again until 2094... well, this was it. You're tired of caring about her. You don't care about her anymore, and that's it. Done. Finito. Good bye.

You don't know how that would go, but it makes you feel powerful thinking about saying it.

The moon slowly shows a pinprick of light, and then a little more. You stare at it, willing for it to move faster so you can go in. At 4 o'clock, you decided, you'll go in regardless.

At 4 o'clock, the moon isn't all that shiny, but then you see something you haven't seen before: A shooting star.

You make a wish quick. Something about everything working out, everything being perfect, everything being fixed. It's a jumble and you don't even know what you mean. And in the end, you figure you've mucked it up enough, so you tell the shooting star to give the wish to someone else.

And then you hop off the bed of the truck, and enter the house that isn't a home. You're a ghost again; everything you do is silent. But it's not enough. It will never be enough. Because you realized on the swings that nothing you ever do will be good enough. You will never be able to say sorry enough times, or be successful enough, or obey enough.

Enough isn't in your parents' vocabulary.

More More More is.

And you wonder if you should have wished on that shooting star. Something worth it. But what?

When Things Turn Around

It's okay to change your mind.

And it's also okay to not, you know?


Driven home, I'm not ready for the silence that awaits me inside. So I wave good bye and make my way to the door, trying to stomp down the anxiety twisting in my stomach.

The second she disappears down the street, I hop down the steps and disappear into the cold, dark night.

The silence is different out here.

There's not supposed to be more. It has lost nothing to become this.

And after a few rounds on the swing, I feel better. Ready to face an entirely different sort of silence.

Say good bye to the night lights.

Say hello to everything that hides behind locked doors.

The Story Behind It

I could tell you a thousand lies. Give you a thousand half-truths. Make you a thousand excuses.

And there wouldn't be anything else for me to say. Because when standing has gotten almost too much, the last thing you're thinking of is the truth.

You're just trying to find a bench to sit on, and hope it doesn't crumble beneath you.

That Sneering Voice in Your Head.

You once said that being around her made you feel ugly and insecure.

I don't know what I did in response, but now I just smile and shake my head.

Why would you want a friend like that?

Why would you want a best friend like that?

I can't choose my family, but you can choose your friends.

Nowhere to Go

Shelters aren't fun.

Don't let anyone say they are.

I just want to sleep and sleep. Sleep until all this is over.

I refuse, though. Something is rebelling. But it isn't helping how I feel.

Strangers are kinder than family. Is that how it's supposed to be?

How does one accidentally buy a bus pass?

Does it mean she cares?

The words that follow beg to differ.

I don't want to do this anymore.

I feel like it's all my fault. But that same part rebels. It's not my fault. It's not.

Then quieter; It can't be.


The world moves on. It doesn't care. Say what you will, but it doesn't care. Individuals care. Not the world.

I was okay until I realized how hopeless I am.

No Place Safe

I'm not here.

Not home.

Whatever home is.

Stolen internet.

No place to stay.

Yesterday was my weak day.

Today, I refuse to cry.

Strength I hardly feel.

No one with something to say.

Too scared to return, of pain.

Don't know about a plan.

Update, maybe.

So Obtuse,

One day, you'll ask me to keep you company and I'll say no.

Not because I don't want to help you, to keep you company. I love helping you. I love melding into your life a little and I enjoy your company.

But one day I'll have to give that all up. Because I can't stand the way you pull my past into the conversation. I don't like how you seem to connect everything that ever happens to some great time you had doing these amazing things with my ex-family. I don't like how you make plans with them right beside me.

Petty? Maybe. But it's cold of you. No, it's not cold. It's obtuse. You're obtuse.

But I'm not about to tell you that you can't talk about them at all in front of me. That you can't make plans with them in front of me.

Because as much as I'd love to say that, I both know it won't work, and that it's wrong to ask that of you.

So what do I do?

I don't know.

Fade, perhaps.

Everything and Nothing

You know when your fan moves so fast it's as if it's moving so slowly, or not at all?

Yeah. That.

Black Hole

Maybe sometimes we don't look in the mirror to see our flaws or our perfections, or analyze our looks in general.

Maybe sometimes we look in the mirror to confirm that we're still here. Whole and safe and here. That we haven't disappeared. That people are still able to see us.

And maybe sometimes we look in the mirror under the pretenses of checking to see if that pimple is still there, or our hair isn't a total mess, or these clothes look okay, but we're really making sure we still exist.

Step out into thin air

I know me. Or I try to know me.

and I know that when I take a chance like I did last night, I'll either flounder, or I'll rise.

Last night I rose.

I'm glad. I was worried for a little there.

Thought I trusted myself too much.

Feels good.

My kingdom awaits, and they've forgiven my mistakes

Don't you know? Don't you see? This is a mistake. You're making a mistake.

I'm broken, can't you tell?

I'm broken.

But I'm fixing myself.

(And I don't want to risk you breaking me even more)


It's neither here nor there. Not all or nothing.

Too many people think it's like that. All or nothing. Here or there. Grey isn't acceptable. And that's what gets you labeled as a liar, complicated, annoying, fickle, unpredictable. Being grey.

I don't enjoy sneaking around, going one place when I've said I'm going to another, or going somewhere without giving a clear answer as to where. I wish I didn't have to. I wish I could just say "Well, I'm off to this group, or this counseling session," and I'd be told "Okay, have fun."

On the other hand, I enjoy having this part of my life. This secret life. Taking charge of it all, that's what it feels like. I enjoy going where I want without anyone knowing exactly where I am. It's nice. It's thrilling. And that way, I can be whoever I want to be, and no one will know different.

Besides, I know the "Okay, have fun," won't come to be.

I come home with a new outfit. No one gives it a glance. I am starving with nothing to eat except NesQuick Chocolate Milk Powder, and yesterday I only had a slice of pizza on my way home from riding. No one cares. I've been out all day without giving word, I've even come home late late. No one asks where I've been.

No one cares anymore.

I like it, and I hate it.

I guess I should learn to love it, hm?

I hate shoulds.

The Extension of You

Yes. I changed my mind. I decided to go a different path than you wanted me to. What is it now? The third time I've done this? Not counting all the times I've done so in other areas of my life.

Well if I did everything your way, I'd hate my life. Despise it. And it still wouldn't be enough, would it?

Make my own choices. That's what you drilled into my head since I was little. But like everything else, it came with strings attached. Only make acceptable choices, ones based off your wants for me. Having your own extension of your name and your biology is only good if they do everything the exact way you want them to, huh?

Shake your head. Say nothing at all. Let the displeasure show in your eyes and the set of your mouth. Deny me an answer, deny me encouragement, deny me everything you wish to.

Because I won't fall away. I won't let you push me away from this decision. It's mine and mine alone, and I don't see what it has to do with you.

And hey, you still have one more extension to be proud of.

The Hard Questions

You ask me what I've been up to lately. You say "Oh yeah, you've got ___ then, don't you?" You wonder if I've met any new people recently. You offer to drive me to the library since you're heading that way anyways.

And I can't tell you the truth.

I'd love to tell you, but I hold you up against the background painted by just one incident.

But it only takes one incident to set my world on fire. And I just can't risk it.

So I say Nothing. Yes. Not really. No, that's okay.

Even though what I want to say is the exact opposite.

I can't tell you what I really mean, and I can't even tell you this. But I'm sorry.

I promise to tell you the truth one day.

Psychic? Maybe...

My brother's girlfriend decided to apply at the same place I work at, and got accepted. So I was pretty excited that someone would join me in hell.

But last night I had the feeling she was going to bail.  I woke up with even a stronger feeling that she was going to decide not to start the job.

But she said she'd be taking a bus up because my brother's car is broken. Big phew here. Maybe I'm wrong.

I never learn, do I?

She showed up at my house, ready for work, but fifteen minutes later she told me that she wasn't going to work anymore because she just doesn't want to.

My friends say I'm psychic, this happens so much. If I am, it's not all that helpful.

Hey, you...

Just so you know... Just so that someone, somewhere knows, or so that someone can know...

I might have dropped my pastry chef dream like it was a hot coal, but it doesn't mean that the burns don't remain.

