Maybe I need to get it out.

I have been having nightmares and inescapable memories. I can't fight them because I can't see them. I never know what the nightmares are, or the memories that keep me down. It's a bad feeling that floats through the back of my thoughts. They linger for what seems like eternity and then are gone. I'm so glad they leave, but it makes me nervous that they are present at all. I have been so well since June. I have been nearly perfect. But the winter is setting in, my mind can't be kept in my classrooms or study rooms. I sit for ages and think about everything but nothing relevant. I get flirty and flighty, looking for the rush. I want to socialize and fly. I hope I can survive this winter better than the rest. It would be a true test to my mental stability and so I am nervous.

I have an appointment with the CSU Counseling Center to get my Anxiety Disorder diagnosed so maybe I can keep it from affecting my academia next semester. I got accepted into Servant Leadership today which means 20 hours of Community Service next semester on top of whatever is remaining for my Honors required hours. I am taking 13 hours next semester and four of them are silly required classes that I feel will be easy, so I am really looking forward to it. I'll be on campus from nine to noon every day. I'll get to sleep past seven. =] Life is looking up and as it gets higher and higher, my fear of falling increases.

Forever your late angel.

I have been meaning to update for days, you will have to forgive me. The pictures I wanted to paint didn't come until yesterday.

It's only been two months, two measly, life-changing months. Two months of learning that not everyone sucks; two months of learning you don't have to be around people who make you feel bad; two months of realizing that most people don't think you're stupid, or ugly; two months of adventuring beyond the box of my small-town life experiences.

I am to a point where I can look back and see how impulsive it was, "Wanna go to Savannah? (@ 2 weeks)...Wanna go to South Carolina? (@ 2 weeks and four days)" All day hangouts, exercising, playing with our dogs, playing PS3 and making me watch Blu-Rays because my Hi-Def world was under-developed, but I said all this to say this.

I remember driving home from ATL after taking Cruz to the airport (after Savannah) listening to Matt's rock (? I suck at genres) music that was on the iPod I gave him (cause Ricky gave it to me) and thinking, "I know nothing about this boy, and he's not like one that I have ever found." I remember the exhilaration, and the fear, the knowledge that this was the fork in the road, and I was going one way without the slightest bit of thought because I was travelling towards safety. I was doing whatever I could to obtain that second basic primal need of all humans; security. Looking back, I am glad I didn't think about the turn I was making, because I would still be small, sad me, forever trying to overcome life. But now, even though he's leaving in a week for school, I am happy. I am truly happy, and even if he leaves for ATL and leaves me three weeks later. Even if it's sad and awful. I would rather have met him this summmer and learned all that he's taught me than anything else. If he leaves, it'll sting a bit, but having known him, was better than me - being me.

Caffeinated Days; Spooning Nights

I know if I don't post in here soon, Patrick will notice.

I don't want to take the time to articulate any thoughts important enough to put in this blog because all my deep thoughts lately are painful and numbing. Let me ignore them longer and then I promise I will pour them out to you in a well spun verse.

I just wanna run.

It's not hard to see. Or at least not to me. It's spiteful and disrespectful. It's calculated and planned. Every move I make is a test on them. To test their words. Their shallow speech. To remind myself that money and sweet moments aren't what makes a relationship, even one bound by blood. If you could love me when I'm ugly, love me when I dumb, love me when I am cranky and violent and when I have lost my will to live. If you could love me even if I smoked pot every day or wasn't perfect, that'd be great. But you can only love me when you have time. When you aren't needed elsewhere. When I am perfect. When I'm not putting periods at incorrect places and behaving irrationally. I will keep leaving town and keep being gone and keep putting you aside until I find a better way to articulate my resentment. I am sorry.

A Child Made of Glass

I could write you a terrible story.
I could write you a story about a lovely young woman who lives in a glass room.
She has hair to just below her breasts, a deep Southern tan, patient eyes, and the smile of a woman who knows she is being lied to.
She sits endlessly in this glass room.
Everyone watches, looks, and wants.
She burns incense, reads books, and listens to classical music.
She wastes her days in leisurely thought.
Daydreaming.
Everyone watches, looks, and wants.
People crowd the edges of her glass room.
Admiring her movements, her unique mannerisms, and her slim figure in denim cut offs.
Everyone watches, looks, and wants.
But no one sees.

It is a choice.

I will not focus on the past. I will be happy. I will do my best. Yesterday is gone, and today is here. I can only act so well with my limited knowledge. I will not judge. I will not hate. I will look after myself. I will enjoy the beauty of the day. I will try to develop some sort of compassionate feeling towards others. I will improve. I will move forward. I will not follow the usual path.


I will never be normal like you.

Fallen

It comes like a tornado - with warning, but very little. Stable for days, top-notch, on top, great. Then one thing here, and another there and I am faced with my lack of true role-models. The overwhelming ever present fact that my mother skipped me. The heavy weight of not being accepted by my childhood friends because I am not conservative or conventional. Hit with the knowledge that if I could, I would leave for a more secure family in a heartbeat, without a blink. I love my siblings, but I hate not knowing if they will respect me tomorrow. I just want affectionate, secure arms to spend a day in - where my thoughts are appreciated and cared for, where I am not called selfish for having feelings and needing care.

Yes, I understand that I am a grown woman, but my mother stopped seeing me when I was 16. I am missing a bit of development, be patient. I'm handicapped.