Last night, I slept without dreaming. Not a single dream. I don't know if that's better than the nights in which I dream.
Beyond my headphones, and my loud music, I can hear my sister and my mother fight. I'm just glad that I'm not in the room, hearing the words that they speak.
Instead, I'm freezing outside, typing this with the hope that I can put it in my blog, without it screwing up.
Tasha has her friend Caitie over. Tasha isn't really on her best behaviour, which is surprising, considering usually she's little miss perfect angel.
Ugh. They are making popcorn. I freaking hate the smell of popcorn. >( And I'm pretty sure all of them know that. I guess I'll have to suck it up. It's not my house after all.
Mom wants me out of the house. I can't understand why. Maybe it's because I haven't really been helping out with groceries this month. Well, I know all too well that if I start helping out with groceries, she'll become dependant of me buying all the groceries, and I will forever become the only one buying groceries for the house.
I'm sorry. Maybe it's because I've also been a terrible daughter, not waiting on her hand and foot. I have been trying to get myself organized in her room upstairs, but it's so damn hard when all of her boxes and piles of laundry are all around. I have one box and a suitcase and a mattress in there. I'm so sorry, Mother, if I'm imposing on your life.
I'm your daughter, your first born, remember me? I'm not supposed to be this stranger you met on the street and that you now want out of your life.
*hears more complaining coming from mom*
You know, she really does have to stop that. I'm trying... but apparently that's not good enough. She should have just agreed when the councillor was trying to put down that I had a mental disability, and then maybe, just maybe, I would be living on my own, and she would get to continue to tell people how much worse I am compaired to my younger sister.
Well, I'm sorry. I'm not little miss Has-To-Have-Name-Brand-Or-Will-Die. I'm used to having absolutely nothing. I'm fine with being alone. I'm fine with having nobody to talk to, and I'm fine with having to do stuff without anyone's version of "help".
Some friends have told me that they have tried to "help" me. But I'm pretty sure yelling at me and telling me I'm this and I'm that isn't help. And if it is, I'm sorry, but I'd rather not be helped.
I'm ranting again. Sometimes I like ranting, but it seems like the only thing I do lately is rant about this and that and the other thing, and to me, that's just terrible. I don't want to have to rant all the time. I want to be able to say stuff like, "Oh, so-and-so and I went to such place and we had a blast!" But no. It's almost like I'm terrified of having a life.
I'm supposed to write a poem for someone and I am having trouble with it. It's been a long time since I've been able to write something. There is way too much stress and chaos in my life. I wish there was less of it. Then, maybe, just maybe, I might be able to return to myself again, the person who could write a poem without it looking more like a suicide note, or the love I so desperately seem to be needing... or wanting.
I found someone in my life that is just like me. My twin. To me, this is absolutely amazing. I can talk to him about any thing and everything under the sun, and he understands... but, like usual, there's just one small problem. He lives like a billion miles away from me. I wish he wasn't...
Anyway...
I want to show you guys some minor things that I've been working on... trying desperately to get out of this funk that I've been in..
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No, I don't hate you. I don't want to fight you, you know I'll always love you but right now I just don't like you.
..................................
Woke up this morning with you on my mind
I'm not surprised;
But this doesn't happen all the time
...........................................
Don't call the Spanish inquisition
This isn't an easy transition
When the point of easy conversation is gone
My mind has lost control
Pretty sure I've broken all the rules
But I wouldn't want it any other way
............................................
As I stare out the window at night
And the lights flash like bright stars
I can't help but think if you're alright
You're all I think about nowadays
...............................................
I'm wide awake to all the damage you've caused
No one can erase these battle scars
I'm locked up in this madness screaming
Shaking the prison bars
You told me to forget about it
A story I knew all too well
Poor misfortuned soul
....................................................
So much better.
You're sitting there strumming your guitar
Fingers feeling the strings
You search for emotion beyond this
Find a rhythm, strike a few chords
Maybe you'll get somewhere
You're on stage, but you're far away from here
Dreaming about a girl or a future career
For now you're just a lonely teenager
But in a couple of years you'll be so much bigger
Sure you've got problems
That's what Life's all about
No matter how big or small
It's about changes
Staying true to yourself and standing tall
It's about learning to get over it
Saddling back up after the fall
Putting two and two together
One foot in front of the other
Start young and before you know it
You're thirty, failed marriage and two kids
You lost your job and you feel so bad
The bucket's there and you're ready to kick it
But something stops you mid swing
You think about your family
And the situation you're in
Sure you've got problems
That's what Life's all about
No matter how big or small
It's about changes
Staying true to yourself and standing tall
It's about learning to get over it
Saddling back up after the fall
Putting two and two together
One foot in front of the other
It's just the way it is
The future predetermined by the past
Only the present really matters
Yet time travels much too fast
Your kids grow older and move away
Your wife leaves for paradise
And you never said good bye
Because you begged her to stay
You feel like the roof is falling through
Just remember what they told you
People come and go
Memories are like the credits, they finish the show
One day you'll be at home
Sitting in your favorite chair
Drifting off to sleep, snoring a sweet, soft tone
It's you on stage and you're not alone
Guitar at the ready, microphone around your old, cultured hands
Looking into the crowd, but you're not seeing
Daydreaming about the old you
A lonely teenager but you'd be so much better.
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