I don’t want to live with the thought and comprehension that I did something against my will, against my desire. I have to believe these thoughts were placed into my mind for a reason, whether or not for my benefit or heartache, I don’t know, but a signature example of why I should think about everything. Simply, I just want to be solely in my existence, and if it is telling me, announcing to me, calling out to its very own body, then why shouldn’t I acknowledge and answer it? Why should I do something which is against those thoughts and feelings, those unquenchable dreams and sincere contemplations I’ve had for so long. What will I lose if I allow myself to simply abandon those for the sake of temptation? Or is the temptation to go with those thoughts the actual threat?
         I’ve long-since acknowledge that I could understand myself better than any outside of God, and I’ve rather allowed the thought that someone else could comprehend what was best for me to dwindle until there’s practically only a ink smudge on the page. And yet, I’m still uncomfortable swayed with the harsh wind, and hid underneath the branches when rain is overhead. I’ve been too afraid of lack of substance, knowledge of unmet dreams, and the success of winning, I can’t seem to take a step forward without either contradicting myself or second-guessing the thought. Who knows whether or not they are as desired as I actually play them out to me, but certainly, if the idea was the foundation of dreams, then reality can’t be too far away. Or, at least, that is what I would like to argue, but those who are so rooted in rational reality, they don’t see that we build it with our own hands, as well as upon the hands of God. Reality and society is all just stigmas and conditions we’ve placed upon ourselves so that we don’t ever get what we actually want in life. That is, we would actually have to know what we want first, to even begin.
I don’t know what I want; and I can barely grasp hold of the things that I don’t want. So, how am I supposed to explain myself to those who can only see what is right in front of their faces? I don’t see the face; I see inside, around, above and underneath every corner of every crook. The true face is what I aim for, and sadly, I am only placed in the perspective of those who believe that what they are seeing is the truth. If only that was true, pain wouldn’t be such a lie, and hope wouldn’t seem like such a poison. And yet, I’m constantly acknowledged by these people, and placed under their rule, designated by “society,” deemed by “reason.” I can’t see why people only complain about their world, and yet still contend to follow the set guidelines and rules they’ve put up for themselves.
         Of course, I am being a hypocrite to even say such; for certainly, I constantly get thrown into the pattern of normality, forced to see the world through those tainted, unopened eyes. I only want to be, simply whatever is actually meant for me; I want to be brought out of such complacent darkness and into the favor of enlightenment of those who can see into the depth of their adversaries. Who knows if I’ll be able to face the light without some kind of protection, but certainly, I can pray for any kind of hope.
         As of right now though, more than anything, I don’t want to be in what people claim as “society.” I simply just want to be human. And yet, if that means I have to go by their standards, perhaps I’m better suited to just be a ghost in the system, a mere bug for those to believe they’ve crushed, and yet, only to scurry out unharmed. Certainly, I don’t know what I want; so, I don’t even know what to ask for. But, I do know that I want someone to teach me something they shouldn’t; I want to learn how to dream, and believe that those dreams can indeed be fulfilled, simply because they were meant to be. In some sense of it, I do believe such an idea. And yet, mainstream, analytical thinkers still constantly hound me: those who believe they have a harsh hold of the reality of life. I refuse to believe life has a reality. We are the essence of the life, and therefore, we are the reality. God is the reality.
         I don’t know. There are so many things I actually want in life… or, want in my existence. And apparently, I have to go through the eyes, hands, and thought-patterns of the ones who I’ve always been trying to single-handedly fight. So, my war is between whether or not to go against the grain, like I always have, and yet have to deal with the consequences of, one, my parents’ anger and sadness, and, two, the fact that I don’t have a goal to try to reach for. Or, to simply fall back onto their pressure, and go through the motions of a common existence, while foregoing everything I’ve been fighting to reach. For, certainly, I believe that by maintaining my state, I’ll be able to reach a completely new level of comprehension and thought, one of which, I would not be able to reach if I were to gather by the communal pool. But, then again, I think about the hurricane I would be thrown up against if I didn’t try to go about with some kind of plan, some kind of their plan, at least. And yet, are someone else’s expectations for me truly more important than my happiness? And, should the rules to which don’t even apply to me, become more influential than God’s standards? Why can’t I simply go off of that life?
         Honestly, I think this is less about fear than it ever has been before. And now, it’s just simply sadness that I am allowing this to take place, after everything I’ve worked for. Now, I just want to branch out and start my existence… or, at least, figure out what it’s supposed to be like.

