I'll be pretty...
I'll be a good painter...
I'll be a good writer...
I'll finish writing my 3 books that are unfinished...
I'll finish my algebra that I never do...
I'll write every friend I have...
I'll pray...
I'll eat...
I'll see my friends...
I'll see my Alex...
I'll be skinny...
I'll be free...
I'll understand...
I'll be involved...
I'll be allowed...
I'll be graceful...
I'll be accepted...
I'll be talented...
I'll be known...
I'll know...
I'll untangle my hair...
I'll be happier...
I'll be in love...
I'll be trusting...
I'll be trusted...
I'll be your best friend...
I'll be your worst enemy...
I'll be my mom's friend...
I'll love my siblings...
I'll remember all of it...
I'll have a job...
I'll be respected...
I'll grow up...
It'll stop...
It'll be better...
It'll be over...
It'll change...
I'll change...
I'll listen...
I'll be better...
                        ...One day...

She breathes....in and out and concentrate souly on that. She times herself. How many seconds do my inhales last? My exhales? Then she averages them for every 5 sets. In through the nose and out through the mouth just like it should be, even though it's easier to just breathe through the mouth. She ignore the pains in her legs. She doesn't know how far she has gone. She's barely aware that she is wearing shorts. It's cold. She realizes she has gone off track, so she begins to count again. She focuses on the little cloud puffs coming out of her mouth. In chemistry they talked about making clouds and that you could possibly make a small rain storm in a bottle with the right elements. She imagines it snowing from her little puffs of air. In books the picture of winter is always a person with crazy hair, red cheeks, blowing out wind, clouds, and snow. She imagines that's how she must look. Her hair's a mess, pouring down her shoulders, her cheeks must be bright red by now, her eyes bright and starry with tears yet to be spilled. The little clouds puff out from her mouth and she chances to look where she is and realizes it was a mistake to do so. She's ended up downtown and realizes how tired she is. Ten or more miles. She legs feel on fire. She wanders over to the river wall and walks through. The people around her, admiring the Christmas lights as they pour out of Cafe N'Orleans must think she's crazy...shorts in December? One woman looks as if she wants to say something but just shakes her head. The girl narrows her eyes and runs along the wall. They don't get it. They all probably think she's irresponsible or childish. And she looks childish. Her round cheeks rosy and covered in dried tears. Her eyes puffy from crying, her hair disheveled and in her face. She looks like she got in trouble and has been pouty. Pouty after running ten miles. She wonders if anyone will come looking for her. Her stomach begins to churn and she runs to bend over the side of a trash can, holding her long hair back. She settles beside the wall and begins to sob. Ridiculous little baby sobs, she thinks. She wanders down the steps to the river and leans over it, dropping in a few rocks. Suddenly her necklace slips into the water. She gasps and reaches in almost immediately to grab it. Her hand comes out of the frigid water with the blue heart and silver clover necklace. Not thinking she slips it back on and the cold water runs down her neck. She stays on the step for a while until a man comes in. She remembers something from her past and runs out. She runs continuously. Past the music store, past all the gleaming lights tempting people in like candy to children. She runs past the tavern where people are laughing and joking around. She runs past the blinding lights of the gas station and down the street where her friend's uncle lives. At one time she thought she could be in love with that friend...if she wasn't a girl. Or because she was a girl. She runs up to her house. The house is empty. No one home. Just the way she left it. Her mirror doesn't tell her much. All she sees is a scared little girl with wide dark eyes looking as though she released her soul to the dark river. She couldn't stop shivering. She slipped off her shorts and t-shirt. She put on an oversized jersey and curled up with a blanket and pillow around the heater like a cat. She continued to shiver. She stared at the orange coils of the heater and drifted into a shivering state of sleep. She didn't know why she couldn't stop. She didn't know why she was so distraught. All she knew was that something bad was going to happen. And I don't like it.

