One person, one chair, one table, and one star...

The hallway of my dorm has slowly become like a getaway to me. There are the occasional persons who pass by this late at night, but mostly, it's quiet and empty. It feels nice, very calming, very solitary. Most people thing that "solitary" is a sad thing, a lonely feeling, a thing void of all things - I think of it differently. It's the absence of what is, it's the possibility of existence. The void that is to be filled, the room that has life to come, the empty chair in front of a single table, waiting for that one person to come and sit down. Solitary means a void of possibilities to happen. It is the emptiness that has all things and nothing in it at once. I like that feeling, that "solitary."

I'm sitting here, the hallway is a vacancy just silently waiting for those who inhabit it. I'm not that person though. I'm the observer, the one who stands by and watched the events that happen. I like it like that. If it were anything else, I don;t think I would be writing this. I want to see the world like this, sitting here, my back to a wall, the empty chair and single table of possibilities in front of me. It's times like this I wish I had a camera. Something to capture the emptiness, the possibilities that I see in this moment. Something that I can look at later and understand in totality. It's that artistic side of me that I want to submit to, the side that I want o thrive, and I want to give it everything I can to appease it, but that's not something I can afford to do right now, so I'll wait.

In the mean time, I look out the window of this hallway, the reflection making the sight from outside difficult to see with the light of the hallway behind me. Beyond the reflection, I see a single star, adding to the singularity, the solitude, the endless possibilities. There we all are: one person, one chair, one table, and one star... all of us, the possibilities forming in an endless motif. A picture to be found, a story to be written, a camera to capture the sight, and a person to watch the possibilities forming.

This is my peace, my calm. This place had become more than a home to me, it has become my possibilities, my place to belong. The day that I have to leave it will be a sad one, but when I return, it will be waiting, new possibilities to watch forming right in front of me.

One person, one chair, one table, and one star... the solitary silence of endless possible futures to come.

Romance under the stars...

At the beginning of the year, I had met what I believed to be one of the first guys I really just enjoyed the company of. He was into all the same stuff I was and we always had something fun to talk about. He quickly became a very good friend, dear and precious to me. As time went on, however, I found that I liked his personality and not just his looks. I found the urge to touch him in simple little ways growing with time, slowly escalating to the urge to kiss him. He was suddenly so much more attractive than I originally thought. I loved his company, I loved being around him, I felt at peace near him, and nothing felt forced or tense at any time. We talked because we wanted to, not because we felt like it, and just a few minutes ago, I got back from one of the best experiences I had with him.

We had originally gone out to explore the night with another friend of mine that I had spent the day with. (On the off note, during the day we also playing in a fountain... IT WAS AWESOME!!! But anyways...) As the night went on, we headed toward the stadium at a time where we were just watching the sun set while the girls' soccer team finished practice. When the sun had gone down and out of sight, with the last bits of light left, we went to the actual field, with the artificial turf on it. There we ran around, and just played like idiots because we could. When the night sky started to glow with the traces of stars off in the distance, I decided to lay down. A few moments later, the guy (named Alexander) laid down next to me. I scooted a bit closer so that our heads were at the same level. At this point in time, my other friend (named Kia) was still with us and we just stared at the sky making sense of the shining lights in forms of pictures.

At some point, Kia decided to leave us two. Right before she left, when I lifted my head to fix my hair, Alexander moved his arm under my head and I didn't refuse it in the slightest. Somewhere in my mind I felt we made Kia uncomfortable (in my head we were flirting with each other and neither of us would say we liked each other), making Kia feel like the third wheel. (SORRY KIA!) But after she had left, we kind of slowly got closer and closer, the arm-pillow becoming an elbow-pillow, then a shoulder-pillow, and finally just laying on my side with my face resting on his chest while his arm kind of wrapped around my back.... We were cuddling.... It was comfortable and nice.... >3< We also saw a shooting star that night, and what's amazing about that, is that when we had come out to the stadium maybe a month or two back, we also saw a shooting star. I wanted to think it was some sort of sign... but I don't really believe in that kind of stuff... so I'll make believe that I do for just this moment. :3

Later on, he started to shiver and I kept bringing it up every time he would get those really bad shivers and say we should go back because he was cold, but just like me, he's stubborn and until 2 hours later when I decided holding my pee in any longer was a bad idea, I lifted myself up and took him with me. But keep in mind he kept getting me to leave him be cold for, oh I don't know, over maybe 15 times of this conversation:

Me: "You're shivering, we should go."
Him: "Why do you want to leave so badly?"
Me: "Because you're cold!"
Him: "Not really."
Me: "Hmph *continues stargazing*"

My point is.... Well actually, I'm not completely sure what my point was, but by this point I'm just smiling remembering all this, and the subtle moved his hand to poke my head, cover my eyes, or hold me was so very nice~. I'm crushing hard and I don't care~ I'm not going to confess though. I've had too many experiences where I confess or the other guy confesses and then the relationship between us gets really awkward and then ends completely. I don't want that to happen again, so I'm going to wait till he says something and I'll see where things go from there, and since I already know my answer to a confession from him would be "Yes," I don't feel like I have to worry about our friendship quite as much if he confesses instead of me. I've given him all the signs, so maybe he feels the same. Or maybe he just sees me as a friend he doesn't mind having physical contact with... and I don't know how I'd feel about that in the long run, but for right now, that's just fine by me. For now, at least.

I really... uh......

So... um. The only reason this is going on here is so I can remember it 50 years down the line... uh. How do I phrase this? Let's see... um... I'm not... um. Oh fuck it. I'm not a virgin anymore. Guess that sums it up pretty well....

I was in shock for a while. Know why? Cuz I lost it to a girl.... Yeah, I said it. A girl. Oh and by the way, apparently I've been interested in girls for a while now and didn't know it.... This is so... shocking to me. What's even more is that I didn't hate it... in fact... I liked it. I'm just going to... uh... hope no one hates me for this (Grandparents, Dad...), but I don't think that will be the last time either.... I guess we'll have to see?

This is so very awkward... my mind feels like it's been blown through the roof.... I feel like the me that existed before now was just avoiding the possibility? Or maybe just hoping that I like solely men? Don't get me wrong, men are fucking hot, they still are, always will be. I am still, no doubt about it, attracted to men, and that won't ever change. That I know for sure. But... you know... I'm just... apparently okay with girls too? Well... this is a predicament.... Hmm... I can't think of anything else to say.... I'll just stop here, I guess? Oh, I hope no one hates me for this....

Sorry guys... but it happened.

Spontaneous...

I came back just a few minutes ago after posting my last bit. Right after I wrote that, I went out, walked for a long while and found a good place to cry... and cry and cry and cry. I cried long and hard. Over and over. It hurt so much. Eventually, I came back, then while I still wallowed in self-pity, I took a cup of tea out to my dorm hallway to look out the window. I watched as the people walked past, oblivious of me. Then, out of no where, someone started talking to me. He invited me to come with him and three other friends. They led me toward the city, down the long and winding hill, toward a Hookah Lounge. Surprise, surprise. My gut told me no. So I ignored it. And instead went with them for the adventure. With three strangers. That I didn't know. At 10 at night. In the dark. The only girl. Wow, my gut was screaming. But anyways, halfway down the hill, I decided I wouldn't go in and just head back on my own once they got there. They convinced me otherwise. So once we got there, I wasn't really expecting to go there and event led to event and I didn't bring my ID with me. (Lucky me?) But either way, I was going to walk back on my own.