It doesn't mean that I didn't think long and hard over it before I gave up.

It doesn't mean I don't look back.

In truth, every time I turn on the food network, I feel like crying. Which might be why I don't watch it much anymore.

But I can't change my mind, either.

Hiding Places

I put random stashes of money (a five dollar bill here, a twenty there) around my room so that when I clean up or look around or pick up a book, I have a nice little surprise.

As well, I like to know that I've got money hidden around in case things get really desperate, and hiding them in tricky places helps me keep my hands off of it.

My parents don't approve of that either. Another problem of theirs with me. Which is why I argue that if they don't like my way of putting things and doing things, they should leave it all be.

Instead of yelling at me for losing money when I've purposely hidden it? Please. I'm not as irresponsible as people think.

Wait. I'm not as irresponsible as my parents think. Everyone else pretty much knows me as responsible.


I'm getting better at being home alone.

Silly, being scared of being home alone. Annoys the crap out of me. But alas, I am. I get the paranoia from my mother.

But I'm better now. I still keep the hallway light on, and I remember to check that every window, door, escape hatch is closed and bolted and locked and safe about three times before I'm convinced. And I still think someone's going to come running in with a knife while I'm in the shower...

But it's better, though it might not sound like it to you. I don't have the whole house lit up, and I can go into the kitchen to get a drink without thinking I should probably take a bat with me.

And no one being home means less of a chance of me getting into trouble because of... well, anything. I can't even give you an example. Maybe for asking if my parents happened to PVR Grey's Anatomy this week. They didn't, I had the chance to check, but just by asking could have gotten me in loads of trouble if they felt like it.

So it's nice.

Have to get the riding payment for the month all set for Tuesday and put it in some kind of envelope since I don't deal in cheques.

I got yelled at the other day because my parents found money just "laying about in my room." It was in my drawer, all together, because that was how it was given to me (my brother paid me back for covering part of his credit card bill from Europe in August) and said I should feel grateful they didn't take it for it (again) "just laying about."

Where else was I supposed to put it? I'm downtown more often than I'm home nowadays, and I'm not about to carry $200 with me all the time. That's asking to be mugged.

Makes me want to scream. I put things where I put them for a reason.

Dreams, one day long lost?

You know how I was (and am) always scared of the little things setting off a mid-life crisis sometime in the future?

You know how I've always wanted to hop on a train and take it to anywhere, like you hear of in songs and books and stories from people other than you?

What if that doesn't happen? What if I never hop on that train? B would begin A.

But how do I hop on a train, take it to nowhere, and somehow, somehow, make it?


What happened to freedom of speech?

Why does everyone else get to rant about the small, the big, the insignificant, the important, and yet I'm not allowed?

And people wonder why I don't show them my writing. What if I showed them, and then they said that I had no right to write about it? Other than telling them Excuse me, I have a right to write about anything I damn well please, what can I do?

They won't change their minds. Not these people.

I'm not of the "privileged." I can't write what I want, say what I mean. Even when it has encroached little on such territory, I'm torn down.

I'll write whatever I want to write. I'll be angry when I am angry and sad when I am sad. I'll be happy, too, when I am happy.

Such a good morning, shot to pieces. Maybe I can reconcile them into some pretty collage.

A Month Gone.

Don't ask me how NaNo went.

I got to 50K, yes.

But not for lack of trying to give up.

If there's one thing to say about me, (okay, two, because they argued each other endlessly all month) I've got too much pride, and I can't stand letting people down.

Now to stretch the truth a little on a totally different topic so I don't get disowned. That would be the whole counseling thing, if you're curious.

The Short Life

I'd only talked to him maybe twice, three times. Always with some of my friends around. Or rather, I'd be around them all. There's a difference there, even if you don't know it.

And this kind of stuff, well it doesn't happen around here. It just doesn't. It's not that my town is super small, or super safe. It's just that... up here it seems like it's own little bubble. And things happen...

Well, I guess what I'm trying to say is, this doesn't happen to people I know, and to people who people I know, know. We're not a huge, tight-knit group. Some of us hate each other, some of us have history, some of us have nothing at all. But it only takes one thread to bind people.

So you can kind of see how I'd be skeptical. People have played crueler jokes. And this stuff just doesn't happen. Not around here.

So far, rumors say that he got hit by a car near the mall. Another says that he died in his sleep, which is scary. Cause he's our age. Maybe even younger. I think he skipped a grade or two.

There's nothing about it anywhere. Sunday is a silent day for news and the like.

No, I don't need condolences. I hardly knew him. Doesn't mean I don't feel anything for it all, but really, I can't say anything. I have nothing to say. It's sad, but I'm not hurting. I'm more scared than anything, to be reminded that this kind of stuff happens.

No, it's those who were actually friends with him that need the condolences and the support.

It's a crazy world out there. It's sad that the young and the great and the hardworking don't always get to live it fully.

The Failure of Prince Charming

The streetlight reveals her tragic face, the rain plasters her hair to her coat. Cold water drips down the back of my shirt and the wind makes me shiver, but I don't move. I can't move. It's not right to suggest the search for warmth.

It's times like this that make you remember that the world isn't fair, and no matter how many times you assure yourself that you'll do what you want and no one can stop you, there's always something that can stop you. Something that will crash on you and leave you stuck where you hate it most.

But this is different. Because it's not just a reminder, a warning, a scolding. It's not something I can just shake off like I've done before, saying that it won't ever be me. Like those times where you say you believe it, but deep down, or not so deep down, you don't believe it will ever happen to you.

This is different. It hits me right in the heart. I can't look away, believe that it won't happen to me though I hope beyond hope it doesn't.

"There's nothing I can do. I'd give everything up, everything, but I can't. And it kills me."

Heartbreak. That's what is on her face. Pure, but not simple.

"What am I supposed to do?"

I wish I knew. I wish I had an answer she could deal with. But there's nothing. She's trapped, and the only way, the only way, she can get out of it is if her prince comes and saves her.

But her prince isn't coming. He never will. We both know it, but we dance around the truth because neither of us can afford such a pricey thing.

The classic fairy tale with a dark twist, an impossible circumstance, and a player who doesn't wish to fill his part.

When we dreamed up our paths to happily ever afters, we never thought it would go this wrong.

Just An Idea

I have to wonder what my friends think of me going to counseling. Wonder what others think.

Xandra supports me fully, and doesn't think anything off about it. She's been there 100% from the start. That and she's not really in a position to criticize, not that she would.

But what of Abi? or Jules?  They've got such normal lives... What do they think?

I won't ever know, but I'd like an idea...


Okay so I'm supposed to write a reflection. Or, I've been suggested to. I don't have to do anything, that's been clear. So I'm going to write it here because this is the only way it's going to get done, and whether I publish it or not, well, that's up to me.

Why am I avoiding this? I don't know. I had writers block till Friday-ish. But then I just avoided. I guess I've never been good at normal reflections, which is strange since I guess a lot of what I write on here can be considered a reflection.

All I know is that ever since Rebecca pointed out that a lot of my mannerisms that I've pretty much put in the box of "What I Just Am" might be better put in the box of "What My Parents Made Me Be," I've been analyzing a lot of things. Mannerisms. Quirks. Fears. Etc. Etc.

And I could be totally off. Or I could be totally right.

Like how I'm always paranoid when I go into a store that I'm going to be accused of shoplifting, even though I'd never do such a thing, and there's nothing I'm doing that would make me suspect to such a thing. But I get accused a lot at home for doing something or meaning something I didn't do/mean. And one of the biggest things is the possibility of the person accusing me not believing my innocence. My parents won't even listen to me if they think I've done something. I'm guilty and if I'm proven innocent, they still don't retract anything. Don't say sorry, don't acknowledge it at all.

Made a list in the session too. A drawing of me in the center (I did a stick figure. I kind of debated on making one of my not-so-good chibi-esque drawings, but I didn't want to waste time, and what if it turned out suckish?) and then words/phrases that describe how everything going on makes me feel. I didn't get much at first, but then Vanessa began to read a list of all the general feelings people get, and the page started filling up really fast. Apparently we're not even done half the list yet, and from what I can remember, there's not all that much room.

