we started dying before the snow

Sun, 21 Jan 2007 06:53:10 GMT

Sometimes I get so...frustrated with everything.

I know what - who - I want. Sometimes I feel like he's within reach, that all I have to do is stretch a bit further and close my fingers around his hand. But then there are always these setbacks that hinder me: my lack of self-confidence, my insecurity, my desire to not complicate my life any further...it sucks. All of this sucks.

Tonight I watched a girl flirt rather aggressively with him. I also watched him flirt aggressively right back. The worst thing of it is that said girl is wayyy out of my league. She's open and funny and loud and pretty and hell, if I went to school with her, I'd definitely be her friend. But she has this bond with him that I don't think I'll ever be able to have with him, and, again, it sucks. I want what they have, and more. I was so close to telling him how I feel. So fucking close.

Now I'm back to square one where I'm attempting to rebuild my self-confidence again. It's kind of like building a sandcastle on a beach. Despite the fact that it's going to be demolished by the ocean, I'm building it anyway. Even if it doesn't last for long, when it is built, it's amazing and great to gaze upon.

I'm not making any sense. I'm tired of just wanting. I would like to start getting instead.

I'm going to have to suck it up and do something or just sit here uselessly wanting. Oyyy.

miles to go before i sleep

Sun, 01 Oct 2006 06:20:21 GMT

Dear Diary,

Boys are nice. Shockingly, they don't have cooties (well, most of them don't) and they're pretty nifty and have this crazy way of making me feel as though I'm on top of the world and invulnerable.

Yupyupyup. But here's the not so nice thing about boys. Sometimes girls can fall for more than one boy at a time. And it makes girls' hearts ache, because each girl sees something amazing in each boy she falls for. Even worse: the boys she falls for are usually among her closest friends. To top things off, she won't see either boy after this year since they're all going to college. Which means that she's going to end up with a broken heart either way, so what does it matter anyway?

You know what, Diary, I'm tired of being crossed in love. It pisses me off. I just want one story with a happy ending. It won't have to be a particularly long story, but long enough for the relationship to mean something and end on a good note. But either one of them might not even like me in that way. I'm pretty much fucked from every angle you look at it. It's great to be me. Not.

I'd very much like a boyfriend. I wonder if Santa makes boyfriends up at the North Pole...if so, he'll definitely be hearing from me. Luckily I've been a super duper good girl this year. Really...shuddup.

Anyway, diary. It's getting kind of late, and I have to wake up moderately early tomorrow to take care of some school work and applications. I still have miles to go before I sleep, miles to go before I sleep.

Love,
Nathalie

Mon, 25 Sep 2006 01:44:06 GMT

I'm not a party person, but right now I feel like getting smashed to the point where I can't even remember my name.

I've spoken to people who have indeed gotten that smashed, and they talk about it as if it's the most normal thing in the world. It baffles me. Somehow, I think that if I were to ever go that far my parents would disown me and everyone I know would think less of me. I guess the real reason why I want to get smashed but won't is because I'm afraid of what other people will think of me. I'm afraid that if I mess up just once, people will love me less for it. Sometimes, I wish people didn't expect great things of me when I know I'm going to end up disappointing them. I'm tired of this stupid good girl image I've had my whole life. I don't want to shed it completely because I really am, unfortunately, a good girl. I just want to know that people love me for me, and not for my image.

Thu, 21 Sep 2006 01:48:00 GMT

Wow.

It's been a while since I've last updated this journal. A lot has happened since my last entry. I've grown up so much over these past four years. It certainly hasn't been easy, but it was definitely necessary. I realized that maybe some things aren't meant to be, no matter what I do or say. But in retrospect, maybe I haven't grown up so much. Despite realizing that I can't fix the world, I still try in vain to fix broken friendships, even though it's finally occurred that some things just aren't meant to be fixed. There's something inside me that refuses to sit back and watch a friendship go down in flames. Clearly being eighteen and a legal adult hasn't done anything about my naivety.

So. What to do? Watch Kristen and Lisa and Kevin's friendship explode in a fiery inferno or try to intervene? I'll end up intervening, I'm sure; intervening is embedded into my character [or rather, it's my character flaw to be all tragic about it]. I know that if I do intervene and nothing goes right, I'll go down in flames with them. But I also think that I have a slight chance of making things better. Even though it's a very slight chance, it's a chance I'm willing to take.

Apparently I'm about to play Russian roulette with a dying friendship. Fun times ahead. Not.

