I'm alive.

Finally. I have internet and some form of spare time.

Let's see.

I'm hungry.
I'm broke.
I'm jobless.
Seems like shit can't get any worse, right?

Honestly, I'm still happy, and I'm surrounded by awesome people.
Sorry Lauren, I'm not unhappy in Portland like you want me to be.

Run where you'll be safe.

Where am I? I cannot believe today that my mental state has had any sense of normalcy. Excitement didn't build in my guts when Chris took me too a surprise lunch at Flaming Amy's.
The only conversations I took place in were between myself and me. Only random ideas and thoughts leaked from my mouth.
The feeling of the disconnection between my mind and the outside world has plagued my brain all day.
I have quite possibly found the source of such feelings. I think I get quiet, and I have trouble overcoming that state after I live there for so long.
I can't be too sure though. I can't be too sure of anything.
I can only trust the compromise that forms my thoughts and my instincts. I just have trouble coming to any type of solutions.

Maybe a shower would help? Maybe I can let the shampoo sink through my skull and cleanse my mind.

In all honesty, I don't think there is anything major wrong with me. I wish I could build communication skills. I wish I could interact more with the people who surround me. I wish I could comfortably tell a joke or share an idea without stuttering or getting sweaty palms. I wish I had no reservations about approaching new people and starting conversations. Mostly, I wish I could share my feeling by using my lips, tongue, and voice as opposed to a fucking my hands and keyboard or pen.

Maybe this move to Portland will help me. I'm really counting on this to help me grow.

Tonight, my source of growth will once again be alcohol.

It tore the wiring of my brain; I did my best to keep it clear.

La Dispute reminds me of November.
It's odd because in all honesty, I wasn't very happy at all.
I think it's when I think about the times I was at my lowest, I get nostalgic. Christ, I'm such a masochist.

Fail

A good writer writes every day.

Fuck that.
I'm not a good writer.

I'm just a kid on a futon eating Death Valley Chipotle chips.
I'm just a kid on the verge of a move across the country away from my family and friends.
I'm just a kid with a mild form of social anxiety and lack of communication skills.

But a writer, I am not.

Romance has been elegantly defined as the offspring of fiction and love.

"You're gonna kiss me, and you're gonna like it, you little bitch."

I love my boyfriend.

Every day may not be good, but there's something good in every day.

A lovely day is always promised when you spill a nice cup of hot fresh coffee on your lap, keyboard, and futon mattress.

The upside is I got to use some of Heather's badass, super-absorbent neon towels!

Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.

Well, yesterday was fantastic.

"What are you doing?"
"Workingggg."
"At Jungle Rapids?"
"JaaaaJaaaaJa."

Next thing I know, I'm walking to take some pizza pans back to Big Splash, and I see Ashley Wynn. It was probably the highlight of my work day. I walked her around and pretended to be doing my job.

A few hours later, Macey informs me that she's in town at her granny's.

"What time do you get off work, hoe?"
"Like, just now, but I'm about to play some Mario."
"Hurry up, bitch. I'm lonely."

She bought me some coffee and we sat outside Port City Java for a good two hours talking about weed, tripping, hookah, and some other less important things. The meter-fairy who sat behind sometimes seemed interested, so I tried speaking in codes.

"Yeah, dude. I really wanna try "the opposite of base."
She's quite for a moment.
"Ya know, like a 7 on pH scale?"
"Ehhhhss...."
"ACID!"
"Ohhhhhhhh, I was trying to spell base backwards."
*FACEPALM*

After that, we went to her granny's porch where I sat in the rocking chair, and she sat Indian style on the ground.

"Now listen here, grandchild..." I started. I proceeded to tell her about how I ruled the universe, Lincoln was from Mars, and George Washington Carver invented the peanut and was our first president.

I love being insane and hyper with her. I love her. I will always carve her pumpkin and birth her tacos.

Later that night, I picked up Chris. We had original intentions of going to a wine party. Instead, we decided it would be awkward since we didn't really know anyone. Then, we decided to go to quesadillas at The Gypsy, maybe smoke some hookah and try to score some booze.
When we got there, it looked empty so we tried to find a short cut home. An hour later, we're downtown at Domino's. At midnight we were sitting on the ground waiting for a medium pepperoni pizza.
In the midst of all that, we had some awesome conversations. I was pretty glad we ended up walking and talking as opposed to drinking.

However, I would truly love a Sparks sometime soon.
Rum would be better.
Gin would be amazing.
Fucking Tequila would be the shit.

Luckily, I convinced my mom to have a drinking night with me before I leave.

Poor, dramatic puppy

Puppers! Calm down, baby! She wasn't yelling at you. Stop shaking. It's okay, I promise.


Just lie beside me and cuddle by my leg for now. =3

Give me rampant intellectualism as a coping mechanism.

Hopefully, today someone fills out an application to take over my lease. A girl named Megan is meeting me at The Creek around 3:30 to take a look at the place. I'm desperately trying to get rid of that place. I hope to God she wants it.

