There were so many things I wanted to do today and almost none of them were accomplished. This needs to stop happening; I need more motivation. There's this crippling emotion inside of me and I cannot figure out what it is and so I cannot figure out how to fix it.

You know, it felt like the end of the world today because of something very trivial. This very trivial thing meant something to me, though. It is stupid how much grades mean to me. I am tired of being so stressed and frustrated that I cry. This is not what a senior year should be: crying and stress and disappointment. Granted, stress should be present, but not this crippling amount that brings me to tears over mundane grades. I suppose that if colleges base their decision of admitting me to their school on one set of grades for one class then I do not want to be there. The thing that kills me is that none of this will matter in seven or eight months and I will know where I am going. And I guess if I still do not know what I am doing by then I will go out west and find something to do there.
All of these plans are so pointless, but I cannot help making them and hoping for them so much it hurts.
After cooling down it is easy to say these things, but in the middle of class, when nothing makes sense and everyone seems to be getting somewhere, learning at least something and I am stuck with nothing but confusion, ruffled hair, and tears in my eyes, it is not so easy. I guess it is hard to think that none of this amounts to much except a, "Yes!" or, "No!". Of course, that, "Yes!" or, "No!" will result in the next part of my life, but in short, that is it.

"a story worth retelling is worth a listening"

Q: Where are the clouds and the wind and the rain and the red noses and the jackets?
A: Too far away.

Nostalgia is a bittersweet gal.

paper-covered heart

I laid all of my feelings on the floor beside you and then packed them away in a suitcase made of old photographs. I walked for days until I came to a sea, a sea made of cotton fluff and cellophane, whereupon I jumped right in and kept on walking.
Your voice kept floating by, kissing my ears and fingertips, teasing me with things I swear I thought you said.

I laid my heart on the floor beside you. I wrapped it up in shiny paper that you tore right through. I ran for miles until I came to a place filled with snow; I put on my winter hat and kept on running. I've been running ever since I met you...

Now I never hear your voice floating by. Now I never feel your kisses on my ears and fingertips. In my hand I've got my suitcase made of old photographs and tucked in my jacket I've got my heart wrapped in shiny paper, brand new shiny paper, that you won't get your hands on.
I won't let you get your hands on my brand new shiny paper-covered heart. No I won't let you get your hands on my brand new heart.

I cannot play "song for a friend" without almost crying. I feel really pitiful these days; I am an emotional wreck.

I miss you, as if I haven't said it a million times already.

I know that I don't grasp the concept of being on my own at all. I read things that people have written about the passion they have and the way things don't always work out, but they find something because of this thing within them. Of course they don't say these things, but from the words they write and the songs they sing, I can tell. I am scared that I don't have some glowing piece of love or strength or passion or whatever it is that I should have. Leaving in less than one year is a terrifying prospect. Though I want to get out of the place I am in I can't help but realize that I am young, too young for all of this to be happening. It is strange to think that I'll probably be missing my room when I'm hundreds of miles away (if I end up hundreds of miles away), the room that has held me for the past eight years, that has unknowlingly been my sanctuary will become a dream and a place I long for. After a while I suppose it won't feel like this because if you're somewhere long enough it feels like some kind of home, right?
I'm not growing up, but things are changing, and I feel like I am way too young to be going to college next year. Granted, I'll be seventeen this time next year, but will that really change all that much?
I'm putting it out there:
I am fucking scared shitless.