The Journey of Enlightenment

It may have been clear in many of my prior posts that I will grow to be a very miserable person, but may I serve it to you on a full platter: I am almost 30% positive that I will grow to be a very miserable person. Thirty percent is much greater than it has ever been for me. After watching the movie "There Will Be Blood", I have had a revelation of humanity and our irresitible want for greed. It has also come to my attention that no matter how hard I try I will always hate myself some way or another, if it is the slightest tint of hatred because of how I said the word "tomato" or how I considered even telling someone my deathly secret on facebook; hatred will always somehow seep through the Eqyptian cotton. I find it very very hard to look at oneself in the mirror everyday; how does one do it? Knowing that someone is always to be in front of you, though there will always be someone behind; they too may gallop ahead. I have never been the winner; I have always been the one to retreat. What can I say? I am a Democrat. I am a fucking Democrat who cannot slap the opponite for everything we've worked for will collapse like a tree in a heavy fire. We as humans will, as the proverb goes, will take one step ahead and two steps behind. I may not ever completely feel "good," whatever that is, I will atleast attempt it; the enlightenment is the journey not the finish.

This week has Kicked my Ass

The words are crisp and salty with a readable aftertaste. I cannot even begin to tell you how many times I have sat behind a desk clutching the bars on the sides to somehow soothe my trembling body. So I will repeat myself by saying; this week kicked my ass. Sunday to Tuesday, I prepared a speech on the Writers Strike of which I agreed with. I was the third to go in class but luckily not the only one to shake profusely. I felt like I was hyper ventilating; I had memorized the speech entirely but I forgot to breathe before saying my conclusion. I don't really remember what happened next. Today, Thursday, I woke up at 5 to memorize yet another disaster; a French summary of this ridiculous story for an oral test, my first one-- I should add. Because it's my hardest and favorite class I feel most obligated to succeed but should that risk my sanity? I think not. Yeah, that test sucked.
So, I will repeat myself when I say; This week kicked my ass, and I may have to add that this semester or year has as well. And next year is Junior Year and it will be even worse. great. right?

I CHANGED My Posted Secrets

I'm not really sure if this is a good idea or not to let the internet listen to my secrets because who knows what could happen. I feel somewhat strange because I can think of SO many secrets I have kept from everyone in my life; they're just woven in and the blanket is still warm with them. I don't know exactly if that's good or bad, but it's me. I don't know if I'm "meant" to live a "double" life or not, it's just been that way ever since I can remember.
So here goes....

• I feel like she's watching me ALL the time so I constantly correct what I say, do or write.Before I began to explain to you what I had corrected in the sentences before, but I couldn't because then I'd have to tell you what she doesn't want you to know.
• At least once a day I consider suicide. Just to see how others would react to my death. It's not that I lack attention or something, it's just ever since the incident with Nick Browning I like to ponder what the school would do if I died. Who would come to my funeral. Who would fake their friendship with me. Which family member would wander into my room first to find some sort of clue or to recollect. What my family would say about me. Who would understand me? And most importantly what or whom would drive me to my boiling point? Why the hell would I die in the first place?
• At school I am the most different person I have ever known. I don’t even know myself, well I do, but the kid inside me definitely doesn't. I am outgoing, free and smart and thin and happier. I can't really say the same for myself at home. (It's so emo, but I'm not laughing. It's really how I feel. That's why I love school so much)
• Every time my mom yells at me I imagine myself jumping out my window, onto my roof and soon off of it, she would want me not to, and for that second I would feel important.

I know I have more, but I don't think the Internet is their bell jar.