and sooo much has changed. 

It's bizarre to look back and see how much you've changed in such a short period of time.

***
Nobody gets to know me.

That's it, pure and simple.

It's a marathon. Once you jump over a hurdle you sigh in relief, because you're that much closer to the finish line.

but there are hundreds, thousands, of hurdles standing in front of you, each bigger than the last.

Thunder storms are always a source of inspiration for me. I'm not sure why. It's as if each little droplet of rain that pours down from the dark clouds above carry something for me to write about.

I'm so complicated, sometimes I look at myself, examine all my rules, rituals, guidelines, standards, and I'm awestruck. I wonder how the fuck is anybody supposed to get close to me.

I felt a storm brewing. Not just outside, but inside me as well.

The way I work is I have lots of emotions. Each has their own room in the dark house that is my inner self. I hear them behind each door, but leave them be until I have time to venture in and visit with them. My day to day, is just walking through the halls, staying away from the doors, until I have time to deal with them. Time to process them. Time to accept them. When I grocery shop, go to work, run errands, run on the treadmill, wherever I am in the real world, I hear the shouting behind each door inside my head. I know where they are, but I leave them be. I don't have time to deal with them all at once, I have shit to do. I can't have a break down now, I have school, work, and a social life to deal with first. there are days when I have extra time, although few and far between, when I don't mind a brief visit.

When I'm feeling brave, I place my shaky hand on the doorknob of the room that's been feeling neglected and shouting the loudest to be acknowledged, open it up, and plunge myself inside. I never enjoy what I find, it seems as though each new thing I learn about my self is just as brutal as the previous revelation. Nevertheless, it's something I need to do every once and a while to remind myself, 'Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Maybe I should work that out'.

Today I took a venture into one of the longest living rooms in my house, Bitter Melancholy. It's a beautiful room really. It doesn't need paint because each memory has it's own color that's stained the wood and there's no paint thick enough to fix it. The cigarette burns on the carpet give it that 'lived-in' look. I'd open the windows every once and a while to let it air out, but there are none. The stuffiness just continues to build.

I decided to try something new. While 'sitting in the room' I began to compose letters. A sort of confession if you will, to three different people.

Even I was surprised at how much came out in that one sitting.

To one, a letter of pleading, to another a letter of resentment, and the last a love letter. The funny thing is, the three people who read this [if they realize it's directed to them] will think they know which one is theirs, but they are entirely wrong. That's why I was so surprised. Upon first glance, you'd think you could pick out which letter belonged to whom. Who? Whom? Grammar be damned.

One is called 'Remember'

Another, 'What you never saw"

The last, "I'm trying"

The strongest, the letter of resentment, is the longest. I opened up the closet door and let it all fall out onto the dirty floor before I scraped it up and smeared it onto paper. You'd be surprised at what I have to say to you.

The third is a testament to my foolish patience. Wishes and dreams are useless and that letter's proof of that fact. I can sip on hopes and dreams all day, but at the end of the night I always choke on reality. Surprisingly, it is the least emotional of the three. It's just a pure dialogue.

The second, the love letter, is so short it is almost a haiku (literally. I believe it's only two syllables off). There are no words to express how I feel, so I used very few and allowed the organic simplicity to let the reader draw whatever conclusions they'd like. It's right to the point. A brutal honest confession that I can never ever say to their face.

And the academy award goes to the girl with the fractured heart and fucked up feelings.

Cue the applause.

Teary acceptance speech.

Walking off the stage with a shiny new trophy to add to the dozens sitting on the mantle above the fireplace of the ashes of my charred feelings.

I left the envelopes sitting on the desk inside Bitter Melancholy as I pulled myself together and left the room, shutting and locking the door behind me.

The rain has stopped.

Leaving the house, I walk forward without looking back at the house as I head back into the red world. The house sits silently at the top of it's hill until my next vacation to it's empty walls.

I hate to think that I'd need a disclaimer for each one of my blogs. Yet, here it is:

Don't freak out, I'm fine.

I'm just talking. Just keeping you updated. Whenever I post one of these 'emo blogs' as Katie calls them, I always get e-mails the next day asking if I'm okay. I'm fine. In all honesty, the point when I am 'not okay' is right before I sit down to write these blogs. The only person I rely on is myself, so by the time you contact me post facto I've already left the house and moved on to other daily tasks.

Maybe when I'm eighty and retired I'll let someone else take care of me. Until then, don't worry about it.

I'm not sad, upset or angry right now. I'm just telling you about what's happened recently. So please, please, please don't worry about me.

The letters will never reach their senders. They'll just hang out until I decide to get rid of them. I didn't realize how cathartic they'd be. It's kind of a burden off of my shoulders.

In other happier news that has nothing to do with the earlier text,

I found a new existential indie film that I'm still trying to dissect, analyze and understand. I love those.

Today my district manager gave me a very encouraging compliment in a time of chaotic stress. It made me smile. I was expecting to get my ass chewed, but I got it kissed instead.

Every so often I'll go through my iPod and delete songs that I've never listened to, or haven't listened to in years, or songs I just don't want anymore. It made me laugh when I discovered that the most embarrassing album on my iPod is Veggie Tales: Silly Songs With Larry. I should feel lame about not deleting it, and even more for listening to it again today, but I don't.

