Poker Faces, Phones, People, Pasts

   Alright, here I am. I don't recognize this place but I definitely have a sense that I've been here before. Now, I'm standing in a hallway filled with doors. All are locked but I have the keys, and I can only open one. Hands clenching, I ponder, why only one door? Why not two, three, or four? Do I choose the one closest to me or the one furthest away? The one who's door has all the answers or the one who's path will lead me to the answers.

   Alright, here I am. I wonder if you ever think of me; you probably do. But your poker face masks your feelings-oh so well. I still think of you, sadly. But not with anger or pride, but instead with a nostalgic pull at those memories. 

           Alright, enough of that sap. The tree has more to offer like leaves, twigs, and shade. Oh, it's also beautiful. Did I fail to mention its beauty? How rude of me, the tree is very vain so I suppose I'll mention it has the key to my heart. 

    Alright, I know I'm not making sense. I make sense to me though, and I guess that's all that matters. Poor Eleanor Rigby, such lonely people. You're not outdated, or forgotten. You're just under-appreciated. I appreciate you though. Thanks for your existence!  Kudos on just plummeting through the vast sea, like an otter or penguin, delving fast and far into the unknown. You would do that. I envy you for that. I couldn't even open a damn door. 

An Atypical Rant on Society and Teenage Dating

How does society go from eloquently, well thought out phrases and stanzas to profess one's love, with pages of ink splattering, intense and frenzied writing to now just a text message saying, "Heyyy," or worse, the "waz up?" conversation starter? I believe that if a guy wants to court me, he'll have to work at it. It will be a process that takes patience and persistance. Obviously, this will sort out the ones who truly care from the ones who just like my appearance. The end of high school is fast approaching (17 days!!! but hey, who's counting? :p) and I am very excited for the future. I can't wait til I can run again. Damn ankle. Running seems to be something so incredible to me so let's pray that my ankle makes a speedy recovery. 

         As I write this, it's like I am talking to someone in my head; how incredible. The brain perplexes me as it's such a miraculous instrument. 

I noticed also today that people LOVE to feel like another, at least one other person, "gets" them. As a culture, being alone is seen with a bad connotation, making one feel deserted and misunderstood. I, on the other hand, love being difficult, different, and unique, yet have my share of doubts every once in a while, especially on nights like tonight. Send me positive love.