So I've been thinking a lot lately, obviously. Not sure what my conclusion is. But I've also been looking at some sites. Most deal with abusive relationships in dating, so it kind of annoys me that a lot of it needs to be stretched to apply to my situation, or doesn't apply that much at all.

No matter how I feel beforehand, though, I feel better after. Even if I bawl my eyes out. Maybe especially then.

Not sure what else I'm supposed to write in such a reflection so... This is it, I guess.

Tension Remains


Not quite blowing over easy right now. But died down. Mainly cause there was a lost dog and my mom was forced to talk to me.

I'm still hated though. I'm just not on freeze out.

And tomorrow is the annual marathon penny sale, which I tend to go to because I like penny sales (though I like working them more than just sitting around waiting for my number to be called). But this time it will only be my grandma and the threat of the public seeing just who my mother is that will be protecting me.

Tough decision.


So I had a dream about me being in the middle of an earthquake. Then I woke up.

Maybe it's weird that I would want to have stayed asleep though I was totally panicking in my dream, rather than wake up to reality.

But this is normal for me.

Someone's chasing me with a gun, I have to save the world and am failing horribly, one of my closest friends has turned into a monster.

I'd like to see the ending, please.

Who do I take that up with?

and I barely said a word

Felt the explosion coming, got to see it first-hand, and I'd be a liar if I wasn't hoping for it.

Cause I think what's worse than the explosion is knowing it's coming, just not knowing  when. So you're walking on eggshells, starting off softly, and then stomping on them, cause you know it's coming and you should try to wait it out, but it's getting to the point that you can't wait. You can't have this lion stalking you for who knows how long, so you turn around brandishing a knife every few steps.

Don't want to be caught unawares, now.

Which is why I shed few tears today. Cause I was ready. I was kind of worried that it wouldn't come, actually, and I'd be one of those people who overreact and overemphasize the small things.

If I think about it too much, if I think about all the things she said, all the things she's done and threatened to do. Well, I might cry.

So I won't think. I'll shut down cause I have no other way to go.

It's normal to wish that everything that happened was physical instead of mental, apparently. Well. Yep. That's me. Right now, and so many times in the past.

At least then I wouldn't think I was insane, that I actually deserved this.

And here come the tears. So I'm going to end this post here. I wish I could end everything else here too, but life doesn't work like that.

Friday Nights

It's one of those things I should have seen coming. But I didn't want to think about it because it'd just hurt the same either way.

So I'm just waiting for Sunday to come, cause I know that it will take more than a night for it all to blow over.

I'll Fall Asleep Content Under The Setting Sun

Went to the Royal with Alex.

Completely and totally awesome. Greater than the last time, for sure. (It was a long time ago anyways, but still)

I would say I think I'm getting to the point of not missing yesterday's too-blue sky...

But I won't. Cause then I get screwed.

But let's stay happy?

I got a cowgirl hat, as weird as that sounds. I love it. And Alex and I had the greatest time ever. Superdogs is awesome too. And Ian Miller. I hope he won, we had to leave before the International Jumpers ended, but the whole crowd was holding their breath while Ian Miller went over those jumps- and didn't knock one.

Totally worth it, even if I didn't get to write a single word today. Maybe especially because of that.

And I love riding trains officially right now. First time was today, how awesome/sad is that?

Braided my own hair today, to get the real cowgirl look. First time I've done pigtails. Probably the first time I've braided my hair well. I suck at braiding

Now... good night. Sleep tight. Drift off to the moon's lullaby.

The Risk of Telling You

If I told you the truth. If I told you my past. If I told you what makes me lie awake at night as I struggle to sleep, what makes me bolt so quickly out of my rabbit hole, what makes me believe that sometimes I really am useless.

Would you believe?

And if you believed, would you care?

And if you cared, would you be shocked?

And if you were shocked, would you tell me there's worse out there?

And if you told me there was worse out there, would you still hold me as if this was the worst thing in the world?

And if you held me as if everything I just told you was the worst thing in the world,


What then?

And what if I told you it all, and you didn't believe, or you didn't care, or if you weren't shocked, or if you didn't tell me there was worse out there, but still held me as if it was the worst in the world (because at the time, it was, to me)...

What then?

What could I do?


I don't always get everything right. I can't always stand up and hold a strong front. Sometimes I trip, sometimes I stumble, sometimes I fall. I don't always do the good thing. Sometimes I know exactly what "the road to hell is paved with good intentions" means.

There are some days I cry into my pillow. There are too many days that I hold my tears back.

The darkness both comforts me, and shows me just how lonely I am.

But I'm me. And I'll keep walking forward, I'll do what I have to do, I won't look back. I'll get where I'm going and I won't give up because of those who say I can't do it.

After all, once I leave here, I won't have any place to go back to. I refuse to fail- I can't afford to.

It's going to be hard, and it's not going to suddenly get easier, but I'll make it.

A Promise to Change

There's just something I want you to promise me. Please?

Please don't believe that you know everything about me. That you know who I am.

If you do... I'll be scared to change. Scared to let you down.

And, could you please promise me this, too? I know, it might be too much to ask you for two promises but...

Could you promise me that if you do believe, somehow, that you know who I am, the kind of person I am, that you won't hate me when I change?

Be careful, though. It's an easier promise to make than to keep.

What It Takes to Be Strong

You build me up. Make me think I'm perfect.

Then you tear me down.

I'm not who you expected me to be. I'm not the girl you see in anime. I'm not the girl who can go through everything with a smile and a laugh.

Some things, they get me down.

But I know what strength is. And it's not always smiling, deluding yourself that everything is okay.

It's knowing that not everything is okay, but you can and will get through it.

And when you just can't believe in that anymore, strength is when you ask for someone to help you out. To remind you that you can do it. To cheer you from the sidelines.

Strength is the ability to be that person on the sidelines for someone else, even if your life is in the gutter, and to be there wholeheartedly. It's not expecting someone to be better than they are- it's knowing that they're trying their best to be them, and helping them stay that way.

I'm not a great person. I'm a good person, and I'm a bad person. When I make or do something for someone else, I take in everything I possibly can and push out something just for them. But if I could, if I had the means, if I could erase all my ideals, I'd tear your wings off for this- for trying to tear off mine.

The Words I Need You To Say

Tell me I can do this.

Tell me I can do anything.

I can ace a thousand essays.

I can do what everyone thinks is impossible.

I can prove them all wrong.

I can surpass everyone else.

I can survive.

I can follow my dreams, and achieve them as well.

And tell me that I will.

Because you're the only one who will volunteer that information.

And I'm not as invincible as I'd like to seem.

I'm the amount of invincible that's unstable and likely to explode.

So please.

Tell me this, because you care, and somewhere in you, as realist and reality-prone as you are, you believe in dreams and dreamers.

You believe in people like me.


The last time my life was normal? I don't know what you mean.

Perhaps last summer, at one of the last sleepovers with the two people I thought of as sisters. Yes. That's before everything changed.

Then it went all tilted and skewed. I was friends with people I... how do I put it? I didn't like, didn't trust, but decided to give them yet another chance.

But they were different than the others, you know? The others, they had actually been my friends, and we had gotten to that point of... I don't know... before it went sour yet again. It was different. I can't explain how, but you'll just have to trust me.

Why trust me?

Cause I know myself. Or at least, I know myself a lot better than I did.

But after that, nothing was normal. Or, should I say, nothing was mine.

Not as in I owned it. Just that, I guess things did come to a certain pattern that could be considered "normal." After a few months, I could expect another sleepover on this weekend, which would most likely be accompanied by loud music or alcohol or both. Or there'd be a party that weekend, where it'd all get a little out of control (compared to other parties) or a lot out of control (compared to "normal").

Is predictability the same thing as normal?

But it got "normal." This was Normal. But I didn't want it. It wasn't the normal I wanted. I threw it all away with a smile on my face.

And then I realized that by throwing it all away, it still didn't make it normal. Make it mine.

Staying, would this new predictability make it my kind of normal?

I guess that's the question, even though I don't want to risk everything of these months to find out.

