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Desperation equals weakness. I never want to be desperate again, for anything. For the rest of my life, I will make a vow never to be desperate, never to feel desperation, to take care of myself and let God handle my fears and weak points, so I wonít be desperate enough to turn to someone or something else. I cannot be strong within myself unless God is within me, but it is so difficult to become attached to earthly pleasures and feel the desperation of the fake security they bring to you. I hope to no longer be attached.
When I was in fifth grade, I wrote a song called ďMy DestinyĒ. It was really a poem; just words and no music, but I used to go around singing it like a song. I remember it being about the guy I had a crush on at the time, and how he would have been ďmy destinyĒ. Flash forward ten years later. I have met my real destiny, who is by no means the same guy. They are as different as light is from day, and I have changed my taste radically, be it for better or for worse.
I am going into my new college with determination to face my fears and become less dependent on my parents. Confession: at the helpless age of twenty, I am shockingly dependent on my parents. This is one of my major downfalls. I hope that after I go through college, and get a job and move away for good, I can still ďhonor my mother and fatherĒ like it says in the Bible, but have my own life too. That is what I so desperately wantÖ my own life, because Iím twenty and I still canít go to rock concerts.
I know you donít really detest me. I know you canít. I paid you back, I accepted my mistake. You were the one who was wrong, the one who was childish, the one who lacked patience. I have the right to detest you, but I canít. I refuse. I loved you more than you loved me. I never wanted to hate you or despise you or detest you. I wish you could have opened your eyes. I wish you could have at least tried to right the wrongs, but you just gave up. I wonít detest you for that.
I donít know who I am more devoted to: my future husband or my parents. In reality, it should be my future husband. I know that. But I am under the Bibleís words, which say ďhonor your mother and fatherĒ. Thatís what I try my best to do, even if I get so frustrated I could scream. My future husband isnít even really my fiancť. Heís not officially proposed to me, but he still considers himself my future husbandÖ I guess I have no choice but to wait and see who God reveals as the object of my devotion.
I miss my super villain. I just finished writing my really long story two days ago, and my favorite character was the villain, as always. Iím going to miss writing about him. I based him after one of the guys I had a crush on in high school, but I just added more evil features and a love of jewels. I guess you could say my super villain was more than a little effeminate. Hitler was supposedly a girly-man, too. I think all diabolical people are somewhat confused in that sense, except Hugh Hefner. He thinks heís a stud.
Those pants have seen it all. He wears them every day to work, and they see everything that goes on. I always like to think of clothing as having thoughts and feelings, and maybe even eyes. Maybe my pants think, ďYou just washed me yesterday. Iím not dirty yet.Ē Or maybe they see someone down the street and think, ďI would fit that girl so much betterÖĒ I think Iím just psychotic, imagining these things about clothes. I think the same thing about other inanimate objects, like cars and houses. I think clothes have a lot of personality, too.
Iíve heard it said that people who have too much in common will not get along, when logic would tell you that they would. I have also heard it said that opposites attract. How can that be, when they have such little common ground? I do agree with these principles, because Iíve seen them demonstrated in real life. There are some people I get along great with, but we are exact opposites, and there are others who have everything in common with me, but I canít stand to be around them. Maybe we just donít like to be bested.
Ha. If I counted up all the times I really got some, it would be a hell of a dirty dozen. I think. Iíd laugh like hell if the number of times, from day 1 until today was twelve. Then Iíd have to have some kind of Celebration of the Sex. To go with it, Iíd also have to have a celebration of the rest of the IMSADs. I think dirty dozen was the name of a movie. Maybe Iím mixing things up. I donít watch many movies because I hate the Hollywood clichťs. They make me angry.
I wish his little crush on me would disappear. I never thought Iíd ever have another guy with a crush on me, but somehow I do. On the surface, he is everything I would want. Christian. Sweet. Gives nice gifts. Very kind. Caring family. My age. Similar interests. But when I dug further down, when I got to know him better, I found out that he was nothing that I wanted. Beneath all those nice surface features, he was just another lie. To date him would be taking several giant steps backward. Sometimes I even wish he would disappear.