I've been living in the corner of Ben, Heather, and Dawn's living room with Chris for three days now. It's not so bad. I still feel awkward around them, but I'm sure that will go away soon.

I have a problem with not feeling connected to anyone again. I think it's triggered when I'm in a new environment. That too should go away soon.

Beer is a nice way to overcome that. Although I hate the taste of beer (besides Sparks), but I downed some Sam Adams last night and took it like a champ (and by "downed some" and "took it like a champ," I mean I sipped quietly without complaining). They talked a lot about babies and all that mess that I would rather not get into, and I mostly listened. Then we played Tourettes, and I mostly sucked.

I fell asleep sort of early and woke up with a message from Kayleah. She's not too happy back in Cali either. I hope things get better for her. I love her, and I want her to be okay. I'm just not sure how I can help now. I'm going to visit her after I get settled in Portland and have some money saved for a plane ticket.

On a lighter note, Dawn just sent me friend request which makes me feel a tad less weird. Things are going to get better. I just have to work on getting over this whole awkward, dissociative phase I've got going on right now.

Thanks, Eddie.

In attempt to prepare for the move to Portland, Chris and I have moved out of The Creek and into Ben and Heather's (and Dawn's!). Chris and Ben are playing Dream Cast. Heather and Dawn are planning our road trip route.

A couple of days ago (while under the influences and above rainbows) I decided that there is a man who lives under the ditch crossing. He stays there like a troll, and when unsuspecting pedestrians cross, he grabs their legs with his decrepit, bony hands and pulls them under and devours their organs for dinner.
I blame my active imagination and weed.

But, I think hookah's almost ready. Adios.

Fuck your lack of imagination

Earlier, on my way home from taking Chris to lunch, I called an elderly lady smoking a cigarette in a Monte Carlo a "speeding cunt." Respectful, huh?

I think she may have heard me. Since then, I've felt like she was wrapping her bony hands around my uterus and squeezing it. I know what you're thinking. This could be because of a number of things. PMS, possibly? Maybe it's the Taco Bell? My guess is that the old hag cursed me.

But, Alkaline Trio makes me happy right now, so it's okay.

Yesterday, today, tomorrow, and all the in betweens.

There's something oddly comforting in sitting naked and alone on my broken futon watching old MTV cartoons.


Who said dropping out of school was a bad idea?

He has brown hair and very very pretty green eyes. The kind of green that doesn’t make a big deal about itself.

Fuck an introduction. What the hell is love?

Okay. Here goes nothing.

Chris and I were in the car for lunch. He munched on the veggie burger I made him, while I devoured deliciously prepared fish sticks smothered in ketchup, and he said something that just made me pause for a second. I can't remember the conversation leading up to it for the life of me, but I recall him saying something along the lines of, "I love you, but I think it's different from how you love me." My hand froze in it's track to my mouth. 

"How so?"  I asked. I didn't look up from my fish stick. I was actually afraid of such a conversation.

"I don't know. I think we all just perceive love differently, and I think we do too. Like, I know I love you, and I know you love me, but I think we all have different ideas of love."

I nodded, and in a desperate attempt to change the subject, I offered him a fish stick which he declined. He kept going, and although I pride myself on being this spectacular listener, but I couldn't help getting lost in my own thoughts for a few minutes. So, even though I kept nodding and letting out my usual "uh huh's" that signify my attention, I can't recall a damn thing he said after that because my mind argued too loudly back and forth for me to comprehend any of the words that came from his mouth.

"Corri, do you even know what love is? 

Of course I do. I love Chris.
Well what is it?
I can't really explain it.
Because you don't fucking know.
Shut the fuck up.

How can you say you love Chris if you can't even say what love means?
Because there's some weird emotion there that I haven't really felt before.
How does it make you feel?
I'm happy happy. I'm always happy with him. I don't ever want to be without him.
Is that love?
I guess?
Just think about it... Okay?"

Anyways, the subject changes, we finish lunch, and I go home. 

Now, here I am sitting in front of this god damn computer screen, downing some Blueberry Pomegranate juice and Cheese Nips while listening to Dancing by Elisa on repeat because it's the first seemingly sappy love song that I could find, all in hopes that somehow all this will lead to my grand epiphany of love. 

In this past, being my naturally cynical self, I didn't really care about the idea of love. 

Although I dated people, and I told them I loved them, I don't know how much I actually meant it. I mean, don't get me wrong, at the time I thought these people were amazing and maybe I did love them. But, I grew. They grew. We changed, and I don't anymore. So, for me it's easier to say that I never loved them as opposed to saying that I just stopped because now just the idea of loving some of those people knots my stomach in the most awful way. 

In retrospect, I think I was just satisfied. I think that I was happy where I was and afraid to change it. All I wanted was to be with someone I didn't completely hate. I put up with boy/girl friends being rude to me, walking all over me, blowing me off, and treating me all around like shit because it didn't matter. I rarely got bothered by things like that because I felt like I deserved it. I had the worst picture of myself. I stayed with people I could tolerate because I was afraid I wouldn't find anyone else. 

And, that's not love. 