Then the guy who invited me, without batting an eyelash, said he'd walk me back up that enormous hill. On the way up, clumsy me slipped and landed on my hands. (Not until just a few minutes ago did I realize I dropped my precious headphones at that moment - great, right?) He got my shoe that fell off for me and asked if I could walk. All nicey, nicey without the cliche crap that I hate. Concern without intention behind it. I liked that, a lot. Later on, as we got higher up the hill (all the while we talked - though it was mostly him since I never started a conversation - and completely casually too), and closer to our college, he took us up toward the other side and ran, so I followed running. He stopped, looked out over the edge, and I think we stood there talking about nothing in particular for about 10 or 15 minutes, all the while catching our breath, as we looked out over the most amazing glitter of lights.

It's funny, I made so many little signals, though they were probably lost to the darkness, and he never made a move. I wondered if he either had no interest or was just being considerate, either way it put me at ease. It felt totally natural being with him, it was the best way to end a horrible night. I hope he takes me out again, and this time, I'll bring my ID and some money, just in case. No worries, I won't be smoking anything ever, so you can relax. I'm really glad I went. I'm still smiling. :)

I want... him

I feel empty, sad. Like I'm missing something... someone. God, why does it feel like I need to have sex, or at least some sort of sexual interaction, to make this empty pain go away. I've moved. I'm out of that house, but this feeling doesn't lessen. It hurts. Make it stop. I need someone. Please. Someone, wherever you are, come up to me and hunt me down. Don't let me go. Grasp at me and hold me tight. I don't like this emptiness. It's too painful. It hurts. It hurts so very much. I don't want to be alone.

I feel so desperate... saying all this. I know it's useless. I know it won't change anything, but I needed a place to put my thoughts. I have nothing else. I need someone to make all the pain seem pointless. Someone who won't make me feel forced to talk when I eat across from them, just to still the silence, even though I prefer eating in silence. Someone who will sit there with me, hold my hand, smile at me when I look up form my food and make me blush. Someone who will take me out and around, my hand held tightly in their's, just so I get outside and so I feel like I have a purpose in being there. Someone who will let me lay on their chest and just run my fingers up and down there skin, just to reassure myself that they are really there. Someone who will force a kiss on me as I push away in a purposely fruitless way. Someone who will lick my tears away, kiss my eyes, and hush me, saying they are there and they won't leave. Someone who will get jealous when another guy looks at me and then prove to me I'm his by taking my body in his hand. Someone who won't let me feel lonesome. Someone who is there. Someone who won't stop being there. Someone who wants to be there. Someone who will make the silences between us natural instead of awkward. Someone who will tell me "You're mine" instead of "I love you" because he would know that those words have no meaning to me. Someone who will slowly give those words back their meaning with the heat of his passion. Someone who will stand beside me not as equals, but as a man and his possession. Someone who will mark me and make me his through physical action, not through words. Someone who is strong enough physically and mentally to bare the burden of owning me.

I want to belong to him, and him alone. I've said it so many times, I've waited and waited. I want nothing more. I want to be his. I want to know what he looks like, what he feels like, what he tastes like, what he sounds like. I want nothing more. I want only to be his possession. It's not much, just to meet him, or to kiss him, or to have his affection. Just that. Please, even that. I want... him. I know he's out there. I've seen people like me with their match, with their owner. I just have to wait, right? I don't want to wait anymore... I want him. So much more than I can bare. I'm so lonely.

In the end, I was brave for once...

It was harder than I thought to go see my dad again after seeing him in the hospital after open heart surgery. A good hard, but hard nonetheless. About a day ago, I wouldn't have been able to even talk about it like this. I've shoved the thoughts of that one scene so far down into my memories that, even after coming to terms with it, I find it impossible to fully reclaim those memories. Only a few pieces resurface and then fade just as quickly as they appeared. Like the scene as I first walked into the hospital, the look, the smell, even signing my name on a sheet of paper the lady behind the desk gave me. I can remember that easily. But as we walked closer to his room, the images get harder to recall. I can get clear images up until his door was just a few steps away. Then it snaps to when I first saw him, tangled and covered in wires and tubes. Next is the way he forced himself to talk. It hurt. It hurt so badly it literally took all I had in me to keep from crying my eyes out right then and there. Then I snap to when we left, just as we passed out of the door, I broke. I choked back my voice and shook, tears rolling endlessly down my face, my hands pressed heavily against my eyes and my brother holding my shoulder tightly against him. I cried harder the farther we got. I'm about to cry now as I remember all this. It still hurts. No wonder my mind buried my memories so well. But then, why would it allow me to recall only the most painful parts. I know there's more to this timeline then just simple snaps of images and scenes, but recalling it just causes my mind to hide them away as quickly as possible.

Today... yes, today. Things seemed just a bit easier. It took all my courage to come up and visit him, all my will to keep from thinking about it till the last second. I forced myself to come. I forced myself to witness for myself what events had left me with. Whether he was crippled and sickly or just moments form death, I had prepared myself to see all of it, but I hadn't prepared myself to see what reality gave to me. It gave me probably the one thing I needed most right now. Pure faithless and childish hope. That's right. Hope. We sat in this restaurant, my mind constantly distracting me from what was to come. But no matter what I thought, I would have never expected to see what I did. I caught a glimpse of him in the corner of my eye as he appeared beyond the entrance to the restaurant. No crutches, no wires, no tubes. In fact, no nothing. He stood on his own. He walked in the room completely unhindered. As if nothing had ever happened, he walked in and gave me a smile. I smiled back, somewhat in shock, but not really realizing what was happening. The only thought going through my mind was, "I have to get to him." I stood there for a minute, listening to him speak. Waiting for the others to sit down. Then my legs started to move. Before I could even understand, I had weaseled my way past chairs and people and I stood in front of him. He opened his arms and I reflexively did the same, accepting the invitation for a hug. All at once, it hit me. "He's really here." I thought. "He's alive... he's really alive. I'm not dreaming. It's not a dream. Oh thank god he's really alright. Not dead. He's not dead." I couldn't help myself. I hugged him tightly, tighter and tighter with each thought. I didn't want to let go. I thought I might still be dreaming, just maybe, that tiny chance that it was the happiest dream ever and I didn't want to let go.

I had gotten another chance to get to know him. He was alive! I cried, and cried, and cried, and cried some more. My sweater was soaked by the time I could finally speak and look at him and say "I love you" back without bursting out in tears. Oh god, he's alive! That's all that matters. He's alive. He's really alive.

Because I love him, I'm still alive...

Do you know why I stay up so late?

Do you know why I stay awake until the beginnings of light start to trickle over the horizon and the night's darkness begins to fade? Do you know why I stay awake when all of you have fallen so far into sleep that the world is as good as dead to you? Do you know why I am still awake when the house is quiet and still? Why I find peace in the absence of light, in the comfort of dark? Why even though I fear the night's silence I still prefer it over your presence?

