Finally.

We're moved into a new house. Been waiting on this for forever. I've got a big bright room that I think I may be pretty much living in from now on. We should be repainting this summer, and also getting this place rewired, and maybe I'll even get to have a damned outlet in my room. As of right now, everything electric in my room is near my bed and working off of an extension cord that runs from the bathroom. Well, I'm going to go get back to my unpacking. Ttfn.

Individuality.

It's so repressed nowadays. Seems like every which way you look, there's someone trying to stifle your creativity, your personal style, your opinions, or your weird behaviours. I'm wearing three watches, and fighting with my gma like hell just to do it. At school, certain types of bracelets, pockets that aren't inset on your pants, studded belts, skulls on outfits, and lots of other random things are prohibited. I'm not allowed to wear "extremes" in make up, and likewise, "extremes" in hair aren't allowed. My grandpa says if I pierce my nose or lip, I have to find a new place to live. A friend of mine got suspended for having her hair in too bright a shade of red. I have some friends who are always telling eachother and everyone else what they should and shouldn't wear, or that they shouldn't have this piercing or that tattoo done. Basically, what I'm trying to say is, everyone, shut the fuck up and let others do what the fuck they want. Please and thank you.

Miss you.

I'm sitting here, tuning him out, listening to the rain. Chainsmoking, as usual. And you're who's on my mind. I'm doing my best to get him off the phone, saying what I need to to make him go away, so that way I can listen to our song without having to pretend to pay attention to his droning tales. I've gotten good at that, faking interest in what they have to say. They, as in all those guys I thought might just be the right guy to take my mind off of you. Because, in the end, they're all interchangeable, aren't they really? Different names, different faces, different details, but the same basic mold. And that's why you stand out so much, in my mind, because you don't fit their mold, you don't fit my mold, you don't fit the Jell-O mold, you don't fit anyone's mold. You're own personal mold was used once, for you and you alone, and then broken. And that's why I miss you, and think of you, and love you. I want you to know that you are who I would pick to lay next to every night if I could. But we both know that isn't possible, at least not right now. So until then, I'll just keep on distracting myself, I suppose, with all the guys who are the next best thing to the next best thing.

Sleep deprivation.

A few of the random things on my mind at the moment. I need to go to bed. I hope we get the money soon. Do I really want it to work, or do I jsut think I do? I miss her. He needs to leave me alone. How did I end up in this total fucking three point situation? Coffe. Starbucks in particular. I wish Camel No. 9's were still legal. So tired. Need something to read. I'm writing to make up for lost time. I really shouldn't, though. It just ends up being this huge fucking mess of emotions for me. I need to let it out more slowly. I may not even be showing emotions on here, but I'm feeling all kinds of them just from writing so damned much. But isn't that why I love writing? I think so. Bed? I think not. I need a ciggerette. It needs to stop raining so much. The rain is making me so sleepy. I need music playing. Wish my iPod wasn't dead. Do I really have what it takes? I need to take off all these layers, it's too warm in here for them. Joss Stone is playing, that's much better. Ugh; life. I think I'm kinda sad right now, but I don't know why. I also think I forgot to take my anti depressant and mood stabalizer the past two nights. That's probably why. I can't stop shivering. I talk too much. And I type fast but I keep making hesitations because I lose my train of thought, and I also keep making mistakes 'cause I'm so tired and I keep having to backspace to correct them. I miss my great grandma. Despite the fact that I basically think about random shit like this at once, and do so all the time, every time I try to think of something intentionally, my mind draws a total blank. That's really weird. I really hope my teacher lets me perform my piece again. If not, I get an F. In fucking piano. So not right. I think I'm going to go ahead and go to bed. I don't want to yet, though. I guess I kinda have to, though. I need to remember to write more tomorrow. That's all. ZoomZoom(:

Just friends.

I wonder how that works. I try it, and something seems to always be off. It's more than just a little akward, and usually either a frenemie type relationship or something on the verge of getting back together, but not quite there. Or maybe it is there. Either way, when someone figures out the secret formula, fill me in on it. Please and thank you. That's all. ZoomZoom(:

Drag queens.

One of my best friends is one. And someone I kind of can't stand, and sort of think of as a dear friend is one, as well. My basic opinions of them is that they're fucking awesome. That's all. ZoomZoom(:

Snow.

So I was just reading a friend's post, and he mentioned that he wants to move somewhere where it's always warm. We can trade places, then. The lowest it gets is to freezing, and that's only in the early morning and late at night. I'd kill to get to live anywhere where it snows, or even get to play in the snow, at least once. I've never gotten to build a snow man, or have a snow ball fight, or make a snow angel. The closest thing I've done to playing in the snow is making a sleet ball after the most recent frost and throwing it at my neighbor's house, just 'cause he's a jackass. Does that count? I think I'm going to go to Salem, and visit my dear friend who's going to college there. Then I'll steal him away and go to the North Pole for a day. That sounds fun. Cold, but fun. Like I said earlier, snow is a current obsession for me. I'm kind of depressed that I've never played with it yet, and I'm already sixteen. I'll be seventeen by the end of the summer, still waiting for a perfect snow day, even just one. That's all. ZoomZoom(: