#4 Our Distance and That Person

***Once again, another story I wrote that I loved. I like this one better than the other. Its quite short, but gets my point across.***




Lies. That is all there is now.
Lies. Are the only thing that holds us together.
And the sad thing is....I don't mind.
___________________
We live in an age when all there is---is deciet. We thrive off of deception and fabrication. Look at our role models: a little nip here, a little tuck there. Then there is our media; who has been false since the start. Then finally are those little white lies. They aren't supposed to hurt anyone, right? No. Maybe not then. But later it will.

So of course, with lies seeping into every crevice and mind of our culture; why not have relationships built on lies? Well, we weren't built on lies. In fact, we tried to start out completely honest. That wasn't hard. You were handsome, I was beautiful. You were the track star. I was Volleyball team captain and Class President. We were perfect, All-American kids. On the right track and so in love.

Ha, I was in love with your influence over the students; you were in love with the thought of having the most wanted girl in school. Absolutely perfect for each other. My need for influence and power matched your need for having the best there is over everybody else.

Of course we were honest.

I'd make out with you and kiss you in front of your friends; you would help me win votes. Perhaps this should bother me. But honsety in our deception is too good. It makes too much sense not to lie. The distance between us isn't too far with our bridges made of falcity.
So smile for me, help me win hearts. And I'll kiss your lips and help you be the envy.

Problem? Yes. Solution? Not likely.

I'm beginning to love Blogger. It has offered me a way to express things, and get annoyances off my chest. And I find it kind of nice to think that maybe someone else is reading it. I don't know why...to most this would seem like a diary being read.. People don't like that, right? Their diary being read? Well, whatever the case I definitely find this a nice release. Writing here also helps me think. As I write my thoughts I think things through and I'm less impulsive. Which means I get into less trouble. Which-in turn-is good. I guess... Yeah it is.

Anyway, like always, I'm writing on here because I have another problem. It's sort of the same problem, well no...it's an extension of the same problem. Let's just settle with it has connections to the earlier problem. However, instead of writing about the problem I'm just going to let it toil inside for awhile. I'm tired of being so open on here. [Yes, I did just say I loved this place for it, but yeah...] Instead I'm just going to put some pictures in here. :)

A whirlpool in the sky.

Cat in a box....

Picture of my plane's wing going down to Florida.

Aunt's engagement ring.

I must be out of my mind

I prepose a toast. A salutation to all lost causes, and idiots. I believe that we should celebrate all of society's woes. They're people to you know. They may be annoying, irresponsible, infantile, and all sorts of other adjectives that cause many normal, hardworking people grief. However, they are still a much needed part of our social order. Without idiots, and annoying people, how would we be able to really succeed? It wouldn't seem such an accomplishment without all the people who suck(for lack of a better word.) We need people who are lower than us in some way to make us feel better. Without them we wouldn't be where we are today. Sad but the truth.

That, my friends; is how all humans think. Well, not think, but we just...know. We'd never admit it of course, that's just plain rude to say what is truth. However, I'm relatively positive that I am about... I don't know, this close (__) to committing some sort of felony, I am so angry. Anger is a big problem for me, so in order to stop myself from doing something I'll most likely regret later--I'm blogging. Isn't that funny? Oh, and would anyone like a guess at why I'm angry? Contrary to what would've been thought from that first paragraph; it's something that should make me sad.

It did. For about maybe, twenty minutes. Then I got angry. And I have been angry for about two hours now. Anger seems to be my defense against feelings. That makes no sense, but for every other emotion I feel, I feel anger two-fold. I should be devestated, I should be crying my eyes out, having friends over to share teary-eyed stories over a pint of ice cream; but no, when it happened, I couldn't even dredge up any tears. Dry as they always are, I've even been trying to get some sort of response from them. I tried thinking about it-that made me mad. I tried talking to him-that made me angry. I tried cutting myself off from the world and turned on disgusting little love songs, and I think I'm going to be sick if I hear another word about "I miss you, I love you" songs.

Becaus I literally don't. Even now, as the anger is melting away with every word I type into this little screen I can illict no emotional response. I do not miss him, I do not-and did not-love him, he was a play thing to me. He cried whenever he said we should just be friends. What is up with that? I always do the breaking up, I always cut the ties; never before in my life have I been broken up with. And by him! That's what gets me, it was the guy who is always broken up with. How did I let myself fall? I am so angry at myself! My pride feels like it was slapped in the face, my ego is quite miniscule right now. I think I need a race to win. It's humiliating, being the one on the other side of the break up. And I have to say, as much as I shouldn't be focusing on this, that it is quite interesting. I'm not joking, it's a very humiliating experience.

I guess I should be thankful it came now. My humiliating experience. Now I'm finally becoming a member of society. I've had my "heart broken" apparently, and I've been on the other side of the break up. There's a new experience. However, I have to keep coming back to this--why can't I cry? As a selfish human being shuldn't I be able to cry at the first insult on my pride? I couldn't cry when my grandmother on my dad's side died....but then again I never liked her. She was abusive and a mean woman. Yet, my mother cried for her, and she liked her least of all. It is my scientific conclusion that there must be something clincallywrong with me. Is there a disorder that prevents people from crying? Should I start using those "Artificial Tears" stuff? I mean, I can cry when I hurt something physically, or when something I'm doing doesn't look like its going to be accomplished.

I tore three tendons from my bone doing pointe at dress rehersal for a recital I had worked hardest on. I cried then, mostly because I didn't feel like my solo-or even my participation in the recital was going to happen. But I took a lot of pain medication and did both shows the next day. Only to go to the doctor Tuesday and have them tell me I am the biggest idiot they've seen. Because my ankle injury was so bad they told me that I would never dance again. I cried then. So what exactly is wrong with me? I don't know and it's me. I think it's time for a vacation. May be to somewhere like Haiti where I can do some Red-cross work and stop feeling sorry for myself.