I am moving to college in five days and I am also super nervous about the whole thing. Iím going to have to dismantle my closet and move most of the contents into my dormitory, which I am sharing with a complete and total stranger. I hope I can do well in college, along with the extended freedom Iíll be getting. I hope that I can meet at least one person who will be a good friend. I am just worried that when I move in, my parents will make an ass of me, therefore dismantling my fragile reputation.
He was a disruption. He was the reason I started to dislike Spanish class. I still loved him. I was so into him, and I loved him so much that I literally would have done anything for him. He was my sweetheart. He was my reason for coming to school on days when I wanted to avoid the drama and the lies. In class he was a disruption, he engaged me in stupid games with paper and pen, trying to make me listen to him instead of the lesson. I listened to him, and now he has gone away.
I want to put some distance between us. I want to be just friends. I donít want to be as obligated to him, and I donít really think he wants to be as obligated to me, based on what he said deep down. He expressed his true feelings to me, and I really donít think he wants to be my boyfriend. He wants the free hugs, kisses and make out sessions, but thatís about it. He doesnít want my ďwifelyĒ nagging, my need to be alone, and my grudges against his girl friends. We need a bit of distance.
Do I Know You?
I have no idea if I even know myself sometimes. I have disappointed myself beyond reason. Just yesterday, I was asking myself why I have been so angry these days. Why do I hold all my anger in, and then pour it out on the people who least deserve it? Why I am so self centered and egotistical? I never used to be that way. Two people I know call me ďpureĒ and ďinnocentĒ, and I would
to be able to live up to those qualities. I just wish I felt it in my heart.
Do Not DisturbÖ
Öfor I am disturbed enough already. Today is the day before move-in at college and I am frantically trying to get everything I need together so I wonít be overly stressed out tomorrow. My cat keeps trying to disturb me by slamming himself against my door and meowing loudly. Iím going to feed him in five minutes, but to him, itís like five days. I will never understand cats. My cat hates being around me, except at feeding time. He only shows me affection at the most annoying moments, when I do not want to be disturbed.
Do You Remember?
I remember most things. I figured out yesterday that my boyfriend doesnít remember anything, nor does he care. Heís too damn ADHD to listen, and so when you tell him something important, heís giggling through you telling the story or he just doesnít remember. I have noticed so many negative things about him this week. It feels like the more he tries to be better, the worse he does. I hate how one of our mutual friends had to fix our relationship. At the rate weíre going, Iím glad to be going to collegeÖ away from him!
I wonder just how homesick I will be. Today is the last day I will be at home the majority of the week. I will only be home Saturday and Sunday, and half of Friday. The other time I will be spending at NCSU. And I figured out that my boyfriend really does not give a damn about me. Heís more into four wheelers now. Just like he was so into paintball a few years back. Weíll see how long it takes for the ATV obsession to disappear. Maybe then Iíll have finally lost patience with his lack of maturity.
The dream I had came true yesterday. I donít think it will progress to a scary level of truthfulness, but it seems to be getting there. Iím okay with it; I know I can change the dream. I can just choose not to go the way I went in the dream, and do those things that I did. What I was trying to do was quite immoral. Besides, I have no idea if the one detail in the dream is true in real lifeÖ and Iím afraid to ask. If itís true, it will be a shot in the dark.
I am not afraid of him. When I met him in my dreams, he was not a frightening figure, but as I continued to think about the dream after I had it, I began to realize that yes, he was in fact a little scary. The way he just took over. He shoved The Last Resort to the side like discarded trash. But he is not who I am meant to be with. He canít be. He knows no God, and besides it is not my place to dictate who I belong to. I belong to God, and only God.
He really misses me. Iím so surprised. I seriously thought he would have fun without meÖ but I donít know. Maybe he is and heís just not telling me. Heíll tell me, but it will be like six months after it happens. And I donít like that. If he has to tell me something, he should just say it. Thatís where 90% of the communication problems come from: our hesitance to tell each other whatís going on. I miss him too, but Iím having too much fun being a student in the real college world. Iíll see him this weekend.
Heís still in love with me. This year is already feeling like an odd mix between eighth grade and eleventh grade. I am a junior in college with all freshman friends, and they are nearly all guys. My roommate is my only girl friend so far, and I have yet to find my girl friend from community college. Hopefully, weíll run across each other soon. But heís still in love with me. My friend in the ďcrack browniesĒ episode. I think itís sweet, but Iíd never date him. I still have this ďeternally singleĒ mentality. And I really like it.
