fireflys_locket: (Lovely Reflection - amethystia)
"The day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

It's weird, being that person who doesn't change much, watching other people change or talk about big changes. How they aren't the same person they used to be. It baffles me. It makes me feel different. Other. Just like I always have. Being alienated as a child actually helped me to get to know myself much more quickly than most people.

I know not all changes are bad. Sometimes people have to shift over time to be the person they were meant to be. And that's okay, for some people. But the thing is, I've basically always known who I was. There were things about myself and what I believed in that I tried to deny to fit in better, whether with classmates or the church or whatever. But deep down, I knew how I really felt. Dropping out of school gave me the chance to accept myself as I am.

I always knew what I wanted to be, too. I've been a vegetarian since thirteen. A writer since ten. A make-believer/story-creator much longer than that. And searching for my soulmate as far back as I can remember. (Maybe what I've been looking for has changed a bit over the years, but it's only that I realized I deserved better. Someone who really loved and understood me.)

It's good, knowing yourself so well; it's constant and reliable. Though knowing who you are doesn't mean you never have doubts. It doesn't make everything else just fall into place, either. It doesn't mean you don't have limitations. The same ostracism that helped me know myself also left wounds that have handicapped me all these years later.

I am still young Jane Roberts. I'm still that nine-year-old girl with all of that passion and anxiety. I still rely so much on my Mother and can't be on my own. I'm still terrified of so many things (mainly people), and I'm just as lonely as I ever was. Maybe more-so after closing myself off so far away from people.

When I was young, I always felt older. Like I understood more than everyone else. Maybe every kid feels that way. I probably actually knew far less about life than the kids around me. But I did, at least, know more about myself than most of them could understand.

Now that I'm an "adult", I feel more like a teenager than I ever did at that age. I feel like I never developed past the age I left school. I am twenty-seven, and I barely feel seventeen. And I know I'm not alone in not feeling my age either, but few people are actually in the exact same situation they were in ten years ago. They are not as stuck as I am. They are not as crippled and ruled by anxiety as I am.

But through all this, I know who I am. And I love that person. I don't want to be anyone else.

"Your time as a caterpillar has expired; your wings are ready."

It doesn't mean I don't want my life to change. I'm dying to break free of the bud, to spread my wings and fly. But wanting it doesn't make it happen. Everyone wants to say that your only limitations are the ones you give to yourself. That you can choose to be happy.

Do you really think I wouldn't choose to be happy if I could choose that?

The truth is that mental and emotional illnesses are just as real as any physical limitation. If I could live on my own, I would. Believe me. At this point, I am absolutely sick over having to live in the situation I'm in. I feel so trapped I can hardly breathe.

I don't want to be normal anymore (though sometimes I still think I do). I have always had my own path to follow. And that's good. I wouldn't change that now. I love who I am, flaws and limitations and all. But I want a better, happier life. I want to break free from the circumstances that have held me in like a closed bud, and fly.

But I cannot fly on my own.
fireflys_locket: (Lovely Reflection - amethystia)
I had a bit of a stressful dream last night about school and feeling left out when my high school class graduated. Now, I realize why. Today was the last day I went to school ten years ago. Yeah, ten. That's a long time. For a while, I blamed myself for not being strong enough to carry on, but I've realized that I did what I had to. The longer I put off getting help would've just meant it would take longer to get where I am today. I still can't quite say that I'm happy, but I do have hope. I have a purpose, work that feels important. I have a therapist who became my biggest encouragement in getting back in touch with that purpose. I finally found a medication that helps to stabilize me without bad side effects or a numbing out of emotions.

I've figured out a lot about myself by pulling away from the normal path, and though I certainly still have things to work on, I mostly like what I found. I know exactly who I am, and I don’t pretend to be anything else anymore. I try to love myself, even when it’s hard. I understand how I work best. I know enough about myself to decide on what's best for me, instead of what other people project as being the right/only way. I know I only have so much energy, and I try to use it wisely. If I were still striving so hard to be "normal", I wouldn't be able to focus on my writing because that would take most of my energy.

There are still things I need in my life to be truly happy. My heart is still waiting for that person to have the deepest of connections with. I struggle with loneliness for friendship as well. Sometimes, I still miss everything I lost when I left school. But in leaving, I really did find myself.