Last night after my bubble bath I discovered how to do that armpit farty noise thing. I've never been able to do that, and by pure accident I was able to, and was making that noise over and over again while laughing. I told Tyler about it today, and in true parade rainer fashion, he asked me if I could do it with my ear. Now I feel left out again. Wow I'm a nerd. haha, it's okay I know. It's part of my charm. I think I have too much metal in my ears to pull that off anyhow.

I watched a Family Guy mini marathon today too. "I know this is awkward, but... have we actually ever really....met? I mean.... I don't know if you have a room up there....You know.?...A room? ....I have a room....You know if you killed yourself now, Meg, they'll probably give you a whole page in the yearbook. I'm just sayi-Oh, I burped"

Annnnnd, I got a package in the mail.

It's the little things that make me smile.

I'm not totally complicated, there are simpler aspects to me as well. They're just hard to see at first. Look closer, you'll see them.

Until my next post,

Goodnight.

When a man falls off a horse
it's always sudden
and it always hurts
regardless of whether or not he chooses to get back on.

So he left yesterday for Basic Training. 

I feel incomplete. I can't sleep. I can hardly eat, and when I do, I can't keep it down very long. 

Last night whenever I rolled over I'd expect to feel him next to me, but he wasn't. I miss holding him, I miss snuggling with him, I miss kissing him. I just miss him over all. 

It's somewhat strange; I'm not used to feeling this way. Usually I have control over my emotions and how I feel, but as of now, I feel like I'm not in control of anything. 

I know nothing's going to happen, and he'll be home in 3 months, but we've not been apart since we've been together.  I want him safe, I know he misses home (and me), I'm afraid the drill sargents will be too mean (lol, I know, that's so lame, but I can't help it.) I've just been freaking out for nothing. 

I just want him back and want him safe.

THE MILITARY STOLE MY BOYFRIEND!!!

Kylie's coming over to spend the night so I don't feel so lonely, but it won't be the same.

I'm off to go mope some more.

When did I start to feel so hollow all the time? When did everything I have ever loved, turn into something I feel passively about? Why is it when I try to induce feelings of happiness to memories, places, and things I used to enjoy, it feels entirely fake and like I'm fooling myself.

For now, I'm just here. So I guess I'll just keep living until my life has meaning again.

Or until I die.

OMG!! The concert rocked.

Before we even got there, I was pretty much buzzed. haha

It was me, Tiffany, her cousin Jessica and Jess's friend Megan. 

We met at Tiff's place and we were getting dressed, doing our hair and make up while listening to hip hop and drinking margaritas.  We had about 2 or 3 and then left for the venue. 

So, Jessica's Dad was working at the venue earlier in the day, and she got to meet the lead singer of RJA and his wife, and then when we went later that night, we got to watch the show from side stage. We didn't get to meet the guys (as a group), but we said brief hi's as they were going onstage. 

At the show Tiff kept buying beer (I was the only one not of legal drinking age) and we were sharing them.  RJA walked out on stage to 'This is why I'm hot" by Mims and everyone started dancing to the song, haha, it was soo funny.

The tour manager for Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, woah. He was waaaaaaaay hot. 

I was totally hitting on him! I'm not even gonna lie. He looked very fuckable.  He had that V muscle thing, and his pants were tight and kind of sagging so I was able to see that glorious V thing.  Yeah, I really really wanted him. 

There were 2 bands that opened. I forget the name of the first one, but they were kinda weird anyway, and the second was 'So They Say'.  I liked their stuff, I might check them out further. 

The show ended, we were walking to the car, I say my ex-boss and his girlfriend (who was kind of fug).  

Driving home was kind of randomly intense. We started talking about ex-boyfriends and all the drama that turned us into cold hard bitches. Megan had some pretty fucked relationships. 

But yeah, that was my night. It was super fun. Now I have to go to bed, so I can wake up bright and early to write a paper due at 2 in the afternoon. 

I am the epitome of slacker.

"A boy walks into the living room and tells his father that he had sex for the first time last night. The dad pats his son on the back and gets up to grab two beers, one for him, and one for his son.

'Congratulations Son, now you're officially a man! So do you have any questions?'

'Yeah, how long before my ass stops hurting' "

Trista, I love you.

Today after class Trista and I went to Wal Mart. She had gone in to get more printer paper, and I needed to get more tampons and Chunky Monkey Ice Cream [I swear those two items have to be bought together during that time of month].

We throw our stuff in the cart and basically just wonder around for a while. And then we run into this really hot guy that she knows. 
Yeah, try carrying on a normal conversation with a guy when you have tampons in your cart. Not happening. 

Right now we're watching some movie on Lifetime that we missed the beginning of, but we can't stop watching it draws you into it. 

It's called 'Speak'. 

It came out in '04. You can tell, the quality of the film looks kinda grainy and the lighting is shitty. It reminds me of those cheap indie films that Jake and I used to watch on Friday nights after getting frozen yogurt from Golden Spoons.

But, can't dwell in the past now can we? The past is the past for a reason.

I really want to dye my hair. [haha that was a random transition].

So I've decided that my next tattoo will be lyrics from my favorite Bullets and Octane song. "Live your life. Die a little everyday". Life is short, you never know when your last day's gonna be.

Alright. I'm done. 

Gotta finish watching this movie and the container of chunky monkey.