Headphones now seem to be more of a comfort item than functional object. Replaces the teddy bear.
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I couldn't help it. Lying in the complete silence of my little brothers bed, I couldn't help but come back up here, because my thoughts were far too interesting.. I didn't want to forget them.. Clear minded as I feel now.
What was I doing in my little brother's bed? Well, I was sitting in my bed with the lamp on, dozing off as I usually do, fondling a safety-pin, when suddenly I see four or five legs whip out from the edge of the head of my bed. I gasp, jump back, and stare. Little gray legs.. And for a split second, I see the many eyes and delicate fangs. The spider queen is back in business...
Quickly I back away from my bed, dropping the safety-pin. Then I leave my room and walk through the living room, into the hall and peek into the darkness of my parents' room. I knock very softly, and I hear my mom tell me to come in. I whisper "There's a spider in my bed.. what should I do?" She tells me to grab the fleece blanket in her room, which I do, fumbling in the pitch black room, wincing as my bare feet brush against something fuzzy, unknowing of what lingered in the dark. I grabbed the blanket, and then she told me to go to my room and change into pajamas, "if you can", and ask my little brother if I can sleep with him. First I change into pajamas, keeping my eyes warily on the exact spot where the spider had scampered, also glancing back and forth between my feet and the walls. Wearing a skirt this time, it's easy to change, and I don't need to close the door. Because I don't want to bother to close the door, find that the spider is on the knob or door, and then be stuck. It's happened before. So I slip pajama pants on under my skirt, take off the skirt, set it on the floor among my mess of things. Then I try to disconnect the alarm clock while remaining as far from my bed as possible. Very very hard. The clock was plugged into an extension cord, or something, and though I pulled it out as far as it would go, it still was fairly close to the spider's location. So I tug on the cord, trying to maneuver it to brush against my bed, keeping the extension still as I tried to pull it out. But the angle was bad, so I have trouble. Finally I step just a little closer, and get it lodged against my bed so I can pull it out. With a deft tug, I force it out, shaking my head at the damned thing. I then carry my alarm clock to my brother's room, and set it down. I decide to check if the upper bunk is a better fate. I step slowly up the creaky stairs, and peek my head up over the mattress. I see that the sheets are half off, needing to be changed, and some of Alex's old things are still there, including dear Binda. *smiles* I switch on the light, and look at the walls for spiders. The ceiling is only.. two or three feet up, so if a spider got me while up there, I'd be doomed. I look at the sheets, the exposed mattress, the nonexistent pillow, and decide to try my luck with Carson instead. He's asleep, with his light on and book of facts open. I close his book, and look at it. I start to read it, and read facts about inventions and people for countless minutes. Then I finally set it on the floor, and squeeze on the mattress next to my brother, switch off the light after plugging in the clock. The mattress is very small, and it sinks under my weight. I feel like I'm going to fall off, so I lay on my side. My brother has a terrible habit of squirming, punching in his sleep, reaching out and moving all around. I lodge myself with my knees up, as not to put weight on his legs, on the wrong side. Twenty minutes go by. He squirms into a different position, diagonal on the bed. I have to now have my legs hanging off the left side. I shake my head to myself. I start to fall into a doze of thought, memories and reflections about the happenings of the previous year, and the long lasting love and obsession. At 2:30 AM, I decide it's too hard to sleep in the same little bed as my brother, and I am in desperate need to let out thoughts. I tiptoe down the hall, creaking slightly, through the kitchen and up the stairs. I decide to sleep on the couch upstairs, as it would be much more comfortable. My older brother sleeps upstairs too, but it's not his room. It was a habit, as he grew sick of sleeping in the same room as Carson. So now he drags us down the stairs at bedtime, and logs me out before I can argue, and I watch helplessly as my blogging window disappears, as does the email and music. He then makes us march down like prisoners, or drags us down. I find it to be annoying, that he has to use this and call it his responsibility. So now he sleeps to the left of the very long attic. And now I sit and type.
I attract spiders, did you know that? They follow me around, like an army. In the afternoon, yesterday, a spider was just above the computer, on the wall behind them. In the evening, a spider appears on the head of my bed. Great.. With the beautiful warm days come the awakening of things I hate.
