Another New Poem; I Know You Don't Want to Go Through This With Me...
Isn't in contridictory how the stars will shine for you,
but never for me; seems the pain is there for all to see
and I'm just lost in my reflection; enveloped by your perfection
and drowning in a scene of unfound tears.
Sometimes it's the hardest just to get near the emotions I'd much rather run from
but I can't escape the single being I love and I'd rather not run from you any more.
I know, no matter how hard I try, nothing will ever be as it was before
and although I'd rather it be the way it is now, I just don't know how
everything so suddenly drifted away and although I love you today,
I can't help but feel that you're slipping away and that I've lost you;
I've lost you as well, and my heart simply fell away from your soul;
I don't know what I know but I want this to end 'cus I can't handle this again
and I know you don't want to go through it with me...
A New Poem - Probably Makes No Sense...
Of all the time we've both had, to get to know each other,
how much time have we used? How much did we waste away?
How much could you say you know of me today
and what are our dreams? Our hopes? Our goals?
How much of one another will we let into our souls
and how much can we suceed with these dreams of fantasies
that I don't doubt are just as false as us;
I know, we've taken our time to give into lust,
pleading that love is the cause and I love you just because
you simply amaze me but when I'm acting this crazy,
what keeps you by my side and how can you deny that you hate me?
The Powers of a Clueless Mind...
Seriously, I don't know that I should be writing this here. I mean, really, if anyone reads this blog at all, Joe's the only one... and, if I'm talking about things with Joe... well... I'm really not keeping them to myself, right? But, if I keep them all to myself and don't risk them being noticed, well, first off, I'm not getting how I feel off my chest and secondly, I'm expecting for Joe to never know... and, while that would be ideal for myself, it's unfair to him... and, I'm not exactly one to want to be unfair... yes; I know I'm rambling... I'll stop...
The lyrics currently repeating through my head... In the Water I am Beautiful by City and Colour.
And I know its not to get away from me,
You just need a change of scenery
So strange how everything went wrong so fast
And I hope that this confusion does not last
These words might be, too little too late,
And I'm afraid that I have already lost you.
Now three months equals eternity and this will be so hard
And I will long to hold you in my arms
And when you ask do you love me
And I should reply with yes most certainly
And I always hesitate there's something lingering
And I will try harder to be all that I can be
These words might be, too little too late,
And I'm afraid that I have already lost you now
Three months equals eternity and this will be so hard
And I will long to hold you in my arms
Seriously, [wow, I use that word too much...] I barely know what I'm feeling... or why I'm feeling it... it just... doesn't make any sense. I love Joe, [I love you Joe...] so damn much... like, with everything I have... and yet, I feel detached and apart from him [you] and I feel like we're just drifting apart, even though I'm nearly sure it's my imagination... and, I feel as if we're always arguing, when I know that's not true... even when we do
argue, it's all mockingly... teasingly... it's nothing seriously... just friendly... and I have no fucken idea of why I'm feeling anything that I'm feeling... and I'm sorry for feeling it... I just... I don't know what to do...
I'm sorry...
The Dreams of Little Girls...
You know, when I was younger, like, I'm talking, nine and ten, I used to dream of my first, well, everything. I couldn't wait for my first bra, or my first period, or my first boyfriend; my first love... because, I thought they all meant I was growing up. And, in grade 5 [so, I guess I was 10,] I got my first training bra, only to realize it really wasn't all that great. Like, it made my back itchy and gave me something else to remember each morning... and all the guys could see it through my shirts and would snap it on me, causing a lot of pain. Still, keenly, I awaited the arrival of the rest of the "woman-ish"
dreams. In grade 7 [so, at 12] I had my first
boyfriend. Now, by boyfriend, I mean more of a boy who was my friend that I called my boyfriend. We dated for a week. During this week, we got close, only for him to leave me for a girl who hated me and dumped him the next day. I moved on, knowing it was nothing of 'love' or even anything of the sort, however, losing a friendship that I wouldn't regain at all until grade 9. In truth, even in grade 9, we barely spoke to one another, but, we did speak so that was an improvement. This past summer, summer after grade 10, we actually became friends again, only for him to move away in December, and for me to never even have a chance to say goodbye. Maybe it's better off that way; without having to say goodbye, and instead, just "see you later" but all the same; what kind of first boyfriend is that compared to the dreams little girls have? My first
love cheated on me, hurt me, a lot, and then left me because we
had to end that way after dating for 9 months. I mean, I didn't give him much of myself, and he gave me nothing of him, however, all the same; what kind of girl dreams of that as their first love? As for periods in general, what the hell kind of dream is that??? Yeah. Let's cheer about a gross icky wet spot in your panties every month that looks disgusting and doesn't leave you alone for 50 years. Let's rejoice in the joys of PMS, headaches, cramps, and the plain old feeling of feeling gross. Seriously, what kind of dreams do we have as kids?
