So the principal stopped me in the hall today and asked me about my decisions.
If I was the same person that she knew, "so focused", the girl that she saw as a future world leader.
She wanted to know if I was still the girl that was going to change the world...
She said she was there if I ever wanted to talk because she was worried about me.
She told me that I shouldn't let life get to me, that I could overcome it.
I'm sure that girl is somewhere within me, hiding under weed and depression.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
High Bunny
Say Hi, Bunny.....
It's like an anti-depressant for my major depression.
I do everything when I'm high, I dance, exercise, write, clean, i want to paint, and go out; do all the things that I'm too exhausted, groggy, unmotivated, and sad always to do.
I almost want to do my homework.
You know my heart has been broken for years....
It broke when Iva Smith died, when I was about seven years old.
She was like the Great Grandmother that I never had.
I never really had much family growing up, I had my aunt and cousins sometimes.
I kind of was raised by my Grandmother, she was the only person in the world who ever understood me.
She understood everything, after she died I was never the same.
But Iva Smith baked cookies with me, she gave me ice cream and dollar bills, she told me stories.
She lived across something resembling a field.
We all lived in duplexes, there were ducks when it rained.
There was an ice cream truck that came every afternoon in the summer.
There was afternoon tea, walks with my Grandmother and the French lady that lived down the street.
Sometimes I'd play with the kids in the complex, but none of them were my own age.
I hurt my tail-bone roller skating there once....
My Grandmother and me, we listened to Persian radio; she told me stories of growing up in Iran, of my mother as a child, of her life as a hairdresser and the wife of the Chief of Police (which was a very big thing), and of her first days in America during the Iranian Revolution.
We talked about music, politics, philosophy, she really was (although I hate to admit it) like a parent to me.
I cannot even begin to describe all the things she did for me.
My mom, I don't know why I don't remember much of growing up with her. She always had a joint in her hand...she was really pretty.
She had long, curly dark brown hair; tiger lily eyes (amber fading out to green).
She sometimes wore gold jewelry, but always wore gold cubic zirconia studs in her ears.
She wore a suit when she went to court; and then one day she was really sick, so she wore a vintage 'save the animals' t-shirt, plaid shorts, and flip-flops.
She always dressed like this, and she liked the beach.
She used to love expensive makeup and clothes, but that was back when she had more money.
She kept getting fired for not going into work, she was kind of abusive.
We got evicted a couple of times.
One time I spilled blue eyeshadow on my bed, she hit me.
She broke a brush over my head once, she used to throw things.
She used to drag me by my hair, and dig her nails into my leg until I was bleeding.
Sometimes I'd go to school with red marks on my face from her hand and my hair falling out all day.
She always felt bad afterwards.
I can remember a few good moments of her teaching me to cook, or talking with me, dancing with me, doing my hair and makeup.
When I was four years old we lived with her fiancees family, they had a golden retriever and I hated having my hair brushed.
She used to watch Lord of the Rings, Treasure Island, and Chinese Kung-fu movies all day.
I memorized every word to the first Lord of the Rings movie from watching it so many times as a kid.
I remember living in a trailer, and her best friend's house.
I grew up with her son (he's a few years younger than me).
Nothing about my childhood is linear, it's all mixed up, vague memories.
One time she cut my stuffed cat into little pieces because I accidentally woke her up from a nap.
She used to throw things out of the car window when she was angry (and high), I think the pot impaired her ability to think through things.
She did everything from her emotions, my Grandmother thought she was crazy or on drugs.
When I was very young and living with my Grandmother my dad used to spend a lot of time with me.
He took me to movies and fast food restaurants.
He's the reason that I'm such a nerd, buying me long fantasy books and playing video games.
I was a very emotional kid, as the years went on I saw my dad less and my mom more.
Finally we moved back in with my Grandma, and my memory is clearer from that point on.
My dad ended up having two sons with his wife (of three or four years).
I was ten, and my mom seemed to be gone a lot, I'm not really sure why.
Part of it was her meeting my step-dad, he didn't like her much.
Apparently my mom was more devious than I knew (but I've since learned much).
They somehow ended up married and living in my Grandmother's house.
She eventually kicked them out (probably for being crazy potheads).
I had gone through a depression through most of fifth grade, it got worse in the summer.
I'd stay up all night, sleep all day, never get out of bed to shower.
There were bunnies that lived near the house, squirrels too, I adopted a lizard once.
Kitties that lived in the parking lot, my best friend who lived up the hill, my cd player and my play station, my Greenday casette and radio, my books, my daydreams, and my mom's stoner movies.
I used to think that a vampire lived in the bathtub when I was little, I used to cry myself to sleep that summer in 2005.
In August I got on a plane to a little city outside of Austin, Texas.
