I don’t want to look like I’m from here. I don’t want to look like I belong.
We stain cigarettes and coffee cups with harsh lipstick. We play our music loud while sitting in the same spot we usually do at the same time we usually meet. We compliment strangers who could care less and argue about ethics and religion then laugh about that one time about that one thing. We skip class to eat at cafes and when we’re in class, we plug in headphones to drown out the muck but still seem to communicate with each other. We play music and procrastinate. We do things we shouldn’t and say things we shouldn’t. We run around on dark winter nights but we don’t feel it. We do things we don’t want to and do things we do. We challenge each other and give up on each other only to turn back to one another once more. We eat things we don’t want and dream like there is no impossible. We fall in love with drummers in bands who we’ve spoken to approximately five times.
Well, one of us at least. One of us falls in love with drummers in bands with girlfriends.
We collect numbers like trading cards and make mistakes like they’re air and we’re drowning. We say we’ve given up but we keep trying. We’re haunted by exes and taunted with loneliness. We’re bored and we’re busy. We want love and we want freedom. We want to be our own and each others.
We are depressed. We are insecure. We are prideful. We are loud.
We judge. We cry. We argue. We sing.
We are love. We are lost. We are we.
I think everyone has that one person that was the “almost something”. Almost lover. Almost girlfriend. Almost friend. That one person who was on the verge of something. That one person who was an extra and a main character all at once. But maybe I’m stupid. There’s so much I want to say, but it seems I am at a loss for words…
I Wish to:
Join the Peace Corps.
Learn to play ukulele.
Be content with the way I look.
Be a humanitarian.
Not care about what others think.
Go to 50 concerts.
Stop making lists.
Maybe my problem is that I think too much. I don’t think enough. I care too much and don’t care enough. I feel empty kind of and I don’t know why. But I do.
I’m not a beauty queen.
I’m not a genius.
I’m not dumb.
I’m not outgoing.
I’m not quiet.
I’m not extremely talented.
I’m not quick to forgive.
I’m not slow to argue.
I’m not cheerful.
I’m not depressed.
I’m not her.
And that’s okay.
I kind of lied when I said that I had no friends. I tend to do that a lot when I’m in an over-exaggerated teen depressed mood. Then I have the nerve to say that I hate people who lie. What a hypocrite. I hate those too.
Anyway, this post is for my best friend.
Soooo I’m black if you didn’t know–“African American” for all of you conservative people. I mean, yeah, okay so the deal with being a black girl in today’s society–well all of history, is that obviously yes, you are judged by the color of your skin. That goes for any black person really. It fucks with my mind when a person who isn’t black has the nerve to get up and say that no, people aren’t judged by race anymore and that that issue is almost resolved.
Let me tell you firsthand that no, Martin’s dream has yet to be fulfilled. I live in the South, big whoop,eh? No there aren’t KKK marching the streets or anything but the little things shine through. For instance, I swear almost everywhere I go–whether to a restaurant or just to Wal-Mart, at least one guy spits when I walk by. Paranoia maybe? Then there was this incident at the library where they made me and a specific other number of kids put our bags up at the front due me refusing to throw away my CLOSED water bottle the previous day. Now, I’m not a lawyer or anything but when you make a certain number of people do one thing then let other people have their bags with them, isn’t that a bit against the law? I was going to question the manager about it the next day but coincidentally the rule was no longer in place.
Oh, did I tell you my brother won Student of the Year? He got to go to a Grizzlies game and everything. Well, he was supposed to have front row seat, meet with the players, get a souvenir, and be happy and merry. What he got was a seat way up high on the other opponents side, a shirt that fit a kindergartner, and he also got to watch the other kid who received Student of the Year prance about on the right side of the court, with front row seats, practicing with the team and what not. The kid was white, but maybe I’m just making assumptions. Maybe this is just all in my head, right?
My best friend just found out that the guy she was interested in doesn’t like black girls. I’ve been in this situation all too often. I was sitting with a couple of guys and they all were listing types of girls they like one by one and none of them said black girls. Have you ever had to sit and listen to a person say that they don’t specifically like what you are? Like what the fuck? I can’t change my skin color. I promise you that. Then you have to laugh along with all the racist jokes even if it fucking sucks sometimes. And when they go, “No offense.” You have to resist the urge to yell, “FUCK YOU.” Don’t get me started on Civil Rights stuff in History.
So I’m here to just say fuck all of the guys who don’t like black girls. Just fuck you. Built up anger? Yes. I just don’t understand how you can possibly rule out a whole race to be attracted to. I get the line, “You’re pretty for a black girl.” All the fucking time. And yeah, I know this applies to any race or person. Some people may not be attracted to white guys, or Hispanic guys, or etc etc. That’s your preference but fuck you. I just don’t get it. There are beautiful people of every race, but maybe that’s just me and my fucked up mind.
I used the “f” word a lot in this post. Then I just had the nerve to not use it in the last sentence XD. Uh, yeah. EFF this town. EFF these people. Don’t let people who you’ll never see again sway your emotions.Don’t let people sway you period.
Uhhhhh I guess that’s it. May the odds forever be in your favor.
I’m still alive. That’s quite positive.
I feel like I should talk about how long it’s been since I’ve blogged then rant over some first world problem occurring in my minuscule teenage existence. Then I’d end with something a bit clever and funny.
Deal with it.
I do have one thing–well more than on I guess, thing to say.
I think I’m slowly but surely losing motivation for everything I do. It’s laughable actually. Is it bad that I laugh at my own despair?
I’ve concluded that yes, I’m missing one too many marbles and I’m just not approachable to society. XD ahah, I just can’t take myself seriously. This is all just too funny.
So uh, I’ve lost two or three friends so far. Not that you care really–if I’m even talking to anyone. Um, while some kids are living up their first day of Christmas break, I decided to break all plans with my “friends” and um just sit here. Living like Larry.
If you didn’t know already, I’m just a stupid kid with too many stupid dreams trying to get out of this stupid town and away from these stupid people. But stupid is everywhere I guess and there’s no escaping it.
I repeat things over without realizing. I write thoughts that I’ve written before and the words I say are gradually dulling away.
Shitty teen rant over.
May the odds forever be in your favor.
PSAT Test Tomorrow
50+ Question Test On the Crucible
Paper Due in Lit. Journal
2 Days Worth of Math I Haven’t Even Touched Yet
If I said I wasn’t the least bit stressed, I’d be lying.
At least my band is making progress.
Thanks to that one girl that made me look bad today.
Thanks to that one guy with massive muscles for wearing a tank in gym.
Thanks girls in the hall for walking slower than snail’s pace.
Thanks for the quiz in Human Anatomy & Physiology.
Thanks for being below zero in every class.
Thanks for all being short little munchkins.
Thanks for almost running me over this morning.
Thanks to everyone and everything for making my day difficult.