I’ll probably be sad about this for a few days. Maybe even a week. That’s just natural. I’ll find ways to cope, and I’ll move on. It’s funny, though, that this anniversary comes just on the edge of completing my first book. It’s hard to tell if releasing Magic Inc. Book One will really change my life in any big way, but there is at least that possibility that something good could come of this. I’ll try to hang onto that hope.
fireflys_locket: (Namine Sad - warplanes)
Things change whether you want them to or not. I don't believe that everything changes drastically, like there's nothing consistent or reliable in the world. But everything does shift in some way over time. You hope that there will be good shifts. And sometimes, there are. But more often, it seems harder to tell.

I don’t suffer daily now the way I did when I was in school. I’m not constantly bullied or having to deal with terrifying fear of people’s ridicule. I mostly get to do what I want to do. Work on the things I love. Stay away from painful experiences. Leaving school was a necessary shift in my life. I know that for certain now. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t things I miss. Things I missed. They’d be over now, anyhow. High school is long gone. I’d be where I am now, regardless. But maybe not as far along. I guess it’s impossible to know that for certain, but I know myself pretty well. And I haven’t changed much.

Still, things have shifted in my life. (Just… very slowly.) I’ve been considering changes in my writing plans lately. I mentioned part of that here. I am getting closer and more open to the idea that Magic Inc. might be my first book. That story has actually been part of me the longest and the deepest. Maybe it makes sense. Maybe if I had known eleven years ago that I would be able to turn my secret fantasy world into a series then I wouldn’t have planned Dreaming in Shadow to be my first novel. But at that time, I was still in school, and the idea of sharing that world would have been terrifying. Sometimes, it still is.

But I love it. And I want to share it, even though it’s scary. Magic Inc. is wish fulfillment in a lot of ways. But it’s also the raw and real pain of a girl who often feels lost and alone. Who is bullied into feeling she can never be loved and accepted. And who, eventually, is shown that those fears were wrong. That she has a strength inside of her that makes her important in the world. That she belongs somewhere.

Dreaming in Shadow deals with a lot of those same things. But it was never as personal of a story for me. Oh, I always loved it. Depended on it. Poured my heart into it. Feared its end would break me. By no means do I feel like it is less important for me to put out there. It’s all just a matter of when.

But that’s not the only thing I’ve been thinking about. The past year and nine months, I’ve been working mostly on second drafts. I’ve been typing and revising Magic Inc., Dreaming in Shadow, and even some of Spun of Silver. And I’ve gotten so used to typing. I’ve started to (mostly) make notes in more organized Word files instead of scribbled in notebooks on my desk. And when I’ve occasionally gone back to writing by hand with The Town of Raindrops or Miss Masquerade it all feels so awkward. I used to love writing first drafts in notebooks. But it just doesn’t feel right anymore.

So, what do I do? The idea of writing out Magic Inc. Book Two and any future stories by hand makes me want to cringe. And I’ll be able to edit things more easily and quickly in Word. But I’m scared it won’t be the same. That I need that extra step to properly flesh things out. It worked so well for so long. But if I cling to something that isn’t working anymore, it might suck out the joy of writing new stories. I already feel honestly exhausted thinking about things continuing the way they have been.

I talked to Jill about it. I’d been meaning to for a while, and I finally mentioned it last time. What we both thought was to test it. Raindrops is only a few chapters in. If I start revising what I have now, then pick up the new stuff where I left off, I should be able to see if typing new stuff really works for me. So, that’s my plan for now. I’m still scared. Shifts, even good ones, can feel terrifying. But sometimes, you hold onto things that no longer work for too long, and when you finally let them go, you wonder why you waited. I feel like this might be one of those times. But I guess all we can do is wait and see.
fireflys_locket: (Lovely Reflection - amethystia)
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about my past. Okay, when am I not wrapped up in some part of my past, really? But in writing Spun of Silver, I've been putting together what the past has made my present-future look like. It isn't pretty. Even if I found the right person to fall in love with, I'd be scared to death that they were trying to deceive me, because who would actually want to be with me? That's what my past has taught me: I'm ugly, uncool, and unlovable.

But let's also take a look at something else... when I was young, I wanted to be popular. I wanted to be friends with the popular girls. And often, because I had the cool toys or the cool lunch, I was allowed to tag along with the popular girls. They pretty much treated me like trash, but I just wanted to feel like I was cool. Meanwhile, I was not a very nice person. I didn't usually make fun of other kids, but I thought some pretty awful things about the ones that I felt were below me. And I certainly wasn't willing make any waves by defending other kids, who were getting teased, even if I thought the bullies were going too far. In a way, I was almost as bad as them.