Do you know why being around you feels like I am being confined in a small box, while a noise unlike any other suffocates me whenever I hear you move or speak? Do you know why I hide in the darkness of the late night just to find relief and release from being near you? Do you know why I wait every day for midnight to come because I know you won't wake up? Do you know why I use the drastic difference in sleep schedules between us as an excuse to avoid you?

Do you know why I hate being around you?

Of course you don't. You've never asked. You never will.

The simple question of "Why?" The simple thought behind my actions and my reasoning.

Those are the things you will never know. Those are the things you won't care to know. Those questions and thoughts that I know you will never have, but have wished so badly for you to ask only to be disappointed.

That is the reason I hate you. That is the reason I will never love you. That is the reason.

That is the reason why I am immersed in loneliness every day. That is why I clutch desperately at the pillow against my chest until my fingertips burn with pain. That is what you have driven me to.

That is why my chest aches when I try to think of my "Tristan." That is the reason behind why I can barely stand the empty feeling of loving someone I've never met, someone I've never seen, never heard, never known.

I may love him, but I know "Tristan" doesn't exist. I love him, but he won't ever be real. I love him, and I will wait for the man who will become my "Tristan." I will wait for my eternal lover to finally surface from the sea of people in the world. I will always wait for him, because I love him.

Because I love him, I'll wait forever for him. Forever. No matter what. Because I love him....

Hope is a pointless lie...

Please note that I have NEVER said any of this aloud. Not even to myself. None of it. This is my last resort to try and feel something again.

I thought I was done with this place... I really thought I could handle my fears, my pain, and all the hurtful things on my own now.... What a stupid lie. What a stupid and ignorant lie. I was wrong, so very wrong that it hurts. I made this place to shelter the painful feelings and after some time I was beginning to feel the warmth of reality after being lost in a dream for so long. I had thought that I wouldn't need this place full of all the pain I've locked between these words rather than within myself, within my thoughts and my heart.I thought I could finally be strong enough to stand on my own two feet... but I was wrong. I'm weak. I'm so very weak. My mask will only take me so far. After all that has happened, my dad especially.... That's right, I haven't said anything about all of this, about all the things that have happened. I thought I wouldn't need to come here and say anything... but that was my stupid hope, a hope I should have known wouldn't work out. I should have known how weak I was. After the ups and downs of having hope my dad would pull through, eventually along the line somewhere, I just gave up completely.


It was easier to give up any hope of him surviving, it was easier to convince myself he was dead rather than have hope he would be fine and find out he died in spite of my hope. Hope is useless. Hope won't change what will occur. Hope won't change the fact that he went in and out of surgery, or the fact that when I went to visit him he looked so frail. He looked like he would break, like that was the last time I would ever see him... and I had no choice in the matter. I didn't want to go see him, I didn't want to see him like that. I wish I had never gone. You're reading this thinking I'm just saying that, but you don't get it. I've lived without regrets and now I believe the only regret I have is going to see him. I would have rather seen him once he was better, or at the very least, email or texts, but not that. Not seeing him like that. I wish I hadn't seen him. I wish I hadn't. Seeing him didn't make things better, seeing him unable to speak and so close to death only brought more pain, more fear, more sadness. I didn't want that. I didn't want to feel so close to giving up on seeing him ever again in this life. I didn't want to feel like I had to die just to see him again. I didn't want to feel like that, but after seeing him, I did. So I shut it off. I shut off the pain, locked it away with ALL other things that hurt me. EVERYTHING was locked away. Things about my mom, things about being lonely, things about being mentally abused by my family when I was younger, anything that hurt was locked deep inside. Every now and again, some of it would resurface and in fear of the pain, the memories, and the tears, I would push it back down and lock it up again, except it would be a tighter lock every time. I would have rather died than feel like this again after such a long time.

I'm still locking it away... I had no idea how much pain just doing that would cause. I want to cry. I want to feel even just a little bit. It hurts. I don't remember how I used to be able to let it out before. I can't remember how I used to allow myself to feel and then move on. How did I do it? Even now, while I'm writing this, I want to cry, but I can't. I feel the tears in my eyes, but they choke up and fade away too quickly. It hurts. I want to feel something again. Something.... I used to be so strong. I used to be able to shoulder this burden. Hearing the things about my dad, going to see him, being trapped in this house with my mom and the family I resent and hate for what they did to me. All of it has made me weak again. That fantasy I was lost in not long ago, the one that was literally inches away from killing me, it seems so inviting now. I want to go back. It was easier then. I felt none of this because it didn't exist. Nothing but my fantasy world existed... Daddy....

It's easier to let myself believe him to be dead. I don't know if he'll read this, but it doesn't matter. Not now. If he's alive, then that's fine. Just please, please don't tell me unless you're sure you're back at 100% for good. If not, I don't want to feel that painful hope again. He's dead to me now. He died the day I went to see him. His heart stopped and he died. It's easier. He has no idea, none of them do. One day I get a call from the half sister who abandoned me saying our dad was in critical condition and headed to a hospital. "Daddy is going to die," was what I thought. "Before I even got the chance to know him at all, the only one I can't hate because I don't even know him. He's going to die. He's dying and I can't do anything. I can't do anything. I'm useless... please don't die." My hope began with that. "Please don't die." It was all I could think about for the next few weeks. Then I get a call saying his surgery went well, but was nowhere near fully recovered and would need rehab. "At least he's alive," right? No. I went to see him then, stuck in a long car ride with mom, her boyfriend, and my brother and his child. The last two were fine, but the first two fought, loudly.

Ever since I saw my mom and dad fight the night before he left, I've always been afraid of fights. It hurts to see two people fight loudly and shout things. It hurts even more when I try to stop it with "please don't fight" and get yelled at with "shut up." "Shut up" has become a poisonous phrase due to my brother when he was younger. He used to tell me that all the time after Daddy left. The reaction I had then hasn't changed to this day. The moment I hear it I shut down. I go quiet and fearful of the slightest sound, afraid I'll be yelled at again. Fear. Fear. So much fear. When I went to see Daddy, my hands were shaking. Fear of what I would see setting into my heart. I don't love Daddy, I can't love him when I don't know him. It's the same reason I can't hate him. But that doesn't mean that I don't fear his death. Even if no one else "fears" his death, I do. I'm deathly afraid of it. "Please let me at least get to know you first." "Don't die yet." "Not yet." The moment I saw him: wires, tubes, and monitors everywhere. My brother took the lead and started saying hi. Daddy couldn't talk. He couldn't talk. "He's not better yet." "Why did I hope in the first place when he's not better yet?" I said hi, clenching my fists, holding back tears. Fighting the loss of hope, fighting the pain in my chest that gripped at my breath. "It's okay, he'll get better." There it was again, hope. I said my goodbyes, said "I love you" like it was the last chance I had. You think I'm being dramatic for thinking so much over his inability to speak. "Well of course! He was just in surgery! There's bound to be recovery time. Just be patient!" I was. Patience... yeah, I had it. I had it. Then my half sister called again. She said he was rushed to another hospital, another heart valve ruptured or something else unexpected and urgent happened. "Hope... what was the point? He was going to die anyways." I had patience, I had hope, but nothing changed. Believing in something doesn't change fate. Believing in a fantasy won't change reality. Heh... ironic, isn't it? I was living in a fantasy for 5 years, all alone in my own world without anyone noticing. I had to realize that hiding from my reality, my fate, wouldn't change anything... and yet, I still believed that hoping Daddy would get better would guarantee his recovery. I'm a fool. I'm a stupid fool.