 

         I wish I could find a way in order to make everything about myself become apparent, visible, seen for those I wish would comprehend it. Perhaps, by that stance, you would be able to know my falsehoods from truths, and glares from steady glances. These layered-walls, fountains of injustice and lies to be covered and cowered behind, the never-ending tale to never be told, are all brought together for the purpose of self-protection. And yet, they are contradicting the statement, for surely, my heart cannot be left unhurt by you when you question absolutely everything I’ve stated as truth. Given, most of my existence is based off of standardized preambles and foundations I made in early years, therefore your knowledge of me is nothing but misinterpreted, since it was my desire for you to do so. I could very well label this as all my fault, in every essence of the word, if labeling was, indeed, something in which I could do. Since that isn’t in my desire, I can only say this entire situation could have been avoided if I had only allowed your veil to remain in place, and considered your predestined concerns, then I could have easily counter-measured this soiled routine, and ceased this pain, which is floating, abstractedly and unwavering, about you. I simply shouldn’t have allowed it, and yet, I gave into something far harsher than a memory gives it justice.
         There are sides to me which are emphatically weak and cruel, selfish and substantially powerful. Whether or not to say that those are part of the side in which rushed inside of me that night, I couldn’t even know. All I know is that half of that night was brought about by nothing more than my very own beast, my very own pitiful excuse for destruction: my loneliness. I wish I could say that I was enticed by you simply because you are magnificent being that you are, and surely, there is a side of me which tries to warrant it. And yet, I can’t pass this off as simply lust, because, certainly, there wasn’t even a tinge of the idea inside of my heart through this time. Or, perhaps I should retract that and say, indeed, the situation I was lustful for, but it wasn’t you. You said that you were using the two of us, well, perhaps, but indeed, it seems I was using you as well for my own personal gain. When I quickly restated the claim that just saying I wanted the experience would put demerit on you, it was a quick lie. For, certainly, there is a side of me which does want those types of experiences, and as harsh as it could ever possibly be, you are someone safe, comfortable, and you love me; therefore, there couldn’t be a possibly more prime person for me to slip into and taste those experiences in a atmosphere of my choice, and without the obvious consequences I might consider present with either, a male, or towards someone I was actually sexually attracted. With you, I am attracted by your love and stimulated by the idea of not being alone, as well as finding someone who could open up everything about my essence. So, when I told you that I wanted to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you, I have to say this was just my desperate desire to be present with someone and sense that pleasure. I wanted, so emphatically, to have someone near to me: someone who could break me down and see me. Do I think you could handle something like such? I don’t know. I just know that, as it was, I was so emphatically desperate and impatient that I would have taken anything you had given me. I might have even taken anyone who I considered a safe individual. As it stands, I think I’ll cease every one person who even gets close to breaking me apart and witnessing what is inside. I’m beyond even my greatest antagonist; for, it seems I’m always allowing it to win out, in the end. My hero is the villain, and I’m the bad ending to a story. I can barely figure myself out and when it feels like I do, I always seem to hurt someone. While, I’m left unscathed, having completely already accepted everything. I really am the worst type of person.
         In all truth, during the entire night, I couldn’t help but sense there was something wrong with me. I didn’t particularly find it pleasurable in any sort of way; I just rather went along with what I thought I should be doing and what I should be feeling. And yet, I felt utterly devoid of emotion, to be honest. And as I even think about it, I nearly want to break down at the thought. More than anything, I want to be human, and yet, at the time, I felt as if I was as close to reaching it as I was ever going to get. But, if that’s the closest I am going to get to it, then I don’t even know what I’m trying to accomplish. Truly, is the only human I am capable of being is merely a doll? Pleasing others and sensing, experiencing, without actually knowing anything to which is happening. It scares the living daylights out of me. Because, if I am like that with you, with whom I feel so safe, how would I be able to survive in a rough situation? Terrifying. It’s utterly terrifying.
