Censorship? A DRAFT FROM A LONG TIME AGO..AGAIN

I really want to say this one thing to you. I doubt you'd read this. Really doubt it. I wonder if you even know I'm talking to you. Ha, probably not. If I could post one thing on the internet about a personal negativity, I'd choose for it to be this one moment. I really don't like to bitch about things, really. But here I am, without a backbone. Once again, right?

I can't really say it. Maybe the feeling will change.

...don't really think it will. Oh, but the adrenaline is rushing through me, I can feel it in my chest.

Fuck you.

That is all :DD

(Oh, where'd Nnoitra go?)

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OMFG THIS ONE IS SO ANGRY TOO
WHY WAS I SO ANGRY
actually I do know who this post was about, but whoooooooa talk about teenage angst.

THIS WAS A SAVED DRAFT FROM A LONG TIME AGO OMFG

"I wonder that with all of the time you have been gone, do you really know me? Do you know who I am, what I like, my aspirations, dreams, weaknesses, strengths, sadnesses? I know you care - you care because that is all that can take the place of your absence. You have been gone too many years of my life; when will I be able to say goodbye? Better yet, when will I be able to say hello? So many questions. So many damn questions that make me angry at myself for being such a coward.

And really, that’s all I am. A coward afraid of the world. Afraid of dying, afraid of saying hello to those I encounter on a daily basis. Afraid of writing a simple letter, afraid of the future and what will inevitably happen.

I don't like celebrating my birthday anymore. I don't even like staying at home, let alone my hometown. My fears even cause me to resent Christmas - the very day where family should stick together in merriment and love. As I look up at the tree now, I think of years past where life was gilded with happiness, but with a core of disdain. The teen years suck. The adult years are just bland and tasteless (unless you're rich or something)."

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WTF I WROTE THIS SO LONG AGO OMFG.
SO DEPRESSING
DUDE I WONDER WHAT WAS MAKING ME SO DOWN (well we can kind of get an idea but whaaaat)

I'm an amazing writer when I'm depressed/angry. My goodness.

Contentment.

The 19th of November will be my third month here at San Jose State University. And, in some right twist of fate - I love it. I actually love it so much that I’m dreading my last day here. It’s quite sad - yet very premature - but it’s true. I know that I have three more years, and many more experiences to ---

[Pause this thought because my roommate walked in the room and she literally makes time stop.]

[[Wow that sounded kinda gay...but she plays Drake and sings/dances to me and it makes me laugh my ass off.]]

--- dude, I don’t even remember what I was saying. Well, along the lines of “roommate’, I freaking love mine. She’s like a total crazy bitch (not literally) and extremely funny. All of my roommates are people that I totally adore, and I honestly want to be their friends after this year. I don’t know how life will pan out in this “future” (like really, I could die or move away or change my name or something) but I hold the thought that I want to stay friends firmly in my heart.

[Pause again. I freaking hate how much I like Selena Gomez’s “I Love You Like A Love Song” song. The roommie just started playing it to annoy me because she knows it gets stuck in my head.]

[[The music video sucks ass, LOL.]]

Anyway! Fast forward to like, four hours from those last brackets and here we are again! I went to the mall with two of my roommates the other day - unfortunately I lost my SJSU ID card along the way - and we started talking about birthdays. My roommate's is in January, coincidentally the same day as my dog Charlie; so, it's an easy on to remember. Ashley (my roommate) asked when mine was, and I told her it was in July. She got kind of bummed because it wasn't during the school year when we could celebrate it, until she perked up and said that we could celebrate it in August. That confused me. August? Why August?

Then she said something along the lines of "Yeah, when we come back for the next year we can celebrate your birthday."

And that got me really happy. Wanna know why? Because that means that we'll all still be friends even after this year. That means we'll still hang out next year. One of my fears in life is being alone, and this reassured me quite a bit. I honestly love these people, and just thinking of next year freaks me out. Will I stay in contact with them? Will they forget about me? I've only known them for about three months, and our friendships are already tight. Sure, I may be the quiet shy one, but I can obviously tell that I'm loved. And it's a great feeling, not gonna lie.

Uehh other than that, life here is pretty frackin' great. Even though it's been raining and really really cold, it's still nice. After the dorm drama broke up, the metaphorical "sun began to rise", and we fixed up the whole suite. Now, it's all decorated with posters, cutesy decals, and really awesome pink Christmas lights. "Homey" is how I'd explain it (wow, homey looks like horny...or maybe that's just me - wait, no, not "just me" as in I'm horny, but "just me" as in it probably looks horny just to me. Oh God, either way this was still awkward). UEHH. Overall, I'm just really content with how life has been going. I'm changing my major next week (because the office was closed on Friday), and I'm switching to English with a concentration in Writing. English has a larger breadth of career options than just plain "writing", and even though it's not particularly Journalism, it still withholds the very essence of I want to endure for the rest of my life. I'm also planning on minoring in Japanese. So maybe I can teach English to cute little Japanese kids, and actually live the Japanese life through my students.

Oh, what a happy world that would be.

Aright, I'm tired. And this typing scheisse is burning my eyes. Happy daylight savings time! (only if you're in every other state except Arizona and Hawaii :P)

Where Time Freezes

Call me a romantic, but I missed seeing the stars of my hometown. You don't get many stars in the city - the only star I see on a constant is the sun; even so, I make a habit not to stare at it because, you know, that's kind of a heath hazard. Yet, as my eyes glide over the black horizon of the ocean as I'm parked at the Rock, the lights of Cayucos houses seen to glimmer - much like these small-town stars. I suppose it's because I'm not wearing my glasses (of which, I consciously neglect), but these lights are like the rippling sheen of sunlight on water. These lights are like tears rolling down one's face. Realizing this, I've come to realize that home is where time freezes.