M-O M-O-R M-O-R-N-I-N-G..W-O-O-D....
This is a song...it's called Nth Degree by Morningwood...I was singing it today and Vollink made me spell it out for him and then he asked if that was appropriate lyrical-ness for school. It took me a while to figure out what that was. See? I am still naiive. Which can be a good thing!! *pout*

Put on a smiling face for all the friendlies at school. My ride gets here and on it goes. I smile when I complain, smile when someone cuts in front of me, smile when I forget homework, smile when someone makes a not funny joke. I'm like Eleanor Rigby, wearing my face. I have just one jar sitting on the shelf beside my door, prepared for any unexpected visitors. Someone is at the door, I snap it into place, with a wincing smile I answer the door. Of course I'm all right, everything is all right. Can't you see me smiling? And they're smiling too. They wear a mask too. I wonder if they race for it as I do if there's any moments of unexpected emotion. If your eyes begin to brim with tears when a friend mentions her engagement. You cry because she's so young and you hope she knows what she's doing, and you hope one day in the future you'll know what you're doing, too. But you better snap that smile on and congratulate her. That's what she wants, not lectures, or hopes. She is certain. So you should be too. When your friend laughs at a teacher and what they say, as much as you hate yourself for it...you laugh too. Smile! Smile as you wonder if as this friend sucks up to this teacher in class and laughs at all his jokes, then is mean behind his back, does she do that to you too? Does she smile at you then smirk at everyone about you once you turn away? But you smile. Nothing is wrong, absolutely nothing!! You may be starving hungry, wanting to eat everything off your friend's trays, but you politely refuse it, smiling..."I'm full." Then smile off into space as you imagine what it'd be like to eat whatever you want...but can't because you're fat. Because maybe I do all these things. When I get home I stop smiling. I rest my face and sleep. I dream of a perfect world where floating music notes drift past me as I sleep peacefully. But then I wake. I do all my homework and cry in frustration. I have no one to help me. I used to take it to school and have others help me. I have no one to help me with this. So instead, like the pathetic person I am, I cry. I run out of our house to avoid the screams and race down the street in the freezing temperatures wearing a proud Notre Dame t-shirt and jeans. I return an hour later to enter my home where the one who made me run expects a hug. I don't give one. I instead mark next Monday and say a little prayer that everything will get better. That the next day I'll have the courage to leave my mask at home. As I am talked to I refill the tea, I look at all the fried food for dinner and cringe, then I take the phone to realize I can't talk to the people I want to because they are not home. Any of them. I set the phone back down, sigh, and go upstairs to fall back asleep, dreaming I never got to see anyone again, jerking awake to find I had an hour left of social time. But still, those I call are busy or disinterested. Or I imagine they're disinterested. I cry. I cry pathetically like a two year old that doesn't get their way. And that's what I am...crying because I don't get my way. I'm reading a book where one girl goes crazy after her husband tries to force himself on her. She falls out of love. And it drives her insane. He tries to apologize, but she can't understand what he's saying, and when she speaks it's in a language he can't understand. I feel like this sometimes. I wonder sometimes if I'd truly be sad if this happened or perhaps if I'd welcome it. Not to hear cruel remarks or worry what people are saying. I wouldn't have to worry that what I'd say might offend everyone. No one could understand me.

I sigh and glance at clouds so often wondering if you see the same sky. A streak of lightening and I wonder if it filled you with a thrill as it did me. When it rains I wonder if you turn off your radio and listen to nature's music instead. I pace my room watching the muted glows of my lamp fall across my sister's sleeping face. I know she feels sick and I feel bad. She is my sister. I wander my way softly down the steps, skipping the loud one, and peer into my brother's room. He has his monkey near him and video games around the TV. I use touch to feel my way past tables, record players, and chairs into the kitchen. I open the refridgerator as the cold light pours over me, chilling my stocking feet. I drink the milk straight out of the container. You told me if it hurt to drink some milk, and this isn't the kind of hurt that can be scratched. I feel my way to the living room to open the door briefly to see onto the orange glow of the street. The stop lights blink and rain blurs the picture. I stand there until I feel a presence behind me. I close the door and lock it, turn to see my mother, so I go upstairs. I lie in bed listening to the sounds of my sibling breathing, wondering how her and I became so different from just mere years ago. I wonder if we'll ever be really close. I listen to the sound of the rain, the thunderclap that follows the lightening and imagine you hear it too. I imagine you lie in bed and listen just as I do. I imagine you with a kitty on your neck and a game controller in your hand. I imagine you think of me just as I think of you. Do you?