         I don’t try to deny that night, saying it’s meaningless, for surely, it did bring about something interesting thought patterns, and an understanding of myself a bit more. And certainly, I got to see a side of you that intrigued me. And yet, those words sound the harshest. But, apparently, this is the observing practitioner right here: carefully gazing and reflecting about everything that had happened. I’m not human right now, no… but I am being honest, and I am being me. Perhaps, I’m just not supposed to be the human-Allie right now; so, I shouldn't completely disregard the idea that perhaps, true-Allie is just the observer of this body. And, human-Allie is merely me in my blank, human state. Perhaps, I gave up on being human long ago, and since such, I am completely unwritten.
         You deserve to hate me; you deserve to completely want me to disappear, and yet, I can’t think about how easy it would make everything if I simply did. For, that would only make me wish to do such. I don’t know; I’m constantly running away from everything, or stealing something away from others. I am never content with anything; I lie, and smile when I am tearing. Everything I do has some kind of weight to it, and I can never seem to look past it. This is a miserable life for a miserable person.
         In all truth, I am nowhere near ready for anything that I claimed. Actually, I’m terrified of it all, and don’t want any of it. I consistently cry out, saying I don’t want to be a sexual object, and yet, I throw myself in these harrowing and emotional circumstances because of my loneliness and desire to find someone who will figure me out. I simply want to find happiness, and understand what it means. And yet, it seems I’m more fit for analyzing and bringing happiness to others than to myself. Who knows. Maybe that’s supposed to be my joy. And yet, I’m still selfish and want more… perhaps even the impossible. I don’t know. So, when you stated that you weren’t ready for any of it; it was a total scapegoat, and allowed me to flee and consider exactly what was happening in my mind. Apparently, this is what came out. But, this is what I meant by me being all right. For certainly, I’ve already figured out the situation and moved on; and I’m left perfectly unharmed by it. I’m right back where I always was… except now, it seems my walls are going to be a bit harder for others, since I’ve started to understand myself on a completely different level. Therefore, I can fake everything so much better. And, the loneliness is just the same… but I’ll deal, just like I always have. I’ll make it like you won’t even know. M’kee?
         Also, to be perfectly honest, I’m not bi at all. I’m perfectly straight, in the matter of infatuation, but I’m simply scared of men, while woman don’t frighten me in the slightest. And yet, I’m not sexually attracted to them. I just simply see them as beautiful humans… something I can’t reach. They amuse me and intrigue me, but just as much as every human being intrigues me. I hold no desire for them; and yet, the reason why I can kiss you is because I can’t seem to care what happens, or the fact you are a girl. Was I aroused? No. Was I intrigued? Only from an outsider perspective. Was I sickened? Of course not, but it’s because I see all humans as equals. And therefore, have trouble distinguishing the issues of different sexes, on a physical level. Then again, I’ve never experienced anything with a male; so, I don’t know if that would change if I do. Before I can even try something like that, though, I need to get over this insatiable fear of the male sex, on a physical level. How I do that, I don’t know. Perhaps I won’t ever know.
         Well, I’m exhausted now. And you are probably wondering if anything I say in the future will ever be real… I don’t know. I would understand it if you never wanted to trust me again, and for all reasoning, you probably shouldn’t. I don’t know; all I know is that I’m still me. Whatever that means. And of course, I still love you. That’s all I can really give you: my love and my wisdom.

