Love

It's this feeling inside me...a collection of emotion--happy and joyful--that makes me want to smile all the time. It's the way he kisses my forehead and strokes my hair. It's those butterflies I get every time I see him. The chills I feel when I think about him. It's the way my lips tingle after he kisses me, or the sense of relief I get when he holds my hand. The way I feel safe when he has his arms around me. The way he calls me beautiful even when I know I look gross. It's the way he not only lifts me up, but walks with me through hard times. It's the way he'll do anything for me. How he reminds me every day that he will always love me, even when I've done something to make him think that I'm a hopeless mistake. It's the way he forgives me, even if it's not easy sometimes. It's how he realizes when he's made a mistake and does something to fix it--sincerely and quickly. It's how he respects me and our standards.
It's the way he makes me feel all the time.
Happiness. Bliss. Heaven.
I am in love. And I will love him forever. :)

Questions of Love.

Things are beginning to be awkward. I can tell.
Not as much time is spent together...we can't always be joking...can we?
I mean, I love him. Right?
I think I was hoping that would make everything better.
Love.
It's wonderful, soft, heart-warming...
I feel happy now. I really do. Even through the sickness and pain, I can smile and know that things are alright.
But why are things awkward?
Why don't they flow as smoothly as before?
Is it because of what I said? What I've written?
Does he not feel the same anymore?
I hope...
but everytime I hope, there's that feeling there. That one that tells me that something is wrong, but it will be okay.
Do I trust it? Do I trust that voice in me that must know something I don't yet?
Or do I go on, do I let it play out...?
So many questions with so little answers.
Yet, I'd be content with one:
Why is it awkward?

Late at night.

It irritates me, you know, how people are sometimes.
1.
Bedtime. I want to sleep. But I'm kept up with those silly sounds above my head.
2.
Covers over my entire frame, shivering. This is not what I want.
3.
One after another.
4. 5. 6. 7.
Maybe I should take a look...
8.
No. I can't. I won't. There isn't anything in the world that would make me look.
9. 10.
In my hands, I'm reading now. My jaw clenches and my hands threaten to break the object.
11.
Clingy. I believe that's the word.
12.
There is no way that I want to deal with this now.
13.
Make up your mind--one or the other.
14.
This is what I feel. I won't hesitate as I write out the words, spell them in my head and then where I can see them.
15.
The reactions...they are all the wrong ones. I was wrong.
16. 17.
I'm done looking at these. I will sleep. I will forget everything and sleep.
18. 19. 20. 21. 22.
Wake up. And there they are. All of them.
23. 24. 25.
This is a joke. No one can make up their mind here. We are insane. All going insane.

I will not compromise. That's just it. I won't. Because I have worked hard for my entire life for a reason. I will not settle. There is someone waiting for me to make a right choice. And it's no one's business as to what I decided. This...this is between me and the being.

Maybe it's over. Maybe it should be. We need to grow up, mature. Live life. Be strong. And if we can't learn how to do that first on our own...then we can't do it at all together.

Fairytales

Once upon a time there lived a girl who always smiled. Everyone who so much as glanced at her loved her because of this; they felt her warmth and enjoyed her presence. They cherished her so much that when the town gathered together, the people decided to build her an exquisite house—remarkable and grand—but obviously made only for her protection; to keep her hidden from the world. Only the townsfolk could come into her home freely and they did as they pleased, leaving the girl with hardly any time to rest. For decades it remained the same—the people using her as they wished—and the girl kept her young, breathtaking image. The people routinely came; leaving their burdens with the smiling girl. And little by little her smile began to diminish with those same burdens. Eventually, her smile completely disappeared, leaving the people to an unhappy state for they did not know where else to find happiness. They lived this way for a long time, until the people realized they could be happy without the beautiful young woman. She was forgotten in her home; lovely still, with a heartbroken frown plain on her features.