I moved in with my dad, and I had a normal life for almost two years.
I missed the palm trees and 91X with it's reggae Sundays.
I missed the beach and my favorite pizza place, most of all I missed my Grandma.
Modare Joon is what I'd call her in Farsi (Persian).
She used to sing to me in Arabic until I'd fall asleep.
While I lived with my dad I did chores, earned an allowance, went to the mall with my friends, talked about guys, talked on the phone, played with my little brothers, did homework, went to the movies, went to church, joined choir, acted in the school play, did my hair, listened to music, ate junk food, had slumber parties, went to the park, bought gifts, walked around suburbia, went swimming, helped with boyscouts meetings, baby-sat, went to dances, sewed, hung out in other peoples' living rooms, went on dates, went to Birthday parties, opened Christmas presents, went to the library, painted, played with water balloons, baked cookies.....all that; a peaceful, perfect, movie scene life.
I rarely spoke to my dad, even though I was living in the same house.
I had a tentative friendship with my step-mom....though this was short-lived.
A lot of animosity grew between us the last few months that I lived with him.
Before I left California I wrote my mom a letter, I didn't talk to her for over a year after that.
I was such a good actress, pretending to fit in while I was in Texas.
And for awhile I started sleeping again (I had bouts of insomnia for a year or two before I moved in with him).
My mom got me a cell phone the Christmas before I left Texas, so I started talking to her more.
My mask began to come down, I missed San Diego.
There was tension in the house due to the inability to keep up my facade.
I ended up being kicked out a few months later.
My dad called my mom, my step-mom threw away my possessions, and the next morning I was on a plane to Houston.
From Houston I would go to San Diego, to my mother.
I left with no cell phone, two shirts, two pairs of pants, a blow dryer, a pair of socks, and my stuffed cat.
I stepped off the plane to see a woman foreign to me.
My mother, once beautiful, was overweight, wearing reading glasses that I remembered from my childhood, with dark circles around her eyes.
They had been homeless and in jail since I left.
My Grandmother sent my mom to jail, my step-dad had stayed in a mental asylum, they had lived in the woods after that; they were living in a small apartment near the mountains when I came back.
The first thing my mom did is take me to the beach to get pizza.
They had an orange tabby, and my new room was frozen in time.
I went through a severe depression when I came back; I hadn't eaten a good meal in probably over a month, I couldn't sleep, I developed an ear infection and became very sick.
I wore nothing but black.
I explained to my Grandmother that I didn't regret leaving, even though my mom was convinced that I was kidnapped by my Father.
I learned a lot while I was there, and had a lot of good experiences among the bad.
My step-mom threw away everything that I wrote while I lived there.
I didn't write for a year after I came back.
I didn't write 'til the day my Grandmother died.
I wasn't allowed to go anywhere, not even to my Grandma's house, alone.
My mom was paranoid, and OCD all the time.
She wanted everything clean, even she was clean.
She didn't smoke weed for two years.
She started after my Grandmother died.
The doctors gave her Xanax too, I think that they said it was a narcotic; to relax her, so she would stop crying.
Neither of us ever stopped crying.
She ended up addicted to Xanax, and two years later she became very ill while trying to get off it.
I have secrets that I can't say here, so many secrets.....
I used to get in physical fights with my mom during middle school and my first year of highschool.
She used to kick me out sometimes, and I'd disappear for hours.
I drank whatever alcohol was in the house, usually wine, and I wrote dark poetry.
I entered poetry contests on the internet, I got a Myspace, I stopped doing all the normal things that I did while living with my dad.
I had a lot of friends, but never hung out outside of school.
I had a few boyfriends, and I fell in love once.
Three days before my fourteenth Birthday I went out alone for the first time since leaving my dad's house.
I slept over at my friend's house, and I met a Sophmore in highschool.
He was the boy of my dreams, he gave me a gothic dagger for my birthday, he brought me a white rose, he watched the stars and the ocean with me, he carved our initials on the cliffs, he came to see me at every chance he got; he walked from the highschool to the middle school, just so he could walk me home.
My mother found out that the weekend I went to my friend's house that we had all gone to the beach.
They banned me from speaking to her, so we had a falling out.
My step-dad disapproved of the boy, so I broke up with him.
My step-dad is a violent, crazy war veteran; he's capable of all sorts of terrible things.
(I eventually developed a close friendship with him, weirdly enough)
The poor boy loved me and I broke his heart.
I still love him, I still see him occasionally, he never forgave me.
I went through a more catastrophic depression after our break-up.
A depression that hasn't lifted, four years later.
I started smoking weed Freshman year.
I started popping pills.