After all this, I was done hoping. I gave up. In that moment, Daddy was dead. He wasn't coming back. Just like the night he left out the door of this house, he was never going to come back. I said my goodbyes... but it still hurt. To me, and to no one else's knowledge, in my heart and in my mind, I forced myself to accept that Daddy was dead. I forced the pain to go away. I forced ALL the pain to disappear  It's gone. All the tears are gone. I said goodbye to more than just Daddy. I said goodbye to all my emotions. I don't know how to get them back. I want to feel again. It feels like when I was in my fantasy. During that time, I felt nothing. How could I? Nothing around me was real, so none of it could hurt me. Maybe that's why the silence made my head hurt so much.

Back then and still true now, I was afraid of silence. Do you know that sound you hear when there is no sound to be heard? That high-pitched nothingness. Back then it hurt my head so bad that I wouldn't be able to take it. I would scream of the floor in pain. I called them my "attacks." Some weren't so bad, some were horrible. I remember two of the worst. The first: I was at home alone and I had the TV on (back when I still watched TV) and the moment I turned it off, the silence set in. I heard that sound and the pain was unbearable. I screamed and screamed until my own screams made the silence disappear  The second: it was late at night and I woke up from the heat. People were home, but it was still quiet at that time of the night. I listen to music as I fall asleep because of my fear, but after that goes off, there's no sound in my room. The silence became deafening. I clenched my teeth, grabbed my head, covering my ears, and wished the pain to stop. I wanted it to go away. But it wouldn't. I started banging my head against the wall, hoping it would stop. "Make it stop, make it stop." I kept saying it over and over, like a chant to the gods (if they exist). My mom woke up to go to work around this time and heard the banging from my room. She came in to see what was going on and she couldn't figure out what I was talking about. Eventually, she accidentally pressed a button on my stereo and turned my music back on. The silence stopped. I told her I was fine and to leave, so she left to get ready for work - clueless of what had happened. I concentrated on the music and calmed myself. That was when it really hit me that not one person in this house gave enough crap about me to notice the pain I was in. Even though they were always around, they never knew. The next day, I tried to talk to my mom. She had forgotten all about it. I gave up. I had no hope in the first place, but I couldn't feel anything at the time, so giving up was easier than trying. The past repeats itself I guess. It's easier to give up.

Normally I try to end these posts with some bit of inspirational stuff to lift myself up after finally getting it all out, but not this time. This only scratched the surface of what I've buried deep inside. But I've had enough. I don't want to think anymore. I don't want to go anyfurther. For now, I'm done, and even if I had continued with this, I don't think I would have ever been able to get it all out. It's been 18 years. That's a lot of time filled with painful memories. I don't have the strength to think about the painful things for such a long time. I've had enough. I'm done.

My reality...

Living a life of lies and this is all I have to show for it:

"I don't have the strength nor the desire to talk to any of you, so I shall ignore all of you. It's so much easier that way since I don't get as sad, angry, or afraid if all I can feel is loneliness from the absence of a love I never knew." This is the mindset I go into whenever I return home, have vacations from school, or am near family members. Makes me think what exactly made the collapse of my family happen and why not one person in this household seems to notice that their futile attempts to fake a loving family only makes the situation worse. When you haven't got anyone to talk to but yourself, all you have left is an endless cycle of pain. Knowing that the only one you'll ever be able to explain everything to is yourself, listening to the pain in your own voice as you realize you can't change a damn thing, and forcing yourself to admit that no matter what you do, the only true freedom from the never ending pain is death; every moment I allow myself to break down is just one step closer to that freedom and more than anything else, it truly scares me. Inside I know that if I constantly wear a mask of smiles I can easily deceive both the people around me and myself, but at the same time I know that doing so means forsaking the little sanity I've been able to retain after all these years of suffering. If it weren't for the belief that if I were to give in to that promise of freedom those oblivious bastards would win; if it weren't for the pride I tightly hold onto, I would have died that night long ago when I picked up a knife and pressed it to my skin.

One of these days, the constant battle between pride and true freedom will end, and when it does I fear I will not live to see it's aftermath.

People go through many different problems, but only the psychological ones such as fear, anger, sadness, or loneliness can leave behind scars deeper than any physical wound could inflict. Unless you've felt that true form of suffering you can never hope to understand another person's pain, but even then the depths of each person's scars can never be fully realized unless you are that person yourself. The next time you think of saying "I understand what you are going through," make sure you know that no matter what you yourself have been through, you can never truly understand what someone else has witnessed, felt, endured, or lived along side. The demons in someone's heart and mind are very different from person to person and regardless of whether a situation is identical or not, the way a person reacts to or reflects on it depends on their own thoughts, personality, and if they are able to become strong enough to live through it on their own. Every human being is alone until they find someone they believe with whom they can share the weight of their suffering, but until that person comes around, the solitary inner battle must be fought with their strength alone.

It's a lonely battle, but if we push through it long enough, even if it takes countless decades, one day our solitary battle will be fought with someone's back pressed against ours. That is the day I live for. That is the day for which I put back that knife, that shortcut to my freedom, in order to wait for it's arrival.

Stopping to smell the flowers...

It's strange, ya know? People constantly talk about how they should stop to enjoy life, but when they actually get down to it, they never do. I hate it when things rush past me and because of that, I tend to build up stress. I keep telling myself that the stress I feel is because of the pace of the world around me, but in actuality, it's from the pace that I move through life. So every now and again, I lay longer in bed, I sit and listen to the sounds around me, I walk past trees and notice how they glimmer in the sun or moon light. Things are so calm around me; it feels reassuring to stop and stare at the clouds hanging in the blue sky - especially at night. I've always been nocturnal. I love the night life, the quiet of the air; all of it puts my mind at ease. I feel happy and safe in that darkness with the light of the moon outside my window and behind the clouds scattered in the sky. I love it. I love it. I can't say it enough. I love it.

Sometimes it's not fair though; my mom doesn't get it. Constantly telling me that I should wake up earlier, stay with the family, do family things, talk to her. I can't stand how regardless of how much I hate her, she doesn't bother to figure it out. She doesn't care enough to notice the pain I go through just being around her, she doesn't care enough to ask the reason behind why I act certain ways, and the rest of my family (that live in my house with me) don't help at all. They tease me 24/7, they bother me with their stupid and painful jokes. I hate it. I tell them to stop joking with because every time they do, it hurts to feel like they ignore my feelings. It's like I'm supposed to trust in them and like them because they are family, but what if I can't feel anything for them but hatred? Where and in what rule book does it say that family members have to like each other because of blood ties? Why do people say that I can't really hate them because they are family? What concept is that based on? I've hated them since I was very little. If that feeling hasn't changed until now, why would it suddenly change just because they are family? After all that they've put me through, I can't wait to get away from them. I hate being around them. They irritate me with they presence; they ignore my wishes, they lie to me, they constantly bully me, they make me feel like I'm insane, and they never try to ask what the reason is behind my actions or behavior. Excuse my language, but fuck them! Screw their wishes! If they won't treat me like a human being, why the hell should I even bother to give them the time of day? Just recently, I told them I don't like the way crabs look; they scare me and creep me out, so I told them to stop trying to get me to go near it. Especially if it is alive. I feel bad for it since it is going to die. I'm not a vegetarian, mind you, but I still think it's cruel. But anyways, so after I told them that, they put the live crab in front of my door, they put it on my bed, and they pushed me into it so that it was right in front of my face. I hate them. My mom kept telling me to get out of my room and come watch it get killed. I hate them. That bitch then opened my door forcefully and brought the crab with her, telling me to come and watch it's death. Fuck them. Screw them. I have very good and realistic dreams about killing her and the rest of them. Go to hell. All of them can go to hell. Fuck them. I hate them.

