I'm a fucking moron. I can't be a good friend to anyone. I don't know how to be cool like Scout. I don't know how to not betray everyone I know and become just another regret in their lives. I can't keep friends forever. The longer they stay the more they realize they hate me, until they never wan to talk to me again. Until they realize what a shit person I am to have around. I just ruined someone's life. She was fine but I panicked. I panicked and I told the truth instead of a tiny lie that wouldn't have hurt anyone. Fuck I'm so stupid. I'm so fucking stupid and I shouldn't even be allowed to have friends. I shouldn't be allowed to leave the house because I just fuck everything up. Everything I do, I fail at. I can't do anything right, not when it comes down to the line  I can't even cut properly. I can't punish myself for being so useless. I can't hurt enough. Fuck.

Steel Eel

When I get depressed, it's not anything permanent, or anything constant, it's more like this roller coaster I remember from my childhood. It was called the Steel Eel. From far away it looked so cool, like so much fun.  Up close I realized what it really was nothing of the sort. Despite not doing much more than going up and down, it excelled at moving in both of those directions at breakneck speeds. The difference between each zenith and knell was astounding and always varying, it may have looked innocent enough, but I had misjudged it terribly. 

I was barely tall enough to ride it, I might have even been an inch or two short, but my dad and I were determined and we boarded anyway. Until the first drop, I was so excited -nervous certainly- but excited. Then, after a dreadful pause the screeching metal contraption lurched down the longest drop of my life. It was not fun, I was not happy, I couldn't even scream because my lungs were saying hello to my pelvis. I breathed on the inclines and held my breath and closed my eyes tight on the descents. When finally the monster ceased it's assault on my entire being, I stumbled off of the coaster, clutching to my dad, giggling nervously. The euphoria of adrenaline soon kicked in and my laughter became more manic, more consuming. I continued on the day, avoiding roller coasters yet still having a wonderful time. I didn't touch the things until much later, with varying results. I doubt I will ever fully learn my lesson, I doubt I could even if I wanted to.

Interpret this how you will, it's another of my vague extended allegories which I love so much. But it rings true to me.

Always waiting for someone who never comes. Just tell me if you don't want to talk to or be around me, don't blow me off and leave me alone and feeling like shit.

Understanding

I finally understand why my dreams are the way they are. Why that girl acts the way she does in my head. It's a secret voice I see, it's my secret heart turning black and slashing that picture in my mind, trying to make me see what I already feel. It is my ugly soul seeping through to the manicured surface, as always it does. It is my mind reminding me that I am not a nice person, not even in that respect, though I desperately want to be.

Queen Dick

My Mom: Ali, you aren't allowed on the computer you have so many chores to do!
Me: Closes computer, starts leaves room
My Mom: Do you know where you're going for classes tomorrow?
Me: Nope, and I can't check because I can't get on the internet.
My Mom: Really? Really?
Me: Shrug

I'm being a royal dick to my mum. It appeases all these trapped, angry, teenage feels.

Dog

I feel like the dog of a very wealthy family. Though I am well fed, well loved, and well kept; I am fed table scraps an leftovers. I am only loved when they desire my companionship, rarely more. I am kept only for their pleasure and self-gratification.

I know why family pets run away. I can't wait to follow them.

Intoxicating it draws me in
a realm beyond wrapped in wool
yet vibrant and alive
with breath more vital than any which wakes.
Twisting, a labyrinth of sensations
of colour and of feelings and of life.
Fleeting in hours twixt waking and reality.
Slinking into cracks, evading recollection.
It's sole trace frustrating euphoria.
The desire to return never fully quenched.

Oh, Hey Blog

Just haven't felt the need to use you for a while. Blame tumblr -3-
I'm pretty happy with my summer so far. I've actually been DOING things. Hanging out with Scout and Arianna and even Sammy. Of course, I still spend hours and hours on the internet, but that's just my bag, man. Scout has been having a hard time though, and I've been trying to be there for her, but I just don't know how to be there, or where the line between  being concerned about your best friend and being an overprotective, smothering unrequited lover lies. I'm not sure, but I hope I can accomplish something. Thankfully the slightly awkward tension between us has passed. I think it's because I was finally able to lose some of the expectation and intensity behind my feelings for her. They're still there, I still think she's beautiful, and kind to those who matter with a delicious streak of "Fuck off" those who don't. I still want to hold her close to me and treat her like the goddess she is. But these thoughts and needs no longer consume my vision of her I feel. The playful flirting which keeps me in check has returned, and we have slid into a sense of comfort. I'm glad we did, because she's still my best friend.
In the line of friendship. Last night I went over to Sammy's house for the first time in a very long time. We sat and watched movies until midnight, when I figured I'd better get going, for fear of not wanting to drive home at two am or something. It was really quite fun, we still can talk and hang around each other. That childhood friendship has carried into the muddy waters of teenaged years. It's really wonderful how a past like that can carry into the present. Even Katie and I, diametric opposites, still manage to talk and to get along. I guess I'm better at people than I give myself credit for. Now if only I could find a way to be good at flirting -3-
In any case, all is well in Fort Luer. I need to go write fake and real letters to my dad, because it's been a year and I'm tired of this "when you're ready" bullshit, and I hope I can get him to understand why he can't expect me to be the perfect communicator. Yup.