One evening a young man who had learned of the girl’s home set out to feed his own curiosity. When he entered her home—a dark and gloomy place—he supposed that the people had been lying, for there was no sign of life to be found. But just as he was ready to leave, he heard the faintest of whimpers. He set out to find her—the lovely woman he’d heard much of—and found her at last in an armchair, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t even seem to realize him as he walked to kneel in front of her, and did not answer his questions regarding her sad state. She did not respond to him; only whimpered to herself and stared out the empty table in front of her.

The young man wanted to weep with her, for such a lovely face should not look so sad. Such a young woman should have no reason to cry so deeply.

He left late at night and thought endlessly of her.

The next evening, he returned, a bouquet of the brightest mountain flowers in his hand. He hoped this would bring her joy, for all the women in her town adored the flowers but could not pick them because of a difficult climb to find their hiding place. Yet, the girl did not respond. She stared at the table with the same face and did not move as the young man left her home. But he still returned every day, carrying the same mountain flowers. Sometimes he would stay and talk to her, telling her of different things that happened in the town, of all the bright colors and people. Still, she would not move, would not even look at him. Though, sometimes, he swore he could see the light shining in her dark eyes.

It remained the same for years to come.

The boy continued to bring his gift faithfully and continued to stay with the woman longer each time, occasionally falling asleep in her presence.

It was on a day when the young man felt overwhelmed that he brought the mountain flowers with the intention of giving up. When he placed them on the table for her to stare at, he turned toward her to say his goodbyes and was stunned by the small smile on her face. It was barely anything—just a small curve of her lips—but it was enough. He continued on, every day bringing her flowers, and her smile grew each time. She began to look at him as he spoke to her, and her eyes would light up with happiness as he kissed her hand before he left. Then, on a day where the rain poured heavily, she waited at the window for him to return. She smiled as he entered her home.

“Thank you,” she told him, in a voice like silk, “You have kept me alive when I had no reason to live. You have sacrificed much for my sake. I will forever remember and love you.” With these words, she kissed him.

They boy hugged her closely to him and wept with her words, for he had begun to lose hope once more, but she had saved him as well.

Months passed before the two were wed. The young man brought flowers to his lovely wife daily as a token of his love, while she forever remembered and shared her love.

And they happily spent the eternities together—lifting each other as it was meant to be.

Bikes..?

Not really feeling it lately; life's in one of those muddy puddles your bike gets stuck in. I guess I could make some great fun from the situation...but you know, it's really not that easy when you're going through it. You might look on that mud puddle from the outside and say 'ohh, fun! I love the mud, let's go run through it.' So, you do. But when you get right in the middle--to the deepest part where no one can reach you, and no one is going to jump in because they didn't want to get their hands dirty in the first place--you realize that maybe it isn't going to be as fun as you thought it would be. Sometimes you might have to lose your precious bike in the process. And you know how children are with their bikes; life is a lost cause without your bike. If anything, your bike is such a big part of your life that when it's gone...there's no more life to live.
Why am I talking about bikes?
That's...wow.
Maybe I need a therapist.

My hair is long.

