I have recently begun storming stages and stereos like there’s no tomorrow. For some strange reason I believe it’s because I have been trusting Hang so much recently. I’ve been telling her pretty much everything. Who knew talking about your own life to other people could make you feel worse?
Hopeless. A single word that you would not expect from me.
So lately I find myself saying, “But, I don’t want to talk about it,” after bringing a topic up. Oh I get the occasional questions and that’s different only because answering is only a small puzzle piece. Yet again, I underestimate peoples’ abilities to put pieces together to get the big picture. One of these days I’ll vow an oath of silence [for a day].
She told me, “You have an obsession with the past.” How right you are, my dear friend. As irrelevant as this may sound, I even miss the 90s. Why is the past so much better than the present or the future ever will be?
So I dyed my hair at the salon yesterday. I was just making light conversation with my stylist when she asked, “What are your plans after high-school?” Sometimes people don’t realize that unexpected questions like that actually have a big impact on me – and they usually bring me down. Okay, so I told her about my plans to go to Med School. Her reply was, “You can never fall in love. You’ll be so busy!” Zomg. Dude, it’s like she knows my AIM SN and reads my away messages because about last week I had an away message that said my life was over before it ever got a chance to start because I’ll be so fuhreaking busy. Uaa~ Hang claims I’ll find someone in med school and we’ll both be filthy rich. :> Since Hang is going to med-school, too, I’ll go and re-meet her! We’ll be luffers… uaa~
One week it’s all good. Next week it’s all bad. Oregon is fuhreaking bi-polar or moody. Mr. RudeMoodyPants, I remember the nickname well. Often times a certain thought crosses my mind; he & I just aren’t meant to be friends and I should just stop talking to him altogether. Easier said than done. Stupid stupid human emotions.
Psychobabble, Victoria calls it. She does it. I do it. Must be our whole Pisces/March 1st/twin power thing. My English teacher asked us to write an extended simile for ourselves. Oy! What do I compare myself to?! Gah… writing is suddenly my weak point. For serious, yo.
Yesterday! I got to tie a guy’s hair for the first time. Oh, oh, his hair was hawt. And he was soooo cute. His bangs are just like miiiine. Does that sound narcissistic? D: Anyhow, total wow-ness. Too bad he’s a sophomore. Haha. It’s amusing how suddenly all the Juniors have emotions and crushes and love interests. It’s like everyone’s growing up! Except not. Now that I think about it, it’s a tad repulsing. The strangest things disgust me. Ah wellllllll.
So suck your so-called pity down and don’t forget to take deep breaths. That’s not so bad, is it?
Recycled phrases, and the bittersweet taste…
I am a hostage to my own humanity.
Self-detained and forced to live in this mess I’ve made.
And all I’m asking is for you to do what you can with me.
But I can’t ask you to give what you already gave.
I wish I were an unopened letter to the world.