Three months, and my fall from grace will be complete. They say the firsts hurt the hardest, right?

In three months, there will be no more firsts in relation to that chapter of my life.

Somehow, though, I don't think it will be quite that easy.

The Problem with Comfort

How did we get here?

How did it come to this?

There's certain things I can see in clearly defined steps. From A we did B and went to C and fought over E because of D and ended up here, at F.

Other things... not so much.

Yes. I do believe we're the strongest, and form the strongest of bonds, when life is at it's worst.

So is that what happened?

We got too comfortable in the clouds that we forgot how to fly, and plummeted when a stray wind took that cloud from beneath us?

Now we're here, back at square one, except the staircase to the sky is long gone. Invisible, or maybe not even there, like in the midst of the last crisis, when I had someone else, not you.

There's no neat ABCs that led us here. Only JFVs. The new, messed up alphabet that defines our present, past and future.

The sky was nice, the sun warm, the clouds soft. Now we've got to decide if we've all got what it takes to get back there together and whole, or if we should just lug as many pieces as we can into our own skies, and each leave this part of us on the ground.

What is it?


So what's going on?

Decided I'm not being a pastry chef anymore. This is part of the problem right now. No one is too impressed with me. Or at least, no one in my family. Even though I'd be getting a higher education than I'd be getting had I continued.

I'm going to become a museum curator. Which requires a master's degree.

My mom doesn't believe I can do it.

My dad doesn't even act like he cares.

My brother says it sounds boring.

Very supportive family.

Oh well, I'm getting to the point that I honestly don't care. Mind you, I'm not there yet. Just that it's getting there. Sometimes, I can't even make myself care about what my parents say, do, think.

And I have my first personal counselor therapy appointment on the 4th.

My ex-best-friend's birthday. But that's okay.

No, really, it is.

Okay, ask me on the 4th. I might have a clearer answer.

But I am excited.

Parents don't know. That will be a... well, let's just be truthful here, shall we? It's going to be a huge explosion of crap when it hits the fan. So I'm waiting on revealing that tidbit till I have all the means I need to get away from my house for a week or so.

Yep. That's a snapshot of my life right now.

Tell me something I don't know.

I hate dream killers.

I attempt to kill my own dreams enough. Luckily, they don't stay dead.

So I have a very short temper for those who don't believe, in themselves or in me.

If you've got something against my dreams, go to hell.

If you've got something against your own dreams, shut yourself up and be brave enough to make them come true. Prove yourself wrong.

Everything worth anything is going to be a fight. I don't need you telling me how impossible or difficult it will be, I already know. And you don't need yourself saying the same thing, cause you already know.

I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairy tale

Dead end after dead end. Horrible experiences all along the way.

I bury my head in my hands time after time and wish life was simpler, better, easier. And each time, I tell myself that life is this way for a reason. I just wish it wasn't, you know?

I wonder if all this crap happening to me while I'm young means life will be smooth sailing in a few years.

Doubtful, but there's where my hope goes.

Drag your feet out the door

I've decided I don't like the Real World.

Give me back my childhood.

I swear it was stolen from me.

I curse all those people who lied and said this would be fun.

Replay. Replay. Replay.


Saw a walk-in counselor today. Was told this all isn't my fault. I have every right to be upset.

I hear these things from my friends, but it's not the same, you know? Your friends are generally going to take your side on these types of things. But when someone professional says it, someone who doesn't have personal ties to me or my family, well, it makes things seem a little more... true?

Took me a while to accept the word "abuse" when it was put in terms of my life. I thought it wasn't that bad, but it wasn't until I started talking and then everything spilled out, things I didn't even think about anymore, that I realized just how bad it was.

Yep. And my parents don't know a thing. I'll have to tell them eventually if I keep going or if I join this group the counselor wants me to, which seems like a great idea. Don't know how they'll react to that. Probably blow up.


Complicated. As always.

Can't Do This Anymore

I don't know if I can do this anymore.

I know I should suck it up. Put on a stone face. Refuse to give in. Be strong.

But I'm breaking. I'm breaking all around. I can't cry because if I cry I am scared I'll never stop. But I can't hold myself together for much longer.

I have nowhere to go. No plan. No way to do anything. I'm more trapped than I ever realized.

Suck it up. Be stronger than I really am.

I don't know what to do, and I'm losing hope. I just don't know.

In one night, I am almost 1/6th the way to a month's riding come February. You probably did the math right.

9 hours at work. I hate weddings, especially insane ones where courses are spread out over eight hours. I like my supervisors, who let me go home when they realized I had 3 hours of sleep, and had to get up early to work again tomorrow- my *favorite* day (sarcasm heavy), Sunday Brunch.

Hopefully tomorrow doesn't make me want to give up my dream of being a pastry chef, like last Sunday did.

I'm tired. I'm going to bed.

And I have a new "work-friend" who's planning to have 300-400 people at her 17th birthday party, which she will be renting out one of the most expensive halls in the area. She has yet to choose.

Makes one feel poorer than dirt. But in a happy, cheerful way.

Absolutely divine.

Oh Insomnia, How I Hate Thee

Who needs sleep?

Well... I kind of do.

I really hate insomnia. Hate it. Despise it. And anything that could help me get over it (that doesn't include sleeping pills), the cost is just...

Not what I can handle.

Besides, I need to start saving up for riding lessons, which, if I want to compete in jumping class next season, I'll be riding three times a week and it will be costing me something like 600$ per month, including gas (though I have yet to get experience with driving and gas and all that fun fun stuff, so it's a guess in the dark).

Well I guess there's nothing else to do with my time or money (insert snort here).

Today will be interesting on no sleep.

For Being You

I can't say it enough, but thanks.

Thanks for understanding. Thanks for telling me the truth.

Thanks for being you.

Because I don't know what I'd do if you didn't do these things and more.

So, thanks.

Defense Maneuvers

I like to think we deserve each other. That I actually deserve someone like you, and that you equally deserve someone like me.

And I also like to think that I'm fully healed, as if I can trust completely again. Because I've always been able to trust completely, though you don't know that yet.

But I can't. I like to think that you will never hurt me, and honestly, you seem like a great person who never would hurt me. It's somewhat a good thing that I want to trust you, that a part of me believes I can trust you. But still, I can't. I can't afford to. People chance in front of my eyes, and I don't know where you'll be if things get rough.

Or when things get great.

I don't know where you'll be. And I want to know, though I won't be able to do anything with the information.

So I know you could do better, but I desperately hope you don't.

Sorry. My apologies. I never mean to hurt you, but I just can't trust you to think the same.

Best Friends Forever

If two people agree to be best friends forever, for life, no matter what happens, and they eventually break apart, are they suddenly not best friends forever, were they never true best friends, or will they always be best friends because of that oath, even if theey don't act like it?

What is a true best friend? We say we'll be best friends forever to so many people in one lifetime, maybe what a best friend forever is is someone who you felt was great, and ended up being someone you can't look in the eye because they hurt you so much. Maybe that is the definition.

If so, I don't want any more best friends forever.

Field Hockey

I miss field hockey. Like, I really miss it.

I tend to get off easy the 8-10 other months of the year (depends if there's summer practice I was never invited to, and if the season runs late) and forget about how much I loved it, minus the back pain.

But then September rolls around (or August, that's even more painful since when they started such practices, I was never informed, never invited) and I'm reminded about how much I love the sport, hate the people and the coach. Kind of sucks living right beside a high school for this reason.

I still have the stick, the cleats, the shin pads, the everything, somewhere. Scattered through the house. I still remember the drills and the passes and my goals that I guess weren't as appreciated as I thought.

But more I remember the people, the coach. How because I didn't suck up to the people who were the coach's best pupils, I was hardly ever played (I'm not even joking, this coach has a long, solid history of doing this and worse). How I was supposed to know how to play on the field no problem when they played me once out of nowhere, and then never again. How that stupid #@$!% who I've never gotten along with thwacked me hard with her stick on stupid practice, for no reason I can really remember except that we hated each other.

And a bunch of other unpleasant things.

So even if I still could join up (I can't, not in the school anymore) I wouldn't.