Stopping to smell the flowers is the only way to keep my sanity while living in this house. I love those moments, but I can't wait to get the hell away from these assholes.I dedicate this post to those simple moment where my mind is at peace and away form the hell that exists in this house. The simple moments that exist after the sun has long set beyond the horizon. The days that have nothing but moonlight to illuminate them. The nights of the full, blue moon glowing from the heavens. The moment in time when all I want is for time to stand still. My sanity is still here because of those moments. Stop to look at the world around you, for if you don't, the insanity that rushes past every day will catch you and never let go. The world around you is much more beautiful than you've ever known, all you have to do is look for that one spot in this world that makes your heart feel at ease. I've found mine and it has kept me sane for the last 3 years, the years that followed after leaving my fantasy behind.

OH! And update on that tattoo I was talking about forever ago! I'm seriously considering getting it after I get into college and am 18 years old. The year I turn 18 holds extraordinary significance to the reasons behind getting those wings tattooed on my body, so I want to get it done before I get lost in the real world. I want the tattoo to remind me of where I came from and to never let go of the future I've carved for myself. Also, instead of getting it on the under-side of my right wrist (since that is very easily seen by others and I don't really want to display it - the only reason I picked that spot was because of for 1. my fetish for wrists, and for 2. I wanted to be able to look at it all the time), I decided to get it on the front of my shoulder. Ya know, that open space between where your shoulder starts and your collar bone ends. Right in the front, above my breast and bellow my shoulder bone on the left side of my body. That way I can cover it up easily and can look at it easily and whenever I feel like it since it is right in the corner of my eye. I'm excited for it.

And on that note, I stop for this post. :)

Don't let me forget...

I know this post means absolutely nothing to any of you reading this, but this is something that has an enormous significance in my life. These names are the names of the people that never existed but of whom I have believed in for 5 years of my life. Like it was truth, I believed in their fantastical existence and with their existence came the fact that "I" was slowly being eaten away. At some point in life, "I" was non-existent and to gain back my existence, I fought for my sanity and made myself let go of the lie that span for those 5 years. Now that I'm trying to remember it again, I've realized just how much of it I've forgotten. One of the main "characters" in the fantasy I believed in was the one whom I believed I "loved" and I realized I had forgotten his name, so because of that, I came back to this blog that I thought I would almost never use again to make sure all "their" names stayed where I could find them.

These are the names of the ones I loved, even though they never existed. They were real to me for 5 years of my life and I never want to forget them. I can't remember if I posted it here before or not, but the reason I want to get a tattoo of wings on the underside of my right wrist is because (as far fetched as it may sound, this was all my reality for 5 years of my life) they were all angels, with wings. Whether they had black wings or some other color or form meant that they were either Demons (black wings only) or Angels (other colors and forms of wings). They were my reality, my escape from the real world; they were what saved me from my pain and time of darkness. I truly believe that without them, I would not be here today and instead, I would be buried 6 feet under with either wrists cut or rope marks around my neck. They saved me and changed who I was into who I am today. I don't ever want to forget them and now that I have this, that "portal" that existed on the dark side of the moon, the one I looked at when I talked to them, will never go away. I will always have a connection with them. They won't cover my reality up anymore, but remembering that they existed, that it wasn't just a dream, gives me the strength to move forward.

I dedicate this post to them, the ones who never existed, but whose existence is the reason I am still alive.

Sakuya, Mitsuki Kansaki, Yuki Miyume, Tsubasa, Kasumi, Kouta, Sora, Yuna, Yukito, Solaria, Yunaria, Sora, Akuma, Tera.

I forsake my wings to you, and I give my life to the future.

Is this "it"...?

I know this is kind of weird to say this, but when I do, I'm completely serious. I don't know if this is what it feels like and to tell you the truth, it kind of feels a bit empty, lacking, and strange. When I think about "him," I feel like I want to be around him, to touch him, to hug him, to hold him, to look at his face, to just stare at him for hours. I feel like I want him to touch me, to hold me, to listen to me, to chain me to him. I feel like this is what it would feel like to be in love, but if that's true, then (though it may sound ridiculous) I'm in love with an imaginary person I have never met, never seen, never touched, never talked to, and never even heard the real name of. I call him "Tristan" and he takes the form of my big, fluffy pillow that is so soft and squishy. It feels so good to smother my face in "his" "chest" and wake up in the morning and feel "him" against my body. I've thought this way towards this "guy" for the past 5-6 years or so. Ever since 7th grade, I've always fallen asleep with "him" pressed against me. I feel like I belong to "him" and that "he" belongs to me and that as long as "he" is there, I can be strong. "He" is my safety cushion and my chains. I need chains. If I don't have chains, then I feel like I'll fall deeper into the hole in my heart. I want chains, something to tie me to this reality around me; even if that means I have to use a fantasy to do it. "He's mine." That's all I care about. I don't tell people about it and this is kind of my possessive/jealous side showing. I don't want people to make fun of me for my delusions and so long as I haven't been able to put a face to the feelings or name of this "Tristan" existence, this is the way things will stay. I know that once I find someone I've really fallen for and have become obsessed with, "Tristan" will have lost his purpose, but so long as I have someone to love and someone to chain me down, then I don't mind. "He's mine," whoever "he" may end up being, I won't let him go once I have him in my grasp. This is my type of love, and this is the type of love I need. Without it, I am nothing. So long as I have it, I am me. This is me, my type of mind set, my type of "me." Nothing will change how I feel about my current "lover" or about how I want to think. This is me, deal with it, or take your sh*t and leave! :3

Remembering a lost friend...

