Compartmentalization

Love is life, and life is living.

All people lie, and all people tell half-truths, and all people sugarcoat. While most people think there is something inherently bad about lying, there isn't necessarily something inherently bad about the last two. Sometimes it's justified, sometimes it's necessary, sometimes, in fact, it's right. It doesn't make you any more honest, and thus any more right, to be dreadfully negative and rude when the situation clearly calls for half-truths and sugarcoating.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Every ounce of care in me that once lived for you, that suffered through the blows and shots that you took at the heart it lived in, every ounce, has finally died. And has been dead for a while now. I used to say hate is only a degree of love, but now I think sometimes hate is just the scar left behind when care is battered and bruised. As good as love is, hate feels better.

Can I come over?

As I was laying in my bed next to a sleeping man, staring at the 'March 25' on the calendar, I finally realized why I am incapable, despite my somewhat masculine mentality, of allowing a man to relieve my body of the tension that is rippling down my back and hardening in my thighs. Though I sometimes act like, think like, and quite often sympathize with the ideologies of a man, anatomically I am nothing like a man. To me, it's like houses. Most people don't invite just anyone into their home, because it's where you live, it's where all of your valuable possessions are stored, it's a huge part of your life. You need to get so know someone, know that they are trustworthy and honest, before they get invited into your house. Dissimilarly, though, if someone invites you into their home, there isn't as much discretion used. Normally, you go; it isn't as big of a deal. Unfortunately for me, I'm a homeowner. And this is why I haven't had a dinner guest in what could quite possibly soon turn into 8 months.

Say that you want me..

Styrofoam

Today my thirteen year old brother called me and told me that some kid at school was making his life a living hell. Constantly talking about him, writing things about him in the bathrooms and on the playground. He told me he didn't want to fight because he didn't want to get suspended and disappoint us. He told me he was frustrated with the way things are at home. He told me he wanted to kill himself.

I can't remember the last time my heart hurt in that way.

I've fought hard to protect my brothers from the things I had to endure. All those times at my grandmother's house when I'd hide them in the basement, (because of her bad leg, she can't climb up or down stairs), so they wouldn't have to experience with her what I did. Or how I'd make up games to distract them when my parents were arguing, or come up with good excuses for my dad's behavior when he'd came home drunk. I've had my brothers convinced that Santa exists, long past when most kids learn the tragic truth, and I remember cashing in my life savings this past Christmas to give them a reason to still believe.

When we were younger, we put a chair on skates, attached it to a rope that we tied to opposite walls in the basement and pushed each other for hours; we called it the Rocket Chair. When we were hungry, we'd make cinnamon toast, and during the summer we'd play Tekken for hours on end. We used to love taking rides to the gas station in my daddy's big white truck while listening to The Parliament. When my brothers got in trouble, I'd always defend them. When I'd cry at night, they were the only ones to notice, and hug me.

We argue, and sometimes we can't stand being around each other, but at the end of the day, my brothers are my heart. It hurt to know that he felt that level of pain. I felt like I failed him. All the hurt and pain I tried to protect him from, everything I tried to do to make his life as normal as possible, I felt like it meant nothing. Like this little fuck of a child came and ripped away all the smoke and mirrors, and pushed my brother into an emotional pit he was never supposed to know was there.

I could fucking kill him.

Smoking My Cancer

Ways to get on Constance-Marie's good side:

1. Tell your friends about me. [Check.]
2. Go out of your way to see me. [Check.]
3. Smell amazing. [Check.]
   
4. Ask me if I'm hungry, go pick up Buffalo Wild Wings and look at me like I'm dumb when I offer to pay you back. [Check.]
5. Kick it with Evan. [Check, and there are pictures!]
6. Wrestle with me and let me think I bodied you because of my own strength. [Check.]
7. Stroke my back and arms and lock hands with me when I'm laying in your arms. [Check.]
   
8. Be an amazing kisser. [Check.]
   
9. Bite my neck. [Check.]
   
10. Let me fall asleep on your chest. [Check.]

Just a little bit. c:

I'ma need counseling; I lost my mind and I still haven't found it. I used to be so well-rounded, but now I tiptoe on Hell's boundaries.

Natural entitlement to opinion isn't a legitimate reason to ignore the truth. Sure, you may have your own opinion, but it's worthless to me if your opinion is in lieu of, and not coupled with, the truth. I'm starting to find a lot of people in my life have this my-opinion-reigns-over-fact complex, and the [admittedly little] respect I once had for them is diminishing quickly.