Now, I'm different. I feel really good about myself. I believe that I'm intelligent, I'm gifted, and even though I'm not one hundred percent comfortable with my body yet, I'm learning to feel as though I'm beautiful. Consequently, I need someone who makes me feel this way. 

Chris does that. He makes me feel wonderful about myself. And, we're so comfortable with each other that he can get away with calling me a stupid bitch, and I can make fun of the way he smells because we know that neither one of us means it. We can joke and know that deep down we're so attached that some stupid, funny insult doesn't affect our relationship. 

But, I think he's right. I think maybe we do have different meanings of love, and I want to find out what his is. Until then, I decided to seek Kayleah's expert opinion.

"Hmm... Love. Funny subject. For me it's where I always want to see that person, never get get tired of being around them, happy when I'm with them, and would do anything to see that person happy. And, that's just what I can think of right now."

With that newly discovered insight, I decided to check out a few quotes. Most of them were these ridiculously cheesy lines about how someone's heart flutters or how this person's lips make this other person feel or something else along those lines that made me want to vomit up a mess of orange and purple.  But, I did find these.

"Love conquers all things -- except poverty and toothache."  -- Mae West

"Any man who believes he can truly describe love knows nothing about it." --Andrew Davidson

With that in mind, I'm not going to tell you how I perceive love, but I will tell you all the things that Chris makes me feel, and I'll call it love, simply because I can't begin to give any other name that could do it justice.

He makes me smile... ridiculously. For so long, I would hide my smile when I laughed with my hand because for some unknown reason I hated anyone to actually see my lips curve upwards. With Chris, I'm not ashamed of being happy. 

He makes me enjoy doing things I hate. I fucking detest cooking, but I'm more than happy to make dinner or lunch for him because he's always insanely appreciative. 

He motivates me in this weird way where he buys me anything I need without complaining. For some reason, that pushed me to get a job because even though he's more than happy to help me out, I'm afraid of becoming comfortable with him taking care of me. Not because I don't want him to, but because I never want to take anything he does for me for granted. 

He offers me support in my decisions, and I do the same for him. If he decided that he wanted to go back to school, I would be more than willing to start working more so he could have time to concentrate and achieve his goals. 

I'm fucking ridiculously comfortable with him. He never makes me feel like he would ever judge me. I tell him shit that I refuse to ever tell anyone else. 

He makes me want to be honest and loyal. I've lied and cheated a lot in the past, but I don't ever want to do any of that to him. I would never risk fucking up our relationship for anything. 

I actually want to talk to him. I have the worst fucking communication problems, and I never gave a damn before. Yet, he makes me actually want to spill my guts. Sometimes I lack the courage to do so, but with alcohol and other drugs, I'm usually able to share some of my ideas.

I need him. I need to be around him. He tells me all the time that I give him a positive outlook on things, but he's the only reason I'm such an optimist. If anything's ever wrong, I can look on the bright side because of him. I know that whatever the problem is, I have someone to help me through it.

Even if there wasn't any problems, I'd want to be around him just because he makes good things better.

I don't really know. I can't really say if that's love. I mean, I'm nineteen years old. I don't know shit right now. But, I know that I'm happy, and I know that I don't want to be away from him. I want to be with him for a long time. This could really only be because I'm clingy as fuck by nature, but I think it works out because so is he. 

And, if it's not really love, then I can't think of any other reason I'd feel the need to be around him as much as possible. I can't fathom a reason why I would pay so much attention to his ideas. I definitely can't conjure up a reason as to why I'd sacrifice a lot to make him happy, because his happiness makes me happy.

Shit.

Fuck.

Either way, I feel like I just slipped out of my cynical character into something new, and even though it scares me, it's awesome to be here.

And, just for the record, after listening to this song a hundred times over I want to say that it's amazing. I mean, it's truly beautiful, but it doesn't describe my feelings at all. 

And then I felt really sad because I thought maybe I was different from how Mary Elizabeth originally saw me, too.

I really do wish I knew better responses for when people spill their guts about something important involving me. Instead, I spend hours ignoring it and hoping it will go away. When I finally decide to somehow re-open the doors of communication, the only thing I can think to say is, "What's up?"

"What's up?"

How fucking pathetic and afraid can I really be? Do I really expect this to go away? Should I talk to someone else about it?

Answers: Very. No. I have no one to talk to about it.

I just wish I knew someone who would be completely out of the equation.

I'm not questioning my feelings. I know exactly how I feel, and I can't reciprocate. I'm sorry. I just wish I knew how to go about handling it.

I get the feeling I'll just run to Oregon, and hope it goes away. But, this is one of my best friends we're talking about. The last thing I want is to kill all forms of communication between us. Fuck my life.

It's bad timing. It's the worst timing. I moved on. I'm happy. I'm ready for my future. I can't be yours.

I don't think this will make sense to anybody. I don't even think it makes sense to me.

This is ridiculous. I just need to grow a pair and set everything straight as opposed to pretending like nothing was ever said. I can't say that  I know how to do that. I've never been in this sort of position.

