The wheel of monotony!

Being bored with your life every once in awhile is natural, right? But I honestly feel like I have nothing to look forward to within the next four years of my life. I'm afraid that this monotony's going to last longer than I've anticipated. I keep saying it'll end when I begin school (less than a week. Good god), but I think I know that it's never really going to end. Everything seems kind of.. I dunno, bleak. Maybe it's just the way summer's ending, on this bittersweet note, or maybe it's the fact that I think too much about everything.

I also feel like I should be writing about something more important than my own personal dilemmas, but I'm not well-researched or intelligent enough to do so. Meh, I don't know. I guess I'm just going to end this here. Maybe I'll edit it later.

Mehhhhh.

I don't know why I clicked "New Post" when I so clearly have no inspiration. Even the crappy movie on TBS isn't inspiring me to write something poignant, or whatever. It's three in the morning. I think I'll go clean my room.

Or maybe just sit here and continue drinking water. That could work, too.

In other news, my face is peeling from all that time spent out in the sun. It's discouraging me from interacting with other members of my species. Which is okay, I guess. I think I spend too much time outside the house. I'm a lot less introverted than I used to be. Which could be either good or bad, depending on what type of things are in your head.

Couldn't tell you why, but

I get the feeling you're losing interest in me.

I'd prefer it if you were honest.

When we don't understand something, we can make it mean anything.

I think that the most meaningful things I say are to other people, not in this blog. As it turns out, I'm pretty bad at just randomly expressing myself. I've got to be inspired somehow, which is natural, but it usually only happens, for me, in conversations. And like, umm, I guess I kind of suck.

I'm sorry I underestimated how much you care about me, you're just not really amazing at showing that you do. And I'm sorry that I get worked up over things that don't mean shit to you. And I'm sorry you don't love me. I just, uh, ah, I don't know, thought you might. Guess I was.. mistaken? (I am human, after all. I hate admitting I'm wrong.) I just assumed that your silence meant you did. Love me. I mean.

I just hate how you don't understand me like I understand you. And I hate how you call Chuck Palahniuk "cheesy." And I hate how when I try to drop hints, or even flat out tell you, it goes over your head. I hate saying "nevermind." And sometimes, definitely not as much as I used to, I hate myself. I think that self-loathing is something I'll never really grow out of.

Now.. This is all in speculation, but I think that it would be better if I would. But in return, not grow out of things like hope, and trust. Unfortunately, things are reversed, and that's how life is. Or at least, that's my perception.

--

I don't remember where I was going with this.

Whatever.

I'm tired.

But I can't sleep.
Glorious.

It's all too sweet to last.

I'm not completely sure what I have to express tonight. Except maybe, I'm starting to realize that being obsessed with a cartoon character is a bit on the unhealthy side. And I need to find someone real to obsess over instead, but, yeah, for now I'm content with.. whatever.

It seems to me like this is the blog of some derranged, emotionally unstable female, who can't make her mind up about who she's in love with with. Which is pretty accurate, come to think of it. And maybe I'm not in love with anybody, but then again, I think I am. Not sure. Fuck. Ugh. Whatever.

I guess now that I've got my Bloggy McBloggerson hat on, I should wait a bit to take it off.

I've been giving a lot of thought to this one song, by Bright Eyes, "I Must Belong Somewhere." It's on Cassadaga, and if you haven't heard it, I suggest you download it. But like, not the regular version; the KEXP in-studio one, which can be found on either my music myspace, or project playlist. But umm, that's not what I was going to say. Although it does kind of piss me off that the actual version has all those country twangs and percussion bits, but whatever.

Anyway, as comforting as this song is, I don't necessarily agree with what the song's conveying. Like, if everything belonged somewhere (in example, a traveling band on the interstate, and a poor child in a crumbled school, and even that craaaaaazy Conor Oberst in wherever he wants to stay), then things would never change, and the world wouldn't really exist. I mean, I guess it's supposed to express a temporary state of belonging, but I dunno. Everything changes so quickly. It's hard to say.

This was a stupid thing to write about, but, it's a great song, and I feel like I'm disappointing the MASSES that read this blog, but I'm gonna cut this one short. Good night.

suedehead

I tell you to shut up too much
And I call you names too much

You know it means I love you

Now fall asleep so I can tell you :)

congrats, you're a cliche.

Reading your blogs makes me feel incredibly inadequate. Like a tiny molecule on your nose, something you can't even see, but it's there. And when I am mentioned, my heart sort of swells, and when anyone else is, particularly someone who shares my gender, it relapses into the deflated organ it was previously. If I wanted you for my own, I had my chance. And now it's gone and I'm not sure how I feel about this. I'm not sure if it's just that you always want what you can't have, or if I have some sort of severe brain defect. I would like to pen something profound, something that would impress you, and make you think, "This girl's sorta homely, but she's got a decent head on her shoulders." But I don't, I really don't. My head is a jumble.

A mess.

Nothing compared to.. what I'd like it to be.

And I'm trying so hard to break whatever mold people shove me into, not just for you or whoever else, but for myself. I would really like to write exactly what's on my mind right now, but I'm afraid you'll read it. I'm afraid you'll understand what I'm trying to convey. Or imply. Or.. I don't know.

On an entirely different note, someone else makes me sick. This someone else, let's just say "you," because it's easier and requires less effort, disgusts me in every manner of the term. I may be a homewrecking bitch, but at least I don't have feathers up my ass, at least I'm not trying to be a chicken. You and your ideals, your conclusion that you're intelligent and the vast majority of people don't compare to how great and original you are, they disgust me. Because there are billions of people breathing the same air as you. There are thousands of people who've got the same depressing, more-indie-than-thou attitude, the same Silversun Pickups obsession, the same negative ideas and thoughts.

Just because the world sucks, doesn't mean that it's everyone else's fault. It's as much yours as ours. I think it's pretty clear who I'm referring to by now. I think it's pretty clear that you are bullshit. Maybe people should get out of their houses, but maybe you should, too.

Just because you think you're right, doesn't mean that you are.

I have so much more to say.

In a few short weeks, I'm starting high school. And I know that since there are people like Max and Rosie and Cassy and well, my friends from Middle School are going to be there, I'm a lot less frightened. But yeah, I'm scared, and yeah, I don't want to go. But change is an essential part of life. If you're alive, you've got to deal with it, as far as I know.

I guess I'm just not prepared for something to happen. Because, well, I like the way things are now. I don't want them to change.

And now it seems I'm stuck.

Nobody's going to read this.

Kind of a comfort.