my hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me

so won't you kill me. So I die happy.
Mood: Kinda crappy.
Listening To: "Hands Down" by Dashboard Confessional.
Reading: It's Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini.

So.

Things went pretty much downhill from Saturday morning.

The date was hard. Realizing that the guy you're crushing on so hard doesn't like you at all in return is difficult to come to terms with. You feel like a failure, and you feel so hopeless. I know it's not the end of the world, I know there's someone out there for me.

But it's so dang hard right now.

And then I came home and my mother said, "You wore that? I can't believe you."
I was wearing shorts, knee-high socks, pink hi-tops, a maroon shirt, and a dark green jacket. My hair was half-up and curly because I hadn't had time to straighten it. I hadn't seen anything wrong when I left the house. I wore makeup for heaven's sakes.

But she went on to inform me why boys didn't like me. She decided to tell me everything that was wrong with the way I did everything. I had decided that the whole boy thing wasn't going to bother me. But then when she said all these things, it bothered me. And she asked if I would rather she not care.

Please don't care. I don't want to hear this anymore. I'm not doing anything wrong, they just don't like me, that's all.

So I went to bed and cried.

The next morning was a mess. That afternoon was worse. She proceeded to tell me that she hoped my plane would crash when I went to New York so that she wouldn't have to deal with me anymore.

Thanks, mom. Please don't come to the funeral.

And so today, we've ignored each other.
I've felt like dirt.

So it was a great date. Let me tell you.

"There's no pretense here. I happpen to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow."
-Fiyero, Wicked.

<|3 = brittany

man, it takes a silly girl to lie about the dreams she had

But it takes a lonely one to wish that she had never dreamt at all.
Mood: Tired, excited, and happy.
Listening To: "Carve Your Heart Out Yourself" by Dashboard Confessional.
Reading: To Sir, With Love by E. Braithwaite.

So we had a party for Sutton and Bobby's birthday on Thursday. And it was a lot of fun. Sutton, Bobby, Kenzie, and Kate didn't go home until 11:00.

And there was a big tickle fight. And a head-scratching, hand-holding circle. It was calming. And very much needed.

Yeah. <3

It was my little brother's birthday yesterday, and he had twenty twelve-year-olds over for a party. Loud and crazy. And messy too.

But now he's twelve and his hair is short. I'm glad.

But I got home twenty minutes late from taking Kate and Kaitlyn home last night. So I'm grounded from Sunday(tomorrow) to Sunday(next week). Kinda sucks.

But I have a date with Bobby tonight. And I'm reallyreally excited.

So that's all.
And Kenzie's birthday is on Monday. :D

"I mean, who steals a dead woman's shoes? Must have been raised in a barn!"
-Elphaba, Wicked.

Like a poem poorly written, we are verses out of rhythm, couplets out of rhyme

Mood: I'm living. And that's good.
Listening To: "The Dangling Conversation" by Simon and Garfunkel.
Reading: "Two Hot Dogs with Everything" by Paul Haven.

It's a still life watercolor
Of a now late afternoon
As the sun shines through the curtain lace
And shadows wash the room

And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference
Like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar

In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
The borders of our lives

And you read your Emily Dickinson
And I my Robert Frost
And we note our place with bookmarkers
That measure what we've lost

Like a poem poorly written
We are verses out of rhythm
Couplets out of rhyme
In syncopated time.

And the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
Are the borders of our lives

Yes we speak of things that matter
With words that must be said
Can analysis be worthwhile?
Is the theatre really dead?

And how the room has softly faded
And I only kiss your shadow
I cannot feel your hand
You're a stranger now unto me

Lost in the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
In the borders of our lives.

-"Dangling Conversation," Simon and Garfunkel.



Things have been hard for the past couple of days, but they're working themselves out, falling into place.
And I feel the need to speak in poetry.
This is how it usually happens.
I speak in line breaks that I call poetry.
Tangent, sorry.

I don't know. I just need some time.
To breathe, to let go.
Things will work out.

I just need to learn to step back and trust.

"Maybe happiness is something that we can only pursue. And maybe we can actually never have it no matter what."
-Chris Gardner, "The Pursuit of Happyness."

Ta.

<3 = brittany