I say I want to go home all day, and once I'm there, I say it again. I'm just never satisfied. I don't think it's home I really want to be- I think it's just anywhere other than where I am. I just would rather be in someone else's shoes. Always.
I hate it when during soft songs, the singer's voice is 3 times louder than the music in the background. The singer just thinks they're super important. That kind of attitude just makes me want to shut them up and just listen to the background. They're important, too, ya know.
I woke up this morning with a strange desire to wack everything with a hammer. When I opened my eyes, I looked over at the bookshelf across from my bed, and I began to mull over the failed interactions of last night, and suddenly, I had a weapon in my hands, and the bookshelf was in pieces, the mirror was shattered, the TV was destroyed, and my guitar lay on the floor, strings curling upward. Then I awakened from my fantasy, and everything was back in its place. Simply nothing goes my way.
I am wise beyond my years with the imagination of a young child, trapped in the obnoxiously hormonal position of a teenage girl.
I don't know what it is about my obsession with how I'm gonna look when I'm an old lady. The more I think about it, the more I can see it- I'd still have long hair, it would just be gray and stringy. I can picture being tall and slouchy, probably still generally skinny, and I'd be wrinkly. I'd strive to be one of those sweet old ladies that look like just nice people that are respectable and easy to talk to. That's what I want to be when I grow up. But in all honesty, I think I'm too odd to be one of those. Maybe I should strive to be insane instead.
I can picture myself as a mom really easily, too. I can see myself wanting girls but getting boys (at least for my first one) and then turning into a tougher, less spineless human being because of my dealings with them. Maybe I'd have a girl or two to talk to, and she won't be anything at all that I'd want her to be. She'd probably be really stubborn or mainstream or popular or feminine or social or something that I can't relate to at all. Maybe she'd be a tomboy and she's hate barbies and crush my soul, and she'd only have guy friends and she'd judge all the things I hold near and dear, like writing and music. Yeah. Maybe boys are better.
It's just so weird that I'm completely oblivious to the people in my life in just a few years. All I can do right now is daydream about them. I mean, I could be responsible for a whole new life, thus creating a whole new family unit. It would be so wonderful... That's what I want to do with my life one day. If I can't be good at anything else, this is one thing I would want to master.
I don't really often let myself loose and just be sad about things. I'll just lie to myself and say everything's fine, and I'll remain naive and neutral about my daily routine. I don't really often cry, and I do it even less often around people.
I do that a lot, huh? I find something new and revolutionize it, like "Yes. This is the pen I'll be using from now on." I do that for everything, every concept. I never think realistically that I'll only be using it for now. It's because I never live in the now. I make too much a fuss over everything. I get my hopes too high.
Everyone my age thinks that they're older than they actually are.
Once the bell rang, I bounced from my chair, grabbing my backpack. I was reentering the chaos of the hallways, preparing myself for all the obnoxious crowd adrenaline that comes with it. There's something kind of bitterly beautiful about stepping into a crowd like that. When you remain quiet and you slip through the obstacles, trying not to get in anyone's way. You watch people talk, take note of the couples kissing and holding hands. They're all paired off quite nicely. There's a beautiful melancholy I've gotten used to after seeing it so many times.
Everyone I know doesn't know me.
Ever since I was little, I was deep in thought. I was constantly imagining things, daydreaming and romanticizing concepts that have never really been a reality for me yet.
I'm the kind of pretty that you see in pictures of someone's great grandmother when they were young. They're not perfectly stunning, but they look kind of feminine and better in comparison to their old and unsightly selves, so you feel compelled to comment on it by saying, "Oh, she's so pretty!" but you know that if you placed them next to another average looking girl, they wouldn't look that great. It's all perspective. When I'm next to really grotesque looking people, I'm kind of a pleasant surprise. But that's really all I am.
I have my grandma's smile. I don't remember much about her, but I remember her smile, and I'm always reminded of it whenever I look at the mirror. It's just when I smile with my mouth closed, though- that's when we smile the same. It's the thin, meek lips. I always preferred smiling that way, and it makes me look at myself and see all the people that made Amelia possible.