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What do you do, to stop loving someone? Is there a formula, a magic spell, a way to get it away, when you know, it's over, it's gone. Gone gone, and never could be. Why does it not fade, like most of my hopes and dreams? I don't think there's a way to fade it. The only way, is, if all you loved them for disappears. And it remains. Sadly, the way we knew each other, there's no way to know if it could be, any other way. We could have met in California, one day, we could have called on the phone, we could have talked. We never did. So I'm left with a lingering 'what if' on my tongue, on my mind, in my heart, behind all the things telling me, "you're a fool". I have a 'what if' following me. I think, what if we knew each other, as we really are? What if he had told me, and not told me, and all. Would we have been able to be friends? We're not even friends, now. But that's all we ever were. It was a funny thing, we knew it formed to something else, but maybe only on my side. And it was like losing something never attained. Like losing a friend, instead. We couldn't be friends. The way he was, I wouldn't understand, I wouldn't know, and I'd never see. That makes me hate this.. This way of talking.. Because, you never ever know. You can't see their face, you feel no emotion. It's terrible. And it ruined it.
"It's hard to push for the truth, and lies are easy to find. I'm left with, I'm left with this trouble in mind. I'm left to counting the days, as my life drifts away. Cause you come and go like the tide. While on the shoreline I stand washed of my pride. And the truth I keep pushing aside.. Is that it's time to walk away."
Still at night, it haunts me. Not every night, but it still does. Sometimes I just daydream of going there, and I wonder what could or would happen. Somehow, someday, I would be there, I would vacation there. Leave a message on his machine, or a note in his email, likely a shock of breaking the silence, that I was going. That I'd be there, and I'd be staying here, and if he wanted to, he could stop by. See who I really am, who he was really talking to for so long. Daydream my reaction. Daydream his reaction. Daydream if he'd hate me, daydream if he didn't. Daydream what I'd say. What would I say? I don't know what I'd say to him, if I could, in person, right there. If I was feeling myself, without any sorrow or change of mood, I'd say "so, am I as you expected?" If I suddenly was filled with hate, I'd say " So you finally came.. I didn't think you would". If I felt no hate, I'd apologize, because I've always wanted to, to his face. If I was pained by the memories, I'd simply look away. I can see so many different phrases. Likely I'd remain silent, and just stare, and try to find any words, with the mix of hate, surprise, worry, sorrow, love, and confusion. It's a lot to feel all at once, and likely I'd feel all, not sure what to think. You know, I saved every conversation, after the first few. I remember. A hug for all the times that I said I would? Great, triggers memories of things that make me want to barf. Well, feel sick, because I'd said too much, sometimes. Just shouldn't have. I was too comfortable talking to him, I think. Hey, Nikhil, it's like that email you sent me. How you realized it wasn't the best thing to say. And it would have been as if that part had made me very awkward. It's like that. I was too open, and then afterward realized that that wasn't the best thing to say to him. And the problem is, I really shouldn't have. It didn't do much more than increase awkwardness.
There's far too much to remember. Far too much to know why, and what, and how. It's impossible to explain. All I know is, something drastically changed. Jeez, thinking about all this.. Makes me want to stab myself, slit my throat, bang my head on the table, and then die. Well, not literally.. But you know the ache you get in the heart, makes you want to somehow remove it? Remove the ache. I get that feeling a lot. Of course, it would hurt so much more to do that, so I wouldn't. Don't worry. I just make an invisible motion at the throat or hands to the heart, and it does well enough. My mom said something.. She said, you can actually feel when something's wrong with part of your body, putting a hand to it. She's not that superstitious, but that's one thing she noticed that's supernatural-ish. I tried it. Weird.. I can feel a faint buzz, like I can feel my blood flowing beneath my palm. That's really cool... Can I actually feel it? Concentrate on my hands, and I feel energy-ish buzz, or bloodflow. That's so weird. I feel more of it at the heart, so it may be something that deals with blood. Oh, don't ask me. But I notice something..
It especially makes me want to do this invisible action, thinking of the admittance that I liked him more than that. Did it have to be so dramatic..? Did I have to admit it? I wish I didn't, strongly. I wonder if it would have still been, if I hadn't told him. I guess first love is dramatic for everyone.. Well, I need to remember, I'm not a normal person. So maybe not. I'm a childish, strange, peaceful oddity.. I somehow want to sort out what I am, at this moment. Let me.
