Sarah's Life

A point of consideration

I've been keeping this journal for far too long now. It scares me. I have entries in here from so far back that I was still totally in love with Anthony. I have entries from my hating him. I have entries from dating Munchie. I have most of my recent life in here. And it's entertaining. Especially now that I'm in a place that only one other person from my former school attends. I'm sitting in my room alone (for the first time in days basically). And I'm still adapting to not having ANY privacy. I'm listening to the CD from my freshman year of choir. I remeber standing next to James learning Kyrie. He moved my sophmore year and I lost total touch with him by the next year. I never wanted to lose touch with him. Part of me is tempted to track him down. But I'm not even sure how to start, or what he'd think. I talk to Anthony from time to time now, but I havn't really talked to him in a long while. I keep thinking I should call him one of these weekends, but I never do.

I remember standing in that choir with Mr. Arnett and singing my heart out. I remember being so dissapointed when Mrs. Willmarth destroyed that love for me. I don't have anything anymore. All of my 'good' friends from highschool barely talk to me anymore with the exception of Gaite. And even that communication channel is breaking down to a certain extent. And when everything is breaking down into chaos around here... FUCK I've even managed to alienate Cody, methinks. Of course, I do that about once a year, but I still hate it. I should be used to this by now. Ah well, just the drama queen in me. I'm starting to get that feeling again - the one where I'm standing and joking around with people and then I'm also in a corner watching myself and wondering what the hell I'm doing. I don't feel connected to myself again. Maybe I'm just lost in the corner's of my mind again. It's been a few months since feeling like this, and I hate it. The impalement sensations are returning in force, which just gets odder and odder. I don't know what it means when you have ghost sensations of impalement through your wrists and chest. I guess... I don't know. It's odd though, and I know it directly relates to mood. I can write again, at least. I've been focusing on my novel for the most part, which keeps me with a pen to paper, but I'm journaling again, which helps. It's been a while since I've been able to just sit down and type. Maybe something's loosening up in there.

*sigh* Where does everyone go?



where do I go?





"If you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time, or the tools, to write." - Stephen King

"Forbidden fruits create jams" - Chuch sign saying

"What a strange path I took to find my heart" - Crime and Punishment in Suburbia

"Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first." - Mark Twain

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