And I'm failing economics. Literally. I have a 37%. That's my average. I know, wtf. I'm so fucking dead. Screw you, AP Macroeconomics. Just...screw you.

just like you said it would be.

Sat, 21 Jan 2006 01:39:48 GMT

It's a little sad, seeing people you love move on without you. It's hard because, since you love them, you feel obligated to be happy for them. And I am happy, believe me I am. But it still hurts. Especially when I used to be the one to make them happy. What hurts the most is the fact that they don't know that they still make me happy. I fear that I'll never experience that sort of happiness ever again. Sometimes I think that there is no one else who could ever make me that happy, but I like to think that there's someone else out there. It gives me hope. But then again, it makes me sad that I hope to be happy without them.

Ex's bring out the most depressing mood in me. However, this time, I'm not mourning for a lost boyfriend. I miss my old friends. Well, maybe that's not phrasing it correctly. I miss the times we used to have. I honestly thought that we could overcome the distance issue and keep in touch. Seeing them have great times with other people makes me want to have what we used to have with others as well. Does that make me selfish? Weak? So maybe it does. I'm only human. Anything to get rid of this heavy feeling. I let them go, hoping that they'd come back to me and things would be right again. They haven't come back, so I guess they were never mine to begin with. But I still think that if they've found someone else, there has to be hope for me. I just can't accept the fact that I'll be unhappy forever; I refuse to. I'll find that happiness again. Or at least I'll die trying.

It's going to be three years. It feels as if it's been a milennium. In less than two years people I knew inside out--people I thought I knew inside out--turned into complete strangers over the course of the last couple of years. I don't know them, and they may not know me anymore. They don't know just how much they meant to me. Words fail to convey just how much they still mean to me. But I'm glad they've moved on, in a sense. They're not going through this overwhelming sense of nostalgia that I'm feeling.

save the drama for your mama

Wed, 21 Dec 2005 02:21:41 GMT

What do you do when everything spins out of control?

I can't explain it; everything seems ok, but it feels all wrong.

I miss the days where my two best friends were actually my best friends. In my eyes they're still the best friends I've ever had, maybe the best I may ever have, but I'm almost positive that they've forgotten about me by now. I miss it so much sometimes. The simplicity, the blissful ignorance of just how shitty this world can be...it's sad that teenage cynicism set in and ruined all that. It feels wrong for me to try and replace them. I don't think I can, either. I certainly don't want to. I've known my two best friends for six years +. It takes a long time for me to open up to people and get to the point where I can say stupid things and know that I have someone to back me up.

It's a suckish feeling, losing your best friends. Makes me wish sometimes that I'd never met them so I wouldn't be going through this right now. But then I wouldn't have the memories, and that would also suck. So it sucks either way, I guess. I know I haven't been the best at keeping in touch with them. I do try though; perhaps I try too hard? I send the email from time to time, initiate the AIM convos. But life and other friends get in the way sometimes and I just feel bad about all of this...the drifting and stuff. It's not what I'd intended to happen. But then again, when has anything happened the way I'd intended it to?

Thu, 04 Aug 2005 02:33:25 GMT

Maybe I'm a little bit over my head
I come undone at the things he said
And he's so funny in his bright red shirt
We were all in love and we all got hurt
I sneak into his car's cracked leather seat
The smell of gasoline in the summer heat
Boy, we're going way too fast
It's all too sweet to last

It's like I'm constantly taking one step forward and two steps back.

Just when I started to pick up the pieces and put them back together again. Tim came home today. He wasn't supposed to come home until this Saturday. Yet there he was, standing in my driveway at 11 AM this morning. He bought me a Warped Tour ticket and wants me to go with him. He wants us to be okay again. I do too. But there's a problem. I never wanted to be one of those girls who go crawling back to their boyfriends after they break up. I'm not supposed to be like that. I'm supposed to be stronger than that. It's just so frustrating. I don't want to go. Well, okay, I want to go to the concert, just not with him. I can't. Pride sucks.

It's hard to forget someone when they're constantly around you.

I don't know if I actually loved him though. I don't know which hurt more: the rejection or the losing him part. He told me once that he loved me. But I assumed it was in the context of boyfriend/girlfriend, not real love. But I guess this is for the best. He's graduating this year, and at least I'll be (hopefully) over him by then.

And school. School school school. Back to the drama. At least this year I have my own share of drama to bring. So things should be interesting.

the world is just a little bit colder

Thu, 21 Jul 2005 06:38:09 GMT

It really does hurt to be alone.

