I miss you

Well, I've decided to start posting here again. I'm not going to let the old feelings hinder me. It's a different time in my life right now. I'm learning all sorts of things about myself and feel the need to record it here.

I'm discontinuing this blog

insert clever title here

It's been awhile, hasn't it? So very much has happened. I graduated back in May, and my college plans fell apart before my eyes rendering me helpless. I pulled together a new plan and am pretty content with it so far though. I can't even begin to describe all the changes, positive and negative, I've dealt with this summer. Most of my writing energy has been thrust into a new project of mine that in which my best girl friend is sharing in the experience. I'm writing letters to many people who have affected me the most throughout my life. It's a soul cleansing type thing for me. However, these people will never read the letters, the journal will be left in a public place far from home in which case any stranger can pick it up and take a gander. I'm leaving a letter to that person in the front, telling him/her the reason for this and that it should not be returned to me (in fact, there's no trace of a way to return it). Maybe this person will have been fated to take the journal, or maybe it will just sit there and deteriorate, become part of the earth. I just want some closure, a release back into the universe all my feelings pent up. Anyway, I most likely won't be blogging much till my letters are complete and I've gotten settled in my dorm at Piedmont. This new chapter of life is filled with mixed emotions, but I'm absolutely willing to take it on.

In the case of Verona vs. Stratford, a dispute of matters of the heart.

"I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick-- it even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh -- even worse when you make me cry. I hate it that you're not around and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you - - not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all." -Kat Stratford

You, Sir, are Patrick Verona in some ways and I hate it. The only difference is that you didn't get paid to be with me and we don't end up together in the end.
I know I didn't make up what happened, you were really there, you really said all those things, you really held me like that, but you made it seem like it was all fabricated-that you didn't want me to get the wrong idea about your feelings. Douchebag. I don't hear from you in months and all the sudden you think it's ok to hug me like that, to do the middle-school-dance-hug? Bullshit. Once again, I don't know what to think...you're not the only reason I'm so conflicted, you just added to it, thanks alot jerk. The saddest part is that I still care. I shouldn't, but I do and I hate you for it, but not really...oh hell. Way to go Hillary, way to be a crybaby, way to over-analyze yet again...damn.

A Cosmic Love

a simple smile, a laugh, and touch of the hand and it all floods back
making me lose sight of everything else, my focus fading to black
save the one emotion that seems to have swallowed me
the price has been paid before, this high isn't free
is this the work of Fate like how the stars realign to perfection or
am I on a merry-go-round chasing the reflection in the mirror
I was a tide that ruined the love letter we wrote together in the sand
so how can there ever be a time you'll want to hold my hand
the foolishness of a twisted confusion that lead to this demise
can't be forgotten even though the love never faded from my eyes
my very best memory, a night always remembered is of you, it's true
but with all this past tragedy I can't possibly expect anything from you
I wish for this spark to become a flame, I'll give it my best
the candle may be dim, but I hold it up to all the rest
I wish to declare it with all the strength my lungs allow, the details of the fall
but I find myself as Thisbe whispering through the wall
a heart, a soul enraptured by the thought of being as one again
even if it fails once more I'll keep in locked in my heart forever, till the end.

all that's left are the sugar crystals

Seeing as though this is about my current stress level, please don't mock me for not having the stamina to completely transform this into a cookie model of my life. Coherent sentences are out of the question, so here's a haphazard list.

school: pro-almost over, con-almost over
relationships: pro-close friends, con-close friends
home: pro-n/a con-everything
procrastination: pro-time to do (useless) stuff, con-time to do useless stuff

confusion level from 1 to punching stuff: fist through the wall
stress level from 1 to meltdown: fetal position

title in progress...

It's Summer,
and the excitement is as hot as the July sun that beats down on the one who burns easy, but loves the tan anyway.
It's Fall,
and the mystery is as vibrant as the October leaves that float down about the one who fights the wind, but loves being outdoors anyway.
It's Winter,
and the feeling is as frozen as the January river that streams from the eye of the one who catches a cold, but loves the snow anyway.
It's Spring,
and the hope is as inspiring as the April flowers that bloom around the one who gets rained on, but loves picnics anyway.
It's Constant,
and the cycle is as magical as the New Year that renews the life of the one who lives for love, but doesn't understand anyway.
It's Tragedy,
and the heart is as full as can be-
engulfing the one who can't win anyway.