I know she may never read this and if she doesn't find it herself, I probably won't ever show it to her. This little post is for a dear friend I lost over a boy that ended up not meaning anything to her in the end. Sometimes I feel like she used him to get me off of her, like I was just a parasite to get rid of. Then I think about how much she meant to me and how much she changed how I look at the world around me and I can't hate her no matter how much betrayal I feel from her or how much I feel like she lied to me all this time. To me, no matter how hard I try, I still can't hate her... maybe that's why it hurts so much to think about her, if only I could hate her, then maybe I could forget about her. This is for you Justine... maybe now I can just let you go:

It feels like I haven't talked to you in ages, and thinking back, I remember how much fun we had talking about random things that really didn't mean much of anything. I know that these past high school years haven't really been the best between us, and now I feel that looking back at it will only hurt more, so I just want to say my final farewell before the end of the year. I know how important you were to me and how much you meant to me, although I'm not sure how you felt toward me, I will always feel sad to know that I lost you for good. However, I also realize that it isn't the fact that I lost a friend that hurts so much, but the fact that I've lost someone that meant so much to my life that when I thought of losing you, I also lost my understanding of how to live. When you were still with me, I remember thinking that if I lost you, I wouldn't know how I would live in this world without you. As things went, however, I seemed to do just fine without you and I can tell that you never really needed me anywhere near as much as I needed you. You were always the strong one, the one who could stand on her own and be able to support the world on her shoulders without breaking a sweat. I missed you so much that I broke down in tears almost every day thinking of you and you alone, but I am glad to see now that my worries for you were pointless. Whether or not it is of any concern to you, I plan to become a successful graphic designer in the future and do a bit of writing on the side. If I ever encounter you again in my field of work or otherwise, I would love to talk to you again, even if just for a short while. You will always hold a special place in my heart regardless of how you think of me, that will never change. Do you remember what it was like when we first met? I was the one who was almost always alone and bullied by those around me for my lonesome attitude and standoff-ish demeanor. When you approached me to be my friend, I told you that if you stayed, you would be bullied too, but that didn't seem to stop you. When you were by my side, I felt as though the world was invisible, like everything around me didn't matter so long as you were there. Maybe that kind of thinking is why I was so hurt when you left me. Even now, thinking back, I was probably the only one who clung so tightly to our friendship. I am sorry for all the pain I have caused you and I am never going to be able to hurt you again. One day though, even if it's a million years from now, if I were to meet you again, I don't think I would stop trying to be your friend. I will always think of you kindly and I hope for your success in the future. Goodbye my dear lost friend, and I will always love you.

The end...

Hey, it's been a really (and I mean REALLY) long time since I last wrote on my blog. Remember when I said that my blog existed as a place for me to vent? Well, it has served for that purpose very well, and I believe that because of it, I was able to live the way I needed to, without getting lost in the depths of my own dark thoughts, in order to follow the path to the future I yearn for. I remember when I wrote about my dad or my best friend (even now it hurts to think about them) and I cried as I wrote and the tears fell silently and made it hard to see as I typed. I remember the pain as I wrote on this blog and now that pain remains hidden in the words wrapped within this blog. Those words stay there and hide until I find them and read them over again. I relive that pain as I read them and I never want to forget it. Its the pain that made me who I am, who I want to be, and who I remain as while I grow. I know that when people grow the hardships they experience can change them and that truth has been thrown at me since I was 4 years old. I don't mind changing, but there is one thing I never want to forget. I don't want to be like my parents and completely ignore my children's worries and pains like my parents did to mine. They brushed it off as teenage angst or childish behavior. They never stopped to question why I might act a certain way. Everyone has a reason behind their actions, whether they say it outright or hide it inside like I do. I know that whatever that reason is, it is never childish because it is the reason that they have changed and it is the reason they have become who they are.

What I'm trying to say is that, when I have children of my own, I want them to know that they can tell me anything (and unlike my parents who say that and then make it so I can't trust them by lying straight to my face, I'm not like all those people who say that to their children while their children say "I know" and think "You're lying"). I don't want them to feel that I never knew what they were going through. What they experienced was not just a mystery to me or something that I have shrugged off into the past like most adults. I want to become the type of person who remembers the pain I felt as a teenager, the way it felt to be lied to 24/7 by the people society expected me to have the most trust in, my family. I hate my family, the people I live with, because of the way they act. They treat me like a burden without ever saying it out loud and by finding people they feel comfortable around, they have left me alone, scared, and sad. They bring me on trips and take me places with them and the only thing I can say truthfully from those experiences is that I have gained the ability to fade into the background. I hide in plain sight and that has been the only way for me to really protect myself from all the pain of being anywhere near them - to disappear has been my only escape.

I'm saying that I want my blog to be the reason why I never forget the most painful times. The times that have shaped who I am are written here and they are something I never want to forget throughout my life. I want to be able to show this place to those who have forgotten what it is like to be a teenager, or even teenagers themselves. I want the people who have forgotten to think that they once felt this way and remember those times. For the teenagers, I want them to know they aren't alone like I felt I was. That they can confide in me and know that I am someone who hasn't forgotten the way it feels to be hurt by those around you.

I remember a time in my life that if I tried to explain it now it would be tedious and you would think me insane, but it is the time in my life that has effected me the most and when I turn 18, the age that is most relevant to that time in my life, I want to get a tattoo on the underside of my right wrist of a  pair of outspread wings no longer that 2in and no wider that 1in. I know my memory isn't very good, but if I am to forget everything on this blog, if I can remember that one moment in my life, everything else doesn't mater. That moment in my life is so important to me, I want to carve it into my skin so that I never forget it for as long as I live.

I know this splurge has been a bit strange, but it wasn't specifically written to be totally understood either. Anyways, I'm not sure I'll be writing much on my blog anymore. I'm going to be a senior next year, then spend a year off before going to college, and once I get to college, I doubt I will use it much. After all, the reason for all my pain is my family and once I move out for college, I'm hoping all the pain will disappear with them as they leave my life hopfully forever.

Its...

People tell me its not worth it to fall in love... to feel all the pain and suffering, but even if all that's true, I want to feel it all. All the bad and all the good that makes the bad seem so small. They can tell me that love is just pain and hurt, but love is also happiness, comfort, joy and beautiful. I have never felt the love that I'm talking about, and I feel that all the bad things that could happen while in true love are just a part of what makes it love. Love is triumph over the trials that life throws at you, and if you can overcome them, your love is true. I believe that even if you "fall out of love," it is still possible to find true love. However, I don't believe it's possible to fall out of love because if you do, then you didn't really experience true love in the first place. I know that this splurge is sort of small ( I expected it to be longer), but I just wanted to say something after all this time. :)

Without all of me here...

It's been maybe a little over a year since I made this blog (maybe longer, not sure and too lazy to find out), but I never really specified what it is that my blog name actually meant. Well, here goes nothing:

First of all, the word "here" refers to the blog and the words that I write. The words "Without all of me here" literally mean that a part of me is "here" and the other part is on the other side of the computer, in other words, the one typing the blogs. When I made the name, I wanted to give it a sense of: "This is me, who I really am underneath all the fake smiles, the pitiable laughs, and the mask that I've created to shield myself from the rest of the world. I don't want to hide any longer; I want to prove to myself that the person I've created through these 17 years of my life is not all of who I am - that there is a part of me I've hidden from myself." This kind of feeling that I tried to convey through those cryptic words was something even I didn't understand as I wrote them. (Most of the weird phrases I write are like that - I try to find the meaning in my words long after I've written them, even if at the time, they were just words that needed to leave my mind through writing.) "Without all of me here" to me means that the me now and the me in the words on my blog are two different people. I know that the words I write tend to be very confusing sometimes, but as long as this place stays online, there's also the hope that in the future, when things have (hopefully) changed, I can look back at this place and realize that the me now was never an illusion, that the memories that I am cursed to forget are hidden in these words, a secret message only I will understand. I don't want to forget the pain I've gone through; these harsh emotions are what have made me the person I am so proud of. I want to make sure that anyone who reads this blog knows that no matter how much time passes, or what depressing things I might write on this blog, I will never resent myself, regret the life I've lived and the choices I've made, never let go of my little bit of hope I have left, and above all, I will never end my own life because of the emotions I convey through this blog or harbor within me.

