moya

My head, it hurts. The stress is almost overwhelming and I'm pulling my hair out every night, and crying myself to sleep in the early morning. I'd rather not sleep, the way things seem to be; I can't handle it, because sleep is wasting time that's to be used on something else. I have a final tomorrow. Among other things that need completion in two weeks or less.

The sun came out for a brief moment the other day. Somedays you can feel each individual ray of sun hit your skin. You can't help but look up and let your eyelids and cheeks and lips absorb it, too. For a moment, the world stops turning because it's still there, shining on you for as long as one wants, until a cloud takes the warmth away.






Those last ones are all over our yard. Each year, when it's warm and the breeze isn't strong enough to take my breath away, you can catch me wandering our yard, picking handfuls of these. I think they are so pretty. On a day before they die for the season and the grass has grown so the stems are long, I pick my largest bundle. I pretend they're my bouquet, and I walk around with them, they contrast the black fingernail polish; thinking about it, I wonder if subconsciously, I was trying to convince people there was a pretty side to me, a colorful and sweet person. Instead, white and purple flowers went unnoticed, yet they become my own pride and joy in my eyes. I'd lay my bouquet of that year on a handkerchief, one that I bought from a very old couple when I was walking home from second grade, for almost nothing. The flowers stay there, wilter, and die, and shrivel up, until the next year, when I walk into my room with new freshly-picked violets.

I used to run around the yard with that handkerchief in my hands, my arm above my head. I'd take a book and sit out in the middle of the lawn on it before dusk, and I'd read to my dog, my best friend. He couldn't fit on it, but I made sure he was partially on a corner atleast. I'd be too afraid to wash it for fear it'd fall apart and lose itself in the machine, and lose it's magic. So I handwashed it with soap and water, sometimes shampoo.
This year, I hope we don't continue cutting the grass every few days. The bouquet sitting in my room is almost four years old.

I'm to be pulling myself away from people. I'm becoming the hermit I used to be. I rarely go out at night, I'm rarely even online, I almost never talk on the phone (unless I'm lost, then I call my sister crying from some obscure wisconsin location). I'm in my room sleeping or reading or stressing out on the corner of my bed for five hours; somehow, the world knows to not bother me at that time, when it would be that I need someone the most. Instead, I look at myself in the mirror, make sure I still exist if only for myself, and repeat small things that eventually ease my fears and anxiety, and the panic attacks.
Getting used to helping myself and having no one to turn to is taking effect and I'm more or less wanting to stop talking to the people I've recently let in too close to my self, my feelings. I don't think I've invaded my own privacy letting someone in, in high hopes they could help me, or atleast bring some joy into my dull life, but rather I don't want to become a burden and drag anyone down. I'd feel so guilty about dragging someone down with me, it'd multiply by itself.

The more I think about it, I really would be better of left alone. I have so many quarrels with my self. But it seems the road I've decided to try and head down is having unforseen consequences and they're starting to affect me more as I start to see them. It'd be useless to pursue anything or anyone, really. We're living in the age where romance happens in only weeks and if someone doesn't get what they want in that time, forget it.
I'm a process, and no one has time for that anymore.
I keep fooling myself that I can forget about that, speed things up, and convince myself it's for the best, but even that seems a bit too slow for anyone else. It used to be that after months, atleast half a year if I could stretch it out that far, I would finally be able to trust someone with my thoughts and my self. Lately, I've skipped that entire period and tried to see things in different lights, and now it seems that when I pause afterwards, it's a negative sign and things between two people start to get fucked up.

Monday at work was harsh, and I'm glad I left early because I almost started to cry on the bench infront of everyone after I heard to bits of information that absolutely tore down my hopes for two people. But there is where I flaw again because there was nothing to begin with and I'm personalizing things when there is nothing to personalize.

I'm allowing myself to fall (as well as continuing to do so for two) for people, months later when it's too late for me because they've moved on and didn't understand at first, and won't now. In these cases, and some I won't bother to mention. I seem to be stuck in the era where months would go by in a friendship before a kiss is requested and anything else comes in time.
But there is no time anymore, and for this, I think I'm going to be alone for a really long time until someone comes along who seems they're worth my time, as I would be theirs. Such people seem to be so rare in today, that I'm dangling here hopless..but the people just keep moving.
There's an urge inside to get out of here and leave everything and everyone behind. I'm feeling guilty about letting people get too close.

I'm stressed, hence this entry. I'm feeling lonely and left behind, hence this entry.

Do you think the hobby store that will open in a few weeks in town will hire me if I have bright green hair and hopefully my nostril pierced?

Atleast there will be some color in this gray life. When I put red and yellow and purple and other various colored flowers in my hair, they'll be so much more noticable. I like wearing flowers in my hair. The bleeding hearts might look amazing around my head.

Thank you to those who tried to help me earlier, and those who had no clue. Things look decent now. I'm going to go stab msn now.

Christmas Day. My sister and I. We're close; we're always like this if we're not fighting, and when she's not trying to play my boobs like bongo drums.


PS. I want a corset.