they've got an awful lot of coffee in brazil

only personal thing

Written two years ago.

Memory’s a funny thing.  The fact that a glimpse of one face can send my stomach plummeting is astounding.  My eyes clouded over and any wisp of a smile promptly disappeared from my face.  It was early, first period hadn’t even started, and I was being one of my alter egos (HappyGoLucky).  You see, most days I’m as if I were never there, never even had any reason to be there.  Soft, blue Trig book in one hand, a Nike boy’s bookbag on my back.  I had on shorts and a cleavage bearing shirt, topped off with a cute headband holding back the lion’s mane.  The hallways were filled with the usual suspects: some I know, some I don’t. College advertising posters were decoratively placed on bulletin boards subtly reminding us of what is to come.  In a sea of semi-familiar faces, I spotted him.  He’s nothing special to me.  Just another kid with a social disorder and mismatched clothes.  But with one glance at his face, I had an attack of memories so severe, my head spun.  All of a sudden, I was attacked by old scents of my own vomit, of the moldy hospital smell.  My heart was filled with the desperation of being stuck in a room alone with a video camera that ‘wasn’t really on’, of the shame of a young, kind doctor asking me question after question with pity and confusion conflicting on his face.  The quiet anger I felt in being transported in a hospital gown with nothing underneath, in not being allowed to talk to anyone but my parents, in having every moment of the day planned for me.  I felt the faint disgust remembering when this boy with the severe social disorder and anger management issues passed me a note saying he had a crush on me.  The smell of stale hospital and no sunlight smacked me across the face.  In reality, this boy means nothing to me.  He’s just a symbol of the darkest, quietest part of my life.  But when I saw him twice more in the day, it was the same.  This me that I am now blurred, the strong version of myself that I have become flickered.  Is it so bad that I’m angry with him for reappearing? 

I found some of my writings from two years ago

I have lots of dreams in which I’m flying. One in particular actually:

I’m running away from the police/search party.  I’m running up the hill that my old elementary school is built into. I guess it’s a new addition.  I start running through the woods, my heart is pounding in my ears.  I can hear footsteps and voices behind me, getting closer and closer.  I trip over a tree root.  For a split second, I think, “This is it. I’m done for.” But instead of hitting the twig covered ground, I somehow defy the laws of gravity and begin to fly.  I’m like a torpedo flying through the trees at top speeds.  When I get out of the woods, it seems I’ve lost them.  For now.  I fly over cookie cutter developments full of sleeping people.  I fly to a big white house, taller than the others.  It’s made of thick white slabs of wood.  The windows are big squares, open to the night air.  Careful not to be seen by passersby on the street, I approach a window on an upper story.  I float through the house in a haze.  There is no furniture or decoration.  Just thick white carpeting that looks amazing to sink your feet into and spotless white walls.  The most noticeable thing about this house is the inhabitants.  People of all ages doing extraordinary things.  One room I pass, a black boy about 18 is shooting flames from his fingers.  He waves when he sees me, his hands still glowing.  His grin is blinding white and full of joy.  Other rooms contain little girls turning light bulbs on just by staring at them and an old man tells a story as the images spill into the air as a kind of movie.  They all smile at me as if they know me.  I feel accepted, happy.  There is a young girl who looks at me with big solemn eyes.  It is unapparent as to what her ability is.  I know this girl but my subconscious doesn’t tell me who she is.  I pick her up, hawk-like, with my arms under her armpits and sail through the window.  She laughs at first, a high tinkling laugh of innocence.  But then she looks at me with a surprising expression of maturity and says, “I wouldn’t fly so near the buildings.  Someone will see you.”

At that moment, Beyonce comes on my radio, startling me into opening my eyes with songs about losing control and sex.  

coffeeandcompassion:

Graduated High School.
Kissed someone.
Smoked cigarettes.
Got so drunk you passed out.
Rode every ride at an amusement park.
Collected something really stupid.
Gone to a rock concert.
Helped someone.
Gone fishing.
Watched four movies in one night.
Gone long periods of time with out sleep.
Lied to someone.
Been dumped.
Snorted cocaine.
Failed a class.
Smoked weed.
Dealt drugs.
Taken a college level course.
Been in a car accident.
Been in a tornado.
Done hard drugs (i.e. ecstasy, heroin, crack, meth, acid).
Watched someone die.
Been to a funeral.
Burned yourself
Ran a marathon.
Your parents got divorced.
Cried yourself to sleep.
Spent over $200 in one day.
Flown on a plane.
Cheated on someone.
Been cheated on.
Written a 10 page letter.
Gone skiing.
Been sailing.
Cut yourself.
Had a best friend.
Lost someone you loved.
Shoplifted something.
Been to jail.
Had detention.
Skipped school.
Got in trouble for something you didn’t do.
Stolen books from the library.
Gone to a different country.
Dropped out of school.
Been in a mental hospital.
Watched the “Harry Potter” movies.
Had an online diary.
Fired a gun.
Gambled in a casino.
Had a yard sale.
And a lemonade stand.
Actually made money at the lemonade stand.
Been in a school play.
Been fired from a job.
Taken a lie detector test.
Swam with dolphins.
Gone to Sea World.
Attempted suicide.
Voted for American/Australian Idol.
Written poetry.
Read more than 20 books a year.
Gone to Europe.
Loved someone you couldn’t have.
Wondered about your sexuality.
Used a coloring book over age 12.
Had surgery.
Had stitches.
Taken a taxi.
Seen the Washington Monument.
Had more than 5 IM’s/online conversations going at once.
Overdosed.
Had a drug or alcohol problem.
Been in a fist fight.
Suffered any form of abuse.
Had a hamster.
Petted a wild animal.
Used a credit card.
Gone surfing in COSTA RICA!
Did “spirit day” at school.
Dyed your hair.
Got a tattoo.
Had something pierced.
Got straight A’s.
Been on the Honor Roll.
Known someone with HIV or AIDS.
Taken pictures with a webcam.
Started a fire.
Had a party while your parents weren’t home.
Gotten caught having a party while they were gone.

I DON'T KNOW

my head and emotions are about to explode. i don’t like it. not one little bit.

Semi-requited far away love 

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Unrequited love?