 

         I am in an extravagantly bad mood right now: epically bad mood right now... "reigning chaos and eternal damnation" sort of bad mood right now. And to tell the truth, because, it seems, that's my new fad of the week, I don't know if I could pin-point the exact reason for such a horrific mood as I am in right now. Perhaps I can blame it on girly hormones, because that seems to work enough of the times; I might even blame it on the two cups of M&M's that I just ate and now have to suffer the consequences of a massive stomachache. I could throw all the fault on not knowing where the hell in life I am going, or whether I actually want to get there in the first place; there's even the slight chance I'm just being overdramatic, over thinking every slight obstacle which is in my way. Granted, there are quite a few placing their well-fed asses in front of my blushing face, but still, who am I to say that I'm just not the drama queen of the year, posting her marker as the leader of all that is hellish? Well, I'm someone, but what that even means, I'm not even too sure to imagine. Oh, and there's also the possibility that I'm just frustrated out of my mind for, well, actually listening to my mind for a moment. It was idiotic of me, to be sure, and yet, for some reason, it always tends to rear its ugly little behind and float on past me, whispering sweet hopes and dreams only to be squished like the barely-alive fly to which you've just be swatting at consecutively for the last fifteen minutes.
         I don't know. I don't freakin' know. I don't even know what I do know, and more than anything I wish I did. So, maybe I do know something: I knew I wish I knew anything more. Wootever. Whatever. Whichever. Truly, I have no thoughts... except, I have every thought. My mind is so emphatically mixed up and mashed up, potato-style cooking with a fair pinch of garlic for garnish. There's not one possible conclusion I could muster out besides the one which states that I couldn't possible muster up a conclusion. Gah. Gao. Grr. I don't even know what sort of sounds I should be using, and when the hell did I switch into this crazy lunatic person again? I have no inkling of a clue, perhaps she never left. I don't know. Perhaps I was the one who left. Or, perhaps, every one is the ones who had left and now, I'm the only one who is here. What? Wait. Mate! Dang it, is that Japanese? Why the hell did I switch into Japanese? I don't freakin' know. Apparently, I don't know anything but that I don't know anything. I certainly know how to ramble though, as I know how to type rather fast. But, who is to say I can type rather fast, when I know there are probably millions out there who could type faster than me. There are probably millions out there who type slower than me. Who knows. I don't even know how many millions of people there are in the world. Too many freakin' people in the world. Not neither enough, either. Too many of the wrong kind. Not enough of the bad kinds to which I want to meet, want to mate, what to screw around with. Who the hell knows what I'm talking about? Because, honestly, I've lost all resemblance of who I am. Maybe I'm no one; perhaps, I'm everyone. Perhaps no one is everyone, and everyone is no one. Perhaps I'm an imbecile, and perhaps, I'm smarter than anyone else. Lies. Incorrigible untruths and injustices. Falsehoods and deceits traipsing and trapping, teasing and tattling on the good little boys and girls with their fun parts of innocent bribery. Truth. Lies. Random. What the hell?
         What is going on with my brain? Why is it so freakin’ messed up right now? I can’t even imagine it. Well, no, I can completely imagine it: this rampaging, psychopathic, masochistic train with no true emotion plowing down old St. Avenue looking for Father Cleatus for a little pick-me-up, up he goes. When did I freakin’ turn insane? Was it always like this? When did these thoughts become real? When did my reality become thoughts? When did the sky turn such a delicious shade of ocher? And salami is raining from the clouds. Cute little puppies and kitties all to congregate underneath one roof so that the mean little celery sticks can all bow out of the singing competition. Of course, no one is better than the serrated knifes of inflicted flagellation. Come now, everyone, let us flagellate ourselves! Kill ourselves for the sake of humanity! Screw ourselves until semen seeps from every pour of the disgusting youth: the cruelty of man and degenerate infliction of God. Do you hear that? Yes, I believe in God. I believe in Satan. I believe in you, but save me, please, I cannot believe in myself! No! What would be the insane point in that? It would be too calm, too serene, too completely immaculate for the likes of me. I need blood; I need death, mutilation, and despair. Those are what really gets me going, turns me on, turns me up and down, twists my hips until I fall the ground with pleasure. Give me the pain, maestro, and I’ll show you the pleasure of my longing. Can you feel it twist, burn inside of you like the mark of all mankind? I sin of all youth and humanity? There is only youth in the world! For the moment you turn out of youth, you are already dead. You are already a helpless, harmless failure at everything. I am a failure at everything!
         So, come now, people, listen up to the words of your guiding teacher! Sensei! Sensei! Come now, and let my words rape you, feet flying in the air while you are unable to fully grasp any sort of potential you might have to offer! No, no potential for you, leave quickly now.
         I’m lost. I’m gone. I’m dead. Kill me now. Kill the dead. I want it. I need it. Just let me rest, please. Finally. Gone. Just let me be gone. I need to be gone. I despise this place with such immaculate passion, with such heated joy. I enjoy hating it so greatly, I merely burst into tears at the slightest touch, convulse from laughter at the slightest twinge. Idiot. You are an idiot for letting me not have you. You are an idiot for touching and not realizing I am yours! Take me a way; throw me away. Just let me be forgotten amongst the rubble of depravity. Deprived. I am deprived? Lies. I am basking in the wealth of everything I could possibly want, and I despise it all. I despise everything. I despise nothing. Nothing matters. Everything matters. Why can’t anyone see? Why can’t I see? Why the hell is this happening to me? I want it to stop, and now my fingers all refuse to stop typing! Lies! I cannot cease this moment, for then, the burning shall continue and I will have to fight another night without anyone, without you, without life itself. I’m gone.
         I’m dead, can’t you see? Lost. Hurt. And there is no one who can save me, for I cannot even say myself. So says the perplexed ghost of the lady who lives down by the pond. Yes, a pond. She lives down by the pond. Not the sea or the ocean, there is no lake where I travel, for I don’t travel anywhere. I am lost, remember? The lost no not where the are, therefore, they are everywhere and no where at the same moment. How I wish to be lost forever. How I wish to cease this insanity and finally break free from these bonds. Death. Sex. Religion. Give it to me so that I may finally breathe.
         I don’t know. I’m slowly getting tired and the approaching Huns are being particularly delicious on my doorstep. They must knock three times before I allow them to rape me with spinach, but that will have to come for another time, for I’m slowly turning into a mushroom, and I don’t know how to be a fungus. I don’t know how to deal with that. Therefore, they shall have to wait while I preen and paw, trying to gather any sort of knowledge how to escape this prison cell. No more of this, please. I don’t’ know how much more of my own insanity I could possibly contain before branching out and killing all the small rabbits at the fore of the battlefield against the lions. Am I a lion or a rabbit? I am neither. I am the walrus. No, lies. I couldn’t possibly be so amazing like that. Who knows?
         I suppose I’m finished. I can’t think anymore. I suppose I’m finally dead. Thank goodness… I’m so tired of the noise.
 

