Fifty Five

I don't really know what kind of girl I am.
Sometimes I feel exactly like who you're singing. I feel her sorrow and her strength. Her pain and her conviction. I am trapped as she is, and free when you belt out the chorus. The lyrics are a self-portrait, a self-explaining scroll.
And sometimes I just want to sing. Scrap all double entendres, and just let it go. stop taking things so seriously, stop over-analyzing (for god's sake stop over-analyzing) and just let go.

Fifty Four

You have ruined me.
People ruin each other everyday, yes, that's true. And no, you didn't harm my family. You didn't attack my home, my banking account. You steered clear of belittling me when everyone else did, even though you clearly had the chance to join in the taunting.
But you have ruined me.
I knew it when it happened. Nothing would ever really be the same again.
Drama Queen
It's said that one thing today will blow up and end tomorrow. But that's not true. Everything's interlinked. Every moment that passes by is an important one you can't actually get back again. And everything you say, and do, and have done, affects your day, and your person. Who you are. Who you will be.

You have ruined me.
As much and as hard as I have tried to fight it, the butterfly effect of your actions and nonactions have affected me far too profoundly for me. and you have ruined me.

Fifty Three

It does indeed worry me that I'm mostly looking for a savior
not so much a ... lover?

Maybe I should get around to saving myself before carrying someone else's weight on my shoulders.

Fifty Two

Life would be so much easier
for one thing
if we were in a war.

If tomorrow was the day you'd slip off the face of the earth. Run in front of a killing spell and die for the one you love.

there. now you know. now everyone knows.

And everyone appreciated life. Everyone could see life as a fragile, temporary blessing that shouldn't be wasted with headaches and heartaches and fighting and childish disagreements. If everyone could just chip in, and be appreciated for doing whatever it is they're doing solely for the fact that hey, at least we're all trying. And make it stop being about how you play the game, but the fact that you got up from the benches at all.

Fifty One

I find it amusing that the villains in disney movies
are the ones that don't believe in love.

Fifty

But every now and then, I think it's nice to just fit in.
It...must be nice to fit in.

Sometimes I just want to fit in.
Not walk into a room and have a crowd.
Not feel a polite need to say hello to everyone.
Scrap it all.
Scrap the name.
Scrap my history.
Scrap all the anger and disapproval.
Scrap all the pompousness.

Just fit in.
The way everyone else does.

Fourty-Nine

A tiny piece of me acknowledges
I write fanfiction for an ego boost.


Sometimes it's just nice knowing al ot of people subscribe to your writing, get excited when you update, and leave well-thought out comments.

Fourty-Eight

I Hate.

HATE.
HATE.
HATE HATE HATE

having to defend my love life to you.

IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

Fourty Seven

You can bounce back.
Everyone can bounce back. And from anything.
It depends on how badly you want it
and who you have by your side.

oooh! OOooh! pick me! Pick me!


I would never betray you.

Fourty-Six

It is a mixture of both exhaustion and horror that floods into me when I realize that yes, the closest to falling in love I've probably ever felt is for a fictional character.
I don't really know what to do with myself at that point.
But I think I like the idea of Emily Fitch.
I've fallen in love with the idea of falling in love.
Not so much the idea of love.
But the notion of falling in it.

And then I realize
I don't think I've ever not been in love with that notion.

I also think maybe this is just something I tell myself
in order to soothe the pain of the realization
that I have feelings for a fictional character.

Fourty-Five

Music is the only thing that calms me down sometimes.

I had one moment in my life about a year ago when even it couldn't keep me under control.
and that was scary.

Fourty-Four

If I had superpowers, I'd rule the world.
I wish I could say I'd use the powers for good.
But something tells me I'd just get way too frustrated with the world.

I already am.

I'm always frustrated with the world.
No one's ever good enough. No one's ever smart enough.
I'm always looking down on people.

So if I had superpowers it'd probably just heighten this
and I'd use 'em to rule the world.

Fourty-Three

Sometimes when I look back on the times I've said 'No Thank You'
I think I might have missed out on something special.

I don't know if it's because maybe it really could have been and me, being who I am, just assumed I saw everything there was to see in them (which is admittedly so hypocritical), or if it's just the loneliness seeping in at night.
I hope it's the latter.
It's probably a bit of both.

Fourty-Two

I owe my writing career, as short as it is, to Harry Potter.
I didn't write at all when I was a kid.
I just read.
like a worm.

First I went through a very - very - short lived fantasy genre phase. Then mystery. Then time-travel. Not sci-fi. Time travel.

in retrospect I still haven't gotten out of it

And then a bit later, romance.
It was probably between time travel and romance where the option of fantasy popped up and I never gave a second thought to it. No. No. Fantasy was odd, and centuries away. I could deal with sci-fi, maybe. But certainly not fantasy.
By the time I'd gotten into Harry Potter, the internet was coming into fruition. I was probably thirteen when I was looking up Harry Potter pictures online. (Just for the sake of it. Because oh my god the internet and these images were free. Ridiculous notion.) And I fell upon a manip of someone's fanfiction. Holy hell.

Which then brought me to fanfiction.net, then harrypotterfanfiction.com, then portkey.org, then finally livejournal. Please note these are listed in order of ascending quality. Although portkey had some really great stuff.
Anyway. I don't label myself as fanfiction writer often, but when I do, it's always with pride. Fanfiction got me started. It made me realize Hey. I can write? It's not just...books that appear out of nowhere and into the library? Everyday people like me can just...write?

hells yeah son. I'll drink to that.

Fourty-One

Dear Advisor,

You told me something, about five years ago, and I took it straight to heart. I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have shut off my brain, like that. I don't know what I was thinking. Clearly I wasn't.

I should have thought for myself, I should have taken your words in with a grain of salt. But I was a kid. I was a kid and I came to you because you were supposed to be trust-worthy and learned.

I put my faith in you.

And even though I understand now, older, what you meant to say then, you shouldn't have said it. I understand what you were trying to get at, what you were trying to get me to see in myself, and the world, but that was the wrong way to put it, and you shouldn't have said it. It was unprofessional, it was wrong, and it certainly didn't help me. At all.

I'm sorry. I really am. I know someone coming back into your office, pointing at you and saying, "Hey. You. You fucked my head up when I was a kid" isn't what you wanted this morning when you got out of bed. But I think about it, all the time, and I think it's about time you started, too.

Regards,
Me.

Fourty

I have a huge ego.
It is enormous.
I try very hard - very hard - to keep it in check.
It's just this need, and this inherent insistence that I am better than everyone else. It's something inside that needs to vocalize, through me, that I know more and understand more, and see more, than everyone else.

I've learned to make a mockery of it.
Acknowledge that the pompousness is there,
and ridicule it with sarcasm.

It's gotten much, much better since high school.
But it's still very, very big.

I think of it as a piece of me, fighting me, trying to make me something - someone - that I don't want to be (anymore).

Thirty Nine

I am the sort of person
who thinks immediately of her grandmother
when she sees a stupid, stupid teenager running around
in the metro.

Because that guy pushed her and she fell down the stairs and he didn't have the courtesy to stick around to wait for the ambulance because clearly his agenda was more important and no, it's not okay. And it's never going to be okay. Because she's never going to be the same again and he's stolen the last mobile years of her life and I can't forgive him for that. I can't forgive any of them for that.