I think some people stay in relationships because they're satisfied, and they don't want to ruin it. It's different for me. I'm actually happy. I'm more than satisfied. And, I never want to lose that.

Either way, I'm blowing this out of proportion.
Also, The Creek smells like weed, and I need a shower.

I'm high, and I have a burrito.

Be creative.

I'm not creative.

I'm not original.

I'm just here.

I just go with whatever has been tossed my way.

How can you be a good writer when you lack creativity?

Fuck.

My day in lists

Things to do:

1. Shower

2. Wash dishes

3. Pick up Chris.

4. Drink a Sparks

5. Chill the fuck out

Things completed:

1. Get Lauren from school

2. Smoke on the porch

3. Help Lauren find her pants

4. Eat my weight in burritos and pretzels

5. Watch two hours of Disaster Date

Things I want:

1. A hug

2. Sweet tea

3. New shoes

4. Haircut

5. A better way to waste my time than killing my health.

Things I need:

More friends outside of Chris and Lauren.

Shit.

We accept the love we think we deserve.

I just want to start by saying that I'm not typing any of this in hopes that someone will feel sympathy for me. I don't care about that. This is so I can take note of my weaknesses, remember them, and somehow better my circumstances.

It's pathetic to say that I'm actually more sensitive than I appear. In all honesty, if you don't mean shit to me, I don't give a fuck what you have to say. However, the simple actions that probably have no real meaning that come from the people I love scare the hell out of me.

For example, last night Chris and I are lying on the futon trying to to sleep. As always, I'm being the same clingy bitch I always am, and I'm super close to him. He rolls around a couple of times before he wakes up and readjusts our futon. Since it's broken it's slightly angled on my side, and that pushes me just a tad bit closer to him. He could have been doing this for a plethora of reasons like the angle hurt his back or something of the sort. I convince myself that I'm crowding him, and take my pillow and hug the wall for a while. I hide my face because I feel like I'm going to start crying. After a few minutes of me trying to talk myself out of being sad, he turns over in his sleep and puts his arm around me.

The point of this story is that I have got to relax. I have to realize that everything that happens is not someone's way of telling me to leave them alone.

On a similar note, I keep having different nightmares that relate to the same thing. In the end, I end up being dumped by Chris for someone who I feel is better than me. Subconsciously, I have this fear that everyone I love will leave me. I don't want to sound cliche by any means, but the only conclusion I can conjure is that when my dad left me in North Carolina for a lady he just met a couple of weeks ago to live in Florida, it fucked me royally. This lady was better for my dad than I was. Now, I feel as though everyone I love has someone out there who is better for them. I'm just afraid of the moment they actually meet so said person.

In January my tarot card/palm reader told me about my relationship. He said that it's strength would be the innocence to it. He said it would be almost childlike. It'd be easy, fun, and happy. He also said that the weakness would be my inability to let shit go. I don't think I've ever believed him as much as I do now.

I want to be one hundred percent comfortable around Chris, and sometimes I am. I'm just insanely inconsistent, and it bugs the hell out of me.

But, could this really even be my dad's fault?

Now that I'm speculating, I'm worried I may be doing the same thing to my mom by moving to Portland. I love her dearly, I do. It's just that I can't stay here. I can't stay in North Carolina. Moving to Wilmington showed me that there was more to the world than broken down gas stations, Wal Mart, the longing everyone has to leave. I know half the people in my hometown don't want to be there. My mom even says she wants to move. I ask her why she hasn't, and she says she's waiting for my sister to graduate from the same school. After that, she'll be waiting on my grandmother to die because she doesn't want to leave her. In essence, it's one excuse after the other. I don't have those. I don't have a reason to stay. And, I hope that I'm not hurting my mom because I'm giving her a fair warning, and I'm letting her know that I still care about her, and she will always hold an important place in my chest.

As for now, I just go home from chilling with Lauren. We smoked, listened to music, and ate donuts. I hate that Chris had to work all day. I miss him.

Stop being clingy.

Fuck it.

I need a shower, and the apartment needs tidying.

Everything can't be low self-esteem, can it?

Sometimes, I need a punch in the face to bring me back to Earth. Don't get me wrong, I'm by no means a masochist (although I do enjoy fingernails digging into the skin of my back dur- Actually, that's not important), but every now and then I find myself lost in reverie. I can wander around in my dreams forever unless someone socks it to me... hard. I don't know if this is a bad thing, but I do know that I should definitely start participating more as opposed to standing on the sidelines. It's something I'll definitely need to work on.

Sometimes, I end my sentences in prepositions. "....need to work on." I mean, we all do. But, since I was in high school all I've ever heard was "DON'T END YOUR SENTENCES IN PREPOSITIONS WHILE YOU'RE WRITING!" and "NO SPLIT INFINITIVES!" I listened to my teachers then; however, I recently just decided to call bullshit on those rules and any similar ones. You don't need rules to be a good writer. I mean, a storyline or point of some sort, those I can see as necessary. Any other rules are completely irrelevant. As long as it flows well and makes sense, it's fine. These thoughts further influence my ideas about returning to school. If I go back to college, my intended major is creative writing. Granted, four years of practice and critiques could definitely improve my skills, but I'm afraid of my writing being dictated. Last semester, I listened to my instructors advice over everything. In the end, I liked the original better. Well, whatever I decide, I'll be content.