In 5th grade, when everyone found out who I liked and made fun of me and him everyday at lunch, I finally realized that I was never going to be popular. I was miserable and alone. I didn't have any real friends, because I'd mostly ignored the nicer girls in favor of tagging along with the "mean girls". I was definitely a victim of a lot of undeserved abuse, but I'd also made some bad choices.

For awhile after that, I hated everyone. My anger was a shield. If I was going to have to face it all alone, I had to be tough. But eventually, slowly, the anger cooled down. In high school, I was able to make some real friends, and not once did I worry about whether or not someone was popular.

Now, looking back, I can see things quite clearly. I don't know if I was ever capable of some of the things that were done to me, as I didn't run around bullying other kids even then, but my thoughts were poisoned by the hatred that I learned from the girls I tried to emulate. Who knows what would have happened if I was allowed to tag along all through my school days? If I hadn't been forced to be alone and friendless would those toxic thoughts still rule my mind? Maybe I would look at Morgan and think he wasn't "cool" enough to date. It's a terrifying thought, honestly.

I do, of course, still feel angry at my peers for treating me horribly. For making me hate myself. For making feel disgusting, unlovable, unwanted, and better off dead. For making me worry if I'll ever be able to trust a man enough to let him love me. But if I hadn't gone through what I did, maybe I would be a cold, cruel person like they were. I do believe that most have them have become better people since then, but even still, I wonder if they'll ever be able to feel the kind love that I have in me. When they close their eyes, do they hear violins?

I don't know if I'm able to feel it completely or permanently, but thinking about these things right now, I forgive them, and I release them. I hope you're proud of me, Gabby.
fireflys_locket: (Soul is Burning - _lisichka_)
I think I've stepped into a time warp. Or maybe that's what I want to feel right now: Lovely Despair.

What is time warpy about me right now? Well, last post, I mentioned how I was watching my school's Christmas concerts. That's what really tore me open, but I've been thinking of some other strange things. I've been writing every day for a week: something I haven't done since I dropped out of school. I've even been writing in this journal more than usual. And today, I'm sitting here listening to Evanescence's new CD, while looking through Etsy to find jewelry mostly for old characters that started out in my Harry Potter fanfiction.

So, there's been a lot of things making me think back. This is good and bad. Bad, because I can get stuck in really obsessively depressed moods when I think too much about the past. But this pain, I call Lovely Despair... because it can also bring out amazing inspiration in me. Which I could use if I'm really going to try to write every day this month.

I feel like indulging in this. Drowning in this feeling. Pouring over old stories, old journals. I wish I had my first journal from 4th grade. It would help me so much with Magic Inc. Book One, but I think I may have ripped it up. Ah, and usually I was so good at saving things for my future me. My younger self certainly was not perfect, but she knew when to appreciate things that wouldn't last. And how to save things for me. And hey, that journal might still be here somewhere. You never know what you'll find in my mountain of stuff.

Well, I'm going to try to use this intense pain in a good way. Just like I used to. Just like I always have. But the more deeply I dive in, the more lost I could get. Still, this pain will haunt me for awhile, either way. I might as well use it, right?
fireflys_locket: (Bittersweet Memories - _lisichka_)
When I was in grade school, I was hurt a lot by my peers. Bullied nearly every day. They seemed to sense I was vulnerable. School was totally miserable. So, why do I miss it so much? Why do I wish I could go back to those times? Why do these memories make me ache with longing?

The school I went to had Christmas concerts every year. The students would line up at the church to sing our little Christmas songs. I loved it. I loved everything that made me feel a part of the group without singling me out. I watched the tapes of two of these concerts today, while transferring them to a DVD. And I cried. Of course, I cried.

I wish my timeturner worked.

Only why on Earth would I want to go back to that torture? My own therapist said she wouldn't relive her childhood for any money. What's wrong with me? Am I really so miserable now that going back would be better? Or do I just see my future as endless more of this? It's not that this is really so bad, but is this all there is? Because it's not enough. At least, back then, I had real memories. Real experiences. Now, I mostly just live in books and movies and games. Too little of my life is actually real.

I wish I could be a part of something real, but I'm too broken and weak. I wish I could be a teacher at my old school, or what's left of it. It's not that I'd want that over being a writer. And as things are, I'm free to write with my full attention. But I'm so miserable sometimes that I can't even bring myself to do the thing I love so much. Most people would probably think I'm lucky to not have to work. That I shouldn't whine about getting to be lazy all day. But what if all you had was your broken self and your painful memories to haunt you all day?