We are now learning jazz in dance class....*jazz hands* and we listen to N'sync while learning it because Dinah (teacher) lurves boy bands. She even said she "lurves boy bands". I thought it was funny that she said lurve. Ha! Pants of silliness. I got fumes from hydrochloric acid up my nose today in chem though...cleared my nose but stung and now I have a headache *tear* for some reason I just made a whole bunch of new friends because I "crack their shit up" when I was doing the Time Warp while walking down the hallway this morning.

kids shooting up to pretend to be cool
adults shooting up to get that feeling
hippies getting jobs to pay for food
punks screaming anarchy and signing with a label
catholics say treat others the way you want to be treated
then banning gay marriage
baptists making fun of the catholics
then doing the same things
teachers telling students to pay attention
teachers falling asleep during teacher meetings
rich people complaining about the state of affairs
rich people doing nothing about it
Oprah giving people cars who have no homes
Oprah giving homes to people who didn't need one
Dr. Phil telling people to stand up for themselves
Dr. Phil saying that with a studio audience laughing in the background
mothers wanting to know every detail of your life
mothers saying not to treat her like a best friend
fathers crying on the phone about how he misses you
fathers not talking to you anymore when he begins to send money
people saying i love you just to fuck
people fucking because it means i love you
people making fun of blondes who dye their hair and wear tight clothes to be "cool"
people dying their hair black and wear baggy clothes, then complain about why they aren't "cool"
people who don't eat because they don't want to be fat
people who say they're fat just so someone will tell them they're skinny
people who say they're fat but wear skin tight clothes
people who say they're depressed and always look sad wanting help
people who always seem happy but are the ones who need help
writers who have writer's block writing about writer's block
rich people supporting bush
poor people dying
all american soldier dying
cowards surviving
dictator countries laughing with no rules
president with head in hand trying to maintain a noble code
little kids wanting to be teenager
teenagers wanting to be grown up
grown ups want to be little kids
old people wanting to live
teenagers wanting to die
TV tells us to be ourselves
TV showing skinny exotic girls everywhere
TV telling us to not smoke
everyone on TV smokes
TV telling us not to become anorexic
TV splashing the "obesity epidemic" everywhere
girls starving themselves to be thin
thin girls laughing at the ones starving
American girls are fat
French girls are skinny
Hollister clad kids listening to Metallica
people call them posers
Black clad kids listening to Natasha Bedingfield
people call them useless
the blonde perfect girl committing suicide
the girl in black lipstick goes to Harvard

nothing is ever as it seems
and nothing really seems fair
does it?

I think I like it best when it's raining outside. I like it when I can't go with my family and wherever they go. I like to clear my floor and turn up my music. I like to switch stations, from pop to rock, from rap to punk. I dance to it all. I shadow dance, do the chacha, tango, waltz, and swing. I put on heels and tap or try to be a Rockette. I make sure I can still do the splits, I stretch, twist, and turn. I may be chubby or fluffy or whatever people call me, but I'm a pretty bendable person. I go through old cheer stretches and jumps, I dance nonsense to nonsense music. I sing along with Kelly Clarkson. I put on make up I would never wear outside, I put on my beaded crown and just dance. I love to dance. No matter what is going on, I can dance. I can get out my anger or channel my peace. I can light candels or turn on a strobe light. I can open my windows and shout lyrics or I can dance at night. I can dance alone or with a friend. Everyone feels prettier when they dance. You feel graceful and slender, you feel like no one can hurt you. When you've finished the world doesn't seem like such a bad place anymore.

THE HISTORY OF CATWOMAN

SELINA KYLE’S CHILDHOOD was defined by tragedy.
When Selina was just a girl, her brutalized mother
committed suicide and her violent father drank himself
to death not long after. Separated from her younger
sister Magdalena and remanded to the Sprang Hall
Juvenile Detention Center—an abusive state home for
orphaned or delinquent girls—Selina opted instead to
take her chances on the mean streets of Gotham City.
Amid the crime and corruption of the poverty-stricken
East End district, she survived through petty theft.
Sharp wits and an amazing natural skill as a gymnast led to her
becoming the slickest and slipperiest cat burglar the Gotham City
Police Department had ever had to deal with.