I miss him. I won't admit it to another living soul, but God, I miss him.

I won't lie; the feeling of someone's arms around you is probably the most comforting action known to man. The kisses were nice -- hell, they were pretty damn awesome. I miss the kisses. But even more I miss the cuddling. Just having someone be there for you is the best feeling in the world. As cliche as it seems, it seems that the world is just a little bit colder now that he's not here to hold me anymore.

We got along so well, I only thought things could get better. We spent almost everyday after school together. I failed an English test because I'd spent the previous afternoon/evening with him instead of studying. Dammit, I even blew off track practice right before a big meet just to be with him. I've never realized how much I've given him, how much I sacrificed for him. And then he just goes and throws all that in my face for some girl he met at a party half-drunk, some girl he won't remember or ever see again when he leaves Ohio.

Even though it hurt for it to end, I don't think I'd ever take back those three months. As hellish as things are now, I would never trade them in for anything else. And that's what gets me. The fact that I can't bring myself to burn the letters and memories still shows that I care when I shouldn't anymore. He obviously doesn't.

God, it blows to be alone.

some things are beter left untold

Mon, 27 Jun 2005 06:09:33 GMT

Well, seeing as really only one person reads this and said person doesn't even have internet access at the moment, I figure I should post here. It's not really too personal or anything, but I think that this entry is more appropriate for this journal. It's more of an "entry" and not so much of an "update", if you catch my drift.

Today's topic: secrets. They suck, especially when it's a secret you can't share with anyone; your parents, siblings, or even your friends. You can't let the secret slip out, for fear that things will change for the worst when word gets out. Things are going fine, life is grand, you don't think you could possibly be any happier and then WHAM--that little secret you thought you had buried clawed itself out from 6 feet of lies. You frantically look for a shovel or something to hide it, to bury it before it can be seen, but it's already been spotted. The very thing you tried so hard to prevent ended up happening; things change, andd, just as you had feared, it's for the worst.

Amazing how a tiny secret can shatter the reality you've been trying so hard to maintain. Frightening, even.

Thus, I've come to a final conclusion in regards to secrets: Some things are better left untold.

retrace the steps as if we've forgot

Thu, 14 Apr 2005 23:01:59 GMT

I'm such a dissapointment. To everyone, to myself.

My GPA hasn't been a 4.0 since 1st quarter, my grades are gradually slipping, I'm neglecting friends at school, I'm neglecting friends at home, my parents are constantly on my back, and on top of all that, I'm putting ALL of my time and effort into track, but my coach is probably going to cut me tomorrow. And I honestly don't know what I'm going to do. I really like running track and going to practices. Before it was something I took up just to see if I could do it. Now...now I want to go as far as I can, maybe nab a medal or two on the way. I hate how all my competition is among my own teammates. It's almost like an episode of Survivor, and apparently it's my turn to get booted off the island. I hate the competition, I hate it. Whoever beats you by a half of a half of an eight of a sixteenth of a second takes your spot. I've been lucky to make it this far but...it's like track was the one thing I thought I was good at. Now what do I have?

Absolutely nothing.

I'm just...lost. Colleges are looking, and I have nothing to show. I don't have the grades, I don't have the clubs, and now I don't have the sports. Last night I had a panic attack because I just realized that soon it's just going to be me in the big world and I have nothing, no back up plan, nada. It seems like I'm just not good enough anymore.

fumbling towards ectasy

Wed, 16 Mar 2005 00:59:24 GMT

Lately, I feel out of breath.

In the emotional sense, not physically.

I don't know what it is I'm trying to catch, or what it is I'm even chasing. Whatever it is has been dancing just out of my reach for the longest time, yet I don't seem to have the strength to stretch my fingers out just a little bit further and grab it. I don't know why I'm chasing this ever elusive emotion, or what I can gain from it. What's the point in chasing something I'm obviously not able to catch? I'll close the distance, come within an inch, only to have it slip away. I know I can get it if I can reach just a little bit more...

But I can't. I can chase after it, come within an inch, but I can never gap the final inch. Every time I let it get away, I consider stopping my mad pursuit. Yet there I see it, within my reach and I think, "Just a little closer..." and the whole thing starts over again.

Just a little closer isn't close enough.

let freedom ring

Thu, 10 Feb 2005 04:09:22 GMT

I freaking hate myself sometimes.

