Allow me To Ramble

Rambling dreamer needs to ramble.

*sighs* I'm tired.. Reading that, I think to myself, 'no I'm not, you bastard', but I guess I am. Over. It. *laughs* It's weird. I'll say I am, and then if he says it, I'll be like 'hell no!' Hell no because I'll never forget, I'll never be able to erase the feeling and memory. So I never will be, but enough to move on. Pisses me off when he says that, though. I don't talk to him, but I have a habit of watching that I can't dismiss. Loved you, hate you, love you still, hate you still, it's amazing how you never make up your mind.

I'm tired tired tired. I want to ramble, though. I want to write forever and ever and ever. I don't know where the urge comes from, but I feel like I need it. Spill thoughts over, overflowing. But, I'm blank. Yet I can make stories out of air, out of the emptiness, pull it out like Houdini. Fwoosh. I can make my magic. My magic with words, that will soon leave you wondering.. Does she have something up her sleeves? How does she do it? Hiding muses, hints, how does she ramble with out even having a subject? :)

I--.. can't help it! Fooking--.. *laughs* Mayre Mayre Mayre.. I have to quote you every time.
Blush and I go numb, feel sick and overwhelmed. Tingling skin and bite my lips, hands go cold. Shudder, shiver, cool breeze through the window. Flattery in the midst of all the hatred. Not like it's a good thing, I didn't leave the best of marks. Wish I'd never met you. At least then I wouldn't have a lingering sense of 'what if...'

And I can't help but smile. "Memory of confused flattery brings me to...--"

I can't help it, I just can't. La la la. Please ignore it all, pretend you don't understand what I'm talking about.
---

Why can't I write anything.. good? All I write is crap like this. Things that make no sense, have no point, and are completely useless... *sigh* Darn it, I'm going to fail at being an author, at this rate. If I ever become one, look for my name, buy my books! I need food! Hahaha... I'll be a starving author, a starving artist, a solitary hermit. That's my prediction. I'll fail but someone will see something in it all, or I'll figure out how to write books. We'll see, won't we? I'll go under Hemingway, okay? I'll be Tanya Hemingway. A pen name? It's because I like my Hemingway roots better than my real last name. Hemingway is my middle name, and I just prefer being related to my laughing, happy, artistic family instead of my smart, christian rooted ones. I don't know them as well as my Hemingway relatives. But then they might think I'm kinda a arrogant author who wants to be under a famous name.. I'm not sure. I'd have to be careful.

What can I tell you? I need damned inspiration. What besides junk can I give you? Looking at pictures, I could make stories. But no one would like to hear it. Well, hell, my blog! So why should I care..? I can write what I want. I'm not here for ratings.

I need to describe things. Shut up and don't tell me if it bores you. ^___^ Sorry, I'm being rude. I don't know why. I guess grumpy.. I'M NOT HOLDING BACK. DON'T BOTHER ME ABOUT WHAT I SAY. I don't care if you're sick of it. *bows*
--

Gf? Did you really subconsciously see me that way? I remember I asked you, but you said you couldn't, that it was too early to decide. Half rejection, but kindly, and I accepted it. A big deal out of nothing, at first. Sorry that I made it awkward. *laughs* I always manage to. I never thought I'd ask anyone.. Man, even now.. Just the sound of that, it doesn't sound like me! Me, with a boyfriend?? NEVER! Even though I always wanted one. But I'm thinking, no way will I ever have one. It doesn't fit me, think of Tanya. She's sitting there, silent, turning red from the stuttering mess she just made of her presentation. Hands shaking, staring off into space. She looks nervously at you, glancing away and around, like prey of everyone's harsh words. Shakes her head and rests her chin on her hands, embarrassed. The Tanya who doesn't know any guys in person, except for one talkative oddball. Tanya will not have a boyfriend. So I think back, and I see from a different perspective, and I know it'd never be. Even so, it would clash terribly with my personality. I'm the loner, the silent one. Well, I see myself this way. Maybe I'm all laughs and smiles. What if I am? I don't even know, anymore. Look at me, friends, peers, what do you see? I can't see through eyes that aren't my own. My friends, whenever they're near, I'm either studying, half asleep, or smiling. Chuckle, laugh, smile, ask how they're doing. So maybe they see me, based off that. I really wish I could switch bodies, just for a day.. So I can know exactly how some people see. I want to know how it is. I see even my sad friend as happy, so maybe they see me as hyper. *laughs* Yeah right! Mayre said something about me always being cheerful.. Is that true..? I'm always worried, though. "Oh no.. I'm going to do terribly on this test.. *sigh*" "No you're not, it'll be fine" "I guess.." "Come on, you always do good!" "..." I'm glad Mayre's around, because my mind would fold into itself and I would die. *laughs* More, I'd be gloomy, and nervous. It's amazing how nice it can be to have hyper/odd friends. They really keep you from dragging your backpack, shuffling slowly down the hall with your head down.. A big wave, a smile, a laugh at your expressions, Mayre. You give me something to smile at, thank you.

