Insomnia & Sorrow & Sex and The City

What is it that makes my eyes burn late at night? I'll be watching Sex and The City and tears will prick at the back of my eyes. But, why? What is it that Carry Bradshaw says that hits so close to home? My life is nothing like hers.
So what is it about that show that makes me look at myself? Late-night self examination is never good. The middle of the night is when you are most into you 'alone self'. Maybe, it's when you're at you best, or maybe it's when you're at your worst. For me, it's when I'm at my most vulnerable and my harshest.
Why does it hurt more when you point out your own flaws? Your own short-comings? Is it because there's no denying it? No lying to yourself? When someone else points out your flaws it's easy to deny it. You can always say 'they don't know what they're talking about' or 'they just don't get me'. But, not when it's you. No one know you better than you know yourself. No one know all your secrets, like you do.

How did I get to this point? And, how long will I be here? It feels like I've been in this same spot for years. It feels like I'm floating in limbo with no way out. Am I just stuck in a rut? Or, is it something more?
When, I look at myself, really look at myself, even that part of my that I only acknowlegde late at night, I hate myself. I want to get rid of that part of me. I want to kill it. But, how do I do that without losing the rest of me? How will I be able to accept myself wile that part is still there? While it still has such a strong hold on me?
I've often heard people say 'what doesn't kill you, just makes you stronger'. Well, I don't feel stronger. Or, better off for learning whatever lesson it was that I learned. I feel worthless.

Sometimes, I put on an act. For my mom, or for my friends. I put on a happy face even when it hurts so bad inside that I want to scream. Sometimes, it's hard, even for me, to tell the difference between the act and the actually happiness.
Other times, I forget the acr and I. . .sulk, I guess you'd call it. But, even then I don't talk about it. I just keep it bottled up, and hidden away.
Half the time it's because I don't even know what's wrong. What triggers those little periods of depression that I can't find a reason for?
Still, other times I don't talk becasue I think no one will understand. But, really, what does it matter if they understand or not? They'll try, and if they can't, at least I let it out. Right?
What do I really ahve to be sad about anyway? I have a great family. My mom is amazing. I mean, we fight, but who doesn't fight with their mom? My is not-so-great, but at least he's kind of there, right? I have a wonderful stepmom, whom I can talk to about anything. I have adorable little sisters and a little brother. I have amazing friends and an outstanding big brother, whom I look up to and adore. [he's my hero] And, there's also the amazing boyfriend.
So, what's missing? Why is there such a big hole in my life that only seems to grow bigger the more I try to fill it? What am I searching for?

The Parental Unit [the mom bot]

My mom and I look a lot alike. We sound and talk the same. That's as far as the simularities go, though.
She loves pink and flowers and butterflies. I like black, skulls, and studs. She listens to classic country, R&B, and the Bangles. I like punk rock, hard roack, and Papa Roach is my favorite band.
She thinks that we think alike, but to be honest, what goes on inside my head scares the shit out of her. She's a goody-two-shoes, and I'm a rebel. She likes to keep me under her thumb, but I need room to breath. When, she pulls the reins tighter, I just want to rebel more. She smothers me.
She always wants me to talk to her, but when I do, she always makes me feel stupid. What's even worse is that she does it without meaning to. It sucks.

I'm not saying that I don't love my mom. Because, I do. She's amazing. She just doesn't get me. [sorry for the cliche]
My mother is actually an amazing woman. She's a single parent, and she works two jobs to support us. She puts up with [most of] my crap. She's been through so much in her life, and it's only made her stronger. She's a strong, and amazingly brave woman.
She's just so damn infuriating sometimes! Of course, she probably says the same about me. All the time.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

"Nature's first green is gold,
her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower,
but only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
so Eden sank to grief.
Then dawn goes down to day,
nothing gold can stay."

- Robert Frost

I absolutely love this poem!!!! :D

Let's Go Back

Lily: Let's go back, Tommy, just for one night. Back to when everything was simple. Back to when we were too young to even think we were in love. Back to the times when if we fell we just jumped back up. We just stuck a bandaid on the scratch and kept playing. The simple times, Tommy. I miss them now. Everything is complicated and everyone expects too much. They want you to give everything you have. I want to back to when no one expected anything. When, if you messed up your mom would just kiss you on the nose and ell you that you'd do better next time. I miss those times.