I actually find myself wishing that I wasn't black. I know how horrible that sounds, but it's true. I think other races have it slightly easier. Everything's so stereotypical. I'm supposed to be black and ghetto and on welfare and pregnant by my "baby's daddy" and going out with guys who have more gold in their mouth than I'll ever actually wear. And no, I do not know Bill Cosby or Oprah, and NO I don't go to a "black people" church. I have nothing against people who are actually like that. My point is I'm not them. I'm tired of a bunch of black guys looking at my butt when I walk by. At this moment, I'm tired of being black. I'm tired of being the only one in class having to shift uncomfortably when my teachers talk about slavery and segregation.

Am I really "weird" just because I don't like to listen to 50 Cent rap about how he was shot nine times and somehow survived? You can't really change who you are (or maybe you can...-coughMichael Jacksoncough-) and all that jazz. It's not even that I mind having dark colored skin. I really don't care about actually BEING black (I couldn't imagine myself being any other color), it's more that I don't like what having black skin supposedly entails. Sue me for marching to the beat of a different drummer. Why can't I listen to both rap and rock? Why can't I like both black and white guys? Call me a fucking Oreo if you want, I honestly don't give a shit. Just don't assume that I'm exactly like every other black teenage girl, cus I'm not. I'm many things, but I'm not fake. I can't help what I like. If it makes me happy, I'm not going to change it just because it doesn't fit into society's twisted standards. As long as I'm happy, I don't care.

It's just so frustrating at times. Maybe I'm not shackled and bound like black people were a century and a half ago, but I'm stuck tangled in these STUPID stereotypes that are slowly choking the life out of me.

I'm really not as depressed as I sound, believe me. Just felt like I needed to rant, which is what this is for :D The cause of this rant? This little black "ghetto" freshman somehow got my number and called me and woke me up while I was sleeping peacefully, the bastard. Of course I didn't pick up. Well maybe I should've to tell his little wannabe Ja Rule ass off. (See? I do like rap. Rap came before my rock/emo obsession. Why is it not socially acceptable for me to like both?) Plus on top of all that, I have 100 vocab cards to do before third period tomorrow (no exaggeration, I really do have a 100) and my cat's gone. The only one at who always greeted me everyday when I got home from that hellhole they call school is gone. My parents sent him away, and he's never coming back. I miss him. Life sucks at the moment. Not horribly, but enough to make me want to go to sleep for a few days.

Oh, and happy Black History Month. My life should be turned into the struggle of a black girl to find her place in a society that has no room for her. I'm the next Rosa Parks, I swear :D

i don't know how to let you go

Fri, 04 Feb 2005 16:36:42 GMT

You know what's wrong with people?

When you're young, you don't savor the good times enough. You act rashly. You think of the possible outcomes, but you don't really know where the outcomes can lead to somwhere down along the road. You're invincible; becoming old will happen a long time from now.

As you get older, you mourn over the good times you didn't take the time to savor when you were young. You regret the choices you made and finally realize your flaw. You're only human. You wished that you realized this sooner, but your wishes turn into the droplets that hardly break the surface of the ocean.

Humans bleed, humans mourn, humans die. But you've realized this too late. You're only human, an ant compared to Father Time. Time created you, and later Time will destroy you.

this latest rant brought to you by a bazillion Oreo cookies and the smooth, depressing sounds of Sarah McLachlan

Skipping school on a lovely Friday, and I'm loving it <3 Anyway, I have to go work on my Lit. notes for Moby Dick. -wh00sh-

Thu, 05 Aug 2004 22:39:12 GMT

Grrr, curse livejournal! It deleted a poem I'd written after my non-poetry-writing slump. I think I'm going to delete this journal soon anyway. Or turn it into a journal for pensive thoughts and things that wouldn't fit in my other journal.

It's nice to know that my friends know me, but perhaps they know me too well? I met this girl on who I think is beginning to stalk me or something. Anyway. We have a lot of stuff in common, and Kristen tells me that we the writing style is the same. It's comforting to know that my friends know me better than I know myself, but I'm not this girl, contary to popular belief. Personally, I think it's funny. Something we're going to laugh at years ahead in retrospect. But it really isn't me...believe me people. I didn't even make the soccer team last year, I don't play guitar, or write fanfiction. Hello, when it comes to overrides and crap, I'm hopeless. I slaved for hours on my current layout which I'm about to take down and put up something simpler since I don't have enough brain power to redo it again. So we have the same taste in rock music and like sleeping and Tom Felton. It really isn't me.

