My voice and the back of my throat hurts from the yelling. Will my mother and I ever get along? Maybe if I'm in my deathbed or she's in hers. Another fight ensued, the kind of fight that you see in dramatic movies where you think the kid is going to kill themselves, the kind of fight that makes you wonder if that family is broken, the kind of fight where there are actually physical blows as well as emotional ones, the kind that makes you wonder what happened to the mother in her past to make her act that way, the kind that makes you never want to have a daughter like 'that' one, that kind, the kind that breaks you.. Everything she says annoys me and I feel this irritation tickling the back of neck. I get so mad so easily and I feel the blood rush to my head and I get dizzy.

...It's funny that every single one of the dearest relationships of my life or anyone's for that matter are dwindling into nothing. I woke up from a really long nap. Time to wake up, May.

I can't remember what was so great about being six years old and playing in a sand box, all I know was that it was great. I'm sure that's enough to make anyone long for their childhood because you always recall that the happiness of that time would beat the hell out of the time you are going through right now. You will never be happy as you were when you were six.

I haven't been good with words in God knows how long. My talent for writing words of mellifluous black and white truth escaped through my hands like the handshake of the good-bye from your first love. All I know in my heart right now are words not spoken by me, but sung by someone else. This is all I know right now. All that I know. I don't how how to let you know how I feel but these few words. Take a few seconds to let it sink in. It's perfect.

I want so badly to believe
that there is truth
and love is real
and I want life in every word
to the extent that it's absurd

I give up on fairytales.

I give up on all of them. They will never last. They never existed. I'm not going into one of those fuckin' "emo" moods where I complain about the despair of life and talk about some morbid death that would suffice as happiness. I'm just starting to let it all sink in, after 4 years...after very four long years, when I discovered the real truth about reality, that Life is not as great as I thought it would be.

I have a hard time with picking between being the optimist and the pessimist. I know who I am and I feel it. I don't have words for it just yet because I'm so use to explaining who I am in the way that I was 2 years ago. Because I keep thinking I'm that same person. But I'm not. I've changed. I'm not sure if I was ready to change. I don't like it the new me very much, even though, in all logical reasons it would seem that I've gotten better, but I think, I think, I'm worse.

I'm not sure if this entry made any sense at all. It's just that I haven't felt this broken before. And life isn't the fairytale that I dreamed; I have these thoughts replaying itself over and over in my mind: my mother probably won't talk to me for a few days, scott and I are having second doubts about this long distance relationship deal (my view of love is distorted), I don't have tangible friends here, and I haven't felt this grown up and childish in my entire life. The grown up part making me realize that 'everythings going to be okay' in the end and the 'childish' making everything bigger than it is and everything has to be happy now.

i don't want to be me anymore

Air. Clouds. Breathe.

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