I know I'm meant to be doing what I'm doing if for no other reason than it is all I have. I wasn't meant to go to college. To be a teacher. To be "normal". I was meant to write with all I have. And I'm doing more of that lately than I have in a long time. But I'm still lonely and unhappy. Left wondering if I could ever really be part of something again. Even if it was just the illusion it was back then.
fireflys_locket: (Bittersweet Memories - _lisichka_)
I was definitely severely bullied when I was young. Most of my grade was against me at all times. I was constantly in the nurse's office with a stomach ache, begging to go home in First and Second Grade. By Third, I'd learned how to gain fake friends by having the cool lunch and giving it away and bringing the cool toys for recess. But no one actually cared about me. Fourth Grade, carried on the same.

Then, in Fifth Grade, things really exploded. I admitted to having feelings for a boy (while being cornered in the girl's bathroom). That's where things really changed. You might not believe that basically every day for the rest of the school year I was tormented about it. But the far worse thing was the way he was treated. Because obviously, to be loved by me was a curse. A boy, who'd always been nice to me, turned into someone, who hated me with a passion. And I still won't blame him for that.

The next time I fell in love, I kept it quiet under the assumption that I still loved the former boy. I'd learned a lesson. But don't imagine this was my prince charming. No, I'd fallen for an even more hurtful and hateful person. But I could see the pain he was in, and I wanted to save him... no matter what it took.

I didn't really have friends at school until Seventh Grade. But that friendship wasn't a particularly safe environment for a long time. Even as much as I love her and trust her now, at that time, she was key in making me hurt. Sometimes, in ways that couldn't have been helped. Other times, because she judged me harshly in front of everyone.

I couldn't imagine living past Eighth Grade graduation. By then, the boy I'd loved had figured it out.... just as the rest of the class. I spent the second half of Eighth Grade crying most of the school day. Eventually, people had put things together. My best friend was dating the one I really loved. Strangely, even former tormentors seemed to feel bad for me. But my Love delighted in tormenting me, himself. After all those years of me seeming - even to myself - unbothered by his calling me ugly (because I knew it was true) or how much I was in love with his best friend, he knew he had power over me now. And he used it viciously.

After all that, High School was mostly calm. I made more real friends. People to share my stories with. While my one friend still had occasional outbursts against me, there was only one real incident like those in grade school. And afterword, I actually recieved notes from people, who felt bad for me, and actual apology notes from those invovled. It seemed that everyone had finally started to grow up.

But over the couple of years I lived "peacefully" in High School, something was bubbling up inside of me. I had crippling migraine headaches and an anxiety I just couldn't shake. And out of nowhere, I was having severe panic attacks - which I didn't know by name, so I deemed them "crashing". I thought I was completely broken. I was crying all day during school, even though no one was bothering me anymore.

And so, I eventually had to leave...

Though now, six and a half years later, in a life that I spend mostly alone, my biggest bully... is me. Caught in the echoes of the past, I'm always degrading myself. I will never be pretty or talented or smart. And anyone, who says differently, will get a rejection. I can't take compliments. I'm used to criticism; I usually agree with it. It's the opposite that I fear. Because if I trust in a compliment, that means the person can turn it around and hurt me with that trust. So, I don't - I can't trust people. Not in that way.

So, maybe you think bullying isn't a big deal? I'm certainly one of the more extreme cases. At least of those, who can still tell the story. And well, don't think I didn't come close to not being able to. Several times. But my point is this: even after all the years that bullying has been gone from my life, the effects are still with me. They haunt my young adult life. They live in me, and no matter how much I try to love myself and befriend my darkness, they will always be around. I can't work. I don't socialize. I stay home. I wish that I could find that one person, who can understand me and love me endlessly. But I'm just alone. And all I can do is dream.
fireflys_locket: (Bittersweet Memories - _lisichka_)
Last night, I went back to my Grade/Middle School. Okay, when I typed that, I burst into tears. I didn't cry at all yesterday. It was too much of a shock. I knew I'd cry today. I have to get the emotions out.
 
So much was the same. Yet, it was all different. I saw kids with unfamiliar faces in my precious uniform. It was so surreal. I saw statues I knew so well. And the computer room with all new computers, but the layout was just the same. I could almost see myself in my old seat. And Seth... but I'll try not to go too far into that.

The trip was part emotional... okay, all emotional but part research. Now that I'm writing Magic Inc., my school is one of the most important places in the story. I may never name it directly, but the story is about me... and my school is so much a part of me. I took lots of pictures, though I wasn't able to get more than about half of what I wanted. Still, going back the first time was the hard part.