While I think it's kind of funny, it's also a little sad to know that they can't tell the difference. Maybe I'm not as original as I thought I was. Maybe there are a thousand others who are just like me, who write like me, like the same things as me, have the same name, everything. I feel cloned. At first you know, I thought it was kind of cool. But if I'd known that she would accidentally cause all this trouble, I wouldn't have bothered friend her at all. Talk about identity theft, guys.

I'm going to take a nap and sleep on it. Until then, I'll laugh about it.

Expect nothing and you'll never be disappointed.

Sun, 20 Jun 2004 00:57:13 GMT

I wonder what it's like to be a tear drop
coming to life at the first hint of grief
thriving on one's sadness
and ending in misery

I was going to write a poem, but I decided to leave it as is. A bit on the short side, but it was all I could come up with. If you've read my userinfo, you'll see somewhere in there that I'm prone to rants. So here's one of those aforementioned rants.

It's funny. The words "best friend" are usually used so loosely and without meaning these days. If you're desperate for someone to do you a favor, people usually say, "Do this for me and I'll be your best friend and love you forever," or some crap like that. When you're five, the kid who shared your lunch when you forgot yours is your best friend. In fifth grade, the kid who faxes you the homework when you forgot your book in school is your best friend. In eighth grade, the person who asks your crush if they want to dance with you so you're not embarrassed if you get turned down is your best friend. But somewhere between eighth grade and now, my idea of a best friend has changed. It's not someone you knew for the better part of your life, but someone who will listen and never try to interrupt with advice when you just need to vent.

I'm finding out that I really didn't know anything about some people I thought I knew inside and out. I spent years with them at school, but I guess those seven hours for 180 days a year just weren't enough. Funny...sad, even. It all turned out to be a waste of time, I guess.

People are so disappointing.

Fate (n): The supposed force, principle, or power that predetermines events.

Sat, 08 May 2004 14:59:53 GMT

He left today.
On a rainy day just like this one, all those years ago.

She never got to tell him. She'd always thought that he'd come back. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that she'd be left alone during such a turbulent time in her life. She remembered the way he'd embrace her and comb his fingers through her hair while he reassured her that he'd always be there for her. Come rain or sleet or snow, he told her, I'll always come back.

But he didn't.

She felt the tears well up behind her eyes, but she rapidly blinked them away. She wouldn't cry. Crying would mean that she had given up hope. Yet somewhere, deep within her heart, there was a glimmer of hope that believed that he was out there somewhere, trying so hard to return to his love. Yet a cloud of pessimism hovered about her, drowning whatever hope she had left.

She could remember how his 1,000 watt grins could brighten her day, or how a simple word could pick her up when she was feeling down. A serene smile graced her normally placid features as she lost herself in the memories. A tug on her apron tugged her back to reality.

"Mommy?"

She looked down to see her five year old daughter looking up at her with wide, blue eyes. She was definitely her father's child, with her cheerful grins and sparkling eyes. The more she looked down at her daughter, the more it hurt. How cruel Fate could be, taking away one of the only things she lived for and blessing her with a haunting reminder of what she lost.

"Mommy?" the little girl asked again. "Why are you crying?"

Why was she crying? It'd been so long, and they weren't even married. But something kept her from moving on. He was the only one who would ever--could ever--make her feel this way. The fact that she would never taste happiness again brought tears to her eyes.

Dreamer&Dream

Fri, 30 Apr 2004 19:34:12 GMT

Watch.
It's all she ever does.
Never really seeing, but looking.
Always looking at the forest,
and missing the flowers and trees in between.
If she'd only think to open her eyes and close her heart,
maybe she'd realize that she's been blind all along.
But she doesn't want to see,
the truth is too much to bear.
She's content where she is,
high up in the clouds.

Dream.
It's all it will ever be.
How he longs to bring her down,
and catch her as she falls.
Sheer desperation brings him to his knees.
If she does not open her eyes,
he might have to make her see.
To his anguish he doesn't know how.
Fate is what keeps them apart in reality,
but he always finds her in his castle in the sky.
So for now, he will dream.

He gets to be the dreamer, but she'll always be his dream.

Tue, 27 Apr 2004 23:31:38 GMT

Testing.

...poems should be coming pretty soon. As soon as I get some things customized, I'll post up a few. Just to tell you, I don't write poems on spur of the moment. Inspiration helps things move along.

"Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story..."