Something really is wrong with me. And I don't know what it is.

I know that I brought this all on myself. I know that I deserve this. I'd do anything not to be this way. I'd do anything to make it up to everyone. And to not have to see a psychiatrist, who explains to me about being "passive agressive." And to not have to take the medicine he gives me, which is too expensive for my dad. And to not have to talk about bad memories with him. Or be nostalgic about bad things.
I just wish that God or my parents or Sam or my sister or someone would just tell me what's wrong with me. Just tell me how to be different in a way that makes sense. To make this all go away. And disappear. I know that's wrong because it's my responsibility, and I know that things get worse before they get better because that's what my psychiatrist says, but this is a worse that feels too big.

********************************

IT'S A NEW DAWN

IT'S A NEW DAY

IT'S A NEW LIFE

********************************

AND I'M FEELING GOOD

I just can't seem to be content.
I look in the mirror everyday and I think, "who is this?"
Sometimes I feel pretty, and I stand there staring at myself, wishing people could see me like this.
But I spend the whole day inside. Closed away in a dark room. I'll cry out for people to come. To love me. To want to spend their evenings in my company. But I stay silent. I'll never ask them to come. I'm too ashamed. I'll never tell them that it bothers me, that I don't like it. But I expect them to be able to read my mind. I hate it.
I'm so tired of myself. I want to change everything. To be able to be someone completely different than the day before, and stay that way. But no. That's not how it works. People tell me it's simple. That I can be whoever I want to be. But they'll never understand.
"i'm stuck between my love and my culture."
I just want to feel okay being myself. I just want people to be able to see that I'm strong. That I'm fine. That I'm capable of being anything I want to be. But not yet. As soon as I can, I'll be gone. I'll be independent. I'll be far far from this place. Maybe I'll talk to some people still. Maybe I'll keep some connection to my old life. But that's all.

our leaders of tomorrow

Some boys in my class today went off on a rant about how much they hate books, and teachers who made them read them. I did my best to disregard their naive comments, but pretty soon I was sucked into their conversation.

ME: "I don't see why you should deserve extra credit for rushing through the assignment the last two days of break."
THEM:"Well we were one of the few who even did it, everyone else got an extension date to turn it in, what the hell?!"
ME: "You're pathetic."
THEM: (mumbling) "it's my life.. I'll do what I want."
ME: "I can hear you."
THEM: "GOD GARRET, YOU'RE SUCH A DRAMA QUEEN!!!"
ME: "You're ridiculous."
THEM: "YOU'RE ridiculous" (*smirk* trying to be all cute and flirty)
ME: "You confirm there's no future for our generation."
THEM: *silence*

There were more words shared, and more conformations of ignorance in our rising generation, and no it didn't exactly go down word for word like this, but it was pretty damn close.
Near the end of our class when it got a little awkward, I felt the need to apologize for being so agressive and mean about the conversation, but it was pretty much in vain.

ME: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so rude about it, it's just that.. well.. you're.."
THEM: *silent glazed over stares*
ME: ".. I mean.. it's just.. you don't.."
MY FRIEND: "WHAT SHE'S SAYING IS THAT SHE'S SORRY YOU'RE SUCH DUMB ASSES."
ME: *uncontrollable laughter* *mumbles* "yeah that's exactly what I mean."

"it's not worth it," I told you.
"why would anyone sign up for a week of Hell? why would you?"

For the life of me I couldn't understand why any teenage boy would be willing to go through so much because of a girl he fancied in high school.

"because, I love you," he told me. 

I had no answer to that. We sat there on the cold marble bench where he held me in his arms. I was forcing myself to think that it wouldn't last, that next winter we wouldn't even be speaking, regardless of my father. But I knew that wouldn't be true. It was worth fighting for, but I just didn't want him too.

"I'm not going to give up on you.."