Throughout highschool I have had sex cross-faded, gotten alcohol poisoning at school, passed out on drugs at school, failed three classes, cried a lot, almost run away, acted in a play, written more than any sane person, had six boys fall in love with me, lost my mind, tried to kill myself several times, gotten really drunk, pissed people off, smoked too much weed, danced on tables, gone to the beach at night, thrown up on a guy's dick, dumped a guy four years older than me, dumped a guy on his birthday, went to one crappy dance, read more books than I can count, watched a million sappy romance movies, smoked a lot of cigarettes, gotten suspended twice, gone to almost an entire year's worth of teacher committee meetings, started a poetry club, and learned so much about myself.
So far, I have a year and ten weeks of highschool left.
I'm still pretty high....
My mom told me yesterday that she's afraid of losing me, I'm afraid of being this neurotic for the rest of my life.
I'm afraid that the video montages composed of my memories playing in my mind will never go away, and that I'll always stay up 'til two in the morning just to worry about things.
That I'll forget everything, and run out of time, that I'll forget how to smile.
I'm scared that I won't be able to write it all down.
I'd like to believe that I deserve to be happy and that someday I will be.
It's eight-thirty, tomorrow is Monday; I still haven't done my two month's worth of late math homework.
I still don't have a functioning relationship with my mother.
It's like an anti-depressant for my major depression.
I do everything when I'm high, I dance, exercise, write, clean, i want to paint, and go out; do all the things that I'm too exhausted, groggy, unmotivated, and sad always to do.
I almost want to do my homework.
You know my heart has been broken for years....
It broke when Iva Smith died, when I was about seven years old.
She was like the Great Grandmother that I never had.
I never really had much family growing up, I had my aunt and cousins sometimes.
I kind of was raised by my Grandmother, she was the only person in the world who ever understood me.
She understood everything, after she died I was never the same.
But Iva Smith baked cookies with me, she gave me ice cream and dollar bills, she told me stories.
She lived across something resembling a field.
We all lived in duplexes, there were ducks when it rained.
There was an ice cream truck that came every afternoon in the summer.
There was afternoon tea, walks with my Grandmother and the French lady that lived down the street.
Sometimes I'd play with the kids in the complex, but none of them were my own age.
I hurt my tail-bone roller skating there once....
My Grandmother and me, we listened to Persian radio; she told me stories of growing up in Iran, of my mother as a child, of her life as a hairdresser and the wife of the Chief of Police (which was a very big thing), and of her first days in America during the Iranian Revolution.
We talked about music, politics, philosophy, she really was (although I hate to admit it) like a parent to me.
I cannot even begin to describe all the things she did for me.
My mom, I don't know why I don't remember much of growing up with her. She always had a joint in her hand...she was really pretty.
She had long, curly dark brown hair; tiger lily eyes (amber fading out to green).
She sometimes wore gold jewelry, but always wore gold cubic zirconia studs in her ears.
She wore a suit when she went to court; and then one day she was really sick, so she wore a vintage 'save the animals' t-shirt, plaid shorts, and flip-flops.
She always dressed like this, and she liked the beach.
She used to love expensive makeup and clothes, but that was back when she had more money.
She kept getting fired for not going into work, she was kind of abusive.
We got evicted a couple of times.
One time I spilled blue eyeshadow on my bed, she hit me.
She broke a brush over my head once, she used to throw things.
She used to drag me by my hair, and dig her nails into my leg until I was bleeding.
Sometimes I'd go to school with red marks on my face from her hand and my hair falling out all day.
She always felt bad afterwards.
I can remember a few good moments of her teaching me to cook, or talking with me, dancing with me, doing my hair and makeup.
When I was four years old we lived with her fiancees family, they had a golden retriever and I hated having my hair brushed.
She used to watch Lord of the Rings, Treasure Island, and Chinese Kung-fu movies all day.
I memorized every word to the first Lord of the Rings movie from watching it so many times as a kid.
I remember living in a trailer, and her best friend's house.
I grew up with her son (he's a few years younger than me).
Nothing about my childhood is linear, it's all mixed up, vague memories.
One time she cut my stuffed cat into little pieces because I accidentally woke her up from a nap.
She used to throw things out of the car window when she was angry (and high), I think the pot impaired her ability to think through things.
She did everything from her emotions, my Grandmother thought she was crazy or on drugs.
When I was very young and living with my Grandmother my dad used to spend a lot of time with me.
He took me to movies and fast food restaurants.
He's the reason that I'm such a nerd, buying me long fantasy books and playing video games.
I was a very emotional kid, as the years went on I saw my dad less and my mom more.
Finally we moved back in with my Grandma, and my memory is clearer from that point on.
My dad ended up having two sons with his wife (of three or four years).
I was ten, and my mom seemed to be gone a lot, I'm not really sure why.
