I don't even know this girl...

I don't even know who this girl is, but she's so much like me. She struggles with other things, things I don't struggle with. Things I'll probably struggle with in the future, but not now. I'm okay now. I'm not okay. I don't even know this girl, but the way she handles her struggles is so much like me. She likes Panic! At The Disco and obsesses over Ryan Ross and Keltie Colleen and Brendon Urie exactly like me. She read Thirteen Reasons Why like me. She's so much like me. She's smart like me. She writes like me. Oh, how I've longed to find a friend that writes like me, because all of my friends are talented in everthing else but writing, unlike me. I'm talented in writing, in everything but writing I'm not talented. But I don't know what happened to her. She used to blog about Panic! At The Disco and The Young Veins and she used to be angry at Ryan for cheating on Keltie and she used to blog about liking Sarah, like me. She so like me. I see so much of myself in her, but I don't know her. I don't even know why I'm drawn to her. But she used to obsess, like me, and now she, she doesn't.

The funny thing is, I'm scared. I'm scared that I'll eventually run into these troubles and I'll eventually stop caring about Brendon and Sarah and Spencer and Hayley and Jon and Cassie and Ryan and Z and Keltie and whoever the hell "swoon" is and Panic! At the Disco and The Young Veins and the Ballad of Mona Lisa and Change and Ryan playing hockey and Rockettes, Rockstars, and Rockbottom. I'm so scared. But I don't even know this girl. She older than me, she looks nothing like me, but she's so much like me.

Ballad Of Mona Lisa

Have you heard this song yet? No? It's great!

Troubles

I am beginning to dread 3^rd period. There are three girls in my class that torture me, and the rest are all maniacs. My week is going to be a bad week, I can already tell. It starts with the simple goodbye of Dorian leaving to Miamisburg schools, though only moving a block from his old house. I don’t know when he’ll be switching, but in the meanwhile I’m keeping him to myself. He’ll be un-grounded Friday.

I know as soon as Dorian leaves all hell will break loose, being that in my fourth period class he’s the only one I can talk to, without having awkward pauses in between every other sentence, that makes me laugh. Today I sat in my seat through twenty-five minutes in each of my classes doing absolutely nothing. I was staring at a wall for a good few minutes before I realized we had work in any to all my classes, which I now have to do for homework.

I hate this school. I hate my home. I feel like I can’t escape. Oh, how long I’ve been planning to run away. Though I just can’t bring myself to run away nor commit suicide. See now, even though the majority of the people in my life treat me like shit, I would never, under any circumstance, hurt them with an absence of my life in the palm of their hands. I could never blame them for hating myself, or hating life in general. I can only blame myself.

I have deep issues nobody can help me fix, due to the lack of support from my family and the troublesome years I’ve encountered in my past. I will always doubt myself, even when I know my work is good, and my talents that are valid and legit. I have a dark cloud of skepticism perpetually hanging over my head, and no light, whether you tell me my work is great or not, will ever be able to shine through. It’s like I’m incapable of being happy.

The only way I can be happy is when I’m miserable. I’m constantly getting in my own way and running from things that are good to me, right back into the arms of trouble. I struggle with my weight to keep eating, with my mom because I know I’ll never be good enough for her, and with my academic skills because I want to be smart, and I know I am, but again, there’s that skepticism. I write because it’s my vent. I sing because it’s the only thing I take comfort in. But I’m beginning to take a subtle discomfort in my voice and vocal abilities.

Youth. I love youth. I feel accepted, and loved, and normal for having the big ol’ brain of mine that won’t ever shut up. But still, there’s this ghost of my past nagging me to keep my mouth shut, because whenever I open my mouth anywhere else it gets me into trouble.

So, I have many problems. I’m (in a doctor’s definition – not mine) anorexic. I used to slit my ankles. I used to get beat the shit out of by my ex step-father, and get verbally abused by everyone I encounter throughout the day, whether they be my classmates or family members. I dwell on the past, and I hate that. I always look to the negative. I hate that. So, this post was my troubles, the outer-lying ones, and then the deep ones. Because I needed to vent, I needed to get it out, it was killing me.

Oh God, what am I doing?

Oh God, what am I doing?

I have absolutely no idea. I think so oddly, I am odd, I am eccentric. I am Julie. I am myself, but you, you disgust me. You are a monster. You are a pig. You are egocentric. You are narcissistic. You are self-centered. You are smug. You are arrogant. You are vain. You are conceited. You are ignorant. You are oblivious. You are insensitive. You are irresponsible. You are obnoxious. You are irritating. Oh God why have we changed?