FIRST APPEARANCE BATMAN: #1 (Spring 1940)
STATUS: Unresolved
REAL NAME: Selina Kyle
OCCUPATION: Cat burglar/vigilante
BASE: Gotham City’s East End
HEIGHT: 5ft 7in WEIGHT: 133 lbs EYES: Blue-green HAIR: Black
SPECIAL POWERS/ABILITIES: A formidable fighter with expertise in boxing
and various martial arts disciplines; skintight cat costume features
retractable razor-sharp claws in gloves and spring-action steel
climbing pitons in boots; wields a variety of bullwhips and
cat-o’-nine tails as offensive weapons and gymnastic accoutrements.
KEY STORYLINES
• CATWOMAN (1ST SERIES) #1-4 (FEBRUARY–MAY
1989) Selina Kyle’s life on the mean streets of
Gotham City is recounted.
• DETECTIVE COMICS #759-762
(AUGUST–NOVEMBER 2001) P.I. Slam Bradley is
hired to find the missing and presumed-dead
Selina.
• CATWOMAN (3RD SERIES) #1-4 (JANUARY–APRIL
2002) Catwoman stalks and defeats a
shape-changing serial killer who is
hunting Gotham’s ladies of
the evening.
THE FELINE FATALE
To protect herself from predators, Selina studied martial arts in a backstreet dojo where a
Sensei taught her how best to use her claws. Later, ex-heavyweight champ Ted Grant (see
WILDCAT I) taught Selina the “sweet science” of boxing. For a time, Selina was the most
accomplished thief nobody knew. She was also one of the most generous, spreading her
ill-gotten gains around the downtrodden and destitute of the East End,
including the young prostitute Holly “Gonightly”
Robinson, whom Selina befriended and
watched over like the little sister she
believed she no longer had.
Selina would have continued to rob
with impunity if not for the BATMAN.
Spying the Caped Crusader from her
window on one of his first outings, Selina
watched him in action and was suitably
inspired to take up her own costume when
prowling the Gotham night. In a tight
leather catsuit, Catwoman marked the city
as her territory. However, she never killed,
and she only stole from the wealthiest or
the well-insured. For these reasons, Batman
pursued other costumed criminals more relentlessly and gave Catwoman
the chance to change her spots. Sometimes he even asked the Princess
of Plunder to use her skills for the betterment of Gotham. Perhaps his
altruism attracted her, because Selina ultimately did decide to make
Catwoman more than just a thief in the night.
After faking her own demise, Selina left Gotham for a time, but
eventually returned to the city’s East End, where Catwoman now defends the defenseless.
Catwoman learned Batman’s best-kept secret when the Dark Knight took her to his
Batcave and revealed his identity to her. They finally admitted their feelings for each other
but then parted because Catwoman did not believe that Batman trusted her. Selina began
seeing private detective Slam Bradley, but Slam realized that Selina’s
heart would always belong to Batman.
Catwoman continues to enjoy
adventures on the “other” side
of the fence now, stealing only
when necessary and usually if
the loot will ultimately do
someone other than herself
a bit of good.

Everyone is always categorizing everyone else. Even I do it, even though I hate it. If I see a girl in tight clothes, clutching a boy's hand, I imagine them to be a bit of a slut or preppy. If I see a boy wearing tight jeans and a Hollister shirt and he's friends with all girls, I imagine he's gay. If I see a person in all black with dark eyeliner, I think they're going to love Manson and they probably imagine that they're goth. But in truth, none of these things really hold true. I've done my best to stop stereotyping, but I don't like it when people do it to me. At Notre Dame we all wear uniforms, even though we can tell what they'd wear normally. Because of these uniforms I think my mind has been a little changed. I am now basing people on personality and their actual thoughts, not just appearance. One of my best friends I thought was a slut when I got here. And she is, but she's so nice and funny. Some of my friends I thought were overachievers, but turns out they're art freaks (I mean that in the most positive way). One of my guy friends appears to be preppy but in reality is more of a stoner than anything. Everything changes. No one here sees me as punk or gothic or weird (or whatever they thought of me in Ste. Gen). They see me as a person, creative and fun-loving. And I think in return, I owe the same insight to everyone else who can look past the surface and get to know the real me.