Part of it was her meeting my step-dad, he didn't like her much.
Apparently my mom was more devious than I knew (but I've since learned much).
They somehow ended up married and living in my Grandmother's house.
She eventually kicked them out (probably for being crazy potheads).
I had gone through a depression through most of fifth grade, it got worse in the summer.
I'd stay up all night, sleep all day, never get out of bed to shower.
There were bunnies that lived near the house, squirrels too, I adopted a lizard once.
Kitties that lived in the parking lot, my best friend who lived up the hill, my cd player and my play station, my Greenday casette and radio, my books, my daydreams, and my mom's stoner movies.
I used to think that a vampire lived in the bathtub when I was little, I used to cry myself to sleep that summer in 2005.
In August I got on a plane to a little city outside of Austin, Texas.
I moved in with my dad, and I had a normal life for almost two years.
I missed the palm trees and 91X with it's reggae Sundays.
I missed the beach and my favorite pizza place, most of all I missed my Grandma.
Modare Joon is what I'd call her in Farsi (Persian).
She used to sing to me in Arabic until I'd fall asleep.
While I lived with my dad I did chores, earned an allowance, went to the mall with my friends, talked about guys, talked on the phone, played with my little brothers, did homework, went to the movies, went to church, joined choir, acted in the school play, did my hair, listened to music, ate junk food, had slumber parties, went to the park, bought gifts, walked around suburbia, went swimming, helped with boyscouts meetings, baby-sat, went to dances, sewed, hung out in other peoples' living rooms, went on dates, went to Birthday parties, opened Christmas presents, went to the library, painted, played with water balloons, baked cookies.....all that; a peaceful, perfect, movie scene life.
I rarely spoke to my dad, even though I was living in the same house.
I had a tentative friendship with my step-mom....though this was short-lived.
A lot of animosity grew between us the last few months that I lived with him.
Before I left California I wrote my mom a letter, I didn't talk to her for over a year after that.
I was such a good actress, pretending to fit in while I was in Texas.
And for awhile I started sleeping again (I had bouts of insomnia for a year or two before I moved in with him).
My mom got me a cell phone the Christmas before I left Texas, so I started talking to her more.
My mask began to come down, I missed San Diego.
There was tension in the house due to the inability to keep up my facade.
I ended up being kicked out a few months later.
My dad called my mom, my step-mom threw away my possessions, and the next morning I was on a plane to Houston.
From Houston I would go to San Diego, to my mother.
I left with no cell phone, two shirts, two pairs of pants, a blow dryer, a pair of socks, and my stuffed cat.
I stepped off the plane to see a woman foreign to me.
My mother, once beautiful, was overweight, wearing reading glasses that I remembered from my childhood, with dark circles around her eyes.
They had been homeless and in jail since I left.
My Grandmother sent my mom to jail, my step-dad had stayed in a mental asylum, they had lived in the woods after that; they were living in a small apartment near the mountains when I came back.
The first thing my mom did is take me to the beach to get pizza.
They had an orange tabby, and my new room was frozen in time.
I went through a severe depression when I came back; I hadn't eaten a good meal in probably over a month, I couldn't sleep, I developed an ear infection and became very sick.
I wore nothing but black.
I explained to my Grandmother that I didn't regret leaving, even though my mom was convinced that I was kidnapped by my Father.
I learned a lot while I was there, and had a lot of good experiences among the bad.
My step-mom threw away everything that I wrote while I lived there.
I didn't write for a year after I came back.
I didn't write 'til the day my Grandmother died.
I wasn't allowed to go anywhere, not even to my Grandma's house, alone.
My mom was paranoid, and OCD all the time.
She wanted everything clean, even she was clean.
She didn't smoke weed for two years.
She started after my Grandmother died.
The doctors gave her Xanax too, I think that they said it was a narcotic; to relax her, so she would stop crying.
Neither of us ever stopped crying.
She ended up addicted to Xanax, and two years later she became very ill while trying to get off it.
I have secrets that I can't say here, so many secrets.....
I used to get in physical fights with my mom during middle school and my first year of highschool.
She used to kick me out sometimes, and I'd disappear for hours.
I drank whatever alcohol was in the house, usually wine, and I wrote dark poetry.
I entered poetry contests on the internet, I got a Myspace, I stopped doing all the normal things that I did while living with my dad.
I had a lot of friends, but never hung out outside of school.
I had a few boyfriends, and I fell in love once.
Three days before my fourteenth Birthday I went out alone for the first time since leaving my dad's house.
I slept over at my friend's house, and I met a Sophmore in highschool.
He was the boy of my dreams, he gave me a gothic dagger for my birthday, he brought me a white rose, he watched the stars and the ocean with me, he carved our initials on the cliffs, he came to see me at every chance he got; he walked from the highschool to the middle school, just so he could walk me home.
