I'm going to make myself sick, with all the lying I do to myself. I forget that I'm not this person I think I like others to think I am. Yesterday, David said I come off as emotionless. That stung. I know I can be difficult, and I know I can be terrible, but I didn't think I'd ever come off as cold. The irony is, I feel just as much as the next person. Every new stimuli makes me feel something else. Sometimes I'll get sad because I've seen something small, and I think too much on it so it just seems like a really sad metaphor. I just don't like to show my emotion.
There's just so much mask, and I have no idea what I'm wearing, so everbody else is seeing me in a different way, but I'm in control of what they see, but I'm not. Honestly, I can't explain it better than that. I try to be confident, and I just come off as bitchy. I try to be reflective, and I come off as depressive. I try to be sympathetic, and I come off as needy. At least people like a confident bitch. That's the only reason I've stuck with that one.
Here's what I want in life:
Love
True Friendship (check)
Real Confidence
Direction
Adventure
Dreams
One out of six? It's a start.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
Not Enough
It feels like I'm stuck in a whirlpool, now. See, I figured I'd keep this "drifting" theme, because it works so well for me. As of late, though, I've had problems I don't have the ability to run away from. I can't bullshit myself out of them, I can't do anything, really. Well, I suppose I could just face life.
I tried to bring my dog to the animal shelter, one morning. I drove her down there, and when I parked in their lot, I burst into tears. She didn't know what was going on, obviously. She wagged her tail as she licked the tears from my face. I almost did it. I walked to the door to the office, and was saved. They didn't open till 11am, which is when I needed to be at work.
Since then I've been avoiding it a second time. I've already had to muster up the courage to do it once, why should I have to do it again? Why do I have to do it alone? I love that dog, because that dog loves me like I'm more than I am. No matter how badly I behave, or how mean I get, or how stupid I can be, she loves me with a ferocity and loyalty that I don't even think I can understand. I even admire that in her- which, I know, sounds weird, since we're talking about a dog, but why not? Even animals can have traits we ourselves wished we possessed.
How am I supposed to sleep at night, knowing she's not going to be laying down next to me? Curled up against my legs, or pushing me into the wall. What about all the memories? The first moment I saw her, outside Chris McKee's house, when she was just a puppy, playing with her brothers and sisters. The moment I knew, "That's my dog." The time she locked me and Sam out of my grandma's car, or when we went to Colorado Creek and she really bonded to me. Like, wouldn't let me out of her sight kind of thing.
So many memories, and she's still got so much time left, and I have to give it all up? I know it's not fair, to anyone, really. She's still a puppy, for all it matters. She needs someone who has the time and energy to play with her, and pay undivided attention to her. Someone who can train her properly, so she won't chew on the... well, anything, really.
It's not fair to Emily, who can really only be comfortable in her own house in her room. Who's lost her favorite headband, and a couple pairs of shoes to my little monster. Who can't really touch, or play with, or hold a dog, yet loves them, anyway. Who has to put up with the smell in the house, the hair on the furniture, and the mess we always come home to. Always.
And maybe it's not fair to me. Because I don't have the time to train her right. Or the know-how. I don't have the money to live on my own, and take care of such a needy pet. I don't have the competence. I don't have the resolve. I really don't have much, except for a love of that dog.
Sadly, sometimes, that just isn't enough.
I tried to bring my dog to the animal shelter, one morning. I drove her down there, and when I parked in their lot, I burst into tears. She didn't know what was going on, obviously. She wagged her tail as she licked the tears from my face. I almost did it. I walked to the door to the office, and was saved. They didn't open till 11am, which is when I needed to be at work.
Since then I've been avoiding it a second time. I've already had to muster up the courage to do it once, why should I have to do it again? Why do I have to do it alone? I love that dog, because that dog loves me like I'm more than I am. No matter how badly I behave, or how mean I get, or how stupid I can be, she loves me with a ferocity and loyalty that I don't even think I can understand. I even admire that in her- which, I know, sounds weird, since we're talking about a dog, but why not? Even animals can have traits we ourselves wished we possessed.
How am I supposed to sleep at night, knowing she's not going to be laying down next to me? Curled up against my legs, or pushing me into the wall. What about all the memories? The first moment I saw her, outside Chris McKee's house, when she was just a puppy, playing with her brothers and sisters. The moment I knew, "That's my dog." The time she locked me and Sam out of my grandma's car, or when we went to Colorado Creek and she really bonded to me. Like, wouldn't let me out of her sight kind of thing.
So many memories, and she's still got so much time left, and I have to give it all up? I know it's not fair, to anyone, really. She's still a puppy, for all it matters. She needs someone who has the time and energy to play with her, and pay undivided attention to her. Someone who can train her properly, so she won't chew on the... well, anything, really.