*All right, so, this is an e-mail I wrote to my friend... and I just thought it was snifty. Oh, also, Jay and Jen are my brother and his fiancee who just moved to San Diego... to which you'll see me talking about. Aye.*

So, my question(s):

Are some things meant to be broken while others are meant to be saved? Or is everything meant to be thrown into the course of hell or heaven? What's the difference between being saved and being tossed to the dogs, broken and disheveled? And if you are truly broken, can you not find salvation in that? And within the depths of true compassion, lost behind cold eyes and future prospects? Are we all meant to be broken or saved; is there no middle ground in the process? Or are we all just wandering mindlessly, trying to desperately save ourselves or be thrust into a nonexistent world where saving isn't an option for the sinful? Cannot we not save ourselves, or can we only do such when we are broken?

I miss Jay and Jen... I hate that they are actually gone. I hate feeling like someone is "gone". There have been too many people who have simply slipped out of my eyesight out of my reach... and then, lost amongst the threshold of true humanistic reality. I've felt as if I've been abandoned so many times, I don't know whether or not I even have myself. I do know I have God, therefore, there is some sort of aid against the loneliness. But there has been something strange going on with my lately... and I desperately need to be touched. It's insane, and I don't understand. I'll literally be grasping on to anything I can find, almost to the point where it makes ME uncomfortable because it's making people uncomfortable. I don't know... I'm just very lonely, and it never seems to sate. The water helps... for some reason, and writing has always been a guide out of the unknown for me. But, I still am searching for that one person, perhaps, who will allow me to be grasped hold of... and never be abandoned or lonely again.

It seems an impossible endeavor.

I miss them.

I wish I knew how I got so messed up... or, perhaps, I've always been this way. I don't really know, or, perhaps I do and am just using that phrase as a filler. Perhaps.
 

Nee, nee, peoples.

If I were to ask you what your one impossible dream would be, how would your mind react? Would you go through all of the possibilities in a mere moment, or, perhaps, would you never be able to fully answer such a daunting question? Would you see purpose in the question: a meaning, a unfulfilled desire? Or, would you just simply see the idiotic statement of an idealistic youth? For, to say what your impossible dream would be, you are admitting to the fact you still wish for it, and thus, are still harboring that unquestioning statement. You find it impossible, therefore, it is unreachable by your own standards. It is your limitation to answer such a question, and yet, to actually find that true answer, you are finding a truth about yourself. The courage you must armor yourself with in order to truthfully answer not only the seeker of such knowledge, but yourself, can be far more precious than the answer which you spout. Of course, none may ever fully admit to what they truly wish for, considering that is letting people see a side of you which you yourself may find daunting. It's a treasure: a secret. Don't open the gate of the tower, when you don't wish deal with the consequences. And don't fear the consequences when you say there are none.

To admit to having an impossible dream, you are already setting yourself up for that ultimate failure, and never reaching it. You are setting your own constrictions of mortality, allowing yourself to be trapped by your own words and consciousness. Or, perhaps you are confined by the words of others, as they twist and fester inside of your mind, promising you will never fulfill what you dream. And yet, a dream is something baffling. For, who are we to say that dreams are not precognant? For, if you wish for something so deeply, wouldn't it be truthful enough to say it will come about? And if it comes about from a simple dream, who is to say that the dream brought about those thoughts in the first place? Implanting a destiny inside of you, and thus, a treasure trove opened. The mind burns and beams with a thrill, trying to desperately tell you what it knows, what it might be able to know in the future. And yet, how simply we ignore it, passing it off as indegestion or a migraine, perhaps. Who knows what actually is passing through our subconscious right now, bordering a world where we might very well be everything we wish to be. And if we were to tap into that realm, we would end up experiencing the life we were actually meant to lead, and not one which we only think we are left with. We always seem to try and strive to make the best of the life we are living, when we should believe that we have the best in our midst.