My mother found out that the weekend I went to my friend's house that we had all gone to the beach.
They banned me from speaking to her, so we had a falling out.
My step-dad disapproved of the boy, so I broke up with him.
My step-dad is a violent, crazy war veteran; he's capable of all sorts of terrible things.
(I eventually developed a close friendship with him, weirdly enough)
The poor boy loved me and I broke his heart.
I still love him, I still see him occasionally, he never forgave me.
I went through a more catastrophic depression after our break-up.
A depression that hasn't lifted, four years later.
I started smoking weed Freshman year.
I started popping pills.
Throughout highschool I have had sex cross-faded, gotten alcohol poisoning at school, passed out on drugs at school, failed three classes, cried a lot, almost run away, acted in a play, written more than any sane person, had six boys fall in love with me, lost my mind, tried to kill myself several times, gotten really drunk, pissed people off, smoked too much weed, danced on tables, gone to the beach at night, thrown up on a guy's dick, dumped a guy four years older than me, dumped a guy on his birthday, went to one crappy dance, read more books than I can count, watched a million sappy romance movies, smoked a lot of cigarettes, gotten suspended twice, gone to almost an entire year's worth of teacher committee meetings, started a poetry club, and learned so much about myself.
So far, I have a year and ten weeks of highschool left.
I'm still pretty high....
My mom told me yesterday that she's afraid of losing me, I'm afraid of being this neurotic for the rest of my life.
I'm afraid that the video montages composed of my memories playing in my mind will never go away, and that I'll always stay up 'til two in the morning just to worry about things.
That I'll forget everything, and run out of time, that I'll forget how to smile.
I'm scared that I won't be able to write it all down.
I'd like to believe that I deserve to be happy and that someday I will be.
It's eight-thirty, tomorrow is Monday; I still haven't done my two month's worth of late math homework.
I still don't have a functioning relationship with my mother.
Monday, March 21, 2011
More Books to Read
The list is lengthy (and a little random).....
We were the mulvaneys
Thomas pynchon
Edgar sawtelle
Half broke horses
Drowning ruth
Dm cornish
Dru pagliassoti
James blaylock
Gordon dahlquist
Ginn hale
Kw jeter
Joe r lansdale
China mieville
Michael moorcock
Kim newman
Kenneth oppel
Cherie priest
Phillip reeve
Scott westerfield
William faulkner
Thomas wolfe
Atonement
3 cups of tea
Daughters of fortune
The autograph man
Malcolm x
Best american essays
Crooked little heart
Ken follett
Even cowgirls get the blues
House of sand and fog
Jodi piccoult
A separate peace
Edgar sawtelle
The memory keeper's daughter
Tim o'brien
Divine secrets of the ya ya sisterhood
There are no shortcuts
The house of the spirits
The brief wondrous life of oscar wao
A yankee in king arthur's court
Ines of my soul
The curious incident of the dog in the nightime
Icy sparks
We were the mulvaneys
Thomas pynchon
Edgar sawtelle
Half broke horses
Drowning ruth
Dm cornish
Dru pagliassoti
James blaylock
Gordon dahlquist
Ginn hale
Kw jeter
Joe r lansdale
China mieville
Michael moorcock
Kim newman
Kenneth oppel
Cherie priest
Phillip reeve
Scott westerfield
William faulkner
Thomas wolfe
Atonement
3 cups of tea
Daughters of fortune
The autograph man
Malcolm x
Best american essays
Crooked little heart
Ken follett
Even cowgirls get the blues
House of sand and fog
Jodi piccoult
A separate peace
Edgar sawtelle
The memory keeper's daughter
Tim o'brien
Divine secrets of the ya ya sisterhood
There are no shortcuts
The house of the spirits
The brief wondrous life of oscar wao
A yankee in king arthur's court
Ines of my soul
The curious incident of the dog in the nightime
Icy sparks
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Just Some Thoughts
My computer is broken, so I'm posting this from my phone; it's amazing that technology makes this possible (even if it's a pain in the ass)
My Prince told me that he loved me a couple of days ago, and I'd like to think that he does.
I don't know if we really even know what love is....
I don't know if I'm really the proper authority on this matter either, who's to say?
Is it the talk show host, the psychiatrist, the suburban housewife, or the teenage girl who can honestly tell you the definition of love?
I don't even think my parents were in love; I think they were infatuated, but they believed that they were in love...
But everyone believes that they're in love, probably the reason for so many divorces.
I'm determined to fall in love, it sounds like fun.
Not to mention that it's a poet's business to be in love and to write things that only lovers understand....