Although, you know, on a positive note, sometimes the feelings we dream of as seven year olds actually do come true. Like, say for example, you're volunteering at your school and you meet a good friend, called friend A. And, after a while of hanging out with friend A, he introduces you to friend B. And you and friend B talk, all the time, and eventually start hanging out as well, and falling in love, while dancing to one song; a beautiful Coldplay song that you now constantly long to hear. What if you, and now lover B end up dating, and two months later, it's Valentine's Day, and you're amazed at how he reacts when you're bitching and ranting, or when you're depressed and upset, or when you're simply in love, like I constantly am. Isn't that what little girls dream of? Finding the sweetest guy ever, who is always there for you, and who loves you, through everything? You know; I'd stop bitching about my bra, or my period, or my first attempt at a boyfriend just to see his face, because, they all seem like nothing when he's around, and on this Valentine's Day, I'd just like to say, I love you Joe.
Yeah, I love you Joe.
My Memoir
Note to Reader: This being a memoir, it has some "too personal" tibits of information. Those have been *** out and mostly consist of city names as well as our last name. Enjoy :)
Cold December air always creates a chilly ride to Toronto during the Christmas break each year. Not everyone takes this wonderous ride, however, our family has different reasons to drive there than most families seem to. My Dad and my stepmom, Rhonda, live near Toronto, in a city by the name of **********. We visit them at their house only a handful of times a year; Christmas break is famous for one of our visits.
Christmas of 2003, my brother Trent and I were rather estatic about arriving at my Dad's house. This isn't to say that we weren't always happy about going to my Dad's house, but, this year was simply different. From a distance, we saw our father's yellow house, and we passed by the neighbour's Enstien basketball net and into the rock scattered driveway. The Christmas lights were neatly plasted to the house, as they were during the holidays every year, and the lights reflected off the snow, screaming of the happiness my brother and I shared. We rejoiced, while half asleep, as we jumped out of our purple van and unloaded the vehicle. We both had the same thing going through our heads; "only a few more sleeps." Yes; just a few more sleeps before an adventure that the two of us had only dreamt of.
As the four of us got into the small house that we considered our Toronto home, beds were made upon the floor in the living room for Trent and I to sleep. At one time, we had a bedroom to share at this house. The room contained bunk beds that we fought over; being kids, we both always wanted the top. At one point in the nearly six years Dad had lived there, he and Rhonda had decided to tear down the wall to create a larger living room. With our bedroom gone, Trent and I now shared the living room, with the t.v. set. Like every night we slept there, Dad put on the Simpsons and the television timer and he and Rhonda, along with our dogs, Wendel and Maggie, went to bed in their bedroom.
The days ticked past in Toronto. We only had about two nights to wait before our adventure and then the next day, we'd return to ********** for Christmas with our two families. Our adventure would be quite simply our first ever live NHL game. I guess it's really only Canada where this amazes children - even children like me who were never really interested in the sport of hockey. The day arrived where we were to go to the game, but, before we left, Rhonda asked me to help her wrap a gift for her mom. She handed me a small box and told me to look at the present before I wrapped it. Inside was a beautiful picture frame with three slots for pictures. On one end there was a picture of my brother Trent, and on the other end was a picture of me. The middle was the real present. "Under Construction; to be Finished June 7, 2004" it read in bold lettering. I looked at my Dad, and then at Rhonda who were sitting on either side of me by this time. I smiled and asked my stepmom if she was pregnant. Of course, she responded with yes. Soon enough, I'd be the older sister of another sibling.
When I had finished wrapping the gift, our family left for the hockey game in Toronto. The Toronto Maple Leaves were playing against the Flordia Panthers, and my brother's excitement had only grown since we had arrived in ***********. Mine, however, had branched off to other areas of my life. I seriously couldn't tell you much about the game other than that there were a lot of people there and that my brother and my Dad had smiles plastered on their faces the entire time we were there. I guess I probably did too; I was constantly thinking of how it would be to have a little brother or sister who would be fourteen years younger than me.
When we got home that night, Trent finally figured out the news. He had been in the same room as us when I wrapped the gifts, however, the television proved to be more interesting and Trent hadn't payed any attention to anything else. I guess he was probably pretty shocked, and maybe a little jealous, but he hid most emotions pretty well. It wouldn't be until later that Trent would realize how much he loved his new sibling. Trent and I were told not to tell anyone about the baby until they had recieved their Christmas presents. Sadly, the wait was nearly impossible with the amount of excitement stored within me. Surprisingly, I managed to wait out the two days without saying a word.
