I finally caved. Rather like the blog incident, I gave in to the mounting peer pressure and... yes. I made a facebook.
Instantly, I was bombarded with potential 'friends'! "You might know... so and so or so and so or so and so or so and so...." My mind began, quite lazily, to locate the files stored somewhere in the very back of my brain-locker. Does this face look familiar? Yes, no. Maybe. They all look the same! I couldn't have told any of them apart if their names hadn't been there. I switched to focus solely on the given name beside their sexy-picture-poses. Oh, her?
All it did was stir up resentment in me. Of course I knew these people. They were the same who mocked me throughout my elementary years, whispered spiteful lies behind my back in middle school. High school has been such a relief since they decided that my existence isn't even worth acknowledging!
How could I not feel betrayed, though? Scrolling through this list of hated names. They were all connected to me by the same person... my best friend. How can she be friends with the girl who called me a freak and spread rumors about my drinking bird's blood on the full moon? How can she sleep at night knowing that my ex... the one she claims to detest... the one who lied with every breath... is labeled as her 'friend' on facebook? It is despicable.
It should be called Fakebook. Nobody has nine hundred and eighty-two friends. Nobody. You wouldn't have time, even if you spent every waking moment trying to maintain said friendships... it would be impossible. So why do we go online and 'friend' all these people who we barely know, hardly like, and sometimes can't even stand?
Is it status alone? The ideal of popularity which, on a grander scale, equates fame?
I do not want to play their games. Too long did I fight to please. I have spent too long trying not to step on toes, smiling and apologizing and outright lying to make other people happy. Where did it ever get me? I've been used and mistreated, undervalued and overlooked, dismissed and left behind. Trash.
I can't wait until they realize how wrong they were. Are. I'm doing my best to make it happen. I can taste it... the triumph. Can you see the sweet future, so glorious in its indistinct and untouchable, wraithlike form?
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Saturday, July 14, 2012
I wonder if anybody will ever read this. Ever. I never was an optimist, and it seems pointless to assume that people will take some sort of odd interest in this meaningless blog.
It finally happened. Today, it rained. I've been anticipating the storm for weeks. The sky was seiged and overtaken by clouds until it was a vast, rolling field of textural hills. The storm hit us full speed. It was so breathtakingly beautiful that I wondered if it could really be what scientists proclaim it to be. Evaporated water collecting into fluffy clouds which become too heavy to continue floating. To me, it seemed that the clouds were merely a heavenly veil concealing thousands of grim-faced angels whose solemn duty is to drop these crystalized tears through the smog. As the crystal tears plummet to earth, they melt and become rain.
Unfortunately, I didn't have the opportunity to stand out in the street with my head thrown back. Being at work at the time, I was forced to bustle through the kitchen carrying trays, dirty dishes, and picking up any slack left by my coworkers. It was tempting to simply bolt. What could they do? I would lose my job, probably. Would it be worth the ten-minute thunderstorm? Wouldn't I cherish the memory for the entirety of my life? To run through the tendrils of smoke, curling up from the steaming pavement, to toss my arms up and spin on my heel, to coo at the sky as if it were a smile child that I could coddle, and to pretend for one blessed moment that nothing in the whole world mattered more than that single instant.
That's what I would have done.
But I fully intend to leave this bloody state someday. I can't stand the mountains. It makes me sick to think about the way the entire city sits in this wretched bowl, and all the people float around like self-righteous cheerios. Their milk is blind religion.
Leaving would require certain things, though. Like money. You know - currency. It rules the world. I've picked up a job at a nursing center in order to save for college. It's still a ways away... especially since I haven't actually done as much saving as I thought I would. It isn't easy to not spend money when you actually have it! I'm determined to keep trying, and I know I can slowly build my self-restraint until, eventually, the money really does stay in the bank.
Anyhow, my point (before my random digression) is that I need to keep earning money. That requires a job. That requires not running outside during the busiest part of the afternoon in order to dance in the torrential downpour.
By the time I escaped to my car, (who is named Allen, by the way... what? you don't name your vehicals?) the rain had subsided. Fortunately, there were enough clouds left to hide me away from the sun. We aren't friends... the sun and I. It tends to fry my delicate skin, causing me to peel and freckle. In return, I shun the great ball of fire like the plague. Believe me, I look better as a pasty, gaunt ghost than I would with a peppered complexion.
That's all. That was my day, besides a pit stop at the library.
"Now I just stare into the sun and I see everything I've done. I think I could have been someone, but I can't stop what has begun." ~ Nine Inch Nails.