To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides.  
            -David Viscott

It's weird how just the sound of a voice will make you melt. I always hear "Hello?" and at first wonder if it's you. I say "hey" and then I can hear you, too, relax. Your voice has such a quality to it that I fall back on my bed to listen to you. You take in my problems so that my load is shared, you listen to me whine, as if you were really here. You tell me about your day and don't mind if I interupt, you tell me little secrets and little stories, as I imagine you at home. Sometimes at night, I don't get to talk to you, I sit in my room at night wondering if I should sneak downstairs to talk. Sometimes I just feel a little hurt that you weren't there. I think a little irrationally, what if I just drove up the next day? What if I surprised you? Would you love me more? Or would my friends hate me more? Either way, every evening, after play and band, I call until I'm no longer allowed. Then I sit and think about how much I love you. Because I do, I love you so much.

So, I've always made fun of people that love video games...well people that obsess over them anyway. Well my brother got this Sega...AND IT IS SO STINKIN' COOL! I've become wildly obsessed with the wonderful world of Sonic the Hedgehog. I loves it. But yeah! ^_^
So guess what is coming up? Thanksgiving, you guessed it. I hate this holiday. All it does is signal the Christmas shows that will be replayed on every channel for the next 28-30 days and gives everyone a chance to be with family. My family compares waaaaay too much. Like we are all "My daughter....blah blah" and then someone replies with "Oh, that's great" fake "My son is blah blah". Oooh, Aaaah. Then we complain back in our minivans about eachother until that night when we come back together and we're fake and we watch movies and giggle at the stuff the babies do. Then the next day we go Christmas shopping, a thing I will not be allowed to do. *cry* I'll probably be stuck doing nothing or with someone really crabby. I won't even get to see Macy's. That's one of the things I look forward to!!! Then I have to wait forever for Christmas, on which I will get minimal presents. I don't really mind, maybe a good book, I'd like that. But I'd give up the others to let everyone else have something. I don't really care. And I'm not trying to be a martyr. I'm being serious. I like seeing other people get gifts more than I like getting them. But I just want books...Fallen Angels, Chuck Palahniuk, and others. Or stuff that's orange. Because I love orange. And that's really all. 

My mom has an idea. I'm not allowed to know what it is though. All I know is that today I got home from school to find a cheery mommy and a set of super cool muppet stamps, that i dig bueno. But mom said that we're a creative family, so we're gonna put our creative talents to use. For what? I dunno, she won't tell me. But she wants me to do charcoal drawings, like the girl I have on my front page. Stuff like that. She's gonna buy me big canvas and it's gonna be awesome!! I'm so all encompassingly psyched! My mommy supports my art and wants more of it! ^_^ But I think she's wanting to open up a store or something downtown, which would be pretty cool. If we would, I vote that I'll work there (duh) and I wanna get a cappaciuno maker. I'll make highly caffienated beverages before school and after, i'll milk, syrup, stir, and steam everyday, because how cool of a job could that be? i'll ask Rachel! Hey Rachelbabyboofluffykinnypoopie, what's it like being a barista? Do you ever take shots of espresso straight up? Mmmmm...I get shivery just thinking about it. *happy flood* But how cool would that be? But anyway...I have found out when I'm allowed to have a telephone again...and that would be whenever my grades are up and staying up. Which is where they are now. Mom just doesn't know. But whatever...besides, I'm pretty sure she'll let me come see ya'll for christmas, eh? (That is so weird, I just took a southern and nothern accent and mixed them together) I know she's not that heartless. Give her some credit people. Plus what I did was bad. Super bad. I'm never gonna do it again. Amen!

I have a plan. As the fact that I am going to Ste. Gen next year is purely a myth, no longer to be true. Ever. I've decided I'm going to ask Bro Dave if I can start either a photography club, film club, or a magazine. 

