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seafairy is...

black haired
ocean eyed

C'est magnifique...

Connexion by Lancome
quirky books & movies
shopping for myself
watching movies by myself
the ocean
antique suitcases
clean rooms
new toothbrushes
old pictures
sparkly piano music
Hershey plain milk chocolate bars
magnetic poetry
interesting design
the people at the M.A.C counters
dark skies with bright stars
warm rain

Ce n'est pas bien...

mistaking airplanes for stars
lack of manners
playing sports
math & science
pale lipstick with dark tans
dirty clothes
being cold
magazines like Tiger Beat
ugly buildings
cheap fabrics
floral couches
early morning
people who do not shower by choice
small children with cellphones

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Tuesday, January 06, 2004
there is no white flag

Three cuts and a nick in my finger.

And he still yelled.

Delicate still life interrupted.

The glass bowl slipped from my hands. Shattered on the counter. Pieces stuck in my skin.

I sat on my bathroom floor crying. A red flag seeping across my palm.

He told her I get on his last nerve. It's mutual.

He asked why I hate him. I kept the truth to myself. I said I didn't and he went away. Later he came and apologized, said 'I love you', like always. It's the same thing every time.

Get the fuck away from me.

Don't touch me.

I hate him because I was stuck with him since day one. I had no choice in the matter. They brought me here, not my decision.

So sorry I'm such a bother. I wish I could go. When the time is right, I will. I'll take a breath and get on a plane. I'll be more than always just okay.

I saw my mascara tears. Beaded and streaked on my face. The kind of tears trendy artists draw on solitary faces.

I heard them talking in the kitchen. Sharp little soft words. It doesn't matter.

She's just as bad. With her, 'what's the problem?' in a flat tone. She doesn't really care, she just wants it over with. She wants me to be good.

I am good. But I won't let anyone make me fall.

I don't want to take to either of them.

I don't want to see them.

They don't understand that if it's not physical pain or if it isn't resulted from something tragic, it must be nothing, not even worthy of a half decent solution.

When I move out, maybe I'll never talk to them again. And maybe this will all just become a faded nothing. Not even real. I hope so.

I don't even belong here. I'm an outside observer stuck in a terrible story. I'm not present. I'm always elsewhere. Watching myself like a movie. A shitty fuzzy movie with a boring plot and a tape that tears... ripping across a white screen.

And the viewers wonder what that girl is thinking. What her real life is like. Maybe even what her name is.

Because they can't imagine not existing, only floating just under the surface.

seafairy wrote at 05:43 pm
Comments (1)


I will not feel guilty.

I do not live to please others. Their happiness is not dependant on me. They'll live.

What I do and what I am are only a reflection of me, and me alone.

They don't matter. They are nothing.

I didn't do anything to them or even to myself. This was nothing important at all. Merely a reflection of how much I hate this place.

It happens all the time. I've done it hundreds of times. Why feel guilty now? It was nothing bad.

I live to please myself, ONLY. Others need to do the same. I am not part of them and vice versa. They can't tell me what I am or what I should do. This is me. Not them. They live as they do and I will too.

Life is about fun, when you think about the big picture. But when you lose focus of that, it turns back into a race for money and a big house. I won't succumb to that. I'll live the fullest being myself and doing what I want.

They just don't matter.

But a guilty conscience and anxious nervousness is eating away at me. In my mind. Why should it matter now?

It will ruin my chances... or will it?

Does she even care? Of course she does, but maybe it won't be that bad.

I already told her I hated it. She even agreed and said I wouldn't be going back there next year. I know I won't. But this year, this year is what I am in. Be present.

Be good. Be honest. Be smart.

She's wrong. She's too quiet. She isn't participating.

I am not an angel. But I am not a bad kid. I'm simply finding my way.

I will swallow my pride and do what I know is right. I'll go and pretend I never did when people ask. I'll just not say anything.

Maybe then I'll be okay.. just for awhile. Until I've become who I want to be.

And it's only half a year. Six months.

Then I could go to the place I wanted for next year. And maybe I'll like it. Or maybe not. But at least I'll know what I had been through instead of always wondering.

And maybe I'd even be grateful I am there instead of here. I'll just remember.

The family's reputation (We don't even have one, I'm sure) is not at stake. It does not rely on me. I am not even blended with this family. I barely even feel a part of it.

It's not up to them.

But my pride is a whale. It just won't leave. Will I be embarassed? What if someone I know hears about this? Or it? Will colleges think twice about letting me in if they see?

Why does this matter? It's to help. Not to punish. I'm the one who thought of it in the first place, anyway. Nobody is forcing me. Nobody except myself.

What will the people here think? Maybe they'll laugh or say, 'Why would she leave?' Will one person never talk to me again? Does it even matter?

I would have a network of friends (barely real, it seems) from place to place. I wouldn't tell them. I would say I'm transferring... but I wouldn't say where. Maybe they'd guess. But I doubt it. I was never like that.. I even joked about it. They wouldn't suspect. I know a girl who went to the place where I might. I guess I can take comfort in that.

But do I want to?

I don't want to be seend like that. I want to stand out but not be excepted... excepted as someone else. Like I need special attention. When I don't. I just want to leave and be okay for the rest of this year so I don't have to re-do it. Or be only half alive. I want to live. And perhaps I need to sacrifice this in order to achieve that.

I need to focus on other things. Like my workouts. I need to look better to feel better. Whatever I may lack now. Then next year I'll live as I please and be happy. Finally just happy.

But I still feel guilty, angry, embarassed, ashamed, scared.

I shouldn't. It is not up to them.

It is up to me. And only I know what I need.

This is what happens when you're raised with good morals. You feel guilty about small things. Things that barely matter. Things that only contribute to what you're trying to say.

This is my life. And I live it. Not them, just me.

A little white boat in a big ocean. Looking for so much more. It's all there... it just needs to be found.

I won't drown.

seafairy wrote at 12:15 pm
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