Sometimes, I wish I could be paid just to hang out with people. I read Chris' Chinese Horoscope the other day, and it stated that his ideal job is a salesman. Well, he is, and he's damn good at it too. Next, I checked mine. My ideal job? An escort. My first thought was "What the fuck?" but upon further reflection, besides the whole "fucking strangers" thing, it could definitely work out. Well, I mean, I'd like to be paid to be my clever, witty, clumsy self among others, but I don't really see that working out. I do need some sort of income though. This whole being "broke as a mother fucker" thing won't fly much longer.

Sometimes, I like to hide behind my hair. I'm not sure why I use this mess of tangles as a security blanket but I do. I like to keep it short because it's thick, and I'm too lazy to take care of long hair. But, I find myself covering my face with it at times. For instance, Chris and I could be lying on our uncomfortable futon, and he'll turn over and smile at me. Of course, I grin back, but then I brush my hair over my face to cover me. If he tries to brush it back, I dig my face into the crotch of the Jason, the red Power Ranger (we have MMPR pillowcases.) and hide. It is possible that I lack self confidence, and that's why I do this. That's what everyone who knows me would probably say. But, that's not it. I think I just get nervous sometimes. I love Chris, and I know he loves me, but I'm still fucking awkward, and I still get nervous. Still, I'm more comfortable with him than I've been with anyone else.

Sometimes, I spend all day pondering my religion. I don't really want to go into detail about it now. There's too many ideas and beliefs I have for that. But, with Easter tomorrow, it's hard for me to take my mind off it. Expect an entire post on that tomorrow.

Every time I look outside
Makes me feel so young and alive
Why I chase such a useless burn
Now just a whiff makes my stomach turn
And it poisons my body and it turns my mind
Talk real slow but it feels real fine
If you gotta puke man, go outside
'Cus killing myself makes me feel alive

Sometimes, I like listening to mix CDs I made in 8th grade. I hate the person I was then, but I love most of the music I listened to. It was a mixture of street punk, oi, pop punk, and (as much as I hate to admit it) anything that made me want to cry. During the day, I'd go from listening to this insane assimilation of The Casualties, Rancid, and Good Charlotte (yeah, I know.) during the day and pretending to have this "I don't give a fuck" attitude, and then at night I didn't give a shit what was playing as long as it was loud and my mom couldn't hear me sobbing from the cuts I made in my arm. I don't talk about this point of my life much. I don't really like thinking about it either, but, I still love those CDs. They helped me grow. It sucks pretty hard that none of them will play anymore, but I intend on downloading most of the same stuff soon. It's weird, but I like to be reminded of my past so I can make my future better.

This was all just a long, drawn out way of saying that I'm weird. I'm awkward. I'm fucked up. I get fucked up. But, I'm fucking happy. I'm content with myself. I'm confident in my decisions.

And, I don't really need you. If you're in my life, it's because I want you to be. Know, that unlike everyone else you will meet, I don't have any expectations from you. I spend time with you or help you out because I want to, not because you're going to owe me for it later. Know that if you're in my life, it's because I love you.

This moment will just be another story someday

This is me with ten minutes to spill my guts.

Kayleah's gone. I miss her like a mother fucker, but I'll be fine. The ride to the airport was okay. The ride back was insanely long and cold. The last thing she said to me was "Get a job!" Yeah, tell me about it.

I don't really know what's going on with Milky.

I somehow managed to unclutter the apartment. Granted, it took all god damn day.

I have seventeen bucks in my bank account.

It's April Fools, and I'm gonna get Chris.

Prom's tonight. Oh, dear.

This is a straight to the point, frank as fuck post.

No internal thought right now.

No time.

Must keep going.

Sometimes people use thought to not participate in life.

Let's see where I'm at right now.

Kayleah's leaving for California tonight. I still haven't talked to Justin to see if it would be cool if I went to the airport with them. In all honesty, I don't really want to go. I mean, I want to hug Kayleah goodbye and bid her farewell, but I don't want to be stuck in a car with Justin and Heather for three hours on the way home. I'd feel like a terribly huge third wheel the entire time.

A lady is coming by soon to see if she has any interest on taking Milky off my hands. She seems fairly confident that she wants him, but I'm afraid her mind will change once she meets him. I'm sorry that I can't take care of him anymore. I love him to death, but there's no room in this tiny apartment, and I don't have the time or money to care for him like I used to.

I just spent a couple of hours with Chris's friends while he was at work. I agreed to give Ben and Heather a ride to pick up Nick from the airport in hopes of maybe overcoming my awkwardness around them. I managed to loosen up a little, but I still need to work a bit on my social skills. They're all pretty fun and awesome people though. I just hope they don't take my overwhelming need to stay quiet as rudeness.