My thoughts are emphatically scattered, and a few of them don't even make enough sense to actually be called thoughts, but the fact of the matter is that I think we can get everything that we wish for, if only we have the power of our heart and soul in-tune with our mind and our true desires. Whether or not there will be consequences with getting what you wish for completely up to you. I just can't help but see everything we have been given in this world which we live in, and I can't help but wish that there was something more I could do. But, all I know is that I'm going to keep bending my mind, keep expanding it until I can see everything that there is to see, and everything that is unseen by humanistic limitations. I just wish to see a world which is purged of humanly boundaries, and perhaps, it's not even this world. Perhaps, it's my dream-state, where everything is known and the world is merely a thought of existence. Being surrounded by humans is the reason why we call ourselves that; we know nothing else. If we were surrounded by birds, would we not think ourselves such as well? And if we truly imagined ourselves to be such, do you believe we would be able to fly? We would have no limitations by human thought, and no pressures of the masses saying what we "cannot" do. Perhaps, if we truly believed ourselves to be birds, we would sprout wings and fly around the crystallized sky. Perhaps, then, we just need to believe, full-heartedly, that we are birds.

         Walking along the path of cobblestone, oil hisses past my mouth, licking against my cheek as if a molasses cloud. It pours up my nostrils and clings to my hair. I feel beautiful like this, and I can't help but think to myself how natural this is, and that everyone must feel this glorious with the shimmering substance smothering them.
         "And yet, there is no one here. They disappeared so long ago; I wonder if they are rotting now," I whispered into the darkness.
         "Don't breathe in the air, young one. You will explode," a voice whispered from behind me. I spin around to see a grimacing cloud of perfume and olives.
         "I cannot explode. Can't you see? I look beautiful like this, and the beautiful cannot explode," I answered the beguiling cloud, bobbing my head to the sound of the popping orchestra which rose in the background.
         Pop, pop, skiii, pop, pop, the orchestra goes.
         "I see both nothing and everything," he fired back, hissing the words out of its precipitous mouth.
         "That must be very difficult," I sympathlized, although truly, I was only saddened by the fact he wouldn't be able to see my beauty in this haze.
         Pop, pop, pop, skiiii.
         "Perhaps, or perhaps it's the easiest existence in the world. Nee, would you like to be one with me? You are alone out here, after all. Would you like to eternally blessed with companionship?" The cloud whispered as it curled around me, blocking out the oil with a fearless smile.
         Pop, pop.
         "Will it be painful; will there be food?" I whispered, feeling a sudden need for the apple which I hadn't eaten for lunch.
         Poppp, pop, skii, pop.
         "It will be the most painful experience of your life and also the most pleasurable. And there will be no need for food, nor light, nor darkness. So, won't you be with me? You've been alone and beautiful for so long. Would you like to see what true beauty is?" The cloud pushed away for a moment, and pulled out a red fire hydrant from its stomach. I watched in amazement, trying to desperately hold back my need to run away from the strange cloud.
         "That is beauty?" I laughed, not seeing the point, and yet, it all intrigued me.
         Pop, pop, skiii, pop.
         "Yes, yes, this is one of the most beautiful objects, but you know, it doesn't even exist."
         "Then why are you showing it to me?" I cocked my head to the side in slight confusion, not truly understanding where this was going. After all, I couldn't see the tower door at all, and everyone knows there should be a tower door.
         Pop, poppp, skiii.
         "Because you weren't expecting it. So, come with me, little birdy, show me your wings." Surely this cloud was insane, for clouds certainly did have a knack for turning looney. And yet, I couldn't seem to draw my eyes away from those mellow-orange soft drinks which poured out of his mouth.
         Pop, skiii.
         "But, I don't have wings..." I whispered, my words pronounced and defined.
         "Who says? Look upon your back; they have been there all along. So, come with me, little bird; come with me, little sparrow. I will show you how to die so that you might live." I flipped my hair over one shoulder and gazed upon my back, seeing a giant pair of wings spreading out before me.
         "But, I don't want to die..." I suddenly acknowledged. It was a simple fact, and yet, true enough. Although, I don't truly know what "death" is. Perhaps, it's like macaroni. And yet, I would like some macaroni.
         "You have been dead all along, though," the cloud said simply enough. Petting my wings with one hand, my mind tossed with the new-found knowledge.
         "Oh, then I suppose there is nothing wrong with coming with you," I sighed, finding this game to be tiresome. And without anyone around, there was no reason to be beautiful.
         "There is nothing wrong and there is everything wrong with it. But, come quickly, little one, before we both explode."
         I took a step closer to the cloud and felt myself drawn into its stomach of soft drinks, juice, and olives.
         Bye-bye, pop, pop, pop, skiiii.
         I feel ugly here, and the most beautiful I've ever been.
 

Sooo... yeah, it's been a forever or two since I've done one of these, therefore... let us BEGIN!!