Is it better to hurt someone yourself, or watch someone else hurt them because of you? Isn't that kind of the same thing? I just want to be able to love someone completely. I finally find someone I'm willing to give myself to. Yet, I don't. Maybe it's cause I think we're too young. Maybe it's because I'm scared. I don't know. But I'm really starting to get sick of myself. 

"I'm tired of feeling like I'm fucking crazy."

Oh God, where are you now?

I've been out on that open road

you can be my fulltime daddy 

white and gold

singing blues has been getting old

you can be my full time baby
hot or cold

Don't break me down

I've been travelin' too long

I've been trying too hard

With one pretty song

I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast

I am alone a midnight

Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble, but I

I've got a war in my mind

So, I just ride

Just ride, I just ride, I just ride

Dying young and I'm playing hard

That's the way my father made his life an art

Drink all day and we talk 'til dark

That's the way the road dogs do it, ride 'til dark.

Don't leave me now

Don't say good bye

Don't turn around

Leave me high and dry

I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast

I am alone in the night

Been tryin' hard not to get in trouble, but I

I've got a war in my mind

I just ride

Just ride, I just ride, I just ride

I'm tired of feeling like I'm fucking crazy

I'm tired of driving 'till I see stars in my eyes

I look up to hear myself saying,

Baby, too much I strive, I just ride

I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast

I am alone in the night

Been tryin' hard not to get in trouble, but I

I've got a war in my mind

I just ride

Just ride, I just ride, I just ride

This week I had to do something rather unpleasant & I was sure that the consequence of it would be anything but pleasurable. But as life seems to always be stirring the big confusing pot of life & what not, I was surprised to find that things went rather well.. in a sense. But anyways, I said what I had too and got an answer I wasn't ready for.  Literally it scared me a little, and I wanted out, really bad, and more and more frequently I'm starting to realize that I have NO IDEA what I want. I have this image in my head where I can be independent and free and make my own decisions, and live in a small house, and drive an old car, and be a poor but happy student that's experiencing the world as she should. Working at little bookstores, and spending all my money on trips and clothes. And that some boy who really loves me will do it all with me, and not care about what we have or don't have because we'll be together and it won't matter. But as I'm starting to make my life changing decisions, I'm finding that I'm more than capable of doing these things, but I still seems to stop myself. Dead. In. My. Freaking. Tracks.
I don't know what it is. Maybe I started out too hard. Maybe it's not that big of a deal and I'm blowing it out of proportion. But I just couldn't stop thinking about what my life would be like if it really happened. If I really left as soon as I'm saying I will. If that boy actually came with me. If we literally "ran away" from this town and all it's self-conscience hipsters. What if we got married? With the tiny "secret garden" ceremony and everything. What if we had kids? His crazy blue eyes, and my tan skin. What if we moved to the west coast? Had lots of dogs? Ate food sitting indian style on the floor of our kitchen? Drove a Land Rover, wore tons of flannel, gave butterfly kisses, bleached our hair, went star gazing, lived off of dark chocolate covered blueberries, wrote journals, held hands, learned how to surf, rode bikes for miles, played with each other's hair, planted gardens, etc. It's ridiculous. And as soon as I realize I'm thinking this way, I immediately stop. "Seriously, settle down. there's no way."
And yet, I feel like there has to be. He has to be serious. The only problem is that I'm not. I see all these things happening, and I want them to all be real, but as soon as it seems as though one might be playing out, I bail. "Not yet." I'm thinking, "Maybe in a little while." When in reality I should be thinking," IT'S ABOUT TIME!!!" and "LET'S DO THIS THING!" But I'm not. I'm not ready. I'm not willing. And it's freaking annoying. I play out all these situations where I'm just gonna up and leave, but I know I could never really do it. I could never just go, and not look back. I could never just give myself to someone.  And then I wonder if I really even want it. If I even know how serious I am? The answer is always the same. Maybe. Perhaps. If the timing is right. Debatable. Damn it.