Tommy: Come on, Lily, all I wanted to do then was ride the faris wheel and eat cotton candy at the carnival.

Lily: And, all I wanted was for you to want me to go with you. To ride the faris wheel. Why did you have to make it complicated? Why does everything become everyone's business now? There' just no winning anymore.

Tommy: There never was, Lily. They just let you think you'd won so that you'd like them. Guys aren't like that anymore and you can't stand it. They expect you to like them because they're them. And, you want the same for them. So, why do they still have to let you win?

Lily: They don't, Tommy. You don't. I don't want to win. I just think that someone deserves to win. Maybe not me and maybe not you, but someone should.

Tommy: For every winner there's ten losers, Lily. Do you think someone deserves to lose at much as someone else deserves to win?

Lily: I do. Not everyone can win, but that doesn't mean that everyone else has to lose, Tommy. Some people chose not to play the game. They play it safe and let their lives slip away. That way they won't have to worry about losing. But, there is always someone who deserves to win.

Tommy: Always?

Lily: Yes, Tommy. Just like there is always someone who deserves to lose. People do bad things. Bad people. They lose. To win you must help others win.

Jameson

It's not like Jameson knew whatt he was doing. He was just a little boy. Barely even ten years old. But, our father didn't see it that way. He assumed Jameson did it on purpose, but really he didn't know any better.
Jameson didn't mean to break the bottles. He was just playing. He was just kicking a ball around the house. Sometimes it still feels like it's my fault. I should have told him to take the ball outside, but I didn't. Dad wasn't home; I didn't think it would be a big deal.
I was upstairs doing homework. I almost didn't hear the bottles break as they hit the floor. I did hear Jameson yell for me, though.
When, I got downstairs he was in the kitchen. He was holding his soccer ball against his stomach. He pointed to the broken glass, and the golden liquids that were mixing together on the floor. "I didn't mean to, Hallie," he said, his brown eyes wide.
"Just take your ball outside, Jamie," I snapped. I hadn't meant to be so harsh. "I'll clean it up."
He ran from the house, and I got started picking up the broken glass.
By the time Dad got home, I had the mess cleaned up, but the stench of the liquor was still strong in my nostrels.
I sent Jameson up to my room and told him to stay hidden.
"Girl, what happened here? What happened to my drink?"
I bit my lip nervously. "It was an accident. The bottles got broken, but I have some money saved up. I think I can replace them."
"And, this was your fault?" he asked, pointing to the empty spot where his bottles should have been lined up.
I nodded and wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. "Yes, sir, it was."
"What happened?" he questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.
What was I supposed to say? I couldn't tell him that I'd been playing with the soccer ball. He'd never believe that. I couldn't think of a better story, though.
"Where's Jameson?" he asked, when I didn't answer. "He was playing with that damn ball in here again, wasn't he?"
He didn't wait for an answer. He bolted up the stairs and burst into Jameson's room. "Where are you, boy? Don't let your sister lie for you! Be a man!"
"He's only ten, Dad! He didn't mean to!"
He pushed me out of the way and pain errupted in my shoulder as I hit the wall. Dad kicked my door open and looked around. "Jameson Lee, where the hell are you!" he yelled, as he looked in my closet.
"Where is he, Hallie?" He didn't even look at me. He knelt down and peeked under the bed.
In any other house, it would have looked like he was playing hide and seek with his son.
He pulled Jameson from under my bed by his ankle.
I wanted to just close my eyes. I couldn't watch. But, I had to try and stop him. "Dad, stop it!" I shrieked, reaching for Jameson. "I said, I'll replace them!"
"He needs to learn his lesson," he growled, yanking Jameson back by his shoulder.
"He's sorry."
"You won't always be there to fix his mistakes!" Dad yelled.
"No, but I am now!" I'd never yelled back, before. But, this was different. This was Jameson not me. I'd always been able to keep him focussed on me, or at least distract him before he went looking for Jameson.
I reached for Jameson agian, but Dad grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him out of the room. I followed them downstairs, trying to get Jameson away from Dad.

