Thursday, February 11, 2010

suitcases&travelbags

Another Twitter shoutout!

You're welcome Kellz =) I'm actually surprised you still read this, because mostly everyone that I know has moved on to Tumblr, and there are very few people who actually check up on my Blogspot. Thank you, though! This is where I do most of my contemplating and reflecting, and it feels nice to know that my words are being read. And yes! You, Danielle, and I need to get together soon and get some grub. Let me know whenever, I'm down! Winter Break will be the business.

"Hectic" is a word that does not even begin to describe my life as of late. My mother and I took a stroll down to the attendance office at school on Tuesday to discuss my truancy letters, and although I got a huge break, I really do need to be mindful of my attendance from here on out. Dad and I headed to the dentist's office after that to get our checkups, and it seems that I'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled out in April. No nap for me that day, and not surprisingly, a massive headache rolled in around 6P.M. In an effort to alleviate some of the pain, I went for a drive to Burrito Azteca, where I encountered two middle-aged Russian tourists attempting to peddle Mary Kay makeup products to the employees and customers. The women badgered the cashiers at first, and once they saw that it was no use, they moved on to a customer waiting in line, who happened to be Caucasian. "Are you Russian?" they asked her, to which she replied with, "No, I'm Angela!". Needless to say, (silent) laughs were had, and I was out of there as soon as possible in the event that they might have approached me, next.

Yesterday brought my mood crashing down for reasons inexplicable. The math quizzes that we took on Monday were passed back, and I was both frustrated and disappointed in myself that I had earned a score of 14 out of 15 points, sacrificing a perfect score to a juvenile mistake that should have been double-checked. The feeling was highly reminiscent of the week after finals, during which my written final for piano class was returned to me with a score of 90 out of 100. Although much better than I had expected, again, the mistakes were juvenile and careless, and a higher score was certainly possible. One thing that I find odd is the fact that I am often more upset when I come close to a perfect score and fall short rather than when I am nowhere close to what could be considered a great grade. Perhaps, just maybe this is a reflection on my personal life.

On one hand, I want to pack my bags and escape, leaving only remnants of the past that we shared together. And on the other hand, I feel compelled by destruction and regret, fueled by bitterness to the point that a big box containing memories set ablaze in glorious effigy begins to seem like a pretty nice sight. They all tell me to push harder, to keep you out of my life, and that all these spontaneous thoughts do is instill me with a sense of false hope that one day you'll finally come back. And with that comes another dilemma: If you return, do I take you back? &here I go, putting the cart before the horse, getting my hopes high and sticking my head in the clouds.

I know it sounds irrational, even asinine for me to attempt to judge your life, for I haven't been a part of it for what seems like the longest time now, but from my observations, it would appear to me that even now, you're not truly happy, no matter how often you may reassure others that you are. But I know you better than that, and for the past weeks, I've seen more explicit words and vulgarities coming from you than I've ever seen before. Maybe you're just growing up, breaking out of your happy-go-lucky shell, or perhaps it's a constellation of a frustration, a manifestation of your deepest thoughts and feelings. Whatever they may be, I'm sure that I'm completely oblivious to them, but the very notion of something so...intriguing is what causes me to cock my head to the side and raise an eyebrow in suspicion that something may be lurking in the depths of your heart that might just one day bring thoughts of you and I rushing back. And when that time comes, stranger, what will you do?





Goodnight.

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