I'm trapped in a maze, and therefore I am amazing.

During the week someone told me I must be 'crazy' to deal with certain things I'm forced to deal with and still have the attitude I've recently decided to have. And I replied, "Insanity is the answer when reality is in question." So I'm crazy. (: Actually, though, I think you have to lose it just a little bit in order to be able to see things for their true worth. It's like when you write a piece, step away for a while, and then notice a million new things about it when you come back. Try taking a break from reality, slipping away into your own mind for a while. When you emerge, everything will be different. Even if nothing has changed.

Walking around looking for a way, but no one tells me which way to go. I'm caught up in a world, a labyrinth, a maze, where yes men can easily be no. ..I think I'm losing it, I might be losing it. I just might lose; am I losing my mind?

Lost by Gorilla Zoe feat. Lil Wayne

Cinderella Liberty

I used to wake up some days, and wish I'd stayed asleep, 'cause I went to bed on top of the world, but today the world's on top of me.

In the words of Bern Nadette Stanis playing Thelma Evans-Anderson, "The world goes on, whether you're sitting on top of it, or stretched out underneath it."

A month ago I was filling out the forms to withdraw from this semester. Today I get my requested progress reports back, and so far I have all A's. I also just picked up two, yes two, half-semester courses that I know I'm going to ace. Six Michigan classes. Six possible Michigan A's. I'm a prodigy.

I'm more than a conqueror.

I feel as though I'm falling in love with myself, and with life. That feeling when you're first falling in love, when you're so excited to see that person's face, when you feel so happy when they're around, that's how I feel about myself and my life. Every morning is a good morning, every night is a good night. I'm in love. I've loved before, and I've lost. But I cannot afford to lose this time. So I won't.

This new guy intrigues me just a bit. He's definitely the type of guy who's used to having the upper-hand, who's used to girls riding him, but I'm not that type of girl. He's vowed to not call me for three days because he's upset that I never call him, or text him first. Oops? I just like for guys to prove to me that they're genuinely interested before I show any interest. He's supposed to be coming up on Friday, we'll see just how interested interested is. (:

Feminist Frontiers

Today made me realize how much I've missed being able to just sit outside. It feels so good.

I am a good girl. And, with seven months of celibacy just around the corner, sometimes it gets hard. But, I've realized that no matter how frustrated I am sexually, I'm not the type of girl to set aside my self-respect, discipline and morals for one night. It may be nice to lay down, but in the morning, I have to get up, I have to look myself in the mirror, and I have to deal with the choices I made. It's not worth having my reputation tarnished, it's not worth me losing respect for myself. And not just anyone is worthy of all this good-graciousness anyway! (:

Females are starting to irritate me terribly. The first kind is the "I don't know why I keep attracting no-good panty-popping men" type. Yet, these are usually the same women with a million pictures on FB or Myspace, many of which are 'questionable' in taste. These are the same women with weird statuses about wanting a 'fine' man or a 'balla' to holla' at them. These are the same girls with their foreheads on the floor and their asses in the air at some party. And these are the same women who gives the time of day to anything with at least one ball and a shaft. What you attract is a direct reflection of how you present yourself. If you're constantly attracting men who only want to beat the cheeks and then roll out, chances are.. you're presenting yourself as a beat-the-cheeks type of girl. - Shrug. - Just a thought.

The second kind is the "I want a boyfriend now" type. It's weird to me when people go out looking for relationships. If you just so happen to meet and get to know someone and decide you want to be with them, good for you. But blood-sucking leeching girls who target people for relationships are odd. And pathetic. If a man wants to be with you, he will be. Until then, learn to be happy with yourself.

And finally, the third kind is the "Gold-digging picky eater" type. The girls who only want a guy with major stacks in the bank, and who looks a certain way, and has a certain body. Which would, I guess, be fine if the majority of these girls weren't broke and busted themselves. You can't require something out of someone if you aren't able to meet the same criteria. You want a guy with money, but you can't afford to go to McDonalds whenever you want. You want a guy who's 'cut up', but you have three stomachs, and horrible weave. You want a guy who's 'geared', but you shop at Rainbow. You're fried.

I'm so excited to go spring shopping, and get a pedicure! I love this weather.