As Xannie says, "It sucks when it's the people and not the sport that drives you away."

Indeed. And there's no field hockey clubs around here, and I'm not sure I'm confident enough to join if there was one.

Forgiveness is a Virtue, isn't it?

I'd forgive you, I would.

I'd forgive you, I like to think.

I'd forgive you... maybe.

I'd forgive you- in time.

Hm... How about we don't count on the forgiveness, and just try to live without?

I think I'd live happier, not forgiving you. And as for you, well, I'm pretty sure I'd have to forgive you to let myself figure out how you might feel.

And that's just not going to happen.

Second Chances

Is it you that I want to give a second chance to, a second chance to prove to me that you're worth my time, worth the pain you've caused and always will cause, worth the sinking feeling in my stomach that shows up whenever I think to forgive you...

Or is it me that I want to give a second chance to. A second chance to be who you want me to be, instead of who I really am. A second chance to do things right by you instead of right by me. To do things differently, to change myself into someone I hardly know, just for a bit of nostalgia?  To feel loved by someone who was supposed to love me unconditionally? Who I always thought loved me no matter what?

And if I gave either of us a second chance, well... it's kind of sounding as if it'd just be a repeat. A second chance to do the exact same things we did the first time.

So what's the point?

The Gold at the End of the Rainbow

I'm familiar with things that are too good to be true.

I'm familiar of the feeling you get when you try to grab onto them and they slide through your fingers.

I'm even more familiar with the feeling you get when you reach for them and feel the teeth of a poisoned barb in your palm, and the poison spreads to your heart.

I'm also familiar with the last minute feeling of Oh no, just as you reach from safety into the land of no turning back.

And I know as I continue on this path that this is too good to be true. I should turn away now, it's too thin of a line to follow and leads to gold that probably isn't there. That in all rights, shouldn't be there.

But I'm so desperate for company, for something perfect, for something good, that I can't turn away.

Now I'm just waiting for that feeling of reaching too far, leaving safety and grasping for what I need so much, but will feel that familiar prickle of everything going wrong.

Because I don't think this will be one of those times that everything will just simply slide through my fingers.

Desperation does funny, hurtful things. And I'm hoping beyond hope that this time, this isn't too good to be true.

Maybe a comfy desk job would be better for me...

So. Much. Pain. I don't think my feet have ever hurt this much.

Took over most of the pastry line today. A little insane since it was the weekly Sunday Buffet, which means the work never stops, cause you have to keep everything filled up as completely as possible.

And, you know, since it was only my 3rd day, and my Supervisor left me to handle it all.

So. Ow.

But apparently I did a great job.

Dear Those Who All Come After,

It is depressing to realize that I cannot risk depending on someone to be there for any long amount of time. I'm still scared to grow attached, because I can't afford to have anything be taken away from me. Because in my mind it will be, and I'll be watching sandcastles being washed away by some tidal wave.

So to all those who come after, I'm sorry, but I just can't grow attached.

You won't always be there for me. One day we'll grow apart, or break apart, and I don't want to go through that again. Disagree as much as you like, but one day our castle will be nothing but simple sand laying on the shore, nothing left to show what it once was.

Hope in the Unchanging

It'll never be easy. No matter what I do, some things will never change. My skin, my memories, my mind, it's all a scratch pad. There's no eraser.

But maybe there isn't supposed to be an eraser. Maybe some things aren't supposed to change.

Maybe what you are has never changed. Perhaps you've always been this way, but we both covered you in glossy paints and decked you out in pretty pearls.

And maybe I'd like to think it that way- even if I have to blame myself for painting you as something you never were. Because maybe it's too hard to think that you were always changing and I just never saw it.

Round and Round Again

It's depressing, that this has all come back down to this.

Me, running for freedom in the middle of the night.

Running away from yelling and unfair accusations, running away from the inability to get a word in edgewise and the knowledge that even if I do, it doesn't matter at all.

It's funny though, how things come somewhat full circle, but it's so different.

I didn't run to the safest place I could find, the predictable place, the place where I was unsure if anyone would answer the door and let me in.

I ran to a pretty dangerous place, an unpredictable place, a place that I knew I'd be allowed in, despite everything.

They were the same place.

Her house.

So surreal, seeing how completely I've been replaced. And yet, it's still incomplete. Because I had too big of shoes to fill. I left a gaping hole in the tapestry of that whole... thing. And they tried to fill it up with going all out, overdoing, overcompensating. And they still came up short.

It's a bitter type of amusement. This whole situation is.

And I don't regret a thing. Isn't it strange? You'd think I'd regret something, anything. But I don't. I don't regret a thing...

Perhaps I am simply too tired to care. Or maybe I really don't care.

If anything, this whole experience has solidified my no-regrets thing.

But I just want to put it out there, because I need to tell someone- I wasn't a mess. I didn't broke down. I was happy, for the most part, this time around.

But it doesn't mean that I wasn't sad, that I didn't care, that loneliness and despair and disappointment wasn't about to crush me any moment.

I just... ignored it. I pushed it away whenever I felt it. I occupied myself with other things.

So... There's a difference between being happy/bold/nonchalant/strong and pushing things away constantly so they don't hurt you as much.

Just as you can't describe exactly what loneliness feels like, you can't describe this kind of thing.

Time Machine

It's hard, okay, how I always seem to compare this year to last year, and see everything changing. I don't regret it, none of this. But it's different. Really different.

And I realize that if I had made one decision differently, everything would be different right now. Not that I want it to be, but I would like to see how it would work out, you know?

It's conflicting emotions, and I hate it.

I wouldn't change anything, but I still wish I could relive the past, if only for a little bit. Maybe test out a few different choices.

I'm Okay

I don't know what to say.

It happens more often than you think. For someone with so many words clogging up her head and so much desire to just have them all out there, I seem to never know what to say.

So, bear with me.

There's ups and downs to life. Obvious. I know. And I know that with everything that happens, there's a good point, and a bad point. And I like to believe that if they're not equal in measure, the good point will reach above the bad. Quite possibly, this could be me deluding myself. But hey, let's just stick with it, because it's cheerful and it's peppy and it's something that I rarely seem to see in myself.

Not to say I'm totally negative, but let's face it- I'm not the most optimistic fish in the barrel.

I call it realism, you call it "how did she ever survive without happy pills?" To-mate-oh, To-mah-to.

Everything has a reason for happening. I believe this too. How can I believe this when I don't believe in a god? Good question, but it makes sense in my mind. And again, it's that cheerful, peppy part of me that we're just going to accept. Got it? Good. Here's some cookies, because I like you so much.

But despite these safety nets, I'm not immune to negative bouts where I wish ___blank____ never happened. I think if you look back, that is evident.

But right now I think I'm getting to that point where not a lot of memories make me want to reverse time and change things, or live the "good life" all over again. And even though  I've spent the last forever saying that I wouldn't change a thing, it's somewhat like, though it was true before, it's even truer now. Solid true, instead of a wavy cloud blanket of true, changing and disappearing and reappearing at the wind's wish.

I've come a long way. I've made new friends, solidified old friendships, found out what it means to be free, what it means to be in something healthy. I'm scared out of my mind at times, but those things that used to send me into a panic don't anymore. To let the good times keep rolling and not look at the upcoming end- it was the right thing to do. Because I thought I was going to be alone, I did. But now I'm not, because it worked out. I made it work out.

And it's not perfect. Quite possibly, it will never be perfect. I'm more wary of things looking to be perfect and smooth, because I've found that there's a long way to fall when it all cracks apart, and it will crack apart.

I'm okay. And to any of you who were holding out on making sure I was okay, and to know I really meant it when I said it, well... I think now is that time. Thanks.

I might have not found my reality yet, or maybe I have but haven't realized it, but... I'm okay. I truly think this.

Tomorrow will be another day. Something will go wrong, but something will go right, too. And for some reason, I don't think the lesson all these months were trying to teach me was to stay scared in a little box, trying to be perfect to everyone outside, but shattering to pieces inside. I've got to reach out, to take leaps I'm not sure where I'll land. Some people will call me crazy, but I think that's the way I am.

