Aren't They Moving?

My lungs, I mean. Lately, I can't breath. It feels like tiny panic attacks. It also feels like a tiny monster is squeezing them and constricting the air flow. I've never experienced such claustrophobia in my life and now I feel it every day in almost every place. I can't even ride in my car without the windows cracked or I feel trapped and it freaks me out. The only place I don't feel stuck is in that guy's arms (how cheesy, yet so true). . . I think I'm dying. -_-

Cough Drops. Yum.

They're comfortable. Like the sun waking you up through the window in your room. And like being hugged by someone you love when you don't feel like yourself. Also like remembering who you where at the age of five, when you didn't care about money or college or your parent's flaws. You know what? It sucks to grow up. Around the age of 15, I started to notice things that weren't so nice about the people who'd always been my role models. My mom seemed less perfect and my dad seemed more sad. They're still exceptionally wonderful, but I feel like noticing that they're just humans messed me up a little bit. That lack of immortality makes them vulnerable, so what does it make you? They've protected you from everything since your birth, so the moment they become less secure, it feels like a monster has breached your security. That monster, of course, is reality. And it's hard to face. Most of the time, I feel like I'm either in this battle-to-the-death with it or it's my best friend and it's leading me through the rest of high school. Speaking of which, the rest of high school is absolutely depressing! The days feel twice as long, even though I get out earlier this semester. I've never had such a hard time sitting through a school day, but it all feels absolutely depressing in an unexpected way. I cannot wait for the day when my friends, my enemies, my acquaintances, total strangers and I throw our mortarboards up into the air and walk away from what very well may be the most difficult four years of my life thus far. College seems so close and so real all of the sudden, and I can almost touch it. I'm excited. I'm ready for it. My bright and promising future is trying to pull me out of high school, and I can't let it because of the remaining 12 or so weeks! Maybe it has already pulled me out and this weird feeling I'm feeling is the place in between being a stupid teenager and being an adult. At any rate, I feel out of place.

Everything Feels Like a Waste of Time

But is there a better form of therapy available to mankind than doing something that you love or simply nothing at all for as long as you feel like it? I think not.

I know, I know.

I've been saying that Valentine's day is shenanigans (hahaha) since I can remember. It's so made up and fake! And, until last year's V-Day, I didn't have a boyfriend. My friends all guessed that the lack of one was the cause of my cynicism, conveniently forgetting that it was my choice. . . But whatever. The point is, I have one of those now and I still hate it. So ha. Anyways, with yesterday being that dreaded date, I decided I'd try a new approach: enjoying it. I have to admit that this wasn't very well thought-out. So I go to school and the hallways are crammed full of balloons and gigantic stuffed animals. I mean, these things were bigger than the kids I babysit. What do you do with a stuffed animal that size? It's not even cute. Waste of space. Good luck getting that thing into your car and to your house. Romantic? I think not. Cumbersome and annoying? Indubitably. So the school is filled with all of this crud because the guys treat it like some crazy competition. "Yeah, that's right. I somehow love my girlfriend of eight days more than you love yours of a month because I gave her this fuzzy bear with a disembodied, anatomically-incorrect heart that he's HOLDING OHMYGOSH IS THAT THING BLEEDING ON THE GYM FLOOR?!?!?!?!" and so on. Except that last part was probably a figment of my imagination. At any rate, I'm posting this to express my appreciation for my thoughtful significant other, the wonderful guy who gave me a beautiful crochet hook that I'd been drooling over in the store. :) How sweet. Less is more (romantic). Happy late V-Day.

It's Just Cute.

Did I Mention that I'm a Professional Procrastinator?

It's true. And last night, just like all the other nights, I stayed up entirely too late trying to write an English paper over Dante's Inferno. Unlike most nights, however, my sleep-depraved eyes decided to close themselves and NOT conveniently reopen at four to give me a good couple of hours on which to work on said homework. Nope. They opened at six. Maybe they're sick of all the not sleeping. . . Oh, well. So I wake up at a much later hour than would be considered a comfortable amount of time for me to complete this essay and I go into the living room. Mom is watching the news. The bottom of the screen says our school district is closed. And I have decided not to procrastinate today! I'm going to get all of my homework done early and then I'm going to crochet a Yoda! I might write another post and put up some pictures of my yarn adventures. Today, I'll be successful by doing my very best!


 And would you look at that? I'm still procrastinating. Told you I was a professional.

Close and Personal Strangers

But not the creepy kind. I'm talking about the people who read the blogs of people whom they have never met. I think it's cool, but I wonder if everyone else's blogs are as personal as mine will inevitably be. If so, that connection between strangers is rather intersting. I think I'm going to enjoy this.