happy birthday, buddy

my little brother turned seven today.
 i wanted to make him a huge breakfast shaped in a smiling face or something tacky like that, but he doesn't eat regularly so it wasn't a very good idea.

the night before he was in my room going through my desk, picking out items and asking me if he could have them for his birthday. i was preoccupied with something else and just said yes to anything he held in the air with his tiny hands. he finished with a chain necklace full of leather patches and old necklace trinkets hanging around his neck. unfortunately this was the only thing i could give him.

the rest of the day he was gloomy and sad. there was no party planned for him. no presents waiting to be ripped open.
 just two messy chocolate cakes that he didn't touch.

it made me so sad to see him like that.
so thoroughly disappointed.

we had all reached that age in our family, the age where your birthday no longer held any value. and that maybe, if you were mature enough, two or three members of the family would join you to a restaurant dinner. but he was the youngest, and i thought that perhaps he would never have to endure this assurance of little self worth.

but this morning, i saw it creep up on him. the second he realized that he would wake alone in his room, instead of it being filled with family screaming happy birthday in his face and feeding him large amounts of food while placing presents all around his bed. i saw it when he came into my room and asked if he could have a hug. i saw it when he choose to go on a walk with my cousin's dogs instead of letting my mother give him a kiss. i saw this depressing realization come over his tiny child body, and no matter how many times i kissed or hugged him, or told him how much i loved him, or tried to put on his favorite cartoons, or give him lots of candy.. he knew. and it broke my heart.

for me, it was my eighth birthday, and i remember it perfectly. i woke up next to my mother and told her it was my birthday. she assured me that it was, and i asked her what we had planned for me. she turned to me and in all seriousness told me."nothing". then she turned back and fell asleep. i cried for 10 minutes that day, and then realized it would do no good; stopped; and didn't talk to my mother the rest of the day.

my brother hasn't cried today. just been really moody. and i can't blame him.

i'll never understand why my parents don't find birthday's important. or any big events for that matter. i can only pray that i love my children enough to make their birthdays special. i can only hope that i will never have to see them so sad. i can only prove to myself that i'm not my mother, and always assure my children that i love them.

it's not just whether or not you have presents, or a huge party, it's whether or not you can feel that someone loves you. and try as i might today, i'm still not sure if he knows that i do in fact, love him so much.

"kiss me hard before you go"

--------------------------------------------------------------------

please

Our Own Pretty Ways

I came upon this picture that my friend Eva took of me one day last year. 

It was around the same time, and same weather condition as today. 

We were sitting at the top of a parking terrace listening to music. 

I'm not sure if I'm scratching my head or just in disbelief of something, but I kind of like it.

It's simple. 

I'm not posing.

 I'm just me. 

And I like it. 

This picture got me thinking of the things I do:

How I conduct myself. 

How I talk to people.  

How weird I am. 

And I don't know why -but then again, I rarely ever do- I remembered the boy who has been on my mind lately. Just yesterday he told me he loved how weird I was. 

He said it made me interesting, and made him want to be around me. 

I don't know how much of that was true, and how much of that he said just so I'd let him hold my hand, but I feel like maybe there are people who appreciate the differences in other people. 

That maybe, everyone has someone who loves that little weird thing they do. 

And that maybe, instead of blowing it off half-heartedly we should hold on to those things, because it sets us apart. 

Because some one will love it, or rather, already does. 

Today I decided that my weirdness is okay. 

That I shouldn't be ashamed or embarrassed of it. 

It's something that people recognize me for. 

Something they long.

A difference in a sea of normal and ordinary. 

And that's enough for me. 

GAH.

There are feelings in me I don't know how to express. 

I want to stop thinking about it and just do, but I stop myself. 

WHY DO I STOP MYSELF

I know what I want

 I know that it's real

I know that it's in my reach and I keep second guessing,

over analyzing, psyching myself out. 

 GAH, don't I know it's okay? 