The next morning, Christmas Eve, we drove back home. As with every year, we went to my Great Grandma's and to my Aunt Sharon's that night. On Christmas, we spent the morning with my Mom and the afternoon at my Nana's with my Dad. My Nana and Papa recieved the same gift as Rhonda's parents had, only, their picture frame had five slots in it; one for each of my younger cousins, Ashley and Mitchell as well as one for Trent and I. As my Nana unwrapped her gift she looked at it, and started talking about how beautiful the frame was. While this was true, it wasn't exactly the point of the gift. Dad wouldn't let anyone continue with their gifts until Nana looked at it closer. My Aunt Kelly took the frame from her hands and inspected it. She smiled and said congratulations to Dad and Rhonda and handed it back to Nana. That was when she realized the fiftth spot. Sadly, when Rhonda's mom opened her gift, the reaction was much the same. Tracy, Rhonda's sister, finally broke the news to her. We all had a good time laughing at how long it had taken the new grandparents to realize what was happening. Our family likes to tease it seems; I guess this is just more proof of that.
The day after Christmas was my fourteenth birthday. After that, it seemed the days moved past us quickly. Every time we saw Rhonda, her belly had only grown, and my new sibling was getting closer and closer to their day of birth. The first week of May, we put together a surprise baby shower for Rhonda. By the time she got there, she knew what was going on. It didn't help that when she arrived at the hotel we were having the party in, Ashley had screamed "Rhonda's coming!" and ran down the hall to get out of her vision. The party went over well and we all enjoyed ourselves. We still thought we had a month before the baby would be born though.
On the night of May 18th, my Dad called my house as he usually did. This time, however, he told us that Rhonda was going into labour and he was about to bring her to the hospital. He told us that we should have a new sibling before morning and he'd call us shortly after Rhonda gave birth. By morning, we still hadn't heard from Dad so Trent and I went to school assuming that our new sibling had not yet been born. That day at school, I was extremely cheery knowing that I'd soon be an older sister again. This day really brought the truth into perspective. As excited as I was, I argued with people that I'd have a sister, but Jim was right when he said I was wrong; my new brother was born at 11:02 on May 19, 2004.
The baby was soon named; Reid Alexander ******** was born as the fifth grandchild of my Nana and Papa, and the fourteenth great grandchild of my Great Grandma ********. Our family has always joked about how the oldest and youngest great grandchildren belong to the same family of Robinsons; me being the eldest and Reid being the youngest. Reid was born on a Wednesday, and the following Sunday, my Nana and Papa drove Trent and I to Toronto for the day to visit our family. Reid, to say the least, was my new, beautiful, baby brother.
Memoirs for English Class
I guess the funny thing about writing memoirs in grade eleven is the simple fact that we really don't have all that much to write about. I mean, certianly we have topics of daily events that were fun, but, do we have enough of them to put them together, in an orderly fashion, for any one reason or really even within the same branch of topics? I don't think so...
At sixteen, and sometimes seventeen years old, we're not feeling all that nostalgic about most past events. Still, here I am, brainstorming for a memoir of my own, which we're supposed to have a rough copy done for tomorrow... and, I didn't find out until twenty minutes ago. I mean, it's the first week of second semester, and I'm already involved in a Sunday night rush of homework. Haha. Go me.
Hmm. Topics...
- Sunday dinners at my Nana's
- Times when Dad came down before every visit was focused on Trent or Reid
- Birth of my brother, Reid
- Birth of my sister, Tia
Actually, I think I shall write about the birth of Reid. Surprisingly, this has helped me. Haha. Thank you readers who probably wish they weren't reading this right now :D
The Truths of My Own Journaling...
Song of the Moment
"Now you need me, now you don't."
- Autumn's Monologue by From Autumn to Ashes -
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I was reading my little cousins diaries today when I realized how long it has been since I journaled. For the record, I had her permission to read her diary; I wouldn't steal my nine year old cousin's diary on her. She's entitled to every bit of privacy she has. However, I do enjoy that she'll share her own private thoughts with me. Anyways, back to myself. I used to love journaling. I'd sit down, whenever I remembered, and write everything I could think of. Often, it seems I later erased my thoughts from history. I'd tear pages out of books and rip them to shreads just so I didn't have to remember the events of that day.
Eventually, it got to a point where I barely journaled at all because when I did, I threw out whatever I had written. I started a few blogs. Normally, I'd post a few entries, and then it'd either become just my poetry or I'd never add to it again. My goal with this blog is to actually keep it updated. It'll be a lot of work for me because I'm not the best at consistantly doing somethig like that, however, I shall try. Let's see how long this works, haha.
It seems that now, I only really journal when I'm not feeling the greatest. Normally, my thoughts aren't in the form of a journal either. They're usually a letter, to a close friend, who I them give it to, with everything I was thinking being stored in my words. My poetry is a different syle; I write that constantly. Haha. Anyone who knows me knows that I always have a new piece being worked on. Maybe, in truth, I do write too much...
Despite the number of times I have personally kept records of my days, I still have trouble recalling most of them. I mean, the pages, although one time nicely written upon, are now with the trash, where ever they happened to fall. It sort of allows for my thoughts of dates to be completely scattered. As for timeframes, anyways. I really have no idea where I'm going with this. I'm basically just ranting now. [And now, I'm ranting about ranting; how weird am I?] So, I'm going to leave this entry at this, because really, I'm going no where with it anyways.
Bye all.
