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a bottle filled with shells and sand

27 Jul

I am typing this blog entry from the kitchen. I see the world in many different ways. Right now, it is in Word Mode, and in theory, I can see what I have written in the places I wrote them. I can also see the things that are waiting to be written in the places I have never written before. I know this sounds crazy. I would not disagree. I don’t really see these words. I sort of feel them. I know I could have just said that in the beginning, but my music is really loud and distracting. This is not conducive to writing, but neither is the kitchen. Or standing. So, I don’t mind.

Right now, I just want to lie down and listen to the music. It will get to me, though. If I let the music in, like, really let it in, I let everything else in too. Letting that happen is not a good idea. Not for me, anyway. Remember when I told you about the Dementors? Well, wandering from Hogwarts is just asking for trouble.

You know, with this blog, I want to be honest. Like, real. Of course, you can’t always expect honesty, but just know that I would love it if you could. Sometimes, I think that I can be different and special if I told you everything. But I think some people need secrets. From themselves and others. If I was completely honest here, it might not be fair to everyone else. Everyone who wants to be honest, but has too much to lose. (Note: The music makes me write in fragments and disjointed thoughts, but I will not apologize for the mess that you are reading now.)

I was lying in bed the other night, thinking of all that happened earlier that day. I had this really nagging, terrible thought, that if I were someone else, someone better, my day would have been as enjoyable as I knew it could have. I used to have a boyfriend who told me he was better than me. I hated him for it, but believed him anyway. Now, I have someone who thinks I’m wonderful. He’s amazing. But I still think I’m broken, that I’m not who I should be, and until one big magical moment comes along, I will be nobody. Although I will deny it, and really believe I don’t want to at times, I want to be noticed. I want people to look at me the way I look at them, and want to know me. I wish I was more than Daniel’s girlfriend or Courtney’s sister, but until I can stand on my own, I don’t think I will be. There. That is the problem. I need them. I come in a pair. I can’t be fun or interesting by myself. I need someone to bounce things off of. Someone to laugh when no one else understands. Ugh. Really, sometimes I make myself so sick, I wish I was dead. People would notice then, right? Maybe a little?* I feel like a teenager when I think that way. Full of angst and all those stupid, selfish thoughts. I should grow up. I keep falling back into those. I’m not sure why. I really thought I’d have grown out of them by now.

I’m going to distract myself with something nice, now. I hope this blog entry didn’t scare you off. I am a nice, quiet person. I seem normal enough. Trust me– you will hardly know I’m there.

*  That was a statement that I would not have written if the music were not so loud that the thought was the only thing resonating in my mind. You’re welcome, though. For being completely honest.

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3 Responses to “a bottle filled with shells and sand”

  1. Scott July 27, 2010 at 5:55 pm #

    You’re right, you’re normal enough 🙂

    • jenibo August 6, 2010 at 9:45 pm #

      Thanks, Scott. Mom has tendonitis, but she has some drugs now that should make things much better! 🙂

  2. Matt August 4, 2010 at 2:48 pm #

    Look at you! You are a blogging MACHINE!

    I don’t know those other people, and I think you are nice and interesting just by yourself. ;P

    There’s a lot going on inside that head of yours, and at some point you will experience enough to just go with it and trust yourself. When that happens, nobody will be able to stop you. That’s my opinion, anyway.

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