I returned from college just this last Friday, mostly because I wanted to see my family; along the way, I managed to watch my former high school's losing homecoming game. Maybe it's a sign, I don't know.

I only told a few people that I was back because I felt that my visit home wasn't that important regarding others. This sounds wrong and seems like I'm rejecting my old friends, but weighing in the fact that lives are continuing and kindled friendships aren't as important nowadays compared to the fast-track of living in general, I felt that there was no need to waste others' time with mine. We've all split our ways, traveled to distant places on the map and rerooted our lives to adhere to our new surroundings. Don't worry about it - we'll all be back for Thanksgiving and Christmas; this won't be the last time you'll have a chance to see me.

However, home really is where time freezes. I'm back at the same old pink house, with the same old half-asphalt, half-dirt street. Fog is always prominent towards the morning and night, yet the clouds turn grapefruit pink over the bay as the sun sets. Despite one major difference - an in-the-process renovation of the demolished Taco Bell on Main - I'm back in the same old town. The sea breeze of Morro Bay smells of fish and harbor, and the roads of Los Osos still have no street lights. Sure, there are subtle differences here and there (especially what I've noticed was an increase of traffic in SLO), but the essence is the same. For that I'm grateful, because when I return from the city, where people are living on the street to survive, taxi cabs don't give a damn if they run red lights, and police sirens are heard at least on a two-hour interval, I need to revel in that forgotten peace I had grew up with. The sound of the beach, a slow leisurely life - my life is put on hold. I feel young again, younger than I have ever felt.

Do I really look like a college student? Could I still pass off as a high schooler? In most cases I think not. However, I still seem to have that minor mind-set that I am, and could. But, I'd never want to go back. That's why returning home is so great - laying back in my old bed, watching the TV that has off colors and looks 3D seems to take years off of my eighteen year old life; I feel seventeen all over again...oh, that was a good year.

Being back home makes me feel so inexplicably loved. Just all around I'm blessed to have so many people care for me. For that, I'm grateful to God, to everyone. I feel safe to say that my roommates like me, maybe even love me - and I wonder, What exactly is in my personality that makes others respect me? Makes others want me to stay with them, to hang out with them, to laugh and joke and live with them? It's a fantastic feeling because despite the fact that I had to work back from the very bottom of the chain to create some type of bearings for myself in an unknown territory, I'm still wanted by others. And I can guarantee this - I can be the best friend you will ever have, if you just give me the chance. But, that's a downfall in itself, because I'm vulnerable to getting used and abused. Life is always a toss-up.

Friendships change, but family stays the same. Buildings are rebuilt, demolished, rectified and dilapidated - it's all just a metaphor. The blanket of safety is cast over my childhood, and I'm sure as long as I return every-so-often, it'll stay the same. If I change, so be it - but I'll always regress as soon as I step through my front door.

In the desert once again...

Every Thursday night I go to SJSU's Tsunami Anime club. There, we watch six different series, one episode each in chronological order with two intermissions in-between. I normally just stay for the first hour, because the meeting hall is all the way across campus; the reason being why I leave so early is that I don't want to get raped or shanked or jacked or killed on my way back to my dorm room. However, every time I get to anime club, and watch an episode of Canaan, I die a little inside.

I die two ways.

One way - the cuteness overwhelms me to the point of unshed tears. No lie. When Maria and Canaan have their cute little best-friend moments I inwardly squeal with such joy that my night gets made right there on the spot. Who doesn't like seeing such a pure friendship? Who doesn't get instantly happy when you see two people happy and in the moment of such a sanctified friendship? It just kills me so much that I have to blink a bunch of times to get the tears out of my eyes (call me a sap if you want, IDGF.)

The second way - the best-friend moments overwhelm me with such unbearable sadness I have to look away for a moment. I'm sure it was episode 3 where Canaan feels the "rejection" color from Maria after saving her. Rejection hurts. Seeing others getting rejected hurts. Especially when one performs an action perfectly, believing that they were doing the right thing and then get shot down by the person they were trying to please because of a misunderstanding. Or, even the lack of seeing a person for their truly pure intentions while you're there sitting and afraid of your friend who had already done so much for you - and you're caught in the act of selfishness and forget about them. And so the night that was made was instantly ruined because pain injects itself into my big, useless heart.

I'm in the desert again, walking towards nothing but mountains of sand. My hope is as long as the trail of footprints behind me, getting blown away by the wind.

Man of the House.

Soooooooo. As it seems, I am the "man of the house" at my dorm. Which, in all reality, is pretty damn funny. Mostly because my roommates are your typical loud-ass "girly-girls", who are afraid of small spiders and hairballs (which, consequentially, are their own). But, in their defense, the mosquito I just saved them from was HUGE. It was about four inches long, and for someone as small as me, I'd suppose that's pretty big. No...it was really big. After stepping on it, the length of it squished was about half of my slipper! I didn't want to kill it, but I knew that if I didn't, my roommates would die of those frightful thoughts of "If you let it live once, it will come back for yeewwwww!!!"

Even the tallest roommate I have - who is about 6 feet, I'd say - was up on a chair screaming with the others. And to think I just thought they were screwing around, like normal...

Who said the city wasn't a jungle? Amongst the concrete and skyscrapers, there are still diverse types of "wildlife".

OH YEAHHHHHHHH.

Of Leaving and Saying Goodbye.

"It's always a depressing thing when you lose a friend - it's even worse when you get to the point of willingly giving them up."

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I should have a compilation novel of one-pagers that I have written. They'd be tear-jerkers, I'm sure.