Photography: I want to study many forms of photography, get a camera from cheekwood (they give those cameras out to us!) and do activities where the club goes to take pictures. we'll assign major events to each member and they'll get to take the oober expensive camera with. we'll discuss photos we've taken and photos from other artists. I'll introduce them to deviantart. We'll do community service projects also.
Film: By film I mean all kinds. Not really the ones that are coming to a theatre near you, but independant films. I mean, sure we'll go over the classic films, movies that you should not go without seeing...Casablanca, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Monty Python, Spinal Tap, a few Disney, RENT,

DO NOT SHOPLIFT!!!!

WHEN PEOPLE SAY THAT YOU'LL JUST GET BANNED FROM THE STORE...IT'S A LIE!!!!!

BE GOOD KIDS!!!

PLEASE DON'T HATE ME.

I GOT ARRESTED.

I GOT HANDCUFFED.

I HAVE THE BRUISES ON MY WRISTS TO PROVE IT.

JEFF GOT TO GET OUT OF HIS CELL LOTS, BUT I WASN'T ALLOWED TO. JEFF SUCKS.

NO MORE STEALING FOR ME.

I WAS ON A ROLE TOO. I HADN'T STOLEN FOR A LOOOOOONG TIME.

SO I'LL BE SEEING YOU ALL AGAIN AFTER CHRISTMAS.

I need a job. Mom's right. I could buy little things...just maybe some ice cream for me and Mitchell. I could get my bottles of water...pens. I would not be tempted to steal any longer! I could take my siblings and I to a movie and my mom could have a day off. I could have girls' day out with me and emma and we could go try on clothes at the mall even though we know we look hideous or they arent' our style. i'd buy us a band shirt at the sale that's going till eternity at hot topic...BOGO. I'd say no to her wanting some earrings and then turn around and get them anyway. I'd let her drive the van around the parking lot and then we'd go to taco bell for dinner and listen to our jam (dare-gorillaz).
If I had a job I could take Mitchell to the mall where he could get one video game or a movie. I'd buy him a new hoodie and then I'd drag him to the comic book store and see if he'd start reading comics. I'd then take him to whatever restaurant he wanted, then to Andy's ice cream for dessert to get my cherry sundae made from chocolate and his pint of chocolate.
If I had a job I could bring mom home a mountain dew and buy her tickets to the transyberian orchestra. we could go out to eat every so often, just mommy and me. I'd buy her books to read...I'd develop pictures of me, emma, and mitchell and then blow them up and frame them for her.
If I had a job, I'd visit everyone in Ste. Gen, bringing with me gifts of Jone's and those candy sticks from Dollar General. I'd leave random presents on doorsteps when I pass through town and I'd call, even though it costs money. I'd have my own gas money and I'd come to visit and take people to the movies, or just pass through and pick up people on my way, then go to the mall or the warrenton to see my loser family.
I super need to get a job.

As I sat on my front porch early this morning I realized how much I liked being able to see the sunrise. I sat in my jogging clothes, my hair unraveling from my bun and falling down around my face. I leaned against the rail and just looked around. Kids were on bikes heading towards their school day and I was preparing to go inside, but on my uniform, and go to school all over again. But I didn't feel so bad. It's amazing how much better I feel after I talk to a few people. I say a few words to people I haven't talked to in a while and find that I didn't have to apologize first, and the world seems a little more sane. I cried again last night, but I'm not sure why. I don't think it was out of anger or insanity. Maybe it was pure frustration as to why I can't be content with what and who am I. Why I can't look at my life and say "I'd do it all the same." Because I wouldn't. But I wish I could change it. But I can't change it and I need to come to grips with the fact that I'm just me. Just a sixteen year old that can't decide if she wants to be 10 years older or 10 years younger. So what am I doing about it? I'm writing. I'm starting a magazine...not like my last one where I only did one copy. I went to shivelbines and hempie's and the all said they'd put the magazine in their stores as long as they were free. i'll only ask for money if people want to receive issues. I've already started on topics and lists. people at school are interested which makes me happy. I'm drawing too. I'm sketching like a maniac which feels good. Normally I'm in a corner making sure that no one can see my drawings. Now I sit in the middle of class sketching things out when I have ideas and writing down lists of whatever strikes my fancy. My mind is on full and I think I know why. Even though it kind of makes me feel bad. It's because I don't have everyone's problems filling my head to the brim. I go to secret corner and read them there, but i don't know who they are, so i can't fix it. instead i try to be nicer to the people here, so they don't feel the same. here at school for some reason no one talks about their problems...they're all so positive which is okay with me. i don't hear a whole lot of problems from anyone, it's mostly goofy things. so my mind is free to take on new information and turn the information into creativity and spin facts my own way through writing and drawing. It's loads of fun. I think everyone should block themselves off from the world for one week. no tv, no traffic, no people. music is a maybe, only good music that's not angry...and then just sit with art materials and a nice notebook and pen. i suggest caligraphy pens. they make your writing prettier so you feel prettier for some reason. it will help. i'm going to do it as soon as i can. isolated from the land of the free gift with purchase and violent pornographies. i'll be in my own world, jai guru deva om.

