seventeen years old

I don't have anything to write about. Happy Birthday, self.

I never happened.

You never saw my picture, you never IM'd me and I never texted you afterwards.

You never texted me back, you never called me and the cops never came when we were watching a meteor shower at the park. We never went to Sonic and you never gave me your bracelet. I never gave you mine.

You never showed me your scar and I never kissed it and told you I didn't care. You never ever told me you were falling for me and I never believed it.

We never happened...

                         and I never happened.

I wish I had an enter key.

I ripped it off becuase it wasn't working. I kept smashing on the enter key and nothing was happening. Now that the little, black piece of plastic is lost somewhere in Brooke's room, never to be found, I am pressing down onto a little piece of rubber with my pinky every time I want to start a new paragraph.

I am getting quite tan.
Damn, Wiz Khalifa is ugly. Respect though.

I've recently become a spectacle or criticism. I can feel you burning holes into the back of my neck with the same eyes that read my facebook comments and blog posts. Get out.
I am and always will be the person that my own mind formulates. Whether the final product is influenced by you is determined by my allowance of it.

Brooklyn Taylor Gang.

the air smelled of kitty litter when i drove over the bridge with my window down this evening

I saw my new psychologist today. The first one didn't have a chance at unraveling my mess and making sense of my psychology, shit. I think it's because she was female.
This new guy, Dr. Frank. He's  the dopest little Santa Buddha to ever roam Tacoma. Our minds blend well. I've always adored Buddhism and to be able to talk to someone who thinks like me was awesome. We had a great conversation about sexual activity amongst teenagers.

My ex took me out to dinner tonight. Ice cream too, damn. I got mint chocolate chip  because it reminds me of my dad. Hmph. Ex is such an icky title. Ex... Extinct, Exiled, Executed, Exited out of. I don't think of him like that at all. More like... Experience, Example, Expectation. It's cute how we remember the little things about each other. Funny how his laugh became instanly familiar as soon as I heard it and how it still gives me little butterflies. I can still decide what laugh he's going to use as soon as he puts his head down and smiles; ahhh for when he's embarrassed, huh-huh-huh for when he sees someone getting hit in the face, and mmm hmhmhm when I do something cute. I can replay it in my head. All of them. I like to pretend that mmm hmhmhm replays the loudest so that I can say I must be real cute. I think that huh-huh-huh is probably the clearest though. It's crazy how someone can get to know you.

We were driving around aimlessly after failing to locate the Thai place so he said, "Just pick wherever you want". I freaked out because I didn't know what to do. I hate making decisions. I said "You know I can't make decisions." and when anybody else would have argued with me over the restaurant, Chris wouldn't talk until I pulled in somewhere. Made me do it on my own and that's what I needed.
Okay, time for these thoughts to become internal.

Boomerang.

Things have been returning to me lately. Coming back to me ever more so gracefully than they left. I was recently suprised when I was told that someone oh so familiar to the right side of my brain, yet oh so unfamiliar to my touch wanted to speak with me again after a year. I was even more suprised when the conversation went pleasently. I care more than he's ever known and I don't feel like it's wrong to do so anymore.

Migraines. I do not appreciate them, but they remind me of childhood. One day I had such a terrible migraine that I threw up a whole ceaser salad my mother had brought home from work.

The unexplainable, little, red bumps on my legs have returned after many years away. When I was younger I had them on my upper arms and thighs, like my sister. We would sit on her bed in our undies and pop our bumps together. Nothing but blood and clear fluid ever came out but it was almost addicting. I've noticed that now that they're back, even though on my shins and calves, I cannot stop picking at them. Some habits don't leave. They just rest dormant until you're tempted.

A relationship with the most influential person to ever be involved in my life is also returning. Things are not the same as they use to be and they never will be. We are not meant to be together, but we are meant to be with eachother... through it all. I thought I was the only one who believed that until he stepped up. He's really becoming the great man I always knew he could become.                 

It's a beautiful thing to have you in my life, love.

My dreams; you know the ones in which two posts ago I was wishing would recur, have in fact recurred. I was awakened this morning by the sweet voice of Grace (my best friend's mother who lets me live in her home) saying, "You might want to wake up hun". I had fallen asleep expecting to wake up in fifteen minutes like I had everytime Megan's alarm went off for the past three weeks. This morning was different, or rather... normal. I fell asleep and began to dream. I dreamt for an hour that felt like six and woke up sweating profusely from every crevase in my tremoring body. I cannot recall the events of the dream now, but I am excited to dream again tonight and hold in something to question throughout the day tomorrow.

119.53 Lbs.

I went to the doctor today to discuss irregular periods.

not gonna lie.

"Go ahead and step up on the scale for me."

120 POUNDS

120, 120, 120, 120, 120.

I looked down today.

knowing i wouldn't like the sight.

Belly everywhere.

I've been looking down in the shower, adjusting my posture until I can see my toes since I was six years old.

Ten years, 79.53 pounds later, same insecurity.

One, two, three, CRUNCH.

One, two, three, CRUNCH.

Bored.

I'm bored with my life.
I'm bored with my blog.
At the time, they haunted me. Granted me restless nights. Now though, I wish I still had insanely twisted, adventurous and realistic dreams. Just so I would have something to write about. Something exciting.

When I started this, I admired my own mind. Maybe it's because I was so depressed and constantly reveled in my own thoughts. Therefore, I was extremely familiar with my opinions and thinking tangents. I enjoy the happiness, but I miss thinking so deeply. I just had a lot of alone time to use up.

Alone time.