It's not fair to Emily, who can really only be comfortable in her own house in her room. Who's lost her favorite headband, and a couple pairs of shoes to my little monster. Who can't really touch, or play with, or hold a dog, yet loves them, anyway. Who has to put up with the smell in the house, the hair on the furniture, and the mess we always come home to. Always.
And maybe it's not fair to me. Because I don't have the time to train her right. Or the know-how. I don't have the money to live on my own, and take care of such a needy pet. I don't have the competence. I don't have the resolve. I really don't have much, except for a love of that dog.
Sadly, sometimes, that just isn't enough.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Frozen
It's surprising, the things in my life that HAVEN'T happened. The people around me are surprised when I tell them I don't have a piercing or tattoo, because I seem like the type who would. Even I think I'm the type who would, or should, but I haven't.
When my sister was heading towards graduation, I had to go to Lathrop to drop off some things for her. While I was there, I decided to check up on some of my old teachers. But, mostly just Mr. Parker. It'd been... what? A year since I had seen him last? He stood outside his classroom, apperantly ready to leave, with a group of students crowding him and asking him questions. I must not have stood out as much as I thought I would, because he didn't notice me (then again, my hair was a natural color...). "Mr. Parker!" I practically yelled, as he was beginning to walk away.
He turned around, and it took a moment, but eventually he remembered my face. He greeted me warmly, and we made small talk, but it was when he said, "I'm suprised to see you're still here." that piqued my interest the most. "Why's that?" I asked him, not entirely sure what he meant. "I didn't picture you staying in Alaska. I always thought you'd go someplace exotic, or exciting. I kind of pictured you in New York."
Yeah, me too. For years, actually. When did it come to be, that I realised I couldn't live in Alaska? As far back as middle school, I can remember telling people I wouldn't live here all my life. I was going to get out, into the world. Travel was a big dream of mine; I pictured myself in Tokyo, London, Amsterdam, anywhere that had history and life. Of course, I'd still need a home, and that would be in New York City. A small apartment, perhaps, where I'd keep anything I didn't need to take with me.
I didn't want to get stuck here. Even now, I don't want to be here. I hear the world calling my name, and as much as I want to run into it, find it, follow it, explore it, I'm stuck. Paralyzed, even. I'm terrified of all that unknown... Growing up in Alaska your whole life, being somebody who's never mattered in any way that's important, you don't look into the void and think, "Who cares if I don't have a plan?" and jump. As much as I want to, as much as I'd love to see what lies beyond this Winter of Discontent, I'm frozen into this place like the frost beneath the ground.
But, I'm not giving up. I'm going to get out of here, and I'm going to make my place in the world. I've got brains, desire, and according to some, more strength than I know. I'll find my way out.
When my sister was heading towards graduation, I had to go to Lathrop to drop off some things for her. While I was there, I decided to check up on some of my old teachers. But, mostly just Mr. Parker. It'd been... what? A year since I had seen him last? He stood outside his classroom, apperantly ready to leave, with a group of students crowding him and asking him questions. I must not have stood out as much as I thought I would, because he didn't notice me (then again, my hair was a natural color...). "Mr. Parker!" I practically yelled, as he was beginning to walk away.
He turned around, and it took a moment, but eventually he remembered my face. He greeted me warmly, and we made small talk, but it was when he said, "I'm suprised to see you're still here." that piqued my interest the most. "Why's that?" I asked him, not entirely sure what he meant. "I didn't picture you staying in Alaska. I always thought you'd go someplace exotic, or exciting. I kind of pictured you in New York."
Yeah, me too. For years, actually. When did it come to be, that I realised I couldn't live in Alaska? As far back as middle school, I can remember telling people I wouldn't live here all my life. I was going to get out, into the world. Travel was a big dream of mine; I pictured myself in Tokyo, London, Amsterdam, anywhere that had history and life. Of course, I'd still need a home, and that would be in New York City. A small apartment, perhaps, where I'd keep anything I didn't need to take with me.
I didn't want to get stuck here. Even now, I don't want to be here. I hear the world calling my name, and as much as I want to run into it, find it, follow it, explore it, I'm stuck. Paralyzed, even. I'm terrified of all that unknown... Growing up in Alaska your whole life, being somebody who's never mattered in any way that's important, you don't look into the void and think, "Who cares if I don't have a plan?" and jump. As much as I want to, as much as I'd love to see what lies beyond this Winter of Discontent, I'm frozen into this place like the frost beneath the ground.
But, I'm not giving up. I'm going to get out of here, and I'm going to make my place in the world. I've got brains, desire, and according to some, more strength than I know. I'll find my way out.
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