Do You Trust Me?
No. I donít trust him. I still donít, not even after almost four years. Itís not like I donít have a reason to trust him. In reality, I have all the reason in the world. He has never cheated on me. The closest he has come to cheating on me is having the ďwhat ifĒ thoughts, but everyone has those. I still have those, but they donít really make me untrustworthy. So why do I not trust him? Maybe because he is a guy, and my theory on guys is that they are sometimes like dogs.
I despise the doctorís office. I would rather go to the dentist than the doctor any day of the year. I donít like how the lighting in the examination room makes you look sallow-skinned and sickly. Thatís the worst feeling in the world. And then you get the doctor looking at you, scrutinizing, trying to figure out whatís wrong with you. Those damn doctors invade your privacy, ruin your dignity, and make you feel less than human. Or at least thatís how I feel with my doctor. That woman gave me the most evil look Iíve ever seen.
My dog is a ďreal petĒ according to my dad. She will curl up next to you when youíre sitting around watching TV or reading. She knows when youíre sad. She greets you enthusiastically when you come home. My cat, on the other hand, is a ďpseudo-petĒ according to me. Heís a bitch. The closest he ever curls up to me is an inch away from my feet. He could care less when Iím sad. He could care less when I walk through the door, and he hates it when I pet him. All he ever wants is food.
I am going to hate when the dog days end. I am the type of person who hates the cold. It takes me longer to heat up than to cool down, despite what most people say about it being easier to get heated up then cooled down. I love the spring and summer and hate the winter, just because my hands are numb, my skin is tight, and I have to wear layers and layers of clothing. I have very thin blood, which could explain the reason why I am so cold. I am dreading November with passion.
I have a song stuck in my head. And I am having doubts. I have these doubts every so often, mostly about the caliber of my intelligence and how I will be able (or unable) to compete with everyone else in college. I feel like everyone in here has accomplished more than me, or is smarter than me or whatever. Itís low self esteem, which is a driving force behind my personality. Iím not looking for consolation; Iím looking for a way I can make myself better. I want to impress people, and I want my life to mean something.
I donít like all this rain weíre having today, especially when I have to walk to class in it. We have no drainage whatsoever, so the rain creates floods in the street and the sidewalk, making the bricks very slippery. I am the type of person who falls down on slippery surfaces. I fall down easily when they arenít slippery. My shoes are completely soaked from walking through water when everyone else wanted to push me off the sidewalk. I wonder if my boyfriend is asleep right now. When it rains, he sleeps. This whole incident reminds me of him.
Today is the sixth anniversary of Liberation Day. I am not bothering to explain it because it is one of those weird inside jokes I have with myself. Most people I know find that creepy, but I do not care. I am a creep and I will admit it. I am a benevolent creep though. I hate to hurt people, and if I see someone crying or upset, Iíll feel really bad and perhaps even start crying myself. Liberation DayÖ Iím not really liberated. Something always holds me back and I want to let it go, but I just canít.
The dream I had on the night of July 22 2008 is driving me crazy. It was so vivid, and I remembered nearly every detail upon waking, which is unusual for me. I rarely remember minor details of my dream, and I rarely remember the entire plot line of a dream. But this time I didÖ and the dream came true, almost to the exact detail. I do not know why or how or what or anything, but it boggled my mind when it happened and I came to the full realization that I was literally living inside my dream.
Iím scared of my own brother. All he does is stay in his room all day long and play World of Warcraft. That game is supposedly so addictive that marriages have broken up over it, and jobs have been lost because of it. My brother has just started his senior year of high school, and I donít want the game to make him fail to get into college or get good grades. Heís also been cold to everyone in the family, and rolls his eyes when he is asked to do something that will take him away from the game.
I had an awesome music video idea for the song ďRight HereĒ by Staind. It involves a day of senior pictures being made in a high school gym. The girl is going to have her pictures made, and the minute she walks in the door, she is confronted with her old crush. She thinks about her current boyfriend and how she used to be in love with the guy she sees. He keeps popping up in her thoughts as she takes the pictures, because he has always been right there waiting for her to fall back in love with him.
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