Howdy, howdy, howdy, peoples, peoples, peoples. And yes, considering the fact you are that important in in my life, you get exactly three "howdy's" and and another whooping total of three "peoples'". I know, I know, you are practically exuding with joy. I can feel it all the way over here... or, perhaps, that is just my dirty mind kicking in. Not, of course, that it ever leaves me. *Sigh* This is what I get for watching too much anime and starting Buffy when I was ten-years-old. Yes, do you hear that?? Huh, HUH?!? WELL, LET ME AMP UP THE VOLUME A BIT!!! Of course, me amping up the volume would actually require volume, and while I could be amping up my volume, that doesn't necessarily mean you are amping up yours. Unless, of course, under some strange consideration, you are me, and I am you, and in the end, we are one big, cohesive mess of peoples! WOOOT!! Well, maybe not "WOOOT!!", but I think you get the dish of my insanity. Anyway, enjoy the large capitilization-ness of my words... of course, large isn't really the correct word for it, considering they are large in accordance to those smaller letters. I have to say, I feel sorry for the smaller letters. It's like saying, "You know what, you have the same sounds as I do, and the same meaning, but in the end, you do not have the purpose and profession which I entail! You get that wimpy letter!? Huh??" Bullies... or, perhaps, they are just bullies inside of my mind. Then again, I should be concerned about why letters are talking to me in the first place. But, my life would be a lot more difficult if I didn't live in this naive little world of mine. *Sigh* It's a beautiful thing.

But, wootever, so, I've recently gotten into the habit of being a vampire. And to those who did not realize that being a vampire could turn into a habitual events, I'm so very sorry about your deprived upbringing. Perhaps you should rebel on your parents and eat amount of tofu. Why? Who knows... go ask the lower case letters. Perhaps they would know. They are a very learned race, after all. But, anyway, I've recently discovered I can refuse to sleep at night and in the morning, but when later morning comes a-calling, much like in response to a disturbed ex-boyfriend, I journey downstairs into my dungeon room and sleep for most of the day. It's a glorious thing. I call my room the "second night," because, here's a big surprise, it's so dark. I know... it's a stretch, but you don't read this for my creativity. Or perhaps you do, and to which, I am emphatically sorry and pray you get your money back... even if there was not a money exchange involved. Because, hey, everyone wants some money back, and if you don't, well then, go eat a pickle. Hmm... dirty.

The most glorious thing about my sleep schedule is the fact that, during the time I am awake, I pretty much spend my entire time watching anime and reading manga. Yes, I have said it, I've crossed over to being a complete and utter otaku. I know that has a terrible connotation in Japan, but truly, I couldn't care less. It's gets my point across. Of course, my genres have gotten a little bit more perverse over the last couple of months, but I think they are slowly getting back down to a normal level of perversion. Whether that is a good thing or not, I don't really know. Considering the fact I just finished watching this short little anime called "Angel Sanctuary," which deals with incest and homosexuality, I don't know if I can actually say if I've changed all that much since the suddenness of my erotic tastes.

I'm just going to go ahead and say it, because honestly, I'm that much of a spaz. I'm a complete and total fangirl... yaoi has become my ultimate pleasure. It's completely demented and something I never would have imagined possible for myself, but indeed, it has happened. *Sigh* Oh, and to those who do not know what yaoi is, basically, it's gay guy drama... or well, more, it's guy gay anime porn. Gracious, I'm a terrible person, but you know what, it brings a smile to my face.

...................

Wait, that doesn't help my case, does it? Gah... wootever. Judge me if you wish.

Of course, at this point in time, I've gone completely psycho, and not just because I've taken up the amazing ability to speak cucumber, but also because I'm watching nine different anime at the same time. My brain go boom. Of course, a few of them are just airing in Japan right now, so I have to do to painful job of the enthusiast and wait... forever... for them to come online. Blah. But yeah, so, there are those which are airing: "Junjou Romantica", "Monochrome Factor", "Nabari no Ou", "Special A", "Vampire Knight", "Soul Eater" and "xxxHOLic-Kei". They are all freaking fantastic. I had started out reading the "Monochrome Factor" manga, as well as the "Vamprie Knight" sweetness, so I was OVERLY EMPHATIC when I learned they were coming out as an anime. Of course, I was deliciously shocked and overjoyed at how "bishounen", almost "shounen-ai", they made "Monochrome Factor". I really didn't that vibe at all from the manga, but ah well, perhaps when I read it, I hadn't made it into my gay comics phase. Of course, now I see it in everything I watch, but the most amusing thing about Japanese cartoons... they all MEAN for it to be acknowledged as emphatically kinky and a bit wrong. I love it... makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Oh, and so, I'm also watching "Chobits" and "Blood +". I had actually started "Blood +" a while back, but I never got to finishing it, so now, I... well... am. Yeah me. I've been watching a few episodes of "Over Drive" and "Fugishi Yuugi" as well, but only enough to say that I've begun them. I'll probably finish them off during the time I'm still working on "Blood +".

