April 22nd, 2011

For some reason unknown to me, my head feels as though my brain is vibrating. Well, not literally vibrating, but it's like I cannot hold onto a thought, or each and everyone lacks the normal stability of the things usually being thought up in my head. Sort of like every bit of me is in slow-mo, but my thoughts are bouncing around in my head, giving off little echoes and disrupting each other.
Now my body itself is starting to join in, but I'm pretty sure that's the self-inflicted movement that occurs to keep myself awake. Not that I'm terribly tired. Well, I am, but I sleep enough. It's just a sort of metal/physical exhaustion that is my constant.
What was the point of this? I could have sworn I had something to say. I don't know. The only thing I've written has been verbal, quite odd and most definitely unusable, unless I can decide on a different orifice or method of implantation. Really, with my luck it will just turn into a really old "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" episode. Oh well. Honestly, you'd think the brain-crack would cease or something. And yet, still bouncing in my seat, unable to cling to one thought. Oh well.

Sarah

Journal Excerpt

I admit it, I am a terrible influence.
My poisoned thoughts invade those inhabiting the minds of others.
They change with the wind,
but there is never a decrease in their potency,
never a decrease in how loathsome they are toward myself and others.
No one is safe from the cerebral run-off,
more toxic than an oil spill or nuclear waste.
The most kind-hearted can't escape unscathed,
even monsoons of melancholy cannot aid in ending the drought.
My heart is as dry and brittle as ever,
and I fear such shall never change.

April 18th, 2011

Busy weekends leave me drained, no matter how fantastic they are. They also make you feel shit after, because you're alone and dull again, with the same chant stuck in your head.

Sarey, Sarey, Quite contrary, Always feels alone,
She wants to cry, and I can't lie, sometimes wants to leave home.

I'm hoping if I sleep for a week, maybe I can write something "better".

Sarah.

April 10th, 2011

After the wake, I wrote the required words, resulting from my first encounter with death as someone older than five. I have written in my hidden journal, full of angry words toward myself. There is the useless plotting, of things to write 'some day.' If only that day really existed, somewhere other than the realm of imagination. Feeling full of things useless and cumbersome, and empty of things the that matter, leads to minimal productivity. As does censoring myself, to get into college, avoid trouble, and the scrutiny of others.

Sarah

March 10th, 2011

So, I haven't been writing much, nor have I blogged here (obviously), but I feel like I came up with a real good, solid idea to work with. For once, I have a beginning and an end. Or, at least the outline of such. It makes me happy. I don't even remember what I was writing about.

Sarah

February 24th, 2011

I didn't write today. I started something yesterday, but if it will actually go anywhere is doubtful. Instead I felt ill, of course on a day off, and slept. And, after my mum (jokingly) suggested I look into Harvard, I found myself looking into a local university. I've just about missed deadlines for the fall 2011 semester, but the Spring 2012 semester is promising. So, I've emailed the school. Now, I just have fear-of-no-future-idis. Oops.

Never have I felt so ill while doing so little.One incorrect answer can ruin it all,One mark too low and the letter is full of rejection.The nausea sets in before the page loads,each form weighs a thousand pounds,every second is closer than the previous to failure.The underachieving and minimal effort are catching up to me,all I can do now is work hard and hope, no,pray, that I can get in.At this point, I'll take most any school that will have me.

Yeah. Freaking over college, it's an incredibly crappy way to spend your February break.

Sarah

February 23rd, 2011

I was trying to re-write the zombie Apocalypse. Instead, we got the thoughts of a self-conscious teenage girl. How does that work?.... It probably has something to do with my online dress browsing, for prom and for pleasure.

"I'm being ridiculous," she muttered to herself, skirting around a mob of elderly mall goers. It was 11 in the afternoon, and instead of wandering around, Molly should have been in school. Somehow, she thought this would be easier than going to school, with less beautiful girls and more fun things to look at. In reality, it just meant she had mannequins and small sized clothes to fixate on, instead of skinny girls and their skinny body parts.
The money in her pocket seemed to feel heavy as she passed the froyo stand. Her stomach wambled, but she was on her way out, and on a mission. Stopping for a treat never did anything good for her. It led to her grabbing her brown hair, and pulling it in all different directions, as she sobbed over her inability to purge the vial substances. No, for once she was going to be strong, and take her money elsewhere. To the land of celery and tea, splenda and diet soda.
Using her fingers, she silently counted the hours and minutes since the last time she had eaten."Three hours and forty-two minutes," she told herself, pushing through the door and heading toward the parking lot.

Yeah. Don't ask.

Sarah