My Own

I don't know who I am anymore. I feel trapped in my own mind, with my own actions. I know the things I do, and I know that sometimes, I have no particular reasons for wanting to do so, but I need to stop. In the process of "doing what I want," I lost any sense of who I actually am, and now there is talk. Talk that I am the person I'm cutting myself out to be, but I know that I'm not. But I also know that I'm not exactly the same person I was before any of this. I'm horrified, because now everything that I said before is contradicted by my own actions, and at this point, it feels like I have no control of them at all. I wish there was a way I could fix this; this feeling, this situation. Words can't reverse my actions, but at the same time, I did nothing on the line of wrong. I did something "I wanted" a long time ago, but now I'm getting the backlash. If there was really any love to begin with, there would be some understanding attached, but apparently all those words were lies, too. I'm lost within myself, and I wish I could remake all of the decisions that got me to this point. But I'm simply on my own to move on, hopefully learn from this, and never do the same stupid thing again.

Don't Judge Me I'm High

Funny how life can change things so quickly, that just by looking back on yesterday makes you feel like you're reminiscing. Life goes in so many different directions at once, constantly shifting itself to you for a moment, and away from you all the rest of the time. In a span of 24 hours, it feels like my life has changed so much, thinking about the things I did just a few days ago, over the weekend, it feels like in that time, I was almost another me; a less mature one, one who didn't know what she was doing with herself those three, four days ago. When in fact, I don't even have a clue what I'm doing with myself right at this moment. Writing a blog post instead of a two character scene. So I suppose you could say that the things that change throughout a couple of days have either increased or decreased my maturity level by a fractional percentage, but I'm still pretty much the same person. My perspective has just shifted a tiny bit every day, based on my experiences.

Vendetta

As I walk these halls again, I feel an overwhelming surge of frustration. The people all around me, talking, yelling, screaming, laughing; I feel an undefined but definite hatred for them all. Distractions. That's all they are. Someone behind me in the line to success, trying to knock me out of my place. The same people who laughed and criticized when I fell out of my place on my own. I want revenge -the real, burning kind, that makes you feel great and awful at the same time - but the revenge I plan to execute is a lot more effective. I will rise. Above all the people who doubted me before I even tried, the same people who preferred to watch me struggle in the water, drowning, instead of extending a hand. So I don't give a fuck about any of the people or what they're doing, who they're talking to, where they go. I'm about to be on mine, with my head up in the hallway and my eyes down on my work in class, ignoring their disposition. This is my year.

Angel

He was a mystery to me. Always quiet, eyes fleeting, to himself. He was usually very distant, so I never bothered talking to him. He didn't talk much, so I just assumed he was too shy to strike up a conversation with. Although I didn't really know him well, however, I found my own eyes flitting towards him involuntarily, searching his face for any sign of  something he might want to say.

When he dances, something inside of him that's been dying to come out floats to the surface, is visible with every beautiful step. He doesn't have to worry about the words he's trying to say, or whether or not he stutters; every word rolls fluidly through his movement, his body communicating everything he's been so reluctant to say. Every move is so sure, and his touch is confident, nothing like the hesitant hands that occasionally catch mine.

Reminder

Everything I see now is only temporary. I have to keep telling myself that. As I ride the waves in the hallways and watch everyone move to and with their cliques, I stand alone, and a lot of the time I feel like I'm cowering within myself; trying to mask the longing I have for a group that can make me feel welcome. But I know I don't need a group, and I don't need to feel welcome. Because as the people around me meld together into one, they become their own distraction, as one. They make the choice to breathe together and to move together and, potentially, to fall together. So as I stand alone, and strive alone, bleed alone and fight alone, I know that I will succeed alone, as well.