Love to all my friends, you're all special to me.

Amanda.. You've had it hard, it seems. You're too kind for that. You've never said a harsh word to me, you've never shown any real strong hate or anger towards anyone or anything. Sweet friend, whom I often call my best friend. My 'supertwin', as inspired by the book Born Confused. She was the first person who I really could talk to, when I was alone. In fifth grade, wasn't it? She was even more quiet than me, but I talked to her. My dad would say "Amanda seems like a really nice person" and my choice of friends was smiled upon by him. Yes, she was one of my kindest friends. And still is. I'm hoping everyone's not giving her a hard time for not talking as much, because she's suffering. I don't even know why yet. But something's been happening, and I'm not going to force the answer out of her. But I need to ask, Amanda.. My most trustworthy, sweet, sincere friend. Perfect soul.

Sophie, goodness. "Oy ve.." I have to say, you're wonderful company. You've got some interesting stories, and amuse me at lunch time and during science class. Poor chinchilla.. It made me laugh, though. I love your personality, and your interests always make conversations funny. Thank you so much for sharing your chocolate, it's always perked me up, and I'm always happy to receive. *laughs* Oh, jeez, greedy.. But thank you. It's such fun to hear you talk of the movies, the chinchilla, diseases, school lunch, murder. Always makes me grin. Innocent fun of such serious subjects.. I'm not sure if school lunch counts.

Annamarie, it was funny when we met. Elementary school, was it? Fourth grade, or something? I remember, you were really tall. I thought you were a fifth grader, if not older. You were the first to get to your approximate permanent 8th grade height. How did it happen? I think it left an imprint in my mind. I was playing by myself, as usual. My best friend had just moved to New Mexico, and so I was back to being by myself. I was tracing the painted lines on the cement with my feet, treating it as a tightrope, I balance. Or maybe I was playing hopscotch, or just sitting, making formations with the loose gravel. I remember that the security/watching staff walked up to me, and you were there too. Didn't she say, "This is a new student, could you play with her and introduce her to people?" I think I nodded, and then talked to you. I found that you were my age, to my surprise. It's funny, isn't it? You'd always have those pool-parties and themes. What is it this time, chocolate, karaoke? It sounds like fun. I'll see you at the Neptune tomorrow, it'll be fun to see a movie with everyone.. How many, ten?

Nick, go away! *laughs* You really are a pain, the way you follow us around. You're a decent person, I admit. But you've got to stop with the hint hints, and the sex-jokes. Enough is enough. It makes me lose my appetite. Though you have a lack of humor, and everyone scoots away from you when you sit at our table, you're an alright person. I know because if you sit alone with me, you don't bother me. I think you do the whole thing for the expression, reaction. I tend not to have a reaction, besides chuckling and shaking my head, as I glance up from my papers, so you crack less jokes. I think you have fun with all of us being like "ewww!" and wanting to throw apples and carrots at you. Though annoying, I acknowledge your existence. Just learn to stop the jokes, before I throw something at you too. And do you not have any friends? Do you have to sit with us?

I'll continue my thank yous to friends later.