So, I've figured, I think I've snapped! Not just the usual snapping like in my freshman year after having the biggest bitches in my science class and wanting to pop their heads like little cherries...no, I believe I have fully cracked. For example, I like to stare at the ceilings, all of a sudden, not that big of a deal, right? Well, today I freaked out a bit during Jr. Comp because I thought the ceiling was caving in, then I thought I could see the imprint of Jesus. They all thought I was high so I laughed like a maniac, Me? High? Baha! I got chewed out in journalism because I didn't change pictures on my spread and it took every fiber of my being to not laugh hysterically at Gina. So instead I snorted a lot and started to cry, which led her to freak out and hug me apologizing profusely, which led to me finally bursting out laughing, my classmates staring at me in open mouthed wonder, and i was sent to the guidance office. my counselor, ms. garner and i talked...kinda like this:
-So why are you here Danielle?
-God put me on earth, to change the way people think about everything.
-Do you really think that? And I meant in my office.
-Oh, sure I think that. And in your office, I think my mind is slowly breaking down and caving in upon itself. Mrs. Seabaugh and the rest of pubII seemed to agree, so here I am.
-Why is your mind "breaking down"?
-I have no clue.
-You have friends now, right? It's better than at the beginning of the year?
-Sure, friends. But it's not the same. In ste. gen i had friends whose shoulder i could lie my head on and talk about my problems. here if i say anything about my problems or try to hug anyone, they shirk me off as though i'm contagious. adam reinegal tried to hug me and i flinched. i felt really bad too. it's adam and i flinched, i'm not used to getting a lot of hugs anymore.

After an hour of intensive therapy and me asking why caroline was so stupid and couldn't they do something about it, i stumbled into chemistry and proceeded to fall asleep, right in the front of the classroom. ms. schaefer standing directly in front of me, and it was all i could do to occasionally look up and nod. i raced an old man home from school. i had jason in the van with me (poor guy) and i think i thoroughly freaked him out because an old man cut me off, so i got beside the old guy and smiled maniacally and jason said "dani, what are you going to do? don't hurt him...he's gonna die soon anyway." and i yelled "wanna race, bitch???" and took off. i bottomed out on the hill, which is pretty hard, i laughed the whole time and when i finally came to a stop i was sobbing, so jason made me let him drive. it's been like that all day, being so insanely happy then crashing into sob fests for no reason at all. i got on here and talked to nicole as though nothing were wrong, as though we hadn't gotten into an argument earlier. because i wanna say sorry, because i'm a pussy and i always give in first. you all know that right? ever seen me be in a fight with someone for more than a few days? nope! so then i talked to bananafish about xmen and hotwheels. then i started crying because i was really hungry but i didn't want to eat. then i started laugh-crying because i realized it's stupid to cry about being hungry but not wanting to eat. then i started to yell at my sketchbook "i hate you! why do you sit there and torment me with your blank pages and pretty charcoal sketches! bitch of sketchy doom!" then i realized, hey dani, you sound bonkers, what's your problem kid? better be careful or no one's gonna wanna talk to you...they'll think you're weird, how ironic...so i started laughing hysterically again between ridiculous little baby sobs, wondering if this is normal.