2004-10-28
blossoming
I feel so very thick. Unpenetrable. I'm locked in tight, I'm out of range. Nothing could phase me right now, but everything does. I don't feel good. I need sleep. I need an unflawed right hand. Everything will change.
I'm supposed to think everything through. Don't you worry. Please don't worry. There's no reason to. (edit: scratch that, I'm the one who's worried.) I just have to reevaluate everything. I know, I don't like the sound of it either.
School is starting to really get to me. Sixteen or so more months of it, dying inside a little more each day. I'm gripping, I'm gripping hard and it cramps my hands. But I wouldn't dare let go, ever. I know it's ok for some people to just barely touch it, but I have a stronghold. It hurts, but it won't change. Everything else just might. Neurotic, illogical, anal, sad. That's the way it goes.
I've met some good people. I know something nice to say to each one. I couldn't be sickly sweet even if I tried. I learn a lot from Vera, though.
I can only raise one side of my upper lip (my left, your right). It's very frustrating to me.
I'm getting into that phase again where I see other random people and wish I was them. Today it was some lady standing outside a house smoking a cigarette and talking to another lady. I wanted to be her. It made me feel bad inside. This journal is probably detrimental to my mental health. I may read this entry later, and all of the negative thoughts within may be reaffirmed. The church bells are ringing right now. Sometimes I wished I truly believed in God and all the love and faith I could feel for Him. I don't believe, not really, not in that uplifting way that inspires you to live a life of devotion and goodness in the Lord's name. It's not me, but I can see how it would be nice to have someone to open up to like that, someone who wouldn't judge or answer back, someone who might not hear but would listen if they could. I tried really hard not to judge Daniel when he casually mentioned he got an MIP. And I don't, and I like him a lot, no less ever. These are the things I consider.
It's fall, not spring. I have yet to blossom yet cannot sense the correlation to the seasons. I won't open up, I can't. I have yet to blossom.
leesah-likes at 5:56 p.m.