Real.

I've been reading this book and it has made me think about a lot. Does anyone realize how much we type? How much we neglect the talent of writing down our thoughts, keeping them, creating them? Creating. A poem, a song, a story. We can create, we have the freedom to do so, the freedom that not everyone has. It comes down to this, why is it so much easier for us to sit on a computer and write out thoughts of ours to the whole world, that it is to sit down on the top of a hill in the forest and write our thoughts on paper? Why don't we cherish what we have?

A question that stays on my mind:

What did you want from me? What did you expect me to be?

Hallways

When I subtract every person's opinion and view from my life,

what do I have?

I picture this hallway, 

Its long and dark and on the floor of that hallway are my interests.

They are written in white, which stands out against coco brown.

I'm standing there, closing my eyes, trying to view what is ahead for me.

What do I want to do?

The thought of traveling and taking pictures has always appealed to me,

Maybe I'll be a vet,

Or possibly an art teacher,

Another option would be counseling,

Maybe I should go into music and be in an orchestra,

Its quite possible I'm mean to stay home and be a mom, the classic woman.

The hallways states the simple things:

Animals
Children
Reading
Solving Problems
Photography
Drawing
Painting
Dreaming
Creating
Writing
Playing The Flute
Directing
Singing
Making Plans
Learning about Art History

So many things. So many. 

I don't even know what colleges to look into, who to hang out with, who to like,

 let alone how to start my life.

Fix You.

I don't know what to do. I hate this stupid roller coaster that I'm forced to go onto. The one where life is so great and when I look forward all I see is opportunity, and then all the sudden I top the hill and realize that it was just a trick. I follow the track down down down in to the darkness and all I feel is apathy. I manage to cry but nothing helps. The only two questions are; when will I get out of this hell hole? and how bad is the next "plunge" going to be?

Uncomfortable.

 I've never been so unsure and uncomfortable about a situation before. I've been close, but not this close. I don't know if its the newness of it to me, or maybe the fact that we're both a little awkward, but I feel sick about it and I feel like it isn't right. I want to be with someone, but I don't think I mean it when I say I like him. I feel like I'm forcing myself to say that instead of "He's nice and I'm lonely." Its wrong all over and I feel horrible about it because I may or may have not lead him on to think I liked him, and that may or may have not creeped him out.

I don't know how to explain this unless you can relate to the feeling of something just isn't right. Or maybe I'm just afraid of getting into this stuff again...No I don't think so. This just isn't right.