Sunday, October 18, 2009

And now you wish that you meant something, and now you wish you meant something to somebody else.

This song makes me cry. It really, really makes me cry.
I got a pair of jeans! And ohmyGod, NO ONE COULD GO TO THE MALL. NO ONE. First I texted Nat, because we were talking about it earlier, but she couldn't go because of CCD. Then I called Silver, no answer. Then I called Ani. It was too late in the day. Lolo was baking a cake for a contest and wouldn't be done for a few hours. I called Silver again. It was her sister's birthday. Desperately, I called Happy. She doesn't go to the mall (her parents are kinda strict). FAUG.
So I just went with my dad, and we only went to J.C.Penny's because of a sale. That's where I got my jeans. Wow.
I'm addicted to sooooooo maaaaaany games on Facebook! There's Farmville, Happy Aquarium, Cafe World, My Zoo, Peices of Flair, and Roller Coaster Kingdom. Wtf??? Wtf me???
Oh, and I'm mad at Kim, because she's not telling me things for NO FREAKING REASON, and I hate not being told things. Especially when they concern you-know-who.
God. I'm not looking forward to school tomorrow. I don't know what would be worse: him doing something or him not doing something.
Wait. Yes I do.
Okay. So I'm not a very religious person. I don't go to church (which apparently you have to do to be Christian...gah) and I've never read the bible and I don't know any psalms. But I believe in God. Even if I'm not sure of the specifics, I believe in God. Why? Because some of the greatest peace I've ever felt was when I prayed.
I don't pray, exactly, because everyone's definition of praying seems to be asking Him for stuff. I just unload. Talk and talk. Some might call it talking to myself, but I call it praying, because I feel so much better afterwards.
Sometimes I talk to people, too, and I guess this would be talking to myself. I remember one time I talked to Kim for 45 minutes before breaking down and writing a long, heartfelt letter to Silver of all people. Words are my release, I guess. Some people cut themselves to let their pain in their blood out. I write to let the pain in my words out.
It's far less destructive.

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