* * *

Jameson's funeral was the first one I'd been to since Gram died when I was six.
My first thought after I sat down was that this was all wrong. Dad shouldn't be there. But he was; right beside me. My next thought was that the casket was too shirt. Jameson was only ten. This was happening too soon.
I look at the picture, surrounded by flowers next to the casket. It was a picture I'd taken. It was on Jameson's last birthday. His mousy, brown hair was ruffled, and his doe, brown eyes were shining with laughter. He had a chocolate cake in front of him, and he was smiling so that you could see that his two front teeth were missing.
Tear welled up in my eyes and I scooted further away from Dad. He'd done this. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw him glance at me. He put his arm across the back of my chair and gripped my sore shoulder.
I wince slightly, but I didn't make a sound.
I listened, silently as the preacher prayed and then talked about my little brother. It was just like the funeral's out of the movies. Jameson was kind soul, a gentle soul, and he was just so young, his life had just been getting starting, and so on.
It was so impersonal. I wished I could get up and say something. But, I couldn't not with Dad sitting right there, staring at me.
So, I sat there quietly, with my hands folded in my lap.

Loving and Being Loved

"When you say 'I love you', its not because I want you or because I can't have you. Its nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are." -Anonymous

Too young to love?? I don't think so.
Too young to know exactly what that means?? Maybe.
Too young to be in love?? Probably.
Too young to know that there are many different kinds of love?? Never

Loving is scary. I've loved and I've been hurt.

I've pushed away some of the best people I've ever known because they loved me and because I loved them. I didn't want to get hurt again. When, you let yourself love, you open yourself to someone else. And that scares the hell out of me. It's easier to be hurt by someone that you love. When, you get hurt by someone that you love it hurts worse. If you don't let people get close, you don't get hurt. But, it's awful lonely.

I don't want to fall in love, but I've already stumbled. Maybe, I'll catch myself before I fall. Or, maybe I'll let him catch me. He's amazing and I adore him. He's too good for me.

Hello All

Hi, I'm Zariah Joelle. I'm from a small town in Oklahoma. I love to write && hang out with my friends. After writing a biggie in my life is music. I have a very eclectic taste. I like rock, country, punk, emo, screamo, R&B, hip hop....I pretty much like it all. My favorite band ever is Papa Roach. I also like to read. My favorite book is Crank by Ellen Hopkins. I'm fifteen, sixteen in May. [I can't wait!]

I'm pretty new to the whole blogging thing. The only blogging I've done before was on myspace. hehe. That doesn't really count though. My blogs will be parts from stories I'm writing and random thoughts and opinions.

Have a myspace?? Add me: Zariah :)

Tomorrow

Everyone always tells me to live like there is no tomorrow.

Sometimes, when I get really down and depressed and angry and abondoned I think that maybe this is it. This time I cut a little deeper and end it all. It feels like there's no tomorrow. But, I don't go do all those I've always wanted to do. I don't go bungee jumping or tell everyone I love them. I just sit in my room. I put in the headphones and listen to Greenday and Death Cab for Cutie and Hinder. I take a few deep breaths and I close my eyes. I think of my life. Everything that's happened and everything that could happen. Then, I tell myself it's not worth it and I'll feel better in the morning, tomorrow will come. So, what do they really want me to do when they say live like there's no tomorrow. To mean, it's always meant, convince yourself there will be one.

The Gray Areas

Do you ever choose the wrong way, when you're 100% sure it's wrong? Do you ever not care that you chose the wrong way when you knew -without a doubt- that it was wrong? I know I have. Even when we know the difference between right and wrong -with out a doubt which is which- why do we sometimes -or almost always- choose the wrong way? Or the wrong thing to do? Is it because it's fun? Or is it because of peer pressure? Or is it just because we know it's wrong? Why does doing the wrong thing -or making the wrong choice- seem so exciting? Why doesn't matter that we could get hurt? -or hurt someone else- When did we stop caring? Or is the right question, When do we start caring?
Think about it.....next time you're at a fork in the rode....which will you choose?

What about when right and wrong aren't so far apart? What about when the line between them blurs? What about when the black and white of right and wrong have that gray area in between? What then? Do you feel less guilty? Do you feel more guilty? Or do you not care at all? Ever?

Self-Hatred

When did you become just someone I used to know??
[some one I used to love]
What happened here??
It's scary when you can step back,
look at yourself && say
I used to think something of you.
I used to think you were different.
Unique even.
Now, you're just wall paper to me.
You're just another failure.
Just someone who wanted to be
but couldn't never quite measure up. . .