Lately, I've been detached from the world and thinking for myself. My own happy isolation, like Britain in chapter 26 or 27 of my AP textbook. And I learned, isolation is not happy at all. In fact, as much as I push myself away from my peers, it just hurts me more.

And why do I push people away anyways? Why is it so hard to trust?

And why is it so hard to bite back pride and relax? Why won't I explain myself or repeat something I said?

Sometimes, I hate who I am. And I convince myself I'm scum on this earth, but I "can't change."

That's a load of crap; I've changed a lot these past years.

I used to be the quiet new girl at some point. People now would laugh at the thought. And when I was quiet? I wanted people to see me. And now they can hear my voice from across the school. I hate that too. Not for any personal reasons, but because I know people I love hate it.

I can't stand that. I can't stand someone hating me when I love them so much. And I hope it's not true, for my own sanity. That's another thing I do. I convince myself of things to protect myself. Somehow.

That's how I push people away.

I've been pushing rather hard lately. And I've probably hurt and offended many. I wish I could say I was sorry, but I'm not.

Sometimes I read PostSecrets online, and they're always something like "I wonder who would care if I died."

I wonder too. But really, what strikes me more is "If only I was dead and out of this hell hole."

Out of this world of pain. Every breath I take hurts. Whether mentally or physically. Funny, my mom never believes me when I'm in pain. But I assure you, sometimes it hurts to breathe.

Sometimes it hurts to cry, too. Like the tears won't come, no matter how much I need them too. Have you ever begged yourself to cry? It's a weird concept and I don't recommend trying. It's rather pathetic really. But that's how it is.

Even my body hates me. Like it's saying, "No, you can't cry! Suck it up and move on!"

The tears finally came a couple nights ago though. Although over something so pathetic that it made me nauseated. How could I let someone have so much control over me? Me?! Wasn't I trying to push everyone away?

It doesn't always work. And so I end up with these half-friendships. You know, the ones where you lie your ass off to prevent questioning? The kind of friendships that go "Oh we're amazingly close, I love you, you're cool." And you have to say, "You're the most beautiful, wonderful person I have ever met." But inside you think, "I hate the way you make me feel. I hate the way you make me cry. And I hate you. So much. And you'd never believe that."

Yeah. I'm screwed up.

But it's okay, I prefer being screwed up to being bitchy.

Not that I'm NOT bitchy. Because I'm a total, complete bitch. I know it. No one else does apparently. Maybe it's cause no one in this hell hole takes me seriously.

One day I'll show them all. I'll have tears in my eyes and break down and die afterwards, but I'll show them. I'll say, "I always hated you. All of you." And it's okay if they say, "what a bitch." Cause you know what? I don't ever want to see any of them again. I'll leave and never come back.

-xPOx

You know, I really thought break would last longer than this. But already, six days whizzed by. And now I'm stuck with one day to do my essay corrections, SSR notes, case study project, and math project. =.=' I regret wasting time. I woke up at 7:30 am today (I went to bed at 1:30 am Dx) to do homework because the last 3 days of break I'm busy. So wish me luck. We all know I procrastinate way too much.

I'd like to take a moment and rant. What is the point of correcting our essays? Can't we just be happy with an 88/100? That's a B+ anyways, and it didn't bring my grade down from an A. So why waste my valuable, precious time correcting something I was rewarded for? Shouldn't we have a different system? One that rewards students who got a B or above? I think those of us who got a B or above should be exempt from the post-writing requirement. Some requirement it is too! It's usually 6 times as many pages as the original essay. But what can we do? English teachers.

-xPOx

So I was sitting down and thinking to myself, I haven't written a poem in a very long time. Maybe seven or eight months now. I should get back in the habit. But when I sat down and thought about subjects, all that came to mind was this weird dream I've had about blood. So unfortunately, my poem is going to be very disturbing. Please don't judge. Please don't read this if you can't stand cutting.

Crimson liquid flows within us,

The fluid of life, so dear,

But truly there is nothing to discuss,

as the blood loss affects my ability to hear.

Haha, okay that was just a joke. That poem was a desperate attempt to make my poetry rhyme. As some of you may know, I've been having difficult with making my poems flow. Too much free verse, not enough other practice. Let's try again.

I cry, I weep, I try to make it stop,

The pain, it burns, it always yearns,

for more and more of me.

I can't give this up,

the fluid of life,

I must not give away.

But my mind takes over and plagues my thoughts,

all I see is grief and strife.

I need to cut it, I need to slice, this delicate piece of skin.

But when I do, the blood flows out,

and I'm afraid it'll do me in.

Someone stop me, take the knife,

pry it from my shaking hands.

I'm crying out, but I can't do without,

this constant seeking of attention.

It's selfish and stupid,

Don't ask me why I must do it.

It's something I can't explain.

I know I'm wrong, I know I'm sick,

So please wipe my tears, and make me pick.

Will I choose you or death?

Yeah...epic failure. Haha. This is going to be more difficult than I previously thought. I have lost my ability to write poems on a whim. I miss the talent dearly. Every verse of this song was following a different rhythm. I'm to lazy to organize my thoughts and actually write something worthwhile.

Hmm...I'll make it up to you all. Here's an old poem of mine, that actually rhymes. It's quite beautiful, if I do say so myself.

"Can I Be Your Memory?"

Can I be your memory?

Always in your heart?