I jump, I leap, I worry and look into the fog, hoping to see a glimpse of the land I'm stepping onto, but I know I can't always do so. So I go for it. I guess that's been part of my nature all along.

So... thanks. All of you. And me. Because I've got to give myself some credit.

Distorted Memories

It's hard to believe that, when you look at me with those eyes, that you don't remember anything that counts.

You see the days melding into one other. You hear the words in random succession. You remember the smiles, the laughs, the tears, the anger in all very general terms.

They could be anyone's sunshine. They could be anyone's jokes. They could be anyone's rainy day, and anyone's inferno.

But you don't feel my hands holding you up. You don't see my efforts as I tried to pave the way- your way. You don't hear my words encouraging you to reach past the stars, because the stars aren't good enough for you. You don't remember the times you woke up in a bed not your own, and happier for it.

And I don't see how this is possible, but it seems that it is. And honestly? I don't know how to feel about this all.

But just so you know... Though you may have forgotten, though you may have distorted, I have not.

August 29

I'm counting down the days. Or, well... Not the days. Not exactly.

I just feel the end of summer coming. And it seems kind of silly at first, because for me it's not the end of summer. Summer keeps going, on and on. It fades into autumn, then to winter, and then to spring. And then summer comes again. That's when it ends. A year away, this endless summer will end.

And I hope it does this time.

So... why am I seeing the end, feeling the end, mourning the end? The end that's not there?

Because, though it's not there for me, it seems to be there for everyone else.

I should rejoice, but I can't.

Lucky me. Lucky, lucky.

Not really. Not as-of-late. I just don't feel it.

And thus far, I have nothing to pass the time. Isn't it silly, how I've wished for so many things, but once they happen its like "Oh no, what've I done?"

I got a full time job, one I've been wishing for, and then I realize just what that means. No time.

I quit my other job, just to realize that shoot, I had it good there and I'll miss it.

Then I lose them both, and, well, just to say the least, I don't know how I feel. Or, rather, I feel lost.

Lost, and maybe a little unwanted.

Of the Kitchen

Eventually, there comes a time where there's nothing left but to sit on your kitchen floor, back against the fridge or the cupboard or the stove, head tilted back, and admit to yourself that you're not perfect, you're not supergirl, and you never will be. And it's alright. Because it has to be.

Even when my bedroom is lit softly by my lamp, and my bed is all made and everything is in it's place, I still come, at the dead of night, and fewer times in the bright light of day, to the kitchen where there are usually piles of dishes and the stove is cold and there's possibly nothing here for me at all.

And I sit. And I don't know why. I just sit, and I cut off hunks of cheese or eat a container of sprinkles, and I watch my cats wondering why I'm here...

And I know, each time, that it is not my last. Most likely, I'll keep coming into the kitchen for these odd, quiet times that no one else seems to understand. Even when I leave this house for one of my own.

Perhaps one day I'll put in a plush chair. Most likely, it will sit unused.

Of John's Pride

Called EA back, talked to Alice, whom I texted early the morning before asking if it'd be possible to get my job back. She told me she was going to work on John, but I heard her boyfriend in the background saying that John had hired someone else.

After a day and a half, he hired someone else. Quick one, he is.

But Alice was going to fight for me.

Got a message today from Denise that didn't say it straight out, but implied that John was too prideful to take me back, even though I, along with Alice and Denise, am the hardest worker.

And Alice, probably even more pissed at her father (John) (as she has been for weeks) picked a fight with the "manager" (who does nothing but sit on her butt). They're all threatening to leave now.

I still have no job, though.

And I was a favourite of Alice's, so that explains any extra anger exuding off her.

Of Getting a Job, Quitting a Job, and Losing a Job

So I've been pretty MIA, haven't I? well, it's because I was applying for jobs, got an interview for a job, was told I would be hired for the job and they'd email me my schedule, quit my other job, and then, today, was told Nevermind, the new place didn't want/need me anymore.

And for some reason, I saw this coming. But again, it was like "Well, they told me they'd take me on, and everyone else is saying that they're just a little late, and who would do that? Tell me I'm hired then change their mind, especially after I quit my other job for them."

I guess these people were the type.

And now I just feel like curling under the covers and just sleeping, only waking up for riding and reading some good books, which I won't even afford to get so... nevermind.

I should probably see if I can get my job back, but I was so excited to get my weekends back, and to be able to go up to the cottage for once, because I haven't been since February, and one mini trip in March.

And I should probably go back to the job I quit, and I would, but in three weeks everyone's planning to quit so I'll be slave driven into doing every possible shift.

So I guess it's no boots I desperately need (because I can hardly ride with half chaps that just fall down because I'm too tall for them), no books I really want to read, no presents for my family, nothing, until I get a new job. I'm hanging onto my riding payments because in November I'm stopping.

At least I learned my lesson. Or something.

Of Security

I think there's something negative to be said about friendships where you don't dare bring your lap top to a sleepover without a more powerful general password, time limit, and firefox password (oh, and every other type of password you can set).

And then you decide to sacrifice the possibility of writing anything because you don't think these security features will be enough.

Yeah. There's something to be said about that. 

Of Cheerful Indifference

For Tai Chi, we're supposed to be in a state of "Cheerful Indifference."

It seems so odd at first. But I realize I'm in this state a lot. Especially when I'm laying on my bed, writing on my lap top, listening to various music, and eating something that doesn't take too much work.

It's like, it doesn't matter if my dad and I are fighting again, it doesn't matter that I'm possibly just being used to make some people feel a bit better in their conscience, it doesn't matter that my search for an apprenticeship is a hard and grueling task. A lot of things don't matter. I'm indifferent. I'll figure it out later, right now? I'm just going to chill.

Of Body Image

From the moment a few days after my Grade 8 graduation, when my mom pointed out that I looked fat in my dress, it's been a long journey to self-acceptance.

For someone who, before that moment, didn't care what she wore and had been told all her life she had the body of a model, and never worried about how she did my hair or wore make up as long as her eyes weren't too creepy-green, oh and figured the dark circles under her eyes were just permanent, well... Suddenly being thrust into the world of supreme self-consciousness wasn't just depressing, it was frustrating and terrifying.

It hasn't gotten any better, the bit of a bulge on my stomach. And it's pretty much in genetics, and I know now as I knew back then that my mom had no right to say a thing for various reasons.

But I like to think that I've gotten better. I've tried to fix it, really I have, but nothing works. I've probably cried over it a dozen times, and I've looked in the mirror and called myself ugly for it.

But I don't know. Recently, things have just snapped. Every once in a while I will look in the mirror or look at myself and just feel tired of it. Tired of being critical and hating my body and feeling helpless. And a few days ago I looked at myself and realized that it's quite possible I'll never get rid of the stomach I have, and it's probably genetic.

And though I don't particularly like how it looks all the time, and I see girls who are how I "used to be," I don't know... I'm getting used to it. I'm accepting it.

Just felt like I should write this out before I head off to Shoppers to get some Nerds candy for my brother's Welcome Home cupcakes (I had to force some creativity out of him, because all he wanted was vanilla cupcakes and regular icing!)

Of Meeting Half Way

For how well you claimed to have known me, how well you should have known me, you've been lying to yourself if you think I care enough to try fixing this all by myself.

Then again, you've always been lying to yourself, that's obvious.

But I still won't forgive you, and I won't walk any farther.

Because we agreed to meet half way, and I'm here, waiting for you, but no longer getting my hopes up.

On Why I Do What I Do

I rarely have a doubt in me being a pastry chef. Especially when I remember why I'm doing it.

I like making people happy. I always have. Even if I'm not always a happy person myself, I want to see someone who's crying smile again. I want to make someone's day brighter.

I can't become a doctor and save lives, I can't build someone a house and I can't always save people from accidents.

But when someone eats a dessert, there's something there wanting a smile. You can eat dinner and never smile and never want to smile, but when you reach for a cupcake or you order a cake, there's a smile in there somewhere, even if it's small. Even if you're buying it to get over a break up. You want to smile. You want to feel better. And dessert and pastries and chocolates- they help.

I want to make everyone who eats my pastries and chocolates and candies to smile, even if it's just a small one inside. I want them to feel better. I want them to have a good day.