This summer has been surprisingly fun. I've enjoyed myself much more than I probably should be--but I don't care! Sorry, self, but this is the last summer I have in a way. It's my last childhood summer, I might as well make something of it. I've decided I'll learn Russian. Well, I did decide...and attempted. But I can't find a good enough program to teach me at the library so that plan is flailing at the moment. I'll pick it up when I can find something easier to learn with. I've been on walks--I'm doing those again, and it feels so good--with my best friend that I've made. He's also pretty great; we're together a lot...so says everyone. But really, the time flies by, so I wouldn't really know the difference!
I haven't looked at the stars in a while (actually having laid out and stared at them) but I have taken a glance or two and one night I thought I saw that scorpion in the sky. It made me happy that I could even recognize it in the first place...if it WAS the scorpion. If not, well, I'm happy that I have the imagination to make the stars look like one!
I've written letters to my best friend in the Army. I'm actually awaiting a response to a letter I sent at the beginning of the week; two letters, because it took me so long to respond which makes me feel a little horrible. He's only in basic training now, but I miss him like crazy! Once he gets back we'll be doing lots of things, hopefully. We only have a few days between the time he comes home and school...but at least there's time to do a thing or two. Maybe go get a bite to eat, or bowl or something.
I've finally finished an entire 500(ish) paged book! 'Flyboys' was absolutely amazing! Very sad at times...most of the time, and graphic, but fantastic. It's a definite eye-opener to WWII.
My job as a lifeguard has progressed a little--I now teach swim lessons! The kids are oh, so very cute and I love them all. Some call me 'teacher' because they can't remember my name, and others call me 'Danielle' in those cute voices they have...cute!! It makes me want to have kids of my own sometime soon; but not until I'm married and a little bit into that. Maybe a few years into that. Yeah. And I probably won't get married soon...so I'll have to wait a little bit. But that's okay, I can steal other people's kids for a while. Babysit them and such.
Back to lifeguarding and my job! I'm super dark--almost black. I've gotten a lot of sun sitting out in that guard chair watching the people in the pool. My nose is sunburned and it kind of hurt yesterday, but today it's fine. My shoulders though...when they're burnt like they are now...yikes. That hurts pretty bad. My shoulders haven't gotten burnt in forever either, so I'm a little bit of a child when it comes to that kind of pain.
My ring that mom and dad gave me for graduation got back to me a couple days ago from being resized. It fits perfect now! It's a beautiful silver band with a saltwater (?) pearl in the middle and a couple very, very small diamonds on each edge. I love it and I wear it everywhere I go, along with the matching earrings and necklace it came with.
That's all that's really going on so far...and the only reason I posted this is because I have nothing else to really do. Always a good thing when your schedule gets to be a little hectic.

But hopefully I'll find more time to keep writing.

Life.

We all go through it—all suffer its pains and experience its joys, and some of us may think that we have more of one than the other.

There are some who are so overjoyed to be alive, always exclaiming that it’s a great day to live, smelling the flowers, enjoying the weather, smiling at everyone they see. They never seem to have a care in the world, ignorant to their surroundings, and most of us look to them and say, “Wow, what it would be like—how great my life would be—if I could only taste what theirs is. Their life with its utter perfection, it’s straight seams and lovely colors. No rips and tears to make it undesirable…”

And then there are others, those who never seem to understand what happiness is and can be. Those who look at the world and its ugliness, never seeing anything else. They see it’s filth, it’s poverty, the wars and contention and complain of how our humanity has failed us. But they never seem to do more than that; complain. And there are those of us who look at them and say, “Wow, to be like them—if my life were like that, I would not be able to live with myself. I pity these people, those who do not live life, who do not see it how I do. I will never be like them…”

Then there are the few, those very few, who have some how balanced the two out, seeing both good and bad in life. But they have found the equality in it; the place where happiness exists perfectly—that place where of course things go wrong because it is life, after all, but it’s alright, because everything has purpose. Everything happens to strengthen the person for good. Bad happens for good—happens to the best of us, to the strongest of us. These people, they experience true life. True happiness. They know why. They know who they are; they know, even if they don’t. It all makes sense, even when it doesn’t because they are confident people whose eyes shine with the truth they carry.

This truth?

They are Children of a God. A wonderful God who loves and cares for them. Children of Heavenly Parents who wish and hope and push for them to succeed because They want for Their children to return soon—and not only return, but return to Them, return in the highest state possible. They belong to higher Beings and are here for a higher purpose—they understand and so must we.

It’s up to only ourselves, as individuals, when that truth will become a reality in our own lives.

