Sunday, October 25, 2009

A flawed way of thinking.

Sometimes, I hear my mother complaining to my dad about how I am. Most often, it's just her fretting over how forgetful I can be, how I don't do well in school, or how I never clean my room.

Last night, I heard her say something along the lines of "You know, Art, I'm really concerned about her. I think something's wrong with the way she thinks. Like a mental block or something."

And it breaks me to hear her say that about me. Two years ago, she wanted me to see a psychiatrist, and that really hurt. It's a terrible thing to know that your own mother thinks your mechanics are all done wrong.

And the tragedy, I guess, is that I'm used to it. This is not new to me. This is something that I've had to live with for the last five years.

I really hate that I have trouble opening up to other people, but it's all that people know. Cheerful, sarcastic, ever-grinning Lauren, slightly ditsy but ready for a good time. I look sad for two seconds, I say something bluntly, and suddenly people start freaking out like it's the most unreal thing in the world. So I'm forced to convert back. There's nothing I can do.

Lan, would you still tell me your secrets if you knew how I felt about you and your countless boyfriends? How I think you're unknowingly setting yourself up for heartbreak every time, easy to lure in, easy to have, easy to let go of? Or would you feel offended and proceed to go to Kaitlyn and resolve to never tell me anything anymore?

Annie, would you still appreciate my phone calls if you knew that you were the fifth person I called after no one else picked up? Or would you stop answering your cell phone every time you see my name on the screen?

Alison, would you still value my writing if you knew that a good 60% of my pieces from freshman year took words and inspiration from somewhere else? Or would you frown in disdain and question every new work I come out with and wonder where I could have possibly plagiarized it from?

Justin, would you still remember who I am twenty years from now, when you're all grown up and have a family of your own? Or are you going to forget me come graduation and cease being my kiddopie and abandon our friendship in favor of your fangirls and possibly more popular high school friends?

John, would you still think I'm a fragile, wounded creature with a huge chip on my shoulder, succumbed to misery and in need of rescuing and money and gifts? Or would you think I'm an uptight shrew and grow tired of my games and my vocabulary and drop me for some other wanton girl who doesn't know how to tell you no?






Seth, did you, do you, will you ever love me?

Or was I just your ragdoll all along?

Thursday, October 22, 2009

There's a hole in the world.

I haven't felt this frustrated in a long time.

Makes me wonder what could have been different if you still cared for me.

But you don't, do you?

Monday, October 12, 2009

Hello, Andy.

Just in case you're reading this.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

You said that I'm unhappy.

And at any other point in time, you would have been ridiculously, inherently wrong.

But right now, I'm sick. I'm miserable. I'm wide awake.

Not the best combination in the world.

Friday, October 9, 2009

Love you, kiddopie.

[20:15] Juhsteeen xD: yes i love talking to you
[20:15] Juhsteeen xD: very rare to find intelligent conversation that satisfies me.
[20:15] Juhsteeen xD: (:

I have better conversations with Justin than I do with people four years older than him.

Clever, clever, boy.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

I miss.

The sound of your breathing.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Language frenzy.

My mom is teaching me words and phrases in Tagalog, which is exciting. I went around practicing it all day—mostly with the underclassmen. I must have said "Ang payat mo!" to at least five different people. I really would love to be fluent in the language, but it's hard because I haven't even mastered Spanish yet.

Speaking of which, I tutored Andrew Kim after school today. I was afraid that I wasn't going to be helpful at all, because I didn't want to waste his time. He says I am though, which, sadly, I find somewhat believable. Andy's an absolute sweetheart, but a little clueless when it comes to Spanish (how do you not know what ir means?). I suppose this is why he asked me to tutor him. Ah, well. He's a cutie pie.

Saint Lauren and her heart of gold.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

You're a dream child.

An adolescent wonder. All long legs and high cheekbones and candy-sweet smiles. And you're lovely.

You're oh, so lovely.