My Prince told me that he loved me a couple of days ago, and I'd like to think that he does.
I don't know if we really even know what love is....
I don't know if I'm really the proper authority on this matter either, who's to say?
Is it the talk show host, the psychiatrist, the suburban housewife, or the teenage girl who can honestly tell you the definition of love?
I don't even think my parents were in love; I think they were infatuated, but they believed that they were in love...
But everyone believes that they're in love, probably the reason for so many divorces.
I'm determined to fall in love, it sounds like fun.
Not to mention that it's a poet's business to be in love and to write things that only lovers understand....
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Romance
I love it when things work out, like when I lose my Bio textbook and it turns up the next day where I left it.
Or when I'm twenty minutes late getting home, but nobody cares because they're preoccupied.
Or when I somehow make all my deadlines for school work, although I'm not quite sure how.
Or when I somehow manage to find the perfect guy without even trying.....
Yeah, that one...that one who carries my books even when I say no, who holds me like he never wants to let go, who kisses me as if he needs me, who is playful and flirtatious, and terribly funny, who makes me smile for no reason, who tells me when I'm being silly without being mean, who I can talk about video games with, who I can trust with my secrets, who gives me that look....
The look that says so much about how they feel about you, the look that precedes passionate sex or marriage proposals, that one look that every girl experiences from at least one guy in her lifetime.
I couldn't find any words, even if I was the most articulate person on this earth, to describe how genuinely (at a loss for adjectives) happy I am.
I'm going back to my cloud now.....
Or when I'm twenty minutes late getting home, but nobody cares because they're preoccupied.
Or when I somehow make all my deadlines for school work, although I'm not quite sure how.
Or when I somehow manage to find the perfect guy without even trying.....
Yeah, that one...that one who carries my books even when I say no, who holds me like he never wants to let go, who kisses me as if he needs me, who is playful and flirtatious, and terribly funny, who makes me smile for no reason, who tells me when I'm being silly without being mean, who I can talk about video games with, who I can trust with my secrets, who gives me that look....
The look that says so much about how they feel about you, the look that precedes passionate sex or marriage proposals, that one look that every girl experiences from at least one guy in her lifetime.
I couldn't find any words, even if I was the most articulate person on this earth, to describe how genuinely (at a loss for adjectives) happy I am.
I'm going back to my cloud now.....
Sunday, March 13, 2011
RIP Tim Tim Kitty
My cat is dead.....
I have no idea how, but I'm never going to feel his soft little orange tummy again....
I hate death, it's something I can't deal with, because I feel like I lose everything that I love.
I'll never wake up to see him waiting for me, he won't be there to follow me around, or for me to talk to.
It's funny but I think he actually listened to me when I talked, and he'd let me cry into his fur when I was sad.
He was so smart, he knew all kinds of words, he always came when you called him.
He was so cool, he could jump five feet in the air....
He was so polite and loyal, I cannot even express how much I loved that cat.
And I'm bawling my eyes out like a little kid right now, because I'm never gonna see him again.
Choked with grief would be a grave understatement.
My poor little kitty, my handsome, pretty, little orange cream puff kitty.....
I love you so much Tim Tim, my little baby.
I have no idea how, but I'm never going to feel his soft little orange tummy again....
I hate death, it's something I can't deal with, because I feel like I lose everything that I love.
I'll never wake up to see him waiting for me, he won't be there to follow me around, or for me to talk to.
It's funny but I think he actually listened to me when I talked, and he'd let me cry into his fur when I was sad.
He was so smart, he knew all kinds of words, he always came when you called him.
He was so cool, he could jump five feet in the air....
He was so polite and loyal, I cannot even express how much I loved that cat.
And I'm bawling my eyes out like a little kid right now, because I'm never gonna see him again.
Choked with grief would be a grave understatement.
My poor little kitty, my handsome, pretty, little orange cream puff kitty.....
I love you so much Tim Tim, my little baby.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Weekend Escapade
Well, where do I even begin?
Be careful with pot brownies...(I've never been so scared in my life)We wandered around for what seems like forever, but was really only maybe three hours.
I've never tripped so badly, I've never been so high.....I couldn't walk, I couldn't see, I barely even remember what happened.
I was terrified that we'd get arrested, I fell asleep at the beach, we saw Fatty The Squirrel, and later we saw Satan (and I thought I was dreaming)
But I was dreaming, wasn't I?
Because, "We used to have somewhere to go, where did they all go, where did time go?", "I used to remember, but oh, God, oh, Lord!", "This is like a movie, like a dream, I want to stay here forever, and I've been here before, a long time ago, but I used to remember"
And that is all I remember saying, I kept repeating all that and rhyming like Dr. Seuss.....