Mon Ami Eva

There is this girl I know.
She really cute & really good at taking pictures.
                                 

this is her as a baby, with her sister, in the white hood being all innocent and chubby and bite-your-cheeks-off-cute

this is when she teaches folk dancing at the tops of parking garages

this is her with a flower in her mouth, being the most beautiful girl in the room 

NBD

this is when she was speaking to me with her eyes in the crazy way she does

this is a picture a friend of mine sent me of her, and asked me to help him "edit" it when in reality he just wanted me to know how perfect it was. 

and the CocoRosie song we kept playing even when your father told us it was too depressing and we had to change the song. 

She's a really great girl, and I love her so much. For telling me things I didn't want to hear but needed to. For showing me the best music I would ever put in my ears. For making my life so much better than it would have been with out her. For helping me choose to be better. And so many other things I don't care to bore you people with. But truly, biggest blessing in my life is this girl right here. 

Te amo Eva. 

"Your future is a bright as your faith "

*************

i might consider owning a cat one day

you said it's worth it.

I said it's not. 

you say I'm worth it.

I say you're not. 

you're willing to deal with it.

I can't let you.

you want to fight, for me.

I don't want you to get hurt.

For. Ever. A. Baby.

Yesterday I almost kissed the boy of my dreams. I was literally an inch or so away from touching his lips with mine. He tucked my hair behind my ear, stroked my cheek with his hand, lifted my chin slowly, leaned in..
And I?
I turned away.
I hid my face, closed my eyes.
I can't do this, I can't. I can't. 

We were so close, his face right next to mine. I could feel his skin radiating it's warmth. I ran my fingers through his hair.
I can't.
I moved away, I sat up. I leaned against the window. I looked outside. It couldn't be more perfect. Soft faint music in the background. We were alone. He was ready. I was ready. It was supposed to happen. But it didn't.
There is no logical explanation for last night. I simply couldn't. So many things ran through my mind. Was it too soon? Was it okay? How did I get here? Why can't I do it? This should be easy. I'm shaking. 

The song ended for the second time. It's obviously not supposed to happen. 
He pressed play again. Damn it.
This is really happening. He really wants to. I really want to. Don't I? 

Cuddling wasn't a problem. Holding hands? Piece of cake. It was all natural. Easy. Meaningful, but easy. And yet, here I sat, next to the greatest thing since portable music. But I couldn't. I glanced at his face, he sat patiently taking in my rejection. I knew what he was thinking.

"It's not that I don't want to. Really, I want to. I'm just scared.. I guess."

He held my arm softly, rolled up the sleeve that had fallen down in my frustration.

"It's okay." 

No it wasn't. I moved in. Held his face, his hand reached up to hold mine too. Our noses touched, his eyelashes grazed my cheekbone as I moved to the side. The song began to reach the climax. If it was going to happen, it'd have to be now. Closer, we came in. I held my breath.. no. I dodged him and moved to the left. Burying my face into his arm. I muttered an apology that sounded so pathetic.

It's happened before. I little less pleasant though. That's how I lost my V.L. (yes, that does stand for Virgin Lips).  But this was different. He was different. He didn't force me to. Which I loved him for. But for the life of me I couldn't let him kiss me. It was too much. I was too scared. I looked out the window again and saw the silhouette of my mother looking at us.

 THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING. 

I apologized for the millionth time and said I had to go promising we'd talk later. I rushed inside and went straight to my room. I felt depressed. That was all I had ever wanted. For him to tuck my hair behind my ear. To hold my face, to pull me in. And I had ruined it. I was forever pathetic. Good things happened and I'd run away in a sprint. I was a coward. A chicken. A baby. And I could never take it back.

Eye of The Tiger

    Today I came home and watched some of Rocky I and II. I spent most of the time thinking about yesterday and the events that took place, and pictured what they'd be like if I was older, and married to a heavy weight world champion. I wondered if I'd stand by in silence while my man beat himself up- like Adrian (his wife) does- or would I be in his face telling him him I loved him, and encouraging him to push harder and what not.