I'm growing older, I'm growing more mature, I'm growing as a person, as a writer, as a musician. You are growing backwards. I don't know why I care? Maybe because you were so kind to me before this sudden change? Oh God, why did I have to change?

Maybe you stayed the same? Or maybe you changed with me, you grew in the opposite ways, like flowers that have intertwined, that now, slowly, untangle themselves from the mess they have gotten into. Oh God, why did you have to change?

Oh God, why do I have to care? Why can't I pour all of my feelings into this wet cement that's trapped me under the surface of contentment? Blank. I doubt my writing, my meaning, I doubt my abilities as a musician. How dare I call myself a musician? How dare I call my work art? How dare I change?

Oh God, do you even need my help, do you even want my help? You'll find out just about how big of a step you are taking backwards. Backwards. To drugs, oh God I thought you had grown out of the phase, before you even entered it. To alcohol, oh God, don't you see what you are doing to me? You are forcing me to care! God, I can't take it anymore. God, let me be blank!

You're killing me with this! You're killing me! I thought I'd get off easy with this abrupt break. I thought we'd go separate ways and we wouldn't have to care about each other. Oh, but I care. Too much. I want you to be safe so I can go back to worrying about myself instead of you. Oh God, I give up. How dare you change?!

My Words

As I walk through the isle,
Full of endless stories.
Some true,
Some false,
Some fun,
And some boring.
They having deeper meanings,
Than the words of my own.
Just put down in a sentence,
With no sense alone.
As I lose myself,
With the words on the page,
I find myself sad,
And completely enraged.
My own attempts,
At writing something with meaning,
Are lost in my mind,
In the world of the dreaming.
They mean nothing,
Because I just put them down,
With no other thought,
Then to rhyme and astound.
I suppose then,
My words,
Are just senseless and dim.
Because I think nothing deep.
I am my own critic,
Of the words that have been.

Wading In The Water

Wading In The Water

It’s night, the moon is waking up, and the sun is preparing for his long nap below the horizon. Puffs of off-white clouds swim through the velvet darkness, overlapping with themselves, crossing over the light of the moon. There in the lake is a reflection of the moon, shadows dance beside it to the rhythmic chirping of the crickets, singing evening's melody.

Here you could almost smell the night, the humidity in the air, and the gentle ripple of the water as I toss pebbles across its surface, finally breaking and swallowing the little pebble whole. Fish swim away, hiding behind my silhouette on the water. And then suddenly you're beside me, taking my hand in yours as, somehow, the sun begins to rise again. It lifts off its night cap and begins to paints the sky pink.

Your hair is blowing in the wind as the sun is rising, and I can see the different colors of the sky in your blue eyes. You're somebody else right now, not the person I'm so used to being around. You're hidden in yourself, slipped behind a mask of your protected persona. And you're whispering as the trees wake up and sigh, stretching their limbs over our heads, but I cannot hear you.

You're not really there. I look down at the rippling of the water, and there is my reflection, with my tangled hair and bags under my restless eyes. Something's missing. Your reflection is missing. You are missing. Or am I missing you?

Sometimes I wonder to myself if you're really gone, for good. Sometimes I wish that, whenever I look down to reassure myself you are not here, that your reflection would be there, staring back at me from the depths of the lake. But I know I'm setting myself up for disappointment when I bend my neck downward, to see myself painted on the surface of the water, as the catfish swim away to the movement of my head.

As I wade in the water, the colorful fish dart out of my way. My hair is swept up out of my eyes, gently touching my shoulders. The sun begins to kiss the water with its light, and I can suddenly see the ground to the seemingly bottomless lake. The dirt from the bottom is trailing behind my footprints, disappearing when it settles back down, as the water calms and lies there idly. My white dress is wet from the knees down.

I stand here in the deafening silence, although it is not so quite here in the vast meadow. You can hear the Weeping Cherries bloom, as spring takes its thunderous steps towards me, bellowing with a slight warm breeze. Frogs are croaking, and trees are stretching as fish swim about. Somewhere off in the distant an animal is hidden in the rustling bushes.

But you are not here to enjoy this beauty with me. You cannot see the various shades of blue and yellow, dotted amongst the trees and grass that surround the lake. You cannot hear the dragonflies float by my head, or smell winter as it slowly walks away, being pushed out of its spot by dew and bluest of blue skies.

