Sorry...

Oh, New York, New York, New York.... How to begin.
Well, I will later, because now I have to write two papers by Monday.
But I'm letting you know that my blog is soon coming to an end. At least this one.
I am starting a new blog at an undisclosed location. Sorry.
I haven't been honest with you all.
Because I want to be happy about everything, but I don't know if I can begin to figure out how.
My New York post will probably be my last on this site address.

Trips

I leave for NYC tomorrow morning at 7. :)

I'm excited. I've only been to Chicago. Don't get me wrong, Chicago's fine.

But it's no New York City.

It's my first of my big adventures. I just wish my sister could go with me.

Here

Secret Sunday: 5

I realize this is late. I'm sorry.

I sleep with tissues next to my bed.

Just in case.

I know

I know why you don't read this

It's not about what you thought of me

When you said 'good-bye'

It's about what I thought of me

When I asked you to reconsider

Over

I would say I'm sorry.
But I'm glad that is over.

Secret Sunday: 4

Everyone likes me better than I like me.
It doesn't take much.
But I'll never understand it.

Sorry

"Wow, you look great."
"You... sound surprised."
"No, you just look very different."
"Are you here alone?"
"No, my date's dancing."
"Oh."
"Who are you here with?"
"Myself."
"Why? You didn't want a date?"
"No one asked."
"What? No one? I find that really hard to believe."
"Well... Ya know. Thanks."
"At least I got to see it. Someone appreciates it."
"Thanks. I'd better go. Bye."
"Bye. Have fun."


I'm so sorry
That I can't feel for you
The way you feel for me.
(I really am)

BFFs?

We should be having sleepovers and getting ready together.
But I don't think you had that in mind...

Never

I hear the songs.

I've stopped crying because of their meaning.

I started crying because it never applied to me.

There was no promise

Or phone call

Not to me.

But you knew there was never a forever.

I didn't.

Here

Drift

I don't know how
I let myself drift from them.

Because I love those girls
To death.

Reply

With the truth I fall apart.

I answer them

With the lie they want

"Yeah, it's fine."

I try to ignore the questions.

I try to push it from my mind.

I try to pretend I don't have to reply.

Then I don't have to deal with saying it.

I'm sorry I do this.

Here

Friends

We could be great friends...

But I'm scared I'm not good enough...

Here

Alone

It's not that I miss him.

I miss holding a hand that held mine.
I miss the whispered, "I missed you."
I miss the airtight hugs when we say goodbye.
I miss kissing.
I miss having a boy like me enough to risk my flaws and go for it.
And I really miss that I used to be missed.

I really do......

Confidence

How do they expect me to have self-confidence...

When they don't even have the confidence in me?

Well...

No one new likes me. I don't like me. The only people who like me are the people who liked me when I liked me. Which I don't really anymore. I don't like it. Why do they?

Tomorrow

When tomorrow turned into yesterday, I realized I should do something about it.

But I don't think I know what.

Secret Sunday: 3

I'm only just realizing that this isn't temporary.

I can't expect you to save me anymore.

Here

Dream

Imagine this:

An East Coast town with a strong arts community.

You and me.

An art gallery with a cafe connected on the right. -->

That we own.

We can bake and curate and do art.

It's my dream.

Please say you love it.

Here

Yes

I love it when the staff workers ana a customer at a store help me convince my dad to buy me something.
All because I said, "Come on, dad. It's just one, little, innocent pen."

Fine

I was fine. Until something someone said reminded me of a thirteen-year-old boy in Chicago who I love and miss.

I would like to say I made it at least until the car... But that would be a lie. I didn't even make it through fourth quarter. I didn't stop when I was marching home or when I tripped on the curb and crashed to the ground, snare drum clattering away. I didn't stop when I changed. And it only got worse in the car.

I have never had to pull over or cry like I did. All because of the boy in Chicago.

But he's not allowed to know...

Here