The things that changed the most were the teachers. Only three of my teachers are still at the school. I talked to each of them for probably a good 10 minutes each. I went over getting my GED and wanting to self-publish. They were all really supportive. My Mom has seen a lot of my teachers at the Library from time to time. I hadn't seen Mrs Dorfi in a long time, but my Mom had told her at some point about my trying for the GED. She was really happy I got it. Mrs. Alford was surprised I wasn't working at 21, but she's the one who hadn't really heard anything about what happened to me during high school, so it was understandable. I told her I was a full-time writer. Which is really true now more than ever...

I saw Mrs. Smith, who is now the principal, almost as soon as I got inside. And I'm glad, because she made me feel so welcome. I was kind of scared I might be in the way, but that wasn't the case at all. <3 I felt really loved. Anyways, Mrs. Smith reminded me about her offer for me to read to the kindergartners sometime. (I'm really nervous, but I think I'll try to do it.) She also said I could plan my class's reunion in 2013. Haha. I told her I couldn't be the one to call around, but I'd be happy to help with other parts of setting up!

Goodness, how much I would enjoy that... People who read this may or may not realize, but I know I love that school about as much as any student could. And I really appreciated it every second I was able. I was a smart girl. And what I mean by that is that I cherished my memories there, even when they were mostly bittersweet. And you'd better believe if I was going to have children, they would be going to school there. Even though I wouldn't exactly consider myself a Catholic anymore, I do still believe in quite a lot of what I was taught there. It made me who I am. I don't know how I would have survived public school.

*Deep breath* It was really tough, but I'm so glad I went.
fireflys_locket: (Time Past - indilime)
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I don't have a lot of good memories. Especially of grade school. I didn't really have any school friends until 7th grade. But I guess I'd probably say the silly 5th grade play we were made to do. I didn't have any special part (thankfully) in it, but something about the rhythm of practicing and performing made me so happy. It was incredible quirky. I still have the tape and watch it sometimes. I'm sure most of my classmates think of it as a horrible memory, but it's one of the few memories I have of people not teasing me constantly. Everyone united. Like I was part of it all. When I never really was...

Wow, this got depressing fast. :/
fireflys_locket: (Lovely Reflection - amethystia)
I've been out of school for 5 years now. March 29th 2005 was the last day I went to school. Strangely, I've been in pain the last few days. Headaches, eye and neck pain. Stress, I suppose. These 5 years haven't exactly been pleasant. But in the end, what came before them was worse. Far worse. At least, since leaving school, I've been safe. Away from people.

But very alone.

It's not as though each day seems endless. In fact, time has flown. It's looking back to see 5 years gone; that is what's frightening.

And still, I'd say the last 6 months have been the happiest I've ever been in my memory. Not that it's saying a lot. I'm still not actually happy. Jill says I'm finally getting used to my own rhythm and that's why I've been "better", writing more and such. I've also felt very sad this month, though. My writing has always gone along with sadness. It's been bittersweet. 

March is the month of death and rebirth for me. I once died in one love and was reborn in another. And then, 5 years ago, that life died a slow, painful death. The rebirth process has been slow, as well, with long stretches of emptiness where I felt blinded. I had to learn everything again. How to write, to read, to see things in my mind the way I had before.

Am I finally coming up out of the water? Can I finally breathe again? Or have I ever really?
fireflys_locket: (Expect Unexpected (CCS) - sboardman711)
It's 2010. Wow, it's weird to type that. I mean, every year it's hard for me to type (or write) the new year for awhile. I usually don't accidentally use the old one, but every time I write it or type it, I feel this weird sensation. It's the same sensation I remember as far back as the first time I wrote 1999 on a school paper. I guess I've always been too bizarrely aware of most things. 2010 is very, very weird, in that I keep wanting to throw an extra 0 in... "20010". I'd gotten so used to those middle zeros...

Anyways, I'm really hoping that 2010 will be a good year... I'll even dare to ask that it be a great year, for while I'm sure there are people who have had a far worse one, for me, 2009 was traumatic most of the way through. I won't say it's the worst year, I've ever had either. I'm sure 2005 was worse. Though in a way, I'm thankful for 2005.

Oh, goodness, I'm getting way off of what I wanted to talk about, but I'll pretend this was my point all along and try to pull it together. There are not many things that, if I'm being totally logical about it, I regret about 2005. By that I mean, my leaving school. Yes, I could (and sometimes, do) go back and forth with myself on this... but I'm talking about totally logically. I didn't need much else that I would have been taught, and I would not have gone to college. I would have crashed at the end of high school much in the same way. There's actually a benefit in having it happen when it did... I'm two years farther ahead than I would have been.