I'm childish. I already went through a long conversation about that, and I don't want to repeat it all. The thing is, I never lost my child-self. I never changed. I'm still such a child, and still do what some children do. I read fairy tales, I dream, I dress up, I save bugs (*laughs*), I stare at flowers, I weave daisy chains, I lay in the grass and stare at clouds. Also, love to swing. I also have the child personality, in some ways. Innocence. No interest whatsoever in sex itself (more like, "eww..). Open eyes. You know, I had a romantic side to myself since forever. Since reading the happily ever after, since reading of knights and princesses. Naturally I wished to be "swept off my feet" *makes a funny face* like in the stories.. Even before love was an issue. Strange. Well, you know, it was young enough to be young, but old enough to have a side that wanted to be like that. So, what, 6, 7, 8, 9? Something. But, it's the same. Sex is far over-rated. Unneeded, but so common that it's.. Common. I could live without it. But, romance, that's another thing. Hugs & kisses, smiles and stares, and all the 'yay' like that. I'd never want nor need more than that. Never. I'm stuck at age 11, I think. I don't remember how it was, at each age, so I don't know. I'm from age 6-12. Thirteen is when I got harassed and horrified by the wonderful world of sex, swearing, drugs, and all that jazz. *sighs* Ruined. Dirt upon the white dress. But it can be wiped off, as you figure out how. Just add a little bleach, and though it happened, it fades enough. But it wasn't nice. So I am as I was.
I'm strange. I'm strange in many ways. Mostly because of my child-self, but also just what I do. I enjoy looking strange, occasionally. I dyed my hair many many different colors, to express my wish to be different. I wear gothic, just because it's fascinating. And play with makeup. I never wear make up daily, though. Another child-feature. I wish not to ever think of beauty, or need to feel beautiful beyond what I've got. It's nasty feeling, wearing all this crap on your face anyway.
Also, I'm one for comfort. And how do I dress comfortably..? Guy's clothes! Damn, girls clothes suck! I mean, we have to wear these painful things... Jeans. I hate jeans. The shirts are ok, fun to feel cute, but sometimes it's just annoying. Especially with the nonexistence of my upper body's "beauty" *smirks*. So, I have no choice but to be a tomboy. I wear all my pants from the boy's department. I have no girl pants. Well, maybe one, but it's my mom's old ones. All of them are cargo, if that's what they're called, and some shade of green. Loose fitting, so nice. Also, recently, I cut my hair to be just below my ears. This enhances my tomboy look. Huraay. I also get some of my shirts from the guy's section. It actually looks cute. *chuckles* Some of them. So, my everyday wear is tomboyish. When I feel creative, I'll wear a colorful skirt, I have one of those really pretty sequin-ish colorful indian ones, which I like to wear. Or, I'll try something weird with makeup, for the hell of it, or just to look odd. Funny. My mom said, though "You could wear any lipstick, do anything with your lips and look gorgeous! Your lips are perfect." So, even trying to look strange, may fail. : P But I have my eyes, and eye makeup is scary.
I'm peaceful. Yeah. I can't kill anything. Not because it's bad to, because I just can't. I think too much. I think that I'm ending a life, something that has a short life as it is. And very painfully. So no ever killing stuff. Wars are stupid. Killing stuff is bad. I can't do anything mean and not feel guilty.. And usual the only times I am mean, I do it at the worst time, so I learn the hard way. I don't want to cause trouble.. And I don't want to ever hurt anyone. I have such a strong conscience... I know everything that's right and wrong, and I stick to it. I don't do revenge.. At least, from what I know.
I'm also full of mood swings. That's why my blog is called "Wild Mood Swings"... Also, that's the name of an album by The Cure. So I thought it suits me. I'm childish, so I have childish moods. Just the stubborn attitude. The "I won't tell you what's wrong, just cry and pout" thing. Isn't that funny..? Sadly true. Well, in a sense. I don't cry, anymore. I never do, even on those days when I write about crying. I don't. I may get near it, but I never do. But, I get into those moods.. If I get really upset, I go into my room, lock the door, and pout, or just feel bad and mope. I won't open the door, I'll say "go away!". Like a kid.. And then I'll finally let someone in, and just look away, refusing to talk to the one who made me upset. Then eventually, they can drag out of me what's the matter, and finally it ends with a hug and apology. Far too much deja vu. Exactly how it always was.
And, just all the time, I go from up to down, happy to sad, excited to worried. I change far too often. I never have a single mood in one day, just swings back and forth...
I need to sleep. No one will read this much. Goodnight, gotta sleep. Cat's scaring me.
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