    Even as I'm writing this post listening to Beach House. I'm looking at my mini schnauzer, who seems to have such human characteristics in her behavior, and thinking about what it'll be like when I have real babies of my own. It sounds dumb and weird, but unlike other people's relationships with their pets, I often think about small gestures like petting and such with my puppy, and what they really mean. I wonder if she really knows that I love her. If she can sense how important she is to me even though she doesn't understand english. I can't help but think that now I sound like those crazy pet people that prefer to talk to animals as opposed to real humans. Which I assure you I most definitely am not, but you get the idea.

    And then on top of that, I'm currently wearing a boy's flannel shirt that he gave me only a few hours ago because he says it doesn't "fit him like it used to". Even though I made him try it on, and when it fit like a glove he simply said it just isn't the same and he'd much rather it be in my possession. It makes me laugh because I know he loves this shirt, and it's fits him just fine, but it's little things like giving your favorite flannel away that makes us stick out like a sore thumb that we're just overcome with love for someone.

    All of these small insignificant things have been pushing me into this world wind of what life will be like when I'm married and have my own family. I wonder if I'll be able to convince my husband I love him when he's at his lowest point. I wonder if my kids will know how much they mean to me. I wonder if my husband will let me borrow his favorite flannel when we're older and I'm cold. More than anything I just want to know that I'll be able to establish real love in my home.

    But back to the movie.. when Apollo is training Rocky to have his final fight, Rocky starts to lose his motivation and seems to give up completely in the middle of his training. Apollo then screams at him asking what the hell his problem is and why he's not trying anymore. Then he say's some thing great.

"See that look in their eyes, Rock? You gotta get that look back, Rock. Eye of the tiger, man."

    Now, I'm no philosopher on interpreting metaphors, but this just gives me chills. Weird connection I know, but I want to have the Eye of the Tiger. I don't want to have to say anything to let people know how I feel. I just want to have to look at them square in the eye for 2, 3 seconds tops, and they'll know what's up. My husband and children will only need to see my eyes to know I love them. Not that I wouldn't want to say it out loud, but we'll just have this connection where we can communicate without words. And it'll be just a meaningful.

    I know I think about future life more than normal people my age, but there is honestly nothing in this world that'd I'd want more than my own loving family. To be so sure of someone's love, and feel that constantly and equally with them I think is nothing short of the greatest thing on this planet. And then to be able to make life with that special person that literally serves as the prefect mixture of the two of you and watch that life grow. Freak. That's just amazing to me. I can't wait to be in love.

YO ADRIAN! I DID IT!

Boyfriends & Cuddling

    So a couple months ago I went on a hike with my sister and best friend. We stole our mother's car while she was out of town and did things we weren't proud of. All in preparation for homecoming that was that following weekend. Needless to say, we were flyin' like paper and gettin' high like planes.

Anyways, we got in deep with our folks when they came back, but luckily I was still able to figure out Homecoming at the last second and had literally one of the greatest nights of my life.

YEAH. My group was just dynamite. We pretty much turned every head at the dance. All of us were having the time of our lives and didn't care who saw, as long as we were all sore for a good two days (which we most definitely were) nothing else mattered. But unfortunately the date did eventually end, and the dream of being completely paid for and served to was over. And that's when I started to think.. I could use a boyfriend.

Especially for the incoming fall weather, having someone to cuddle with and talk to for hours sounded only logical this time of the year. And so my quest began. But don't get me wrong, I know what's realistic and what's fantasy, I mean I wasn't asking for Zayn,

 

or Harry,

 

or Louis.

Although, I wouldn't mind.

No, but seriously. Just someone who would think the world of me, even if I was wearing a weird flannel shirt and no makeup on. I honestly only had a few qualities that I felt were a must, but even then I could be flexible. I being far from perfect myself, didn't expect some gracious god from beyond the veil to come galloping horse back into my life, just when I wanted it most. But yet, it almost feels like that's exactly what happened. And don't get me wrong, I wasn't looking for a "fling" but not exactly a "full time bf/gf relationship". I just wanted some one to like, that liked me back, and maybe some occasional cuddling. But seriously, on an incredibly serious note, I couldn't thank my Heavenly Father more for the chain of events that happened next.