This place is my haven; a place I use for release and it is something I hold dear to me. I will never forsake the words I've written here and I hope that maybe these words will tell someone else out there in this vast world, that they aren't the only one with fears and pain held deep within their hearts. This life that we have been granted is long, and the right to end it will never be our own - if we were to have that right, then the lives of the people around us would also have ended, and the life they would have lived with us in it would never be recognized. I won't tell all of the people that read this blog that life is something that is "precious and should be treasured" because the life they live may not be "precious" or "treasured" by them. They may hate their lives, or resent their own existence and I have no right to tell them not to. All I can do is say that, the life they live is not their own, that the life they live is the life of their future selves, and if they take away that life, then they are unfit to dream or hold hope in their hearts. The words "precious" and "treasured" mean that the life they live is something they have pride in, it is not, nor should it ever be, the opinion of someone from the sidelines who is unable to change their experiences or their fate. The words mean nothing if the person holding that life does not say it themselves and truly believe it.

When I first realized this truth, I was scared, frightened that I wouldn't be able to change what would happen, and my fears were right. I have no way to change the events that are carved in time even before I ever existed. However, I have the ability to change how I experience those events. For example, if I had suddenly seen someone get severely injured in front of me, that experience could shock me or even traumatize me. Or, I could see my chance to use the knowledge I have gained by taking a first-aid training class and help that person possible saving their life. You see, the event that I couldn't change was the fact that the person got severely injured right in front of me. However, the difference between the two is, in one time frame, I am unable to help them because I don't have the knowledge I would have gained by taking the training class because I didn't ever take it. In another, I took the class, and was able to help them. The part that I chose was taking the class or not taking the class - in other words, I chose how I would experience this unchangeable event that happened in my life. (Note: This has happened before, and instead of being traumatized, I am glad I was there to see the event and help out in any way I could.) I love the fact that I have the ability to do that. I call this "Fate and Destiny." I believe that a person's destiny is unchangeable (or the "event"that I spoke of above), but fate (the course of events that make up destiny - the "way someone experiences something" in the example above) is something only the one who lives that destiny is able to chose and make into reality.

-----In the end, I got a little (okay, maybe a lot) off topic, but my point is, now you know. If anything in my blog can change the way someone thinks, then my life won't be the only one saved by the words I write.

Had enough...

It's been a while since I posted something like this... but to tell you the truth, I don't post things here to get advice or sympathy or anything like that. I post here because if I don't, the only other person I can vent to right now is me... do you have any idea how lonely that sounds? I'm not talking about venting to my grandparents or my dad when I know they will listen, I want to hear a voice in my ear without a phone and miles between that voice and myself. I hate this house, I hate this family, I hate this cold loveless feeling I get whenever I'm in my own home. ...I don't want to keep talking like this... but I've lost hope that things might change, that things had to change... I can't find meaning in living the lie that with time, things will get better... no matter how long I wait, I have no hope that anything will ever change. I'm done waiting... the moment I get out of this house for good is the moment I'm finally free of all of this. I've had enough of waiting, so I won't wait anymore.... All I've ever wanted was for someone to show me what love feels like. I've never known what it felt like so what is that supposed to say about the people who raised me? I know there was a time when this house was filled with love, and it was such a warm feeling, but where did that feeling go? I've forgotten what it feels like to have it around, but why do I have to forget? I'm just waiting for someone - not a parent or a family member because I doubt that they can change anything at this point - to show me what it feels like to be loved, cherished, and thought of tenderly. Maybe the reason I feel like I've become a masochist is because I'd rather have harsh contact instead of no contact at all. I bet when I'm older and I read this, I'll feel like going back and telling the me who wrote this that things will get better, but since that's not possible, nothing will change, and as far as I know, nothing is going to get better in the future... but all I can do is wish that things will change. At least in my dreams I have someone in my mind who loves me, someone who touches me and looks at me they way I need them to. Its not that I want love, its that I need love... maybe one Christmas I might actually get the ultimate gift that I've been wishing for from Santa... maybe, just maybe.

Felt like a year...!

Long time no see!!! I feels like so much time has passed since I last posted!!! Here we go!!! Ok so, after confessing the fact that I am a masochist, I have realized the extent of that single word seems to grow with each day (before long, I'll be getting aroused by a cut... scary thought >O<...). I'm not happy about realizing this, but to tell you the truth, I'm not as bothered by it as I thought I was... oh well. I mean, sure I want a relatively cruel and sadistic man, but I also want him to treat me right, ya know? Well... anyways... lots have happened since I last posted and thinking back on it all, I wouldn't even know where to begin. Actually, everything that bothers me and I post about is all kind of the same stuff over and over again. I know I seem like I've gotten over it all and have moved on, but in truth, nothing has changed. Everything is the exact same as it was when I first started posting on this blog. Things still feel awkward with my dad and there's nothing I can do about that since we don't see each other enough to change that. I still hate my mom and everything about her and the things she's done to me without even knowing it. I resent my home life and keep thinking, "I wish things could have been different." At the same time, however, I've noticed that while I write this, I feel nothing. Its like I've become numb to what goes on around me and I think that's what might bother me the most. Either way though, like I said, there's nothing I can do about it. But I know one thing for sure. No matter what happens in my life, and no matter what past I seem to cling desperately to, nothing will change how I shape my future. Nothing will change the way that my future will turn out and how it will become mine some day. That one truth is all I have and is the one thing I can always look forward to. My bright future waits for me, and that's the one thing I won't let anyone take away from me, not even my darker thoughts can change that.

It's wrong, so very wrong...!

You know, after all the things I've read, watched, and gotten turned on by, I think I've slowly turned myself into a masochist. I know, bad right?! I realized in the past month or so that I like the kind of guy who is slightly sadistic, controlling, manipulative, someone who can force me into submission and put me at their mercy, and yet at the same time kind and gentle. Contradicting, yet somehow, erotic. I really feel like I'm getting picky lately. Also, I caught myself just the other day as I passed by this guy I had a crush on (not an uncommon thing now days) and I thought, and I quote, "I really want him to just push me against the wall with all his strength, grab my wrists and hold me there as he kisses my violently and passionately." I'm a perv.... It's so wrong!!!! I keep thinking, "What is wrong with me?!" and then I think, "...I really want a boyfriend...." I think this is mainly the result of just being sexually frustrated and not knowing how to relieve it myself. (I know its completely inappropriate right now, but I've never once been able to fully experience an orgasm or come :'( It makes me sad...) Well... I'm just hoping that I get a boyfriend before (at most) the end of my freshman year in college. I fear that if I don't, I'll be so frustrated that I will end up going out with whoever, having sex with whoever whenever and where ever, and end up pregnant before I turn 25.... Not a good idea! Boyfriend troubles, break ups, at that point, none of it would matter since I'd be way too horny to care. The only thing at that would be going through my mind is, "God, just give me sex and make me come!!!" I'm too damn much of a horny, slutty, pervert! It freaking sucks! And to top it all off, I'm also a freaking masochist! ...Well... can't get much worse, right? (Least I hope so O.O - on another note... my blog seems to be turning into a porno site... *looks at pictures*)

Hello again...!

