Feel Inside @ MindSay

http://www.onemanga.com/Tsubasa_Reservoir_Chronicles/1/04/

I've always liked Tsubasa Chronicles, but this picture has never spoken to me so much before as it does now.

We see each other. We're close enough to touch, but we can't. We reach out for each other, but the touch is stopped by the unbreakable glass. Our hands press against the clear wall, so close to each other and miles apart at the same time. It looks as if we're holding each other, for a second, but we're not. There's no warmth: just the chill of the smooth wall.

I can't say if I'm Syaoren or Sakura in this picture: frankly, I feel like both.

I'm not trying to be a mopey emo, but this is something that I'm really worried about. It's something that I've always done, and I don't even know why. It never mattered much to me before, mostly because I didn't realize I was doing it. Now that I know, I realize I have to change.

There is a glass wall around me, too. Ask me a question, and I will answer. Ask me a question about myself, and I'll change the subject. It's not as if I don't like talking about myself...I'm just as self-obsessed as the next guy, after all. The problem is I can't.

I feel things very deeply. I mourn, I laugh, I get so angry I want to destroy the world. Anyone who sees me would know this. But that's all you'd ever see.

I can't show what I feel. I feel like I can't communicate honestly to anyone. I'm more than happy to discuss all your problems with you, but the instant you ask about mine, I clam up. It's not that I don't want to talk about them, either.

It's that I can't.

I don't know how I got to be like this, but I feel so fucked up. I know there's something wrong with me, and posting this in some blog is the only way I can share it with anyone. My voice won't work, no matter how much I try.

I hate this. I hate this so much, being unable to share anything with anyone else. And it's getting to be the biggest problem I've had in my life so far.

My friend wrote this poem awhile ago, and I feel bad about using it here, but it just says everything I just wrote here so perfectly:

Your eyes pierce into me
Trying to read my soul.
I push you away, I try to run
But I can't escape your hold
You long to see inside me
What I hide so deep within.
But my shattered heart can't just come out
And I can't let you in.
Patient, you wait for me
And try to scale my protecting walls.
Please, stop this hopeless attempt to climb
Before one of us falls.
-Liza Pichette

(Link to poem: http://www.fictionpress.com/s/1963040/1/Before_one_of_us_falls)

There is someone trying to scale my protecting walls...but I'm afraid that I won't be the one that falls. And I want to. God, do I want to.

     I'm pretty pissed. At myself. At boyfriend. At ex. At myself mostly though. I believe that people can only affect the way you feel if you let them. Unfortunately I let that happen too often. My mother thinks that I'm this laid back, chill kind of girl and I am sometimes but when it comes to how my friends treat me I take what they say and do to heart. If I feel ignored by a friend then it just breaks me up inside. I guess it just makes me think that I'm not enough for them. Ugh, I'm stressed, but luckily I've got lots to look forward to =]

 

Sundown is four weeks away

Then the day after that is Senior Skip Day

Then the day after that is Prom

Then May 15th is GRADUATION!!!!!!

 

The next few months of my life should be exciting and awesome, if only I could get all the drama out of the way...

 

 

is that too much to ask for?

I love to feel the baby kick, knowing that it's growing inside me, and of course, who can deny the

FABULOUS BOOBS

:D

 

I have developed an eye twitch.  I don't know when this happened, but I feel like some unemployed Jersey girl with big boobs and lots of mascara.  It's a long story, and anyway, you wouldn't understand the significance of 1:43 a.m.

I have been many places, but one of them is not inside myself.  Has it been so long that I am unable to peer into the depths of my own soul without the help of another?  Am I so distanced that I cannot even reach the only person I know really truly exists?

