Jesus Is My Lullaby

 Being much of a dreamer and very spacey, staying in "the real world" has always been an aggravating struggle for me... As is the fight to keep my few scraps of sanity in check. What can I say? My insane side keeps telling me to remind everyone that it's there even though that's become pretty apparent by now. Anyway...

 On a long car ride I boarded a few days ago, the mother and the sister were debating over things related to "the future" and "money" and "careers", all of which I can't stand thinking about. My only escape method was blasting songs from the All Things Bright and Beautiful album on my iPod, mixing in a few other songs near the end of my visit to my own world.

 I often catch myself feeling guilty of being so far different from my family and most of my friends. I'm very often a bad friend and a worse sister and daughter. Every time I avoid spending time with them to stand alone and daydream, there's something telling me that they deserve more than passive-aggressive cycles and all of the other wonderful qualities I possess. There's a line recently written in my diary saying: They deserve a flimsy do-gooder. Not me, the stubborn screw-up. Why am I such a jerk? They shouldn't have to deal with me.

 There have been many times that I have tried analyzing this aspect of me, but I can't get very far into it, since I can't find the initial trigger events that caused it. I'm at least guessing this is an OCD thing, but I can't get much past that.

Things need to be even. If you do something nice for me, I have to do something equally nice for you, or else I will go insane.

In such an unfair world and a very small ability for helping people, this obsession has gotten me falling on the floor gasping for breath and begging for pain. Help is something I can't ask for because I can't get myself out of debt with other people. They can forgive me a thousand times, they may not even notice when I'm not as good to them as they are to me, but I will never let it go inside of myself until I have payed it back. In many ways, I've become my own enemy.

 I stare at myself in mirrors. A lot. I'm not sure why. There's something that I'm looking for or something. I can't tell. But today when I stared for too long, the shadows on my face became more defined, the cobalt blue in my eyes turned into iron, and the creatures that eat me started crawling out of my skin. I had to look away before I scared myself too bad.

 In another diary entry I had written: Just throw me. So stupid. What's wrong with me? Stupid freak, stupid jerk. Get rid of it. Just beat me then let me dance alone until I deserve more.

And in another: I feel myself becoming a monster. Then I feel myself going insane.

 In all honesty, I'm sure I'm being overly dramatic since I'm sleep deprived when I write in my diaries. This still has showed me just how strange my mind's gotten.

 Sometimes I still get that feeling that I need to know certain things. Things about myself, the others, the universe, but then I finally remember "Just stop. God's got you, alright? Just leave the tough stuff a mystery. It's not your business anyway."

Whenever there's no way out that I can see,

When all I want to do is cry,

When there is nobody to listen,

When there is nobody to hold me,

I sing.

Jesus is my lullaby

He calms my fears and drys my eyes

And when my life goes up in flames

He shows me it'll all be better someday

It'll be better someday

 

I'll be better someday

Blossoms Filled The Room

 For me, it's a very rare and cherished thing for something big to end. Or rather, something new beginning. After five class periods of filling in the bars on ScanTron tests and another three on more unique finals, my school year ended with not much more than a fizzle. Nevertheless, my first last day since I've gone to the high school did not wear me weary. In some ways, I'm very happy we didn't spend our last moments there signing yearbooks or doing other activities that require a high social capacity, that which I don't acquire.

 It's only my freshman year and I know there's far more adventures and endeavors to experience before I'm through with my high school years. I feel like I at least owe what I've gone through this time around a tip of the metaphorical hat and a smile goodbye. A new person has come into my life, someone that needs me as equally as I do her, and everyone knows that a best friend has to be one of the best gifts time can give you.

 There's a lot in store for me this summer, including an Owl City concert, camping once or twice, and brand new seasons of my favorite TV shows.

(>*o*)>

 So, as you can see, I'm more than willing to run in slow-motion through a field of daisies and tall grass that blows in the wind to the wonderful times I've planned ahead for.

Long live life!

Where Am I?

 I write my best songs in about fifteen minutes. Let's see how this one turns out.

What do the stars chime when you see me

Why do I star in your universe

Questions still haunt me eternally

My actions become adverse

 

Starlight, sing to me

Bring us another melody

Before the sands run out

We'll only be young for a short life

Even shorter, with our destinies

Everyone has left the stage but you

Maybe I've underestimated

Or you've done the worse

 Nope, my creativity is dead at the moment. I don't even have anything to write.

Sorry I never write anymore. I keep breaking my promises and disappointing myself.

Off Track, On Probation

pro·ba·tion/prōˈbāSHən/Noun

1. The release of an offender from detention, subject to a period of good behavior under supervision.

 

  Lately, I've given myself plenty of detention.

I'm not sure when that started, or why, or how, or the etc., but I'm pretty sure you could say that's true. My diaries have been lacking entries, my iPod's been dead, and I can't remember the last time I got a legit good night of sleep. Lots of crappy mishaps and emotions like to poke me, and I had to deal with them with the "virus treatment". The "virus treatment", as I call it, is that point at which your emotional, physical, mental, and psychological states begin to merge and the lines between "bad mood", "sick", and "distracted" decide to dissolve into a huge hunk of bitter coffee grounds, tree sap, and dirty thorns; so you collapse inwardly and just stay alive for a few days/weeks until you actually feel better. Its name comes from the similar way that your body reacts to a virus. It goes to the problem, then puts all of its effort into it, creating a bloody battlefield of runny noses and fevers.

 The recovery usually lasts only a week or so, depending on the length and severity of the "virus treatment". It usually consists of getting back on a normal schedule, catching up on the things you missed, and ignoring that which would normally get on your nerves in order to prevent another treatment. This stage is probation. You don't let things get in your way again. It'll only create more chaos we can't afford.

 So now I'm doing the homework, charging the iPod, and... Planning to clean the room. Well, it's getting better, anyway.

 This has been just another one of my foolish philosophies that may or may not be a completely ridiculous assumption that I've made off of a simple common life experience. Do not put trust in it, for I can't even do the same.

"It's darkest just before the dawn"