I'm sitting in this boy's basement (same boy from " unspoken secrets & boy's sweaters") and he's telling me a story about when he made a fort with a friend and this couch had a wolf spider crawled up in the cracks and crevices of it.
    
          SIDE NOTE: I'm almost 100% sure that I have arachnephobia. Literally just the mention of a spider  has the potential to send me into a panic attack. It's seriously the worst thing of my life. Anyways, back to the story.

At the mention of this creepy crawler I lose it.. literally. I pace the room trying to brush off potential mental tarantellas crawling all over my body and can seem to only mutter grunts of frustration and the occasional "ew". This boy however in the midst of laughing is trying to calm me down and get me to sit back on the couch that we were on. But I being the hopeless terrified female that I pathetically am, cannot seem to contain myself for my life. He then takes matters into his own hands, and long story short, ends up holding my hand and hugging me with his other arm as I attempt to control my breathing. "It's okay," and "I won't let them get you." are the only things I'm hearing as he starts to get more and more comfortable with me in his arms. Eventually I'm calm, and then it just turns into a full on cuddle session, where he's still holding my hand laying next to me. Our time together progresses and next thing I know, I'm resting my head on his shoulder under his chin while gripping his arm, and his hand is stroking mine as we turn into each other. I honestly can't give you the complete details because it all was just so incredibly natural and wonderful all I could focus on was how good it felt to be held so softly and have him so close to me.. After a few moments of this amazing bliss, his phone buzzes as he receives a text from his sister asking him to pick her up. We both read the message together, and just look at each other sadly because it means we'll have to move. But you see, we couldn't. It was some sort of trance that comes with finding another person who fits next to your body so perfectly that never makes you want to leave their side. And yet, we both knew we had too. So with a humorous tone that I seem to so graciously place in anything I say I turn to him and go," I can't breathe, I'm literally smuggling myself in you. " Luckily I struck gold with this kid, and when ever I make a stupid comment like this he just laughs and confirms to me that I AM actually funny, and I'M NOT and idiot, and that he DOES want to spend time with me.

Needless to say he makes me ecstatic, I only know a very few number of boys if any that can take a terrifying thing like a spider panic attack and turn it into the most beautiful, fantastic cuddle session on this earth. And more than once might I add did this happen, and the fact that I had to pee the whole time didn't even faze me, cause if it meant leaving this kid, I'd let my bladder full on explode. Like jumping off a cliff and not caring if you die cause you just cuddled. That's  how great it was.

Honestly, I think this might be real guys. I think we might have something special here. I think it's so heart breaking to leave the warmth from his body when we're together. I think I'm really feeling something for this kid. I think I have a boyfriend.

Which is kind of a big deal, for me.

Italians

    I've recently decided that one of my favorite gang movies is A Bronx Tale with Robert De Niro and Chazz Palminteri. It seems that every Sunday afternoon this movie is playing on the telly and my plans for the day are pretty much non-existent at that point, because I know for the rest of the evening I'll be glued to the television screaming at 'C' to listen to his father, or stay away from Sonny. I don't know why I've suddenly found an interest in hard core Italians. Perhaps it's how they conduct themselves when they want to show they've got "heart", or perhaps is they way they strut in their leather jackets and black suits. What ever it is, I've established a new home for them in my heart, where they can come and watch the streets smoking their cigarettes with their fedoras when ever they please.

    But don't be mistaken with the Italian "guido" that seems to be running MTV now a days.

