P.S.

re: last post.

Yesterday was the 8 month milestone... I remember because we hooked up on a friend's b-day. 8 months, but no one realizes but me.

Ah who gives a shit anyway?

Today started good, and ended sucky...

... and that's the worst way to have a day.

Question: How do you tell some one you love them... or rather how do you stop yourself from telling someone you love them (when sometimes you almost can't stop yourself in those "Oh my God I love you!" moments, and sometimes they look at you and you just want to say those three words, and you can admit it to everyone else but them...) when sometimes they make you feel like you're in the way, or annoying, or downright stupid. Possibly also lame.

Does anyone understand what I'm talking about here?

Yes ladies and gentlemen, I've also had the dream about the moment when you just tell a person you love them and they respond with the classic "Oh, uh... gee silverlined, you know I love spending time with you..."
Yes. I dreamed it. I am that obsessed.

God I feel like shit right now.
Couldn't some one else say it for me? Cause I'm bursting with IT, and also with terror of IT.

VT-o, I'm feeling very envious of your dramatic relationship... Mine is lacking in all possibilities of being dramatic, mostly because I'm just dramatic to myself. We're so ridiculously stable and I think I'm going crazy. I am crazy, and I'm terrified of screwing it up. Because I love him, so much it makes me sad if he is in the least bit dismissive... but I think I'm probably just as bad to him. Am I a horrible person? shrivel shrivel. God I'm such a spaz... hand over the anti-psychotics please.

Blast.

Today sucks the big one.

silverlined83@yahoo.ca

Unidentified Bruises

My forearms and shins and hips are marked by those mystery bruises. You know the ones, small and round, and you can't remember for the life of you what you walked into. The kind of bruises you get when you're so distracted with the rest of the world, and on your period, and generally never getting as much sleep as you rightfully deserve, that you could walk into the side of a parked car and continue dreamily trying to step through it until some one kindly takes you by the arm and leads you safely across the street (don't laugh). The kind of bruises you get when you start to resemble one of those wind-up robots that keeps on motoring forward, no matter what gets in its path. You know those robots that if you stand them on their heads try to walk on air.
You know. You all know what I'm talking about, all ye windy, bruised robots. It's midterm time, and if you don't know what I'm talking about, you're obviously a drama major.

Cheers,
silverlined83@yahoo.ca

Home Fires, and Fries on the side

Well, Happy Thanksgiving everybody. Here's hoping you had lots to be thankful for this weekend. I'm glad and relieved to say that I did, and do. There always seems to be so much pressure on one to be happy on holidays such as these, not to mention the big X-holiday, and it makes it ten times more miserable if you aren't. I wish I could wipe last Christmas and New Year's from my memory. However, though it has much to make up for and redeem, this coming holiday season (yes it's coming!) has promise.
Anyway, what I really wanted to talk about was coming home. Think about it like a hamburger and fries combo. You eat the hamburger first (usually), and are left eating as many fries as you can until you're full. I could hang out with my family and my close friends (the fires, the ones that keep burning) for however long I've got. The other people, the painful memories, the ones you never wanted to see again after high school (the fries): they're the ones you can take to a point, but are eventually replete of dealing with, which prompts you finally to leave, and not be sorry about it.
I've had fun this weekend, but I've also had a lot of fries, especially last night (not that I didn't have fun then too). So now it's time to go back to my boy and forget about the fastfood analogies for a while.

See you in K-town.

Cheers
silverlined83@yahoo.ca

Once upon a time...

... there was a mighty volleyball match. The winner got to say a speech at the interschool speech competition. The volleyball game was to decide the second place winner as two had tied in the class vote (because a naive little girl had thoughtfully not voted for herself). The idealistic teacher had (randomly) divided the class into two teams. The naive little girl (okay, it's me) got the team with all the younger kids, who were unco-ordinated, the scrawny kids, who couldn't hit the ball, and the fat kids who couldn't move. All her friends were put on the other team, the older kids (who were co-ordinated, could hit the ball, and could also move). Half way through the game, saddened by the unfairness of it all (after all, her excellent speech was on dragons, who doesn't want to hear about dragons?), the girl started to cry. Her team sucked. Seeing this, one of her very closest friends (to this day), came up to serve... and botched all his serves on purpose, much to the anger of the teacher. The game was, of course, supposed to be played fair.
Although slightly embarassed by this display of sympathy, the girl did feel comforted by her friend's concern, protected by his unwillingness to see her be hurt.

*** Skip ahead 10 years.

The two are still friends. The boy and his girlfriend come to visit the girl and their other friends at university. Many things, better and worse, have happened to the girl since that volleyball game.
In a cafe, sitting at a table, the girl, the boy, her boyfriend, his girlfriend, and two others, the conversation turns to the girl's least favourite name. Some at the table are aware of how much it hurts the girl to hear the name spoken, others are not. She sits her eyes downcast waiting for the subject to change. The boy, seeing her distress, pretends that he has forgotten the name, and doesn't know who they are speaking of, and in doing so effectively changes the subject. The girl looks up and catches his eye. He shrugs...

...suddenly, she is eleven years old again, and he has just botched another serve, given her another point of protection.