High School Grad

Well, it's official! I'm graduated from that High School down the street. I never have to show my face there ever again. I didn't attend the actual graduation ceremonies--and I got a lot of glares and weird looks because of that detail--but I didn't need to. Ceremonies for these kinds of things, so young, are unnecessary. Just little things to distract us, to almost get us to forget that we have things to do...
I know I have things to do. I don't need a graduation ceremony to distract me. I don't need a graduation to tell me that I'm done. I don't even need a paper with my name on it...
I know that I've worked hard to get through high school, and I've done it pretty well. I'm proud of what I've accomplished with the help of my family and few friends. I guess this post, in a way, can be my ceremony. I don't have a cap and gown, no tassel, no rolled up diploma to shout for in my hands; but I do have gained knowledge from over the years. I can say I've learned more than what was taught to me by my teachers. I can say that I've worked hard to set up a path to complete my final goal in schooling.
So, you see? I don't need an official ceremony. I don't care for them.
There are too many people there to bug you, anyway.

Nothing to Say

For the first time in a long while, I am alone.

Alone in a deep well of what feels like nothingness, but I know there’s more to it because when other people surrounded me, there were things here. I know there are things here now—they couldn’t have just disappeared with those people who I let leave. Some who I wanted to go; others, very few, who I didn’t. The lights are only off, and I know that all I have to do to obtain an object of desire is reach out and grab it. But the object is not the same; there is no light to shine on its beauty. I do not know what it looks like in detail anymore; I only know that it exists. That it had existed before in my life and that it must be there now, but there is no light.

I used to know people, people who said that I made them happy. And I would wonder to myself incredulously, thinking how it was possible that I could do that—me with my small ideas, my small voice, my small everything. Yet, they kept saying the words like I’d saved them from something horrible. I was happy for them; happy to help them; happy that I, as one little girl, could be something. I was happy because they made me that way. But I’ve realized something; you can’t let your happiness be based off another person, because at one point or another, that person always leaves you. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes on accident; it happens, and your heart breaks. Over and over it does, leaving a wound that no one can fix but you, and even then it can never be completely healed. A scar stands there on your once thriving, living heart. It’s now lost a little color, grown slightly colder. If you’re not careful, you can wake up one morning and find that it’s completely black, or someone else will point it out to you. But what is there to be done? Your soul has been broken by many; many who may not even realize how much you’ve been through yet break you anyway simply because they can.

I catch myself wondering why the world is so cruel. Why—in times of so much peril and distress—that people can only seem to find fault with one another. Until I realize that I’m one of them. It disgusts me; I disgust me. I probably disgust them, too. It’s probably the reason why they’ve left. Why they’ve left to be with others better than me…

I hold only myself accountable for the loss. But I’m not sure that I can say that I’m happy. I don’t know what I am anymore—lost in a state of insensibility? Maybe I can’t say because I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve lost my identity, in a sense—lost who I am and was. Maybe that’s a good thing—I’m stronger now. I can stick up for myself a little more than I could when I could feel.

I want to feel again—be the passionate creature I used to be. Laugh at anything I thought remotely funny, even though no one else believed it to be that way. Cry with those who were struggling, even if I had only just met them. Love all those I held close to my heart without regret. Smile to myself at the memories of simpler days.

I want to be the person who didn’t regret feeling with all her heart.

For the first time in a very, long while…I am alone.

Very alone.

Humanity

I'm sick of people; sick of the way they lie to me, sick of the way they go about their strange ways. I'm sick of how they treat me; like I'm just some small doll there for show. I'm sick of people.
I'm sick of the way they morbidly lie to themselves and others, sick of the way they pretend they know everything when they don't. I'm sick of how they flaunt their talents around like those are something that they alone own. I'm sick of them and their dirty, filthy ways.
I am sick of people.
Sick of my own kind.