Enough of that mumbo jumbo, my eye's twitching and my right leg is entirely asleep.  I feel like punching babies, and my cat will not leave this goddamn box alone.  We have several Christmas ornaments lying around, the carnage of kittyhell, the place that our apartment turns into after hours.  I wonder what it would be like to be at home all the time, a Shit Ass Ho Motherfucker, per se.  I would cook food.  A lot.  We've been being healthy, and I taped the calendar to the refrigerator so we can write goals.  Shane wants to work out every week.  I want to cook healthily for the two of us.  So tonight we had Kraft macaroni and cheese.  I've also devised yet another completely too complicated method for determining how to do the dishes.  Not only that, but I made Shane go through our cookbooks and pick out stuff he wants to eat so I can make "healthy dinner."  I'm such a fucking nut.

Plus, I spent at least a half hour trying to find a good copy of the 7th Harry Potter book in .lit format.  I want to read it.  And the best way to do it is to download it and put it into .jpg files and then read it on my Zune.  But no, Ms. Rowlings has to be a jackass this time around and say "no ebook for this one."  So there's only pirated versions of the .lit format, only even pirated versions of .pdf format.  Well fuck you, Rowlings.  I'm never going to buy your book.  I'll just figure something out over here.

I don't know why I go on these jags of useless attempts to do something weird.  Like find an ebook (when the 300+ I have on my computer aren't enough), find proper conversion software, and put it on my Zune so I can read it without sitting on this godawful computer chair.  I don't know why Shane likes the fucking thing.  Plus, it's a constant reminder of a you-know-who who likes to take advantage of people by pretending they have no interests but their own, and then ignoring protests of unfairness or hurt feelings.  But whatever, it's just a chair.  I'm pretty sure it doesn't have bad juju since I just beat the last castle before Bowser on Super Mario World, so it really is just a chair.

Now the bane of my existence, the tingling pain of formerly sleeping limbs, plagues me and causes my eye to twitch further.  And I'm so tired that my spelling is really starting to go to piss.  I'm even making myself mad just trying to type.  So, since I'm a cheap good-for-nothing freeware slob, I'm going to smoke and read my 6th Harry Potter book, of which each chapter begins "bleebloo," thanks to the French who invented the chapter division tool that needs a keyword to put images of each chapter in a different folder.  Why I chose "bleebloo" for the keyword, I have no clue.  It must be one of those things, you know, where ten years later someone gets famous for it, and you think to yourself, "fuck, I was using that for chapter keywords while we were still living on Chestnut street."

Okay, maybe not.

Hate. Deep down inside, that's all I have left.

I hate the place I live.

I hate school.

I hate my life.

I hate me.

I don't feel like doing anything anymore. I have to drag myself out of bed to go to school, have to force myself to talk, have to force myself to eat. Everything is forced, smiles, laughter, normalcy.

One of my friends actually ran away, and that was the breaking point. I wish I'd had the guts to go with her. This place, it digs at my very being. Everyone's being. I can't openly admit I'm bisexual as it would get out and I'd be even more alone. I can't admit anything. I can't be who I want to be.

I shouldn't say I'm alone. That's selfish, I suppose. I have friends at school, but...they just don't feel like friends should. Perhaps it's just me. But none of them really 'get' me. The problem is, they think they do. And then I get pissed, but smile and say, "You're right, I AM like that." I think if I was the real me, I'd be crying. I'd be falling to pieces in front of everyone. I'd be, dare I say it, broken. And frankly, I couldn't do that anyone I knew.

Why won't I cry? I feel the tears inside my heart, but they just won't come. I involuntarily bottle them up, saving them for when I break down once and for all.

I can't admit so many things. I tried to commit suicide once. Obviously, it didn't work. I've thought about it, all the time.

'If I do it, it'll all end. There won't be anyone to judge you. You won't feel like this anymore.'

Then I think, 'Would anyone care? What about all the things I haven't done?'

I just...I need to be taken care of. I act independent, strong, brave. But all I want is someone to hold, someone to hold me back.

I feel so different, and not in the good way. I feel immature beyong hope. I feel broken. I feel like a freak. I feel stupid. I feel ugly. I feel fake. I feel like a failure. I feel like I want to DIE! I feel like a coward because I WON'T DO IT! I feel confused.

And there's my rant for the night.