No, no, I'm talking about the real Italians that wore suits every where they went, and kept a baseball bat in corner incase someone got out of line. Not the over muscular, over tanned, gel crusted Italian that walks the streets of Jersey Shore. A Bronx boy, a streets smart kid, a true gangster that lived in a strictly Italian neighborhood. That's the kind of kid I was after.
    And yet, this obsession with the Italian only lasts the night, come Monday I'm back to the typical cookie cutter lover boy I want. With the straight A's and Ralph Lauren button down. Who knows. Maybe it's a sign. Maybe I'm a fling kind of girl, that I can handle the incredibly forward action Italian boy once every blue moon. Maybe I just need to get out more, see the East Coast a little, and hell, maybe even eat some pasta. What ever the case, I need to figure it out soon cause I've been craving a little Italian blood, with possibly a side of fettuccine.

Unspoken Rules & Boys Sweaters

    I'm just assuming this, because I don't know, but I feel like there's some sort of unspoken rule about blogging more than once a day (or in this case night) that every social network has. Just like updating your facebook status or tweeting more - although tweeting could go either way- than once a day automatically makes you inferior to the rest of the world that seems to have more self control. But as so many before us have said, rules are meant to be broken, and whether this includes the unspoken rules I'm not entirely sure, and really don't care. I'm a rule breaker.
   This last week I ditched roughly 3 classes with a boy I've grown close too this summer. Which actually is much more dangerous and heart racing as you would think, considering my school this year has chosen to become incredibly over dramatic and take unnecessary lengths to make sure we all attend our scheduled classes. Which in turn has given me more motivation to not attend my classes and want to drop out of high school all together...  ANYWAYS; so this boy.
   Yes, this boy who may or may not be the reason for my frequent ditching (more likely not, and I'm not just saying that.. well maybe) has become a rather significant part of my life recently. We hung-out a lot in the summer, went on drives, shared secrets, blah, blah, blah, and suddenly I'm now wearing his Thrashers Magazine sweater to bed for the third night in a row.

   I barely even know that much about skating. But what I do know is that any chance I get I slip in this large, navy blue sweater and just think about him. Weird I know. Just the other day it seems like we drove together for the first time, and now I'm spending evenings in his basement having deep conversations about our parent's divorces and picking up Indian take out. Suddenly I'm resisting the urge to text him because I fear I'm being annoying or pushy where as before I just called him to talk without thinking twice.
   Now I'm wondering if I should put on more mascara before he picks me up where as before I'd answer the door in sweats. Regardless of what exactly I've been changing about my self, the fact of the matter is that I'm scared now. I'm scared to show my face for longer than 5 seconds because I'm self conscious. I'm scared I'm not capable of being myself when we're alone. I'm scared of what I'm changing into now that I know he likes me "that way". I'm scared I'm not smart enough to realize I like him "that way" too.. I've noticed now more than ever that things are much easier said than done. Which is really too bad; for a lot of reasons but I care too much about you to elaborate.
     Honestly, all I want to do is wear his sweater all the time, and be comfortable around his folks, and not have to worry about people thinking that we're making out and holding hands every 5 seconds. CAUSE I ASSURE YOU I'M NOT MATURE ENOUGH FOR THAT. Although I wouldn't mind trying. Bottom line, I just want this kid's sweater. I'll probably give it back to him so he can make it smell good again, but then it's mine.

Hello

    I fairly new at this and honestly a little scared. My best friend has a blog and would often show me some of her posts, from what I gathered it served as an electrical journal if you will, where you could post pictures, videos anything of real significance that people could read, blah, blah, blah. Whether it was entirely public or private, I wasn't completely sure, but still here I am writing my first post because quite frankly I'm incredibly bored/ secretly always wanted one.  Obviously I'm a little late for the "I have my own blog" trend because it seems that a substantial amount of my friend group has had a blog for quite some time. Which is not surprising in the least, I will admit I'm rather slow on the trending scale but nonetheless, here I am. And so begins my online journey of deep thoughts and secret feeling that I'm too scared to share with real people; so why not post them on the worldwide web? Amirite? Here we go.