I have negative $2.09 in my account right now. Those overdraft fees are going to be a bitch when they post. Fuck Chris' need for cigarettes.

I hope soon I can take some shit out of these boxes and maybe it won't look so awful in my apartment.

In other news around The Creek apartments, Peaches found a bicycle in front of the dumpster. He's outside touching up a few spots with spray paint. It's missing a seat, but it's a pretty awesome find. After a couple of hours of coughing from spray paint, it's pretty impressive. I just noticed that he also painted the pedals.

Ahhh, today is a good day.

I just kept quiet and looked around. And I noticed things. The dots on the ceiling.

My granny gives me cheap delicious frozen pizzas.
I give my sister money for something I know will kill her health.

Whatever makes everyone happy.

It's a beautiful day.
I have pizza and tea in my belly.
I got thirteen bucks in my bank account.

It should be a pretty good day.

I just wish there wasn't so much tension in this place.
If everyone could stop acting like twelve year old girls, maybe this could have been done in a less awkward manner.

Too bad I can't afford alcohol tonight.

Maybe these are my glory days and I’m not even realizing it because they don’t involve a ball.

Once again, I feel pretty stoked about today.
Amber's here.
The sun's being extra nice to us all.
And, Chris is coming home later.

Yesterday was quite odd. I agreed to go on a scavenger hunt with my friend Alex. Before his arrival he asked me to remove any piercings and wear something "cute."

I assumed it was a casual scavenger hunt with his church or something of the like, so I took out the pincher in my septum and put on a pair of jeans and a tie dye shirt.

When he pulls up, I notice he's wearing khaki pants and this hideous blue polo. Me, being the lazy bitch I am, decides against changing, and Kayleah and I head to his car.

On his dash I notice the scavenger hunt invitation. In big bold letters and some ungodly script font it reads, "Debutantes of 2010 and Sons of Cotillion Scavenger Hunt!"

All I keep remembering asking myself is what the hell did I agree to?

I went along, still. We dropped Kayleah's off at my mom's, and met our team mates in a gas station near Downtown Whiteville. We followed them back to our team leader's house, and against every gut feeling in my body, I climbed in the car with them.

The driver had pretty brown hair, and she wore a cute sweater. On top of that, she was high strung, dramatic, competitive as hell valedictorian who yelled every order, insisted on driving seventy down every highway, and almost killed us all numerous times.

The passenger was her boyfriend, quiet and whipped as hell.

Alex and I sat in the back. While he giggled and offered suggestions for the hunt, I gripped tightly to my "oh shit" handle with one hand, and sent a text message to Lauren about my demise that I was sure would occur in this blue Volvo with my other.

Surprisingly, we live. We turn in our items, and wait outside for other teams to arrive.

As they all mix and mingle together, I can't help but look around and wonder to myself how odd it is that we're all made of the same material, but we're all so different. We're all skin stretched over bones, membranes separating organs, double helix DNA. But, somehow we all manage to think differently. Obviously, this is a good thing. I love the fact that every person is unique. It's just mind-blowing to think about.

I told Alex this, and I want to say he called me weird, but I can't remember.

Nevertheless, he and I carried on with our usual conversations about boyfriends/girlfriends, hookah, drugs, and alcohol, while consuming some salad drenched in ranch and horribly prepared lasagna.

Before I go on, I have to say that I hate ranch and that lasagna was the worst meal since my mom put garden peas, hamburger meat, and tomato sauce together and called it dinner, but I believe if it's free and you are a guest, every bite should be eaten. So, I stuck my principles and devoured every morsel without complaint.

Anyway, in the midst of all that, a guy I went to high school with asked us some questions. The first one was easy.

"So, are you guys dating now?"
"NO. Serious face. No."

The next one, not so much.

"How are you guys doing in school?"
Alex? Oh, he's doing fine. Me? I'm failing like a mother fucker and refuse to go back to UNCW next semester. Of course, I don't tell him this. I just smile and say I think I might transfer.

The guy interrogating us? Well, he's going to Carolina next year. This doesn't surprise me at all. Everyone I ever disliked in high school is at that college, but I hope that he enjoys it. No sarcasm there. He was nice.

It was a great relief when the crazy girl who drove us was ready to go. The only problem was Alex wanted to stop at her house to use the restroom before we left in his Honda.

We walk inside. Her dad greets me with a hug and invites me to the kitchen. This makes me smile and I'm comfortable until I reach the table. Crazy driver and her mom are talking shit about everyone we competed against and their mothers.

"Oh, look at her. Did they finally sell some real estate so she could afford another dress?"
"Was Kathy drunk as hell when you got there?"
"Sherry must have made the lasagna. It was disgusting."
"They wouldn't let me win because I'm your daughter and blahblahblah."

I don't like negative atmospheres. I don't understand them. I don't get how putting other people down can make you feel good about yourself. I didn't know how to go about defending those people without offending these people.

All I could do was stand there and keep quiet.

The greatest relief was when Alex finally rounded the corner. While we walked to his car, I explained to him my confusion about this family.