Sometimes I lose sight of this, and I think I'll never make it or what's the point? But I find my way again, as sappy as that sounds.

Of Secrets

These secrets, like any secrets, could kill us.

These never-been-tolds, these Once Upon A Times without Happily Ever Afters, these deep hopes, these true dreams.

They could drown us, strangle us, leave us with nothing and nowhere to go.

Instead, they leave us looking up at the stars and moon in the middle of the night, and searching for these things in the middle of the day. They leave us wondering if we'll ever be free, and if we'll ever make more.

They leave us with the story on the tip of our tongues, wanting to whisper "Do you remember...?" and laugh out loud.

They leave us with a heavy heart, and even more of themselves, and no place to rest our weary wings.

On Instinct

Today I was dipping sample-sized apple slices in chocolate, and then in cinnamon. Denise's new boyfriend came in and so she offered him one.

"What is it?" he asked, and she told him to just eat it.

Right after she said that, I thought "What if he's allergic to apple or cinnamon?" and panicked for a minute, about to say that, but decided that she'd know/I was just freaking out because I happen to be allergic to everything.

Right after I dismissed the thought, I hear "Shit, that was an apple, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Why? It's good!" says Denise.

"I'm allergic to apples!"

It was weird. Weirder thing is, these types of things keep happening. Not the allergy warnings, but things like always picking the right number of fruit/skewers though I couldn't even know how much was needed, or I know when something's going to hit the fan right before, or a bit before, it happens. I know when people are lying to me even if it's totally believable. I know when people are hiding something from me.

It's just weird.

It's probably nothing. But it's still weird.

When Full Circle Doesn't Apply

I can't say I've come full circle, can I?

We grew up together, we broke apart, and we're back again, but it's me looking from the outside in.

She's in my place. She's your new Me. I wonder how that feels, for both of you. For all of you. To see her and to see me and to realize...

What? What do you realize? Because I'm really curious. What do you see when you see her instead of me?

I wouldn't be surprised if you said nothing. Because you're both a liar and blind.

But don't worry. I feel no resentment. I laugh. Because for once, looking from the outside in is actually a good thing. It makes me smile. It makes me laugh. It makes me spin and shout out gleefully what a world we live in.

Something you could never do.

Of Fears and Failure

So I've been thinking about fears a lot lately. Like, what is my biggest fear? And it's usually brought on by something irrational, I guess.

Example A- Yesterday I was reading this plot and pacing guide thing on WriteOnCon. Totally scared me and got me to thinking I'll never be a writer and I'll never get published and I'll die alone in a hole without anyone ever reading my writing and thinking "Oh my god, she GETS it." (or something like that)

And mainly because one of my stories right now doesn't have a main plot. Two of them. And the past ones failed (though they had plots...some of them).  Small plots, sub plots, sure. Not really a big defined, exciting plot.

Well I have a plot now. I feel better. But I guess that's always been a fear of mine since I started seriously writing (uhm... grade 8-ish. Maybe 9).

Exhibit B (whoa, I just switched there, didn't I?)- A week and a half ago I had a freak out because I thought I was never going to become a great pastry chef. I don't have a singular passion for it- I want to do everything. And you see all those famous chefs, and it seems like they live for food and only food. But I want to be so much else. I want to become a riding instructor. I want to go to school for Egyptology, and anything else ancient history-esque. I want to become a famous writer (could you tell?). I want to travel.

And so after crying about it and talking to a couple of my friends, about an hour later I was thinking up the whole Chocolate cupcake with raspberry-chocolate filling and lemon buttercream icing. Yeah. Figure that out and then tell me.

And then there's a bunch of small little freak outs.

So basically (wow, lately my posts have scattered points) I think I'm afraid of failure. Which Julia says everyone is. So I guess it's not abnormal. But a bit ago I had no worries, I had no doubts. And I guess it's the whole friends-going-off-to-university-and-I'm-well..


Of The New You

It's kind of hard knowing who you want to be, even when the world is telling you you're an adult now.

You do something once, and it seems that the whole impression of you that someone's had just... changes. Completely. They suddenly think that you want to be the "new" you all the time. They decide they like that You, and so they push it more and more. And when you say no, try to revert back, they don't believe it. They think they can push you into being the New You.

Because they like the New You better than they ever liked the Old You.

And perhaps, and I might be stretching it a bit to suit my needs, they don't want you to rise above them and say "This is me, the REAL me. I'm not the You everyone now wants me to be. I'm Me, despite you hating it."

Because they can't see how anyone wouldn't want to be them. Or how anyone can get out of being them.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just rambling. Maybe I don't have a point.

But I think I do.

Of Questions and Dreams

My life right now is a lot of what to say and who to say it to. What are the consequences? What are the pros?  If I say this to this person, will they or could they hurt me with it? How much do I give away? How much do I take?

Do I take this step? What could happen if I do? Pros and Cons, think about the Pros and Cons. Is it this person's time to make the move, or should I?

I try not to think about it too much. I don't really want to go into a depressive phase where dreams are too much better than reality.

They are. I feel that way now. But I still feel like there's a reason, a spark, in being awake. I want to keep it that way.

Of Drama and Doubt

So, everybody...

You can call me an idiot right now, though I gave that decision to some of my real friends and they said no, I'm not an idiot. The others are.

I've been regretting this friendship since an hour after it "started."

Rachel, the one who bugged me, insulted me, pushed me, and yelled at me for opting out of the NYC trip doesn't want to be my friend because of all the things I said to her. Me? I can't even remember what I've said, but I know she was doing most of the talking, trying to force me into things both when she was my friend and after we all split.

And as Sara's new BFF, well, she gets a good say in whether or not I'm "accepted" back into the group.

I had thought I made it clear when I agreed to a new start that I'm not going to be the same girl I was before, and that I am not going to be part of their exclusive group. I don't want to be Sara's best friend again, and I won't be the leader of the group, but I won't be led either.

I guess I didn't.

And Sara doesn't think there's the possibility of anything wrong going on between her and Rachel, like it had us. I don't know how to take that.

Last night, though, the drama started. Apparently I told Sara Michelle hate's Rachel, when I didn't. Yay.

I dispelled that rumor pretty quick, but there's more to come, I'm sure. And right now? I'm missing the no-drama days of a week ago.

Was this all worth it? I'm seriously starting to doubt.

On Fate and Reasons

I pretty much believe that everything happens for a reason.

Given that, I still don't try to think about it too much, because then I'd stand in one place forever, waiting for myself to make a decision that would be most fate-ish.

So I'm hoping the lesson I'm about to learn, or the reason behind this recent turn of events, is something less painful. I won't count on it though.

I still don't know if my last lesson was supposed to come with the no-trust clause, or if I took a wrong turn somewhere.

Of Trying Over

It's nice having some of my old friends back, despite everything.

There's the doubt still there, and perhaps it will always be there, but I think we can all do better.

Four of the five of us agree that we weren't as great of friends as we thought we were, and the break, though horrible for all of us (though I was right, I was the only one blamed for everything) was necessary to realize how fucked up it really was. As for the fifth person, well, what she knows is minimal right now.

Despite all I've been working towards these past months, I never got to the point that I could remember all the good things without a tinge of bitterness. The reminder was there- we'd never have more memories like that again.

Now it doesn't seem that way.

Not to say that there's not a lot to fix. There's a lot. And I'm not all sure it will work, but I'm hoping it will. I don't think I can handle another February right now. But I won't compromise myself to prevent it. If it's seriously not working, I'll pack my bags.

Of Rules

I'm not going to change myself. I've changed enough in the past half a year, and I like who I am now. I've worked hard to get where I am now. I don't want to revert back to someone who can't enjoy life without having nods from everyone.

I shall not lead. I am tired of leading. It is a lonely position, being at the top. And I've tired of it.

Nor will I be led. I will do as I wish, when I wish. If someone has a good idea, I will stand behind it. If the so-called "leader" has an idea which I do not like, I shall not stand behind it. It is that simple.

I am independent. I am not tied with a string to these people. I am not an elastic. I am me, tied to them by nothing but memories. And memories fade.

