Lock-jawed

What I want is not for myself. I live for others because it's the right thing to do. I put myself through this crippling pain not because it's fun. Not because I like it. Not because it's easy. Because it's the only thing that makes me feel whole. I am a person, with values, morals, desires, needs, and it's so easy to walk around with a switch on the back of your head, brainwashed, away from reality and yourself. I won't do that.  I don't have to prove myself to anyone but myself.  I have to live with me for the next century, so my approval is the only one that matters. I have high standards to live up to, high expectations, and also incredible potential. Why am I punished, whipped to a bleeding pulp, for being real, while those with fake faces and shoes are put on pedestals? Why do I have to be trapped under this weight while pretending I'm floating on air, a smile to my classmates, because I can't tell them what's going on at home, what's going on in my phone, what's going on in my mind, what hurdles I have to jump to keep myself? Why are others, and circumstances resulting from forces unknown, trying to destroy me when my life is only about construction?


I can tell my peers about you, but they don't take us seriously. "Oh," they say. Or they laugh. Or give me that look, that, "Ok, yeah, right. Whatever." They don't get it. They never will. No one ever will. I don't think they need to, and eventually, they won't matter.  They're stock characters.  A sort of madness, more intense than before, has taken over me. I become angry, because I can't go home to you. I can send a message with my fingers, but, that's not the same as being able to run into your arms, tears streaming down my face, words not found and unneeded. So I'll work until I die, so my plans will include you in them. I'm not perfect, please don't ever think I am. But I need you, so much, so very much, I can't express it, because you are you, and I will never find another person quite as special, quite as perfect for me.  I don't know what's going to happen in the middle of these two pieces of bread, between now and then, but at the end, we will be together. I'm going to marry you, one day.  Even without having to cut the engagement ring out of your stomach, love. My snowy cat, I wish I had the words, the dialect, the language, the vernacular to show what courses through my veins, the substance of my cells, the glue between my soul and body.

No, you'll never be alone/When darkness comes/I'll light the night with stars

Thursday Night

I was very tired today, barely floating through those seven hours we call school. I meant to finish writing last night, which was in fact Thursday, but I've slipped into Friday like a rain drop on a car window. I got a car today, a 2010 silver Dodge Avenger. I absolutely love it. Admittedly, the ride is not as smooth as the Corolla's, but it's mine, and it's fantastic. I'm kind of nervous, to be honest, because the responsibility associated with it is huge. I'm also not totally used to driving the thing, which handles a bit differently than our Toyota.  
School was ridiculously easy this week, we barely had any homework or anything to study for, which worries me a bit because I know it won't last. This is just the calm before the storm. It's April now, and the teachers will have to start making up for lost time.  It's Friday, but I realize how little it matters..It will be gone soon enough, and the weekend will pass, and the week will start over again, and then I'll trudge through it, and then the weekend will arrive once more. It's a never-ending cycle, with nothing too spectacular about the name of the day. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to have the weekend off (except for work..I've gotta work on the weekends). It's just short lived, that's all.  That's good, right? Because I'll sooner get to summer, which means I'll sooner get to next year, which means I'll sooner get to 17, and I'll sooner get to senior year, and I'll sooner graduate, and I'll sooner go off to college, and I'll sooner go to medical school, and I'll sooner become a doctor. I feel as if every day has a few seconds less than the day before it.  How will I ever have time for anything.."fun", especially later in life?

You're not like the others, futuristic lover.