I had dreams within dreams, and flashbacks of a lifetime so far away.It's funny that I always feel invincible when I'm high, no matter how bad it gets I always feel like reality and time will never catch us
I couldn't even stand, I don't know where we went, and Catwoman was puking her guts up in a sink, not so far away.
I'm not sure what happened after that, but I woke up hungover....
Catwoman and I went to breakfast with skull-splitting headaches, soon we met The Jester and eventually My Prince showed up too.
We went to his house and we all just relaxed after our exhausting night.
Catwoman and The Jester left, and then we did something a little short of making love.
I feel like I just lost my virginity again, because I've never had sex sober, because I've never had sex with someone that I've had feelings for....
Because I hope that I didn't mess up our relationship, but I'm glad it happened.
And then his dad walked in and it was the most embarassing moment of my life....First time I've been to his house or met his parents and something like that happens.
Maybe it's my fault for being scandalous....
I hope that he's okay, I hope everything works out.
It was the best sex that I've ever had though.
After we very awkwardly left his house I realised that I had five missed calls from my mother.
I pretty much ran back to Catwoman's house, just in time to call my parents and get picked up.
The four of us are already planning our next escapade, Kampai!
Cheers to The Misfits Family, huggles!
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Do Da Da
So today I came home to my mom screaming, she decided that she needed to go to the hospital (i'm not sure why)
She not only drove herself, but as I was leaving to run an errand she actually picked me up on the sidewalk outside.
I was extremely high, as she drove around trying to figure out which place she wanted to get food, I just laughed at the irony
Well, I haven't been this high in awhile, but I failed at my errands....and got really paranoid.
And I over-heard a homeless guy talk about all the places that he's traveled, I also heard another homeless man attempt to reconcile with his wife/ex-girlfriend.
Life is always interesting when you're this baked, but I can't ever even remember what happened two seconds ago.....
C'est la vie, I guess.
She not only drove herself, but as I was leaving to run an errand she actually picked me up on the sidewalk outside.
I was extremely high, as she drove around trying to figure out which place she wanted to get food, I just laughed at the irony
Well, I haven't been this high in awhile, but I failed at my errands....and got really paranoid.
And I over-heard a homeless guy talk about all the places that he's traveled, I also heard another homeless man attempt to reconcile with his wife/ex-girlfriend.
Life is always interesting when you're this baked, but I can't ever even remember what happened two seconds ago.....
C'est la vie, I guess.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Romanticisms
I love that song.
And I wonder why we still smoke so much weed, I suppose it's because at this point in my life it's the only thing to do.
I was with Catwoman and My Prince (I'm not sure what else to call him) and we were all having a good time, when suddenly we turned a corner and I saw Satan.
I swear my heart completely stopped, I hadn't seen him since November, haven't spoken to him since our argument over Facebook around the same time.
A million moments flashed across my mind, but I finally let him go....
It seems like he's matured, I'm glad.
I'm glad that he let go, I'm glad that neither of us can really remember the weekend that we met and somehow convinced ourselves that we were in love.
I never finished that story about him, it's approximately thirty pages typed right now; I'm not sure if I'll ever finish it.
Maybe someday....
Now about My Prince, well, he's everything I've always wanted in a guy.
Genuinely smart, amazingly funny, super sweet, magnificently romantic....
He gives me flowers every day, tells me I'm pretty, holds doors for me, walks me home, makes me laugh, cheers me up when I'm sad.
He has the most gorgeous blue eyes that remind me of the ocean, and he's taller than me.....
And most of all he likes me for who I am, some of my friends don't get along with him; but they don't get along with anyone.
He makes me very happy, I feel like a fairytale princess....
And I wonder why we still smoke so much weed, I suppose it's because at this point in my life it's the only thing to do.
I was with Catwoman and My Prince (I'm not sure what else to call him) and we were all having a good time, when suddenly we turned a corner and I saw Satan.
I swear my heart completely stopped, I hadn't seen him since November, haven't spoken to him since our argument over Facebook around the same time.
A million moments flashed across my mind, but I finally let him go....
It seems like he's matured, I'm glad.
I'm glad that he let go, I'm glad that neither of us can really remember the weekend that we met and somehow convinced ourselves that we were in love.
I never finished that story about him, it's approximately thirty pages typed right now; I'm not sure if I'll ever finish it.
Maybe someday....
Now about My Prince, well, he's everything I've always wanted in a guy.
Genuinely smart, amazingly funny, super sweet, magnificently romantic....
He gives me flowers every day, tells me I'm pretty, holds doors for me, walks me home, makes me laugh, cheers me up when I'm sad.
He has the most gorgeous blue eyes that remind me of the ocean, and he's taller than me.....
And most of all he likes me for who I am, some of my friends don't get along with him; but they don't get along with anyone.