I can do without. I have done so once, and I have enjoyed it. If push comes to shove, I know I can live happily alone.

I will not spend all my time with them. I have a life independent of theirs. They will respect that, or see me off.

As well, I will not compromise my activities, emotions, well-being, and whatever else for these people. They've lost any hold they once had over me. This is from scratch now, and I owe them nothing, not even a missed Tai Chi lesson.

These are the rules. My rules. My safety. As well as many other small safety-nets. These people have not earned my trust or loyalty. They may never. Time will tell.

Of Perspective

Dear Diary,
I've made the worst mistake of my life.


Dear Diary,
I've made the best decision possible.


I don't know which one it is.

Of The Best Memory

I think I've said this before, but I think the moments I miss most of my past all happened last year when I ran away.

I ran to Josh's house, sobbing and probably scared the hell out of his mom and brother. We called around and texted and instant-messaged a bunch of people to see where I could stay. I was in a shirt too small and jeans I'd worn for something like three days straight. I thought I couldn't go to Sara's because it was too late at night and no lights were on.

We got a hold of Michelle and I stayed at her house that night, watching infomercials on repeat until we fell asleep side-by-side on her bed, and waking up not knowing where I was or what had happened.

And then I was told, sharply, by Sara that I should have come over and sought help there, because she'd never turn me away, no matter how late it was.

She proved me wrong. For the first time in a long time, and the last time in a long while.

They both did. They acted like the sisters we claimed to be.

And though it ended in something that makes me shudder even today, and even though after all that we just fell apart almost immediately following... Even though...

It all makes me feel happy, and later torn when I realize it's over. This will never happen again.

Strange how the worst times in your life can host the best memories.

And I wonder if anyone I know, anyone who remembers this, is reading this right now. One of those thoughts that I commonly wonder and worry about.

And I wonder if anyone is nodding along, or feels the tears at the edge of their eyes at the memory. Or if they're shaking their head and closing the window at this folly.

It doesn't mean I want this all back. I'm over wanting the past all back, because if this was the best time of the past several years, then there's something seriously wrong with this burnt picture, and I know what it is.

Still. I'd like to smile a little hesitantly and wave slightly at whoever is reading this. Now. Tomorrow. Late. Early.

It's 2:21 in the morning, Monday August 2nd. This, my dears, is what I think of when all defenses are down.

Of Blame and Faults

We are told we are blameless, then we are told we are to blame for everything inour lives. What is it? Other's decisions aren't our fault, and yet they effect our lives and seem to turn it all into something we're to blame for.

How do we know how much everyone is to blame? Is it 50/50? Or are we in the position to change this number where appropriate?

I'm looking at this all, and I know what happened and how I got here, where I am, sitting on this step and not knowing where to turn and alternately loving and hating it, but I don't know when this started. And it doesn't matter, not really, but it's like this big unknown that I really need an answer to.

I could blame a million people for everything that has brought me here, I would, given a chance, but I can't. But I can't see how this is all my fault, like I'm supposed to.

I'm putting two and two together, but it's not equaling four.

Is it my fault? Is it my fault that this all happened, because I'm me and I think too deeply, or is it their fault, for not being able to handle it? If someone's not necessarily nice to me, and I end it all, is it their fault for being as such, or is it mine for not being able to deal? I get two different answers, and a billion different answers, but it's basically the same question, isn't it?

Who is at fault? Who is to blame? And if there's two or three or four at fault here, who gets what piece of the blame? Who is qualified to judge such a thing?

Of Being Contrary to Popular Belief

Contrary to popular belief, I don't mind getting up in the morning as long as I've had good sleep. Which is hard to come by these days.

Heck, yesterday I was so tired, but at eight twenty in the morning, I just couldn't get enough of being outside so early, in the quiet, and just... enjoying it.

Until my ex boyfriend came by in his car and called out my name. Note that I was in Friday's clothes, and had Friday's hair (when I get my mom to braid my hair, and it stays in semi-tameness, I like to keep it in as long as I can as I love braids). Figures. Oh, and he's still an ass. A cute ass, but nevertheless...

I also enjoy, at times, reading happy stories. You know, those light ones with a happy ending. I'm not totally cold hearted. I just tend to lean towards the tragic and the gothic.

Oh, and one last thing. Contrary to popular belief, I really am not that much of a "bitch." You get what you give from me, it's something that runs in my family. Tones are a big thing, too. And, as the song goes, if you mess with me, I'll mess you up.

Of Fearing The Empty

You want to know a secret?

I'm scared of being alone. In more ways than one. But right now? I'm terrified of this house I'm in. Because I'm completely alone.

No, that's a lie. I've my two cats and three fish. But I doubt any of them would be able to be considered "Guard Cats/Fish."

I'm scared that someone will break in. I'm scared someone is looking through the windows. I'm scared someone is hiding in the shadows. I'm scared there's ghosts hiding downstairs, or just around the corner. I'm scared I'll see a centipede or spider and I won't be able to ask for someone to kill it. I'm scared I'll have a nightmare of any of the above. Actually, the latter three I'm scared of all the time, but it's heightened when I'm alone.

It's just not safe.

And since my brother and his friends saw that peeper outside the living room window back in April, I've been scared that he's going to come back. I want new curtains, since blinds just don't cut it.

I wish we had a second storey, cause I'm also afraid of being kidnapped. Through the window even. Like those two girls a couple of years back, one being dumped in the woods somewhere and one hacked into several pieces and scattered along the bayfront.

I'm scared of a lot of things, but whenever I am I just brush it off. I'm okay. I'm okay. Ha-ha, watch as someone breaks in. Isn't that funny?

Except it's not.

But I won't tell my parents because I'm an adult now, and they've got a cottage to go to, and I can't go with them because I've got work.

And I have to sleep in this huge room by myself, where there could be a sasquach passing by my window at any moment. Some hairy beast. That can't happen around here cause, well, someone would see him, it, her, and there's fences and raw wood and a lot of stuff. And I don't want someone telling me differently cause those are the things that keep me from crying.

And I won't tell anyone because I like being alone. I like having the freedom to blare music, or (as I normally do) sit around in the silence and enjoying it.

But this house just isn't safe.

So there's my secret. Care to share one of yours? I promise I won't tell.

Of Uncontrolled Temper

Honestly, right now, if this was a year ago, or worse- two or three years ago, my room would be smashed to pieces. Along with everything else in the house.

It's only because I've gotten a helluva lot better at controlling my temper that I have not hopped on a bus and rode it down to my cousin's house to punch him out.

But I'm more sensible than that now.

Somewhat. But a lot more than I was so-long ago.

Of Trusting Almost Everything

I'm going to hang out with one of my ex-friends. Ex-sisters. We'd been falling apart much before February happened. In all truth, we probably should have never been friends, let alone almost sisters. And yet, we were. Funny how that works.

We hurt each other. I know what much. What was said and what was done, it's all equal measure. We were crappy sisters and friends until the lights went out and we hugged our pillows to our chests and texted our biggest worries to each other, and replied in the same fashion.

How does that change? How does a person change from day to night, two completely different people?

But when there was no one other to talk to, and even when there was, we'd turn to each other, because we somehow understood each other. We were too alike, you see. Fire and fire only causes a bigger fire.

And now I can't trust her. I haven't in months. I don't. And part of me doesn't want to. I want to seclude myself, cut myself off from anyone who would ever have the means to use everything I've said against me. Especially when it comes to certain people.

So why did I agree to hang out with her, though almost everything is screaming alarm?

Because, I think, it's the fact that it's only almost everything. It's not everything. There's something there that doesn't scream alarm. There's something bigger there than a person who I know wouldn't say a word has in my mind. I trust him less than this ex-sister of mine. And perhaps it's just sentimental. But late in the night when I text her "Do you remember..." and it all feels like it once did... Well...

 And I sum it up to something more heartless because when I think about the risk I'm taking for a bit of old-times sake, I get a bit anxious. A bit run run run away. I sum it up to this, which is no less true; I need to start trusting people more, and if I don't give someone a chance to choose whether to hurt me or help me, then I am stuck where I am.

And I'm a stray, looking for other strays.