He called me a hippie and told me I should have been there last weekend when they were stalking "whores" on Facebook.

We decided to get Amber and Kayleah and go ghost hunting in Wilmington. An activity that we failed miserably because we couldn't find the cemetery in the dark.

But, on the way home I tried to think. I tried to piece parts of my day together. I really do need a little self reflection every day, and as I was trying to do it, Alex kept interrupting with some random thought because he didn't want it to be awkwardly silent. In retrospect, I could have waited until I got home to do this, but I always feel more comfortable thinking in cars. This could be a reason for my careless driving.

Either way, I couldn't think, but last thing I wanted to do was tell him to shut up.

After getting lost on Hooker Road while trying to find a graveyard, Alex went home, and Amber and Kayleah followed me into Chris' room because Justin was watching TV in the living room.

After watching every funny SNL and Mad TV Skit on Youtube, they finally left. I fell asleep instantly, no time for reflection.

I suppose this could be considered my reflection. I just feel as though I've left so much out. Fuck if I know. I guess it's not really important anymore.

I don't feel like worrying about yesterday right now. I need to shower and check on Milky before Chris gets here.

I also need to spend time with my sister before I cling to Chris after not seeing him for three days.

Today's going to be fantastic.

I hope it's the kind of second side he can listen to whenever he drives alone and feel like he belongs to something whenever he's sad.

I really want to read The Perks of Being a Wallflower again.
I'm just too lazy to retrieve it from my home.

For some reason, I've been reading random quotes from the book, and it feels like it fits. I don't know where it fits, but it just does.

Aside from the ending, I somehow feel as though I can relate to Charlie. Being able to relate to something is important to understanding it, to learning from it.

The truth is, I'm still learning. I'm still growing up.

To be honest, I never want to stop.

What are we doing here if we're not learning? If we're not growing?
Life can't exist and never change. All I can hope for is that the people I love grow with me and not away from me.

But, in the end...

"Things change. And, friends leave. And, life doesn't stop for anybody."

But, for now...

The alcohol's worn off. I'm entirely sober, and I feel tons better than I did a couple of hours ago.

Who would've figured sobriety as the answer?

Mother I lost it, all of the fear of the Lord I was given

So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten
Sons are like birds, flying always over the mountain


Sometimes, I just want to go home. I'm not sure where that is right now, but I know it's not here or my mom's place. I just need to feel comfortable and whole.

Or, we could just shut down my liver and call it a day.

Let me just mention something.

I'm drunk, I'm not sad.

Baby, are you coming home tonight?

Me? I'm gone. I'm so far gone that I don't know if I was ever here. I'm not as far gone as I've been in the past, but I'm far enough to now where ever the fuck I am, I'm content.

I'm alive. I'm stumbling. I'm disconnected. I'm working. I'm trying to fix myself.

I'm not crying. I'm not complaining. I'm not looking for you mother fucking sympathy.

Sometimes, I feel disconnected. I don't feel like I'm a part of anything. I feel as though the world exists around me, and I'm forced to watch and damned to never participate. I usually don't get this feeling often, but the past couple of days have been hellish.

I don't know if it's because I miss Chris. I don't know if it's because I haven't decided what I need to do about school. I don't know what the fuck is going on in my head.

I have the ability to think about more than one thing at a time, and sometimes it confuses the fuck out of me. I don't know how I feel... about anything.

I just know that I want to feel like a part of the world. Like my existence is important.

In short, I'm drunk as a mother fucker right now, and nobody else is home.

So, this is my life. And, I want you to know that I am both happy and sad, and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

I hate the taste of beer, but right now, this Sparks is my best friend.
Alkaline Trio is a close second.
And, this comforter is third.

In all honesty, it tastes better after every swig.

I have yet to gather the motivation and energy require to ride to The Gypsy. It's very possible that I stay inside with Kayleah and play drunken Guitar Hero.

Fuck if I know.

Carolina Beach was fun today. I didn't skate, but walking around eating donuts and drinking Coke slushees with Kayleah and Lauren made me smile.

I filled out an application for the Scotchman with the "Career Opportunities Available" sign on Lake Park. Monday I plan on calling back or visiting every place where I filled out an application.

My desperation for a job increased exponentially when I last viewed my bank statement online. Twenty bucks isn't going to last much longer. I know that Chris will help me out, but I don't want to have to rely on him for anything.

I'm nineteen years old. I moved out of my mom's house a year ago. I don't think it would be healthy for me to have someone else take care of me, even though I know he would if necessary.

It's sad to say, but as much as I want to be self sufficient, I don't think that will ever be the case. I'll probably always need a room mate, a friend, a boyfriend, a family member or someone to help me out with bills. This could be motivation for me to stay in school, or it could be determination to keep my ties with those close to me strong.

My guess is it's actually neither.

I don't care about school right now. I hate UNCW. I'm so different from anyone there. I don't think they're better than me or that I'm better than them, I just feel as though they have a completely different mindset than I do. I don't believe this is a bad thing for me or them. I just feel as though a place that makes them happy will never do the same for me.