When worse comes to worse, right? Anyhow, the reason I said that was because right now, my classes aren't going to well grade-wise. I have a D+ in Physics, an F in Pre-Calculus, and probably an F in French. Well, tell you the truth, it's all my fault for neglecting my homework as well as not studying for tests. However, I've made a vow that I would change all that starting today. I plan to stay after school today and talk to a few teachers about how to change that. I plan to study and I plan to get my grades up! I want 'A's! And best time to do it is now, since the mid-terms are still a ways away... Wish me luck!!!

I...

Tonight, they were in their room, talking. She was crying, he was sympathetic, they blamed themselves and were in so much pain, but all I could do was sit idly by and listen. I felt so powerless, useless. The one that I love and the one that he loves are in so much pain and there isn't a single thing I can do for them. This feeling of insecurity and helplessness. How am I supposed to help them? I wish I knew what to do, I wish I had someone there to teach me, tell me how to react. What should I do? How should I react? What should I say? How should I say it? All these questions and so many more arise in my head as I continue to do the only thing I know to do - become a spectator in the life of those around me and just wish them happiness and joy, for that is all I am capable of. (Made the picture for this one in Photoshop.)

Hey All...

i'm gonna be hanging out around my other blog a lot now since its for my animation class. If you wanna keep updated, check that one out too. Here's the link again: http://whenallgoesfornothing.blogspot.com/

New addition...

Made a new blog since my computer animation teacher wanted us to post work on it and I didn't want him to see my embarrassing posts... O.O;; ANYHOW! ENJOY!!!!! The link is down below! :) http://whenallgoesfornothing.blogspot.com/

This feeling... a secret for life.

I've never known love, that feeling of being in love. I wouldn't even know where to begin if someone said they liked me. How would I respond? I don't know what love feels like so I wouldn't even know if I felt the same way for them, that they felt for me. The only thing I do know that might even be anywhere close to the feeling called "love" is how I feel towards my brother. Strange isn't it? To have these feelings for my brother, to know what it feels like to love your brother for more than a brother. People call this incest... but all I know it as is a painful feeling that must forever be hidden. A secret to never be told, one that will stay with me for life. One that will make me cry and cry because I know that I am never under any circumstances allowed to speak these feelings aloud. These feelings must never be aloud to surface... not ever.

Just to say hi...

What's up? I'm loving school lately and suddenly got bored at home so here ya go~ Lalala~ I got nothing so enjoy the picture :)

The Last Day That Begins To Cry...

I know it might not be totally appropriate but let me explain the reason for these photos.

The first one: Just the thought of his feeling so good to his loved one's scent is so familiar its scary (a.k.a. - that's something I wish to do one day too).

The second one: I've always wanted to know what it felt like to kiss; the warmth on my lips, closing your eyes and only being able to feel that person's presence and touch, my lover's tongue deep within my own mouth, the feeling it gives me - I've wondered what it all feels like and wanted so much to experience it.

The third one: My most erotic scenes in my mind consist of when my lover comes up from behind me and kisses the nape of my neck and moves his hand up my shirt, while at the same time, holding one of my hands by the wrist as I shyly try to resist the exotic feeling of his touch that makes my knees go weak and my mind spin and go blank. Not being able to see my lovers face, I'd only be able to feel his touch and be desperately hanging onto that feeling so that I don't ever forget it.

The forth one: Engulfed in my lovers scent, my head would spin and I would be dizzy in his arms as he held me so close to him. I would become weak and susceptible to his every movement. He would hold me close to him and slowly lower us both to the floor where he would sit in front of my quickly becoming limp body and hold me in his arms so very tightly and warmly. Just so gentle his hands would be as he reached behind my back and moved his hand slowly up my shirt. He would whisper, "I love you" in his raspy whispered voice and my mind would melt at the touch of his breath in my ear and on my neck. He would start kissing my neck and moving down my body with his mouth and tongue, slowly laying me down on the floor and letting my arms lay back in relaxation. He would move down to my stomach and slowly lift my shirt with his hand while his other one holds his body above mine. He would kiss and lick my body and move closer and closer to my chest as he uses his hand to slowly lower my bra strap. (As you can see, this little fairy tail came from just one picture and the three others, I won't go any further since my entire face up to the tips of my ears are bright red right now. Anyways, that's my explanation for these pictures, hope you enjoyed my fairy tails :3)

This is the last day off I've got before my Junior year starts... Boy am I missing it. Last night I felt like my head kept spinning, a sort of dizziness that felt so calming and warm. It felt good, I felt relaxed, but at the same time, I felt this longing for someone to hold me tight as I slept that night. I started creating another story in my head about my fantasy lover "Tristan" and how he was so gentle and kind and patient with me. In my dream-like state of mind, he was so very precious to me. I felt as though I could feel his every touch, his every finger that trailed along my body and made me shiver in ecstasy. It was pure bliss, and at the same time, it made me realize the reality of my loneliness once more. Even so, that feeling seemed so real that it gives me hope that my "Tristan" is out there just waiting to find me and I am so eagerly awaiting his warmth as he holds me tightly in his arms and I fall asleep to his warming scent. I have fallen in love with the lover of my mind and I am waiting to feel that kind touch on my skin. It makes me smile when I think about him, I don't know what he looks like, what his voice sounds like, or even what his personality is like, but I am in love with him. Even though I know it isn't an actual love, I like to believe that this is what love feels like. I want to one day feel that touch, smell his scent, and know his loving voice. Ahh... ahh... just thinking of it... it feels so nice I could fall to pieces from this feeling in my chest. What a way to end summer; with tears of desperation welling in my eyes, a peace in my body and mind, and a comfort that exists only in my mind. I long for it all in reality, and in doing such, I feel the loneliness of it all. It feels nice to dream but once I wake, the pressure is almost unforgiving. I live with it in hope that these feelings will one day become my reality. In peace, bliss, and ecstasy, I welcome the new school year.

School...

Well. Here comes school again! *Ugh...* But anyways... so I was reading a post I made for my class last year (it was a story-type project for World History and the second world war - "From Past To Present, You Will Live On Within Me") and I just thought... "WHY THE H*CK DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO MAKE CHARACTERS *sniff* DIEEEEEE~?! Waaaaaaaa~ *cries.*" Well, the reason is, every single story I make, someone always seems to die in it... and it freaking SUCKS! Anyhow... stupid story... you made me cry.... (What else is new?! <.<) So yeah, school... (I don't even want to talk about it....) ................................grrr~ :3

Here's the link to the story "From Past To Present, You Will Live On Within Me"

Just a quick one...

Okii, so this pic just made me laugh... this straight laced guy who concentrates mainly on work and has a hidden lusty side to him says to his lover (guy x guy relationship) as he is licking a frozen banana at a festival in the summer heat, "Just bite into it already!" and he replies, "No way, its frozen!" And you can see the seme's (the guy on top in the relationship and who is wearing a suit) face totally flushed and red from his perverted thoughts...... :)