Ah well, I do believe my brain is about to explode from lack of sleep... or perhaps, those monkeys dancing around on my head are finally getting to me. *Sigh* Silly monkeys...


 

So, yeah, yesterday had the potential for being a good day... and it failed miserably and depressingly. It was sort of ridiculous, actually. But hey, maybe today will be better, right?

I'm going over to my friend's house after school, so that should be a somewhat relief from my constant depravity. Garg.

Oh, and I won another contest thing for my writing class. I am now being published in another anthology... which is sweet, but for some reason, I can't get excited over it. It was like this the last time that I placed third for this veterans piece that I wrote this year. It was neat, but I'm not so thrilled, and nothing has changed. My mother used her wise words and claimed that I had a fear of validation. I can't help to think that is a load of bull. I am not afraid of the validation, for I don't need any validation; I am my own validation. I am afraid that they are wrong. And even more so, I'm afraid of what it means... or well, what it doesn't mean. Because honestly, it seems pretty useless to me. I mean, yeah, the money rocked, and my teacher was proud, so that was sweet, but does it really mean anything in life? So, what, somewhere down the road of my life I'm going to stop and say, "Well, hey, at least I won those few contest pieces when I was a senior in high school. I mean, I haven't done anything else worth talking about." I don't want to be one of those people that relive their glory days, when it means absolutely nothing.

I don't know. I'm all rambly, if you hadn't noticed. And besides, I'm utterly exhausted. I ended up talking to one of my friends for a while last night, even though I really didn't want to. He's a sweet guy, but I really wasn't in the mood for any type of conversation. Sure, I could have told him that, but it seemed a bit rude, so... I just waited and talked until I couldn't take it anymore and just said that I needed to go to bed, which is completely a lie, because I am not one for sleep, at all.

Wootever. SO, this is the last day of school before Thanksgiving break, and I'm trying desperately to get my best friend to come with me to Alex's party on Wednesday. I doubt she will, but I'm still trying my hardest.
 

Dude, this day is going to be so awkward for me... and kind of ridiculously exciting. I'll have to see how it turns out, but it has massive potential to be a good day, which is something that I haven't had in a while now. I get to go back to school, though, so I'm so completely stoked about that right now. Time will only tell if is justified. I mean, come on, I've been gone for two weeks now, and before that, it had only been a short period of time when I actually went to school. It's probably going to be an awkward transition for me, but I think I'm up for the challenge.

Everything seems to be moving so fast right now, and yet I love it that way. It had seemed like I was stuck in this vacuum-sealed container for so long, and now, I've suddenly broken through.

*Silly reminder since I'm thinking about it... don't forget to bring my flash drive...*

The torrent of movement started back up on Saturday, when I came home from Connecticut. No sooner did I get back, but I got a call from my friend who was having a little get together with a bunch of our friends. I was pretty stoked, so I completely went, and had a complete blast. The night was made even more perfect when Alex called (Remember him? Haven't talked about him in a while, I know... but that doesn't mean that he hasn't been in my life or on my mind.) and ended up coming to my friend's house as well to see me, which was utterly delicious of him, because we spent the night cuddling on my friend's couch and then, he drove me back home and we spent an hour or so on MY couch, snuggling, watching a movie. It was such an amazing night. Probably the best one of my life right now. It's corny, ridiculously so, but that's how I feel. I mean, it's not like we're dating, or that we ever will date. It's more the fact that I loved having a body next to me, holding me... and the fact that it was his body made it all the better.

All right, I really need to stop rambling about this, because it really only confuses me, and I'd rather not be confused right now. I'm in a good place, I think, therefore, I want to keep it that way. Of course, it will be even harder because of the fact that he'll probably not find today awkward at all, and I'm pretty much quaking with anticipation here. Garg.

Anyway, I'm through with this. Two more days of school, and then I get to go to a party at Alex's house on Wednesday, then there is Thanksgiving, to which my one friend is coming to, so I'm insanely stoked. It should be a good week, hopefully. I'll keep my hopes high.
 

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... yeah. I want to go back home now. Kay? Kay.
 

I'm a wounded warrior...

Wounded warrior needs to brush her teeth...