Can I be your special one?

Never far apart?

Can I be your memory?

The one you won't forget?

Can I be here for you always?

So your tears won't make you wet?

Can I be your memory?

To reflect upon when sad?

Can I be in your mind?

Even if it's bad?

Can I be your memory?

The dream in your reality.

Can I be your memory?

So you won't ever forget me.

THANKS FOR READING -xPOx

Don't you all just hate Sundays?

It's like the feeling of the last day of vacation, you're dreading the next day at work.

I swear, today is one of the worse Sundays yet. Biology notes, geometry homework, english QUARTER FINAL, english PRESENTATION, french homework, and global studies presentation.

In case you didn't figure it out, I'm mostly pissed off about the english homework. Honestly, what kind of teacher gives a presentation (as in, i have to write my speech, print out a works cited list in alphabetical order in MLA format, and finish this poster), AND tells us to be prepared for a FINAL?? She's the only teacher who GIVES quarter finals. So in ADDITION to all the homework for other classes, my global presentation, and my 2 case studies I still need to do, I have to do her presentation. Then study vocabulary, latin roots, grammar, and literary terms. =.='

I hate highschool.

I know, I know. I'm frosh. We have it easy. What will I do next year when I take AP World?

Answer: I'll die. Please start digging my grave now.

I swear high school is the worst four years of life. Your hormones are going crazy, your brain is dying on you, you've got presentations and projects from every direction, you have to think about everything you do. When can we all just relax and BREATHE????

We honestly need Spring Break to come faster. How much longer??

-xPOx

I rewrote the lyrics for a song by Rise Against called "Prayer of the Refugee" and I will post them here, but first I want to, for the 3rd time now, ask a question. How do you put videos, songs, and pictures on posterous?

If I KNEW HOW, I would have posted the song here so you could compare my lyrics with the actual song. But since I'm technologically illiterate, all I have for you are my own lyrics.

Prayer of the Refugee -Rise Against  (Remake)

Darkness Has It's Own Ground  

I've fell into a black hole,

A never-ending  gap,

I can't seem to hold on,

All I see is black.

I barely see the light now,

I'm stuck in this abyss,

I've tried to dig my way out,

But I'm surrounded by onyx.

Try and help me out now,

The darkness claws my eyes out,

I'm falling off the edge, and

I keep going down, down, down.

So let me tell you,

The last bit of my virtue,

I can't hold on much longer,

I keep going down, down, down.

Down!

We are the lonely and the desperate,

The misunderstood ones,

We always scream out plans of vengeance,

But it all turns into dust.

I've got a little bit of heaven,

A corner in the light,

I'm trying to hold on to it,

But it's becoming too bright.

It won't let me out now,

Black has got its own ground,

I can't find a way out, and

I keep falling down, down, down.

Try and help me out now,

The darkness claws my eyes out,

I'm falling off the edge, and

I keep going down, down, down.

(and I havent finished the rest of the song yet)

Haha, 2 posts in one day! You are all lucky! Another poem this time. If you understand this one, congrats. It's like...the way a child denies things that they actually want? Like...you don't want people to comfort you, but you really do. And you childishly conceal it. So I used a common childish song.

Rain

Rain, rain,

Go away,

Come again some other day.

No, wait, wait,

Don't leave me here,

To dwell upon my raising fears. (paranoia and insomnia)

Come back and save me,

Hide and shade me,

From the everlasting sun.

Conceal my tears,

Somewhere away from peers,

Bury my misery in your veil. (don't let them see me cry)

Rain, rain,

Go away,

Come again some other day.

I don't want you here,

Leave me alone,

Your presence is known. (I don't need you here)

You're still here?

Do you not hear?

My unexplainable childish complaints?

Come and play with me,

Safe and secure,

The rain is my cure.

Get away from me,

Cold and dark,

Like an eerie park. (in the dead of night)

Rain,

Rain,

Go away,

Come and play,

Come again some other day.

Wait, wait,

Don't leave me in this place,

Don't leave me in this void of space.

As I predicted, no one read my "Procrastination" blog, and no one answered my question. So once again I say, please, how do you add pictures to blogs?

But anyways, I'm going to post a poem I wrote on here. Don't steal. It's rude, stupid, idiotic, and pointless.

Guilt

Eating at you from inside,

There's never any place to hide,

Churning restless in your soul,

Much like a personal ghoul,

Poking, prodding, trying to leave,

It makes you want to heave,

It's there yet not,

Cold yet hot,

Never relenting,

Constantly denting,

Your heart, you mind,

Your spirit, your breath,

Animosity rules it's world,

Taunting, teasing,

Never releasing,

When will it leave?

When can I breath?

This guilt,

This shame,

This boundless blame.

It's all my fault,

I never told you to halt,

Remorse is eating me alive,

Deep into my soul I'll dive,

And be gone forever more.

Is it strange to say that I work better under pressure? My essays and projects always turn out better when I'm pressed for time. Or maybe, I'm delusional, and procrastinate too much to know the difference.

Well here I am again, I've been procrastinating for two hours now. I have a lot of things due tomorrow, but I really don't care at the moment.

Well anyways, as my brain explodes from my unnatural, consistently high stress levels, I'd like to ask the people of posterous.com, how do you upload pictures?

I have a feeling no one will answer this question. Considering people hardly ever comment on my blogs in the first place.