Spartan.

*apologies in advance for the picture-less post

Happy belated Thanksgiving! It seems I'm always behind when it comes to celebrating occasions, but then again, I've always found events much more enjoyable when you arrive fashionably late. As a matter of fact, in the past year of blogging, I don't think I've ever said "happy _____" until a day or two after it took place. Sorry guys!

I have always thought Thanksgiving to be somewhat of a pointless holiday. I have much to be thankful for, but why wait until the fourth Thursday of every November to show it? To me, nothing is guaranteed. The house I live in, the shoes I wear, all of these worldly possessions of mine may be gone tomorrow, as far as I know. My spirit is imbued with passion, and although my life my boggle and slow at times, my heart is never idle. I've done my best to show, every day, that I am thankful for the things I have been blessed with, whether it's as simple as a ride home from school to something as warm as your beautiful brown eyes (assuming you're using clear contacts and/or glasses).

Yet on a day when the entire world decides to take the time to show their gratitude, why is it that I cannot bring myself to do so? Why is it that I tell myself day after day that I have the entire world in the palm of my hand, yet I spent my Thanksgiving feeling as if I had nothing at all? Perhaps it's the lack of attention, because I admit, I love to be cared for and nurtured. Maybe it's jealousy; after all, I am human, and when I feel replaced, my natural reaction is to cry out. Or quite possibly, it may be the fact that I simply grow weary, not of just lack of attention or jealousy, anger or rage, but because of my life as a whole. I have always been one to work and strive for my goals, yet lately, I feel as if I have accomplished nothing. Days are bleak and nights are long. The world is spinning and I am standing still.

Ever since the day I was born, I was taught by my parents, siblings, and grandmother to be strong. To persevere through doubt, to push myself through the pain, that was what it was all about. And for the past...well, since as long as I can remember, I've tried doing that. I've tried, yet still, I fail. When I stand tall, the world pushes me down, and when I try to rise up, my knees begin to crumble. Even as I type this, my mind is breaking down, decomposing into a hundred macaroni-shaped pink bits of flesh and nerve that simply cannot function.

For years, I've tried to be the strong one, but even Hercules himself needs a support system once in awhile. I don't know how much longer I can carry on, but I do know that I'll continue to do my best and stay strong, for both your sake and mine. How long I can keep this up is dependent on a lot of things


2:11 A.M. : And just like that, my mind goes blank again. I'll finish this up later. I'm craving a brownie, and some milk. I'll be back tomorrow. Deuces until then.