On the academic side, I believe I really only could have benefited from one area, some of the required reading I would have had for my English classes. I say some of it, because some of it I really disliked. Some of it I would have hated. In fact, I think, from what little I know of it, Lord of the Flies would have made me completely ill. And a quick look on Wikipedia has really confirmed that. Now, to try to distract myself from becoming upset on just the thought of that book, I'll finally get on to my point.

What are the books that you really enjoyed of your required school readings? Which are you really thankful to have read? If you could leave some recommendations in the appropriate post, I'd be very thankful, myself. Uh, and still keep in mind that I upset very easily. Obviously, since my stomach is sick just from skimming an article on Lord of the Flies on Wikipedia. (I wonder... was this how I felt about Rule of Rose about three years ago? I think it was close. I sort of remember... That weird, twisted intrigue. *Cringes* I do not want that to happen again, you hear me!? *Cough* Wow, I'm really losing it.)

For my part, I remember enjoying Fahrenheit 451, Great Expectations, and A Separate Peace of what I did read in high school. And now, I'm off to my number one distraction, the Endurance Run, to get upsetting thoughts out of my head!

Happy New Year, everyone. ^_^;
fireflys_locket: (Release Me - soporifical)
Yes, I am updating. Sort of. I've been meaning to do this for some time, honestly. Deciding exactly what I wanted to do with this journal... it took a long time. I still wanted this to be the sorting place of my past, and it will be. I will resume the posting of old entries in my journal. My past is an important part of who I am. I understand, though, that not everyone wants to read old entries. Just because I would find it interesting doesn't mean everyone would. So, while I'll be making a update post when I add something, I'll try making them either short, or containing some sort of idea of what's going on currently.

Since I've been out of school, it's become harder and harder to write. But lately, I've been finding that even the smallest bit of writing helps. So that's what this will be about. Sorting my memories, helping people to understand, and freeing myself a little bit.

Curse?

Apr. 23rd, 2002 03:31 pm
fireflys_locket: (Kagome Stupid Weather - fireflys_locket)
I came into school one day, acting as normal as I had been considering the emotional trauma I was hiding inside. I passed Seth talking with the principal and Mrs. Kauldy in the hallway. I thought nothing of it; Seth is constantly in trouble. Still, the look he gave me was troubling. Or perhaps I was just imagining it. I was good at that. After all, I had once imagined he'd cared for me.

I later found that I have once again been placed in a class with Seth. Oh, yes... that's what they'd been discussing. Pity I had no say in the transfer. I would have left him in the class with his troublesome friends, believe me. I'm certain he would have liked it that way, but that would just have to be overlooked.

...curse or blessing? I cannot yet tell.
fireflys_locket: (Default)
The 7th grade was combined the whole day. Being a Catholic School, we had our confession day. We have it twice a year: Once before Christmas and once before Easter. I always dread confession days. I get horribly nervous and jumpy. I can't explain why really. I suppose it's just because the priest always looks at me when I'm finished as if to say, "And...". So I always end up saying, "And, that's it." Then he proceeds to look at me as though I am lying. Does anyone else feel that way, I wonder. It's suppose to make you feel better, isn't it? It always makes me feel like I am going to retch.

As I walked up the stairs, feeling rather sick indeed, I realized that classes had changed during my torment. I thought, "Wouldn't it be funny if he was in my seat?".

And guess what? He was. The he being the boy I mildly mentioned before as a fleeting object of affection. I will refer to him from now on as Jellybean. Although, I doubt I'll need to much...

So, I became even more upset. I no longer hold feelings for Jellybean, but it was still difficult to be near him. Why must I hold on to such negative things? Perhaps I'll never know.

Later though, I also had to deal with Seth. He spotted me reading some Saint Tail fanfiction. In the folder I also had my favorite picture of Saint Tail. He was staring at it. He asked annoying questions too. Sadly, it was the highlight of my day.

Isn't it?

Feb. 26th, 2002 04:23 pm
fireflys_locket: (Default)
It was horrifying. Seth has returned to St. Joes... I found out he would on Wednesday, actually. When Mrs. Elder annouced it, I dropped my books. I knew at once that this was a bad thing.

Still, when he showed up, it was like nothing had changed. He bothered me like crazy.. even called me Moose once. And, as I was explaining a story to Jenna, we got into a fight.

Horrible, awful, dreadful... isn't it?

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fireflys_locket

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