ML
It finally happened. Today, it rained. I've been anticipating the storm for weeks. The sky was seiged and overtaken by clouds until it was a vast, rolling field of textural hills. The storm hit us full speed. It was so breathtakingly beautiful that I wondered if it could really be what scientists proclaim it to be. Evaporated water collecting into fluffy clouds which become too heavy to continue floating. To me, it seemed that the clouds were merely a heavenly veil concealing thousands of grim-faced angels whose solemn duty is to drop these crystalized tears through the smog. As the crystal tears plummet to earth, they melt and become rain.
Unfortunately, I didn't have the opportunity to stand out in the street with my head thrown back. Being at work at the time, I was forced to bustle through the kitchen carrying trays, dirty dishes, and picking up any slack left by my coworkers. It was tempting to simply bolt. What could they do? I would lose my job, probably. Would it be worth the ten-minute thunderstorm? Wouldn't I cherish the memory for the entirety of my life? To run through the tendrils of smoke, curling up from the steaming pavement, to toss my arms up and spin on my heel, to coo at the sky as if it were a smile child that I could coddle, and to pretend for one blessed moment that nothing in the whole world mattered more than that single instant.
That's what I would have done.
But I fully intend to leave this bloody state someday. I can't stand the mountains. It makes me sick to think about the way the entire city sits in this wretched bowl, and all the people float around like self-righteous cheerios. Their milk is blind religion.
Leaving would require certain things, though. Like money. You know - currency. It rules the world. I've picked up a job at a nursing center in order to save for college. It's still a ways away... especially since I haven't actually done as much saving as I thought I would. It isn't easy to not spend money when you actually have it! I'm determined to keep trying, and I know I can slowly build my self-restraint until, eventually, the money really does stay in the bank.
Anyhow, my point (before my random digression) is that I need to keep earning money. That requires a job. That requires not running outside during the busiest part of the afternoon in order to dance in the torrential downpour.
By the time I escaped to my car, (who is named Allen, by the way... what? you don't name your vehicals?) the rain had subsided. Fortunately, there were enough clouds left to hide me away from the sun. We aren't friends... the sun and I. It tends to fry my delicate skin, causing me to peel and freckle. In return, I shun the great ball of fire like the plague. Believe me, I look better as a pasty, gaunt ghost than I would with a peppered complexion.
That's all. That was my day, besides a pit stop at the library.
"Now I just stare into the sun and I see everything I've done. I think I could have been someone, but I can't stop what has begun." ~ Nine Inch Nails.
ML
Friday, July 13, 2012
Blogging
It wasn't very long ago that I thought having a blog was the equivalent of having way too much time on your hands. Maybe I wasn't altogether incorrect, but I find more and more lately that I desire to share the beauty that I experience from day to day. Little things... the delight of a long soak in an herbed bath... odd coincidences which I have come to accept as Fate's way of communicating with me... a sudden, shocking revelation... life. My life. To be honest, nothing incredibly exciting ever happens to me. However, having said that, I have come to accept, through contemplation, that perhaps it isn't such a bad thing to have some level of homeostasis. Is reliability such a bad thing, after all? Maybe I prefer to know.Maybe I don't.
I'm a little dreamer, a little writer, a little singer, a little girl trying to find her way in a big world which could be considered small compared to her dreams. Petite Megara. Little, but not to be underestimated.
It is safe to say that this is my first time doing this. Sure, we made a blog page in school once... but that was how many years ago? I'd like to think that this can become a place for me to let it out. I'm a little emotional, being a girl and hormonal and whatnot. Too many emotions for me to contain. At times, I feel like I might explode! Then fade away, like a snowflake caught in the palm of your hand. I might simply disappear and not a soul would miss me.
I search for meaning in life. Every day, I look and I look. I find it most frequently in my dreams. Big dreams for a little girl, remember? Without this village of fulfillment which I've quietly built in my mind, where would I find purpose? I find the best outlet for my overactive imagination to be words. I write so that I might not go insane. I write to share the things that I see.
A blog is a lot of writing, no? Then maybe this will be just the thing for me.
I'm a little dreamer, a little writer, a little singer, a little girl trying to find her way in a big world which could be considered small compared to her dreams. Petite Megara. Little, but not to be underestimated.
It is safe to say that this is my first time doing this. Sure, we made a blog page in school once... but that was how many years ago? I'd like to think that this can become a place for me to let it out. I'm a little emotional, being a girl and hormonal and whatnot. Too many emotions for me to contain. At times, I feel like I might explode! Then fade away, like a snowflake caught in the palm of your hand. I might simply disappear and not a soul would miss me.
I search for meaning in life. Every day, I look and I look. I find it most frequently in my dreams. Big dreams for a little girl, remember? Without this village of fulfillment which I've quietly built in my mind, where would I find purpose? I find the best outlet for my overactive imagination to be words. I write so that I might not go insane. I write to share the things that I see.
A blog is a lot of writing, no? Then maybe this will be just the thing for me.
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