I'd like to think I'm one of those people where if I say 'I promise' I go through with whatever I promised to do. And if I know that I cannot accomplish what someone wants, then I do not say the words. I will not--it is against who I am. This is where I stand.
So you can imagine how upsetting it must be when someone promises me something and does not come about with their end. Of course, I'm not one to explode in someone's face, either--unless absolutely necessary. But when a promise is not kept, I feel as though I was not important or special enough to be remembered. That I was not someone's priority for a small time. Isn't that an offensive thought in itself? When someone says they will put time towards you and never does? It's almost worse than a slap in the face, is it not?
Now, what about those tacit promises? The ones that come along with friendship?
Those shouldn't be too difficult to keep, yet I see them broken all the time. Best friends come before new acquaintances. It's known fact--yes, fact. So when a friend gets distracted, how must the other feel...
How horrible it must be to walk the world alone for a time, all because your comrade is staring off into a light you once warned would come. You come to learn what the term 'hidden pain' really means.
I don't understand why we're so heartless as human beings. Our hearts wax colder each day, and no one even seems to mind.
Well, I mind. I care whether my heart dies along with all the others. I refuse to let it do so--I will struggle to keep it beating colors while everyone else only bleeds gray.
I can't stand these people that surround me every day. I can't stand the way they look at me, at other people. I can't stand the way that they talk.
But I can't live without them.

My 'Adult' Life

It's sad that I haven't written one of these yet! I've been an 'official adult' for over 3 months now and I've given no updates as to what it's like...
Not that it's any different of course. I'm still stuck in that horrible preppy high school of mine where school pride seems to be the main focus of everything, although I won't be there much longer and that thought in itself makes me ecstatic. I don't feel any older than normal; I guess it's that whole having to mature earlier than everyone else my age. I don't mind it though. I'm glad I only went through a year or so of actual teenage years; if I had to go through any more I'm sure I would have driven myself, and possibly others, to insanity.
I'm getting off topic.
What's it like being an adult?
I get to graduate. I think that's the major event at the moment--the one I'm most excited for, anyways. I'm not even going to the actual graduation ceremony, though. I do have good reason; I don't want to. It's a waste of my time, of my parent's money and I'd rather not go sit through hours of names just to receive a fake paper reminding me to return my cap and gown only to later receive my true diploma that will constantly remind me of the years I suffered through in high school. No, thank you. I'm perfectly fine staying home, laying on my couch writing what I would have imagined graduation to be like.
I don't feel cheated in any way. In fact I feel relieved. I don't have to be surrounded by thousands of people. That in itself was reason enough not to go.
Kids at that strange, overly happy high school of mine think I'm crazy for not going. They're finally figuring out that I'm not as social as they thought I was. I do feel the slightest hint of guilt, but it doesn't matter anymore. They leave me alone now and it makes me happy.
What else is there to being an adult?
I guess you could say I'm at that point in life where I'm not dating anyone and I'm not looking to, while at the same time no one is looking to date me. It's that 'awkward stage' I've always heard people talk about but never understood for myself. Well, now I do and I am enjoying every second of being little single me. No one bothers me, not one poor soul. I could throw my own celebration from the joy I feel--alright, maybe not that far, but seriously, I am happy I don't have to deal with the boy drama other girls cause for themselves. I'm glad I'm not stupid. No offense to anyone who reads this and may be experiencing trouble themselves; maybe I just don't understand your situation and for that I apologize.
Hopefully I don't get married too soon though. Everyone seems to be saying I will, but I will try as hard as I can to make sure that doesn't happen. I need to make sure I can finish college and be prepared first. My goal is to wait until I'm at least 23. Everyone nowadays here is getting married when they're 20! How insane are they? I'm not even going to answer that.
I get to start college in the fall. I'm so happy I get to be with older people I can't even begin to explain. I'm not sure how well I'll get along with them, considering the fact that I don't really talk much and I'm younger than them--being a freshman--but we'll see how it goes. I will be attending Westminster. I remember wanting to go there ever since Dad took me there when he went there for nursing school forever ago. It seems almost impossible that I'm going there now, too, with almost all my tuition paid off already with scholarships and grants. And into music, of all things. I never would've thought when I was going to Dad's nursing classes with him that music is what I would be going to Westminster for. But that's what I love and it's what I'm going to be happy doing.

I still have to say, though, that I don't feel any different. As my life goes on, I just move along with it. 'Go with the flow', right?