You are not here. You’re somewhere beyond the bluest of blue skies, walking where winter has wondered, and where summer waits patiently for its turn to play. You’re somewhere other than earth, gazing past the galaxies while passing by cows grazing on the green grasses. But you’re here, also; because I can feel your presence beside me. If I look hard enough, I can almost see you smiling back at me from the lake.

If somebody told me one day you’d be gone I wouldn’t have listened. But looking back now, there were so many signs that you wanted to leave, so many signs that I didn’t notice, due to my selfishness. Now, hearing the frogs croaking to the same rhythm the crickets were, I suddenly see my own faults in your absence. I see that maybe it wasn’t just your struggles and problems that led you to take your own life, but maybe it was my self-centeredness. I was not a good friend to you. I was not a good daughter to you.

The sun is centered in the sky, beating down on me with its heat. I can feel my skin burn under the rays, as steam slowly rises off of the water. Initially, the water was cooler, but now as the spring sun splashes in its depths it begins to heat up. It still feels good to me, but I can see the fish swim to the middle, to the deeper, cooler part of the lake.

I wade in further and find myself waist deep, in not only water, but memories. My silent reverie played images in my head, bouncing from the surface of the lake, to the trees standing tall, to the deer running free. The breeze blows again, and the trees wave at me, as if to tell me to move on. There’s nothing I can do other than stand here in the lake that you loved.

The moon joins the sun as twilight sets. From dusk ‘til dawn, ‘til dusk again, I stood here, silently wishing for your miraculous return. If only you knew how much it pained me to see my face, distorted as the water ripples to my movement. I try to stand still, but my vision blurs. I can see myself in you; I am your walking ghost. That’s all anyone ever sees when they look at me now that you are gone. You.

Wading back to the bank of the lake’s edge, I see a shadow bounce off the trees. It is my own, joining me as we reunite under the Weeping Cherry tree. I take a backward glance, over my shoulder and through the strands of my hair; I see the lake shimmering in the moonlight. My older counterpart, my love, my mother, rests in peace at the bottom of the lake.

Postponed

I'm holding off on the "contentment" thing for a while, but trust me, I will post again. I'm postponing because some drastic events have occurred recently, some unfortunate, but for the better. It seems I've lost someone valuable in my life, even though in her eyes I nothing but a mere doll she could spill all her troubles to.

But for the first time in my life I can actually say that I am happy. I'm not afraid of tomorrow, of the unknown, and I'm not dwelling in the past. I don't know what it is, maybe it's that the weather is becoming nicer, maybe it's that I finally stood up for myself, maybe it's because I actually cleaned my room. Yeah, there was a floor there.

I don't understand what it is. But I enjoy it, I'm not going to try to over-analyze it. I'm starting to learn to love the simpler things in life, to be less complex and more down-to-earth. After all, the only thing that matters in the end is love and friendship.

"The only hope anybody can always hold onto, a hope that will never be taken away, is the word 'someday'. Because someday, your troubles will seem easier to handle. It gets better. Trust me."

One

Bending The Light

When I'm on the bus, and bored half to death with all of the chit chat of drama and whatnot, I like to look out the window. Unfortunately, the bus does not have a defroster for the other windows, so mine is usually foggy. Fine for me, because when my window is foggy, I look outside, hitting right where the fog and the clear part of the window collide, it bends the light to make rainbows appear on the snow. If I just look through the fog, and not where it meets the clear, the snow only appears blue. Which is fine for me also, because; blue snow? Hell yeah!

This is true for other situations. When you are in a situation people tend to look at the world through black and white vision. They only see one perspective, they only see their side of the story, or they only think of it in one way. When I'm in these types of situations, I love to look at it from another's point of view. I love to bend the light shown on this one perspective, shown in only one color to my eyes, and I love to see it in multicolor. It helps me find a solution much faster, and it helps me to put my self in a better mood, to be content, because even though I've been where they are, I'm not now.

I think if we all try to bend the light a little bit, we can see that maybe we aren't so different after all. Maybe, just maybe, we all have troubles on the inside, but we're content, because if you look at your life.....

It's not as bad as some of the other peoples' lives out there.

Contentment

5 things that make me content. Starting whenever, I'll pick and choose 5 things, whether they be big or small, that make me content.

Not just with my life, but content in general.