I also don't believe in forcing relationships. If I can't get along with you comfortably, I don't want to be around you. I don't want to talk to you. I certainly will not ask you for help.

Maybe my needs for other people will improve my social skills. They've been lacking for quite some time now.

I don't think of myself as shy. When I don't talk around someone, it's not because I'm unsure of myself. I'm unsure of them. I don't know them. I have no idea how to make them smile. I have no idea how to get them to pay attention to me. As a result, I study them for a while then slowly start to pull myself in conversations.

Sad to say, but this method doesn't usually work. I either get bored with someone quickly and stop caring, or there's not enough time for me to gain some sort of understanding of them.

Regardless, I'm happy with who I have for now.

I've got no time because I'm always trying to run away.

Kayleah is in the shower.
It's 2:30 in the afternoon, and I've barely spoken fifty words to her.

For now, I just prefer to be on the floor of this room by myself. I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing. At least when I'm in here she can't see me. If she can't see me, she can't say that I look as though something's wrong. If I look like nothing's wrong, she won't ask me what's bothering me. If she doesn't ask, I don't have to lie.

Not that there really is anything bothering me, I'd just rather be with Chris.

I'll get over it. Maybe skating in Carolina Beach with Lauren today will prove to be a good idea. I need something to steal my concentration.

Later tonight, hopefully it will be alcohol that takes my mind off everything.

This morning I tried to write.

And, nothing came out.

Nevertheless, good morning, sunshine.
It's nice to see you again.

I spy with my little eye...

Today, while driving Ashley home from CVS, we caught glimpse of a wild Snorlax devouring a gargantuan burger behind the wheel of a mini van.

Sometimes, I love Wilmington.

It was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life.

I really need to work on the following:

• Participating more.
• Being less awkward
• Feeling free to speak my mind
• Not being a clingy bitch

On top of all that, I need a job.
I hate the fact that Chris' phone is dead. I know he'll call me when he gets a chance. I'm not mad. I'm not worried. I'm just anxious. And, I feel a little more at home when he's around or when I have the chance to talk to him. I know that sounds weird, but I don't believe in home as a place.
I feel that home is abstract. It can be a place. Or, it could be a person. It could be food. It could be your pet. It's just anything that makes you feel comfortable. It's where ever you want to be or who/whatever you want to be with when you're feeling down or disconnected.
Chris is part of my home, and I miss him.
.....like I said, I really need to work on being less clingy.

Well, I know I want it to be anyway.

Pizza wants to be in our bellies.

Money wants to be in our wallets.








Alcohol really wants to be in our systems.

It's just an idea.

I feel as though I should interact more with the people who surround me.

Moments like these never last.

"I think that you are just kinda maybe a little bit cute."

I like little green post-its in my wallet that make me smile.

I dropped Chris off in Virginia yesterday. I really miss him. But, I'll be fine.

Last night in an attempt to make the whole missing Chris thing not so weird, I had a couple of drinks and headed to The Gypsy to see Ashley and smoke some hookah.

It wasn't until after everyone left and it was only me and her that I realized how much I've missed her these past couple of months. I know she's been busy with school and Rocky (which I hope to participate in next month), and she calls me to chill whenever she can, but I haven't spent any alone time with her in what feels like ages. If we ever see each other I'm usually with Kayleah or she's with Sophie or Peaches or someone else. I don't know.

But, it felt amazing to have our stupid, random ass conversations again.

I spent the night with her because sleeping at Chris and Justin's place feels weird without Chris there. As for my place, I haven't spent the night here in some odd number of months. I just don't feel comfortable here. I only come here to walk my dog or have some alone time to write.

Ashley stays on campus. Consequently, on my way out I couldn't help but wonder what exactly I want to do about school. I'm failing miserably. I have no motivation. And, I don't feel as though I fit in there in the least.

Last semester, UNCW was a dream come true. I longed to go to class and stay on campus. In retrospect, this could be because I was living with a god damn dictator of a boyfriend and wasn't really allowed to go anywhere else. If I wasn't at school, I was at home hiding behind the screen of my laptop.

This semester, I've had a "fuck it" attitude from the beginning. I feel as though I've thought long and hard about my future, and I don't believe that school is necessary to my happiness. I could be content having a different job every couple of years, desperately saving to move every few years, and finding time to write on the side in hopes that someone will read.

I don't think it will be as difficult as I make it sound. I do believe that Chris will be there to help me. Call me as naive as you want, but I really can't picture being without him.

I don't really want to drop out, but I don't want to waste four years of my life either. There's always the "taking a year off" option, but I don't see my mother approving of that in the least. I realize that I'm nineteen years old, and I am capable of making my own decisions, but I've always striven for her approval.

Nevertheless, I have decided that I will not be going back to UNCW next year. Cape Fear Community College is a strong possibility as long as I can get accepted, of course. Shit. I really don't know.

In the end, with what ever the hell I choose to do, I want to be happy.

I get this funny feeling deep inside.

I don't really know what I'm doing with this. I guess I'm just trying to help myself write.

This is my pathetic introductory post.