He makes me very happy, I feel like a fairytale princess....
I Hope This Is Goodbye
*yawn*
I am so very tired, my computer wiped the software on my phone...
But I guess that's okay, I suppose you shouldn't really worry about things like that.
I'm still reading Brave New World, and it reminds me of Biology Class (babies in test tubes)
We really aren't that far from that kind of technology, or that kind of consumer-driven society, which is kind of scary.
I have to talk about morality for a quick minute, just because.....
Who decides what is morally correct in society, what if the entire world was topsy turvy and it was okay to walk around naked, or have sex with random people, or if drugs were acceptable and commonplace?
Just think about it, honestly.
So why are you living your life based on other people's perceptions of right and wrong?
Another thing I feel the need to address is pessimism and depression in teenagers....
I don't understand why so many of my peers are so very depressed, it's as if they're clinging helplessly to a past that can only hurt them. I'm not one to talk, but we should all learn how to move on.
I remember the last day of my Freshman year I was sitting on the grass, down the street from the Junior Highschool, and I was writing poetry about the word "Goodbye".
Kitty told a boy with green eyes that goodbye is my least favorite word in the English language, this is still true.
A lot of things happened that year, and a lot of things have happened since that day; I'm approaching the end of my Junior year with a massive sense of nostalgia, because I miss those days Freshman year. I miss a lot of things in my past. I miss Middle School, I miss the way my mom used to be, I miss my grandmother.....
I haven't even been to my grandmother's grave; she raised me, she was the only person who ever understood me, and I miss her most of all.
I miss the dad that I never had, the childhood that I never experienced, and all the opportunities that flew by.
I feel old and already jaded at sixteen, seventeen on April 29, 9:48 AM.....
I am so very tired, my computer wiped the software on my phone...
But I guess that's okay, I suppose you shouldn't really worry about things like that.
I'm still reading Brave New World, and it reminds me of Biology Class (babies in test tubes)
We really aren't that far from that kind of technology, or that kind of consumer-driven society, which is kind of scary.
I have to talk about morality for a quick minute, just because.....
Who decides what is morally correct in society, what if the entire world was topsy turvy and it was okay to walk around naked, or have sex with random people, or if drugs were acceptable and commonplace?
Just think about it, honestly.
So why are you living your life based on other people's perceptions of right and wrong?
Another thing I feel the need to address is pessimism and depression in teenagers....
I don't understand why so many of my peers are so very depressed, it's as if they're clinging helplessly to a past that can only hurt them. I'm not one to talk, but we should all learn how to move on.
I remember the last day of my Freshman year I was sitting on the grass, down the street from the Junior Highschool, and I was writing poetry about the word "Goodbye".
Kitty told a boy with green eyes that goodbye is my least favorite word in the English language, this is still true.
A lot of things happened that year, and a lot of things have happened since that day; I'm approaching the end of my Junior year with a massive sense of nostalgia, because I miss those days Freshman year. I miss a lot of things in my past. I miss Middle School, I miss the way my mom used to be, I miss my grandmother.....
I haven't even been to my grandmother's grave; she raised me, she was the only person who ever understood me, and I miss her most of all.
I miss the dad that I never had, the childhood that I never experienced, and all the opportunities that flew by.
I feel old and already jaded at sixteen, seventeen on April 29, 9:48 AM.....
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Movie Magic
Cleverbot.com is quite interesting, go check it out...
You can talk to a robot (it called me crazy), lol.
So, I've liked this guy since, well, I'm not sure....I guess it started back in September, but I didn't really realise it 'til recently.
All of our friends know that we like each other, but neither of us would make a move.
After a good amount of cajolery from our friends, he sat down next to me.
This was followed by an awkward silence as all of our friends waited for something to happen.
Out of nowhere, in front of everyone, he asked me out....
All of our friends (about 30 of them) began clapping and cheering, I'll never forget it; it was like a movie.
I felt like I was getting engaged, I wish I could've video taped it; I think I almost cried from happiness (not literally).
Most memorable way that I've ever been asked out, epic win.
You can talk to a robot (it called me crazy), lol.
So, I've liked this guy since, well, I'm not sure....I guess it started back in September, but I didn't really realise it 'til recently.
All of our friends know that we like each other, but neither of us would make a move.
After a good amount of cajolery from our friends, he sat down next to me.
This was followed by an awkward silence as all of our friends waited for something to happen.
Out of nowhere, in front of everyone, he asked me out....
All of our friends (about 30 of them) began clapping and cheering, I'll never forget it; it was like a movie.
I felt like I was getting engaged, I wish I could've video taped it; I think I almost cried from happiness (not literally).
Most memorable way that I've ever been asked out, epic win.
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