Diagnosis.

I watched the season finale of House with my parents tonight. At the very end of the show, an old man who supposedly just had acid reflux turned out to have pancreatic cancer. Of course, the first thing to go through my mind is what? Oh, shit...I have acid reflux.

I'm a Hypochondriac. I know this, I've known this for awhile, yet it doesn't make any difference to me. I still worry knowing in the back of my mind that it's probably just me thinking too much.

I had to pick up my sister from a friends tonight. The whole way there, I thought about the simplest yet most complicated question out there - what is life about, exactly?

I did not come to any sort of conclusion; however, I do wish that the cast of House were actually real doctors. Maybe I could worry less then.

You.

I hate you for being like this. You act like I'm the one making everything weird, that I have made this situation awkward, but really it's all you. You obviously still have a problem with it all for what reason, I cannot imagine, considering you started this. You didn't have to do anything, but you did.

I wish this never happened. I wish things were back to normal, and most of all, I wish I could fucking understand you. If I could understand even one small reasoning behind all the fucking shit you do, then maybe I'd understand why you're being such a dick. You have no reason to be so cold around me, I didn't do shit to you.

Just fucking quit this. I liked you so much better before when we were friends, and honestly, I'm tired of it all. It's getting so damn old.

en-do-sym-bi-ot-ic

I found this under a tab on Erin's computer. It's a nice thing to think about, on both sides. Or at least, I think so.

“ You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect - you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there."

— Bob Marley (via megamazing) (via crazybeautiful) (via bon-bon)

Gotta love Bob.

More.

life is not what you think it is

life is something more

you wake up to the same routines

this life is such a bore

eat your breakfast

to get your protein

all this just to survive

you just want some candy

but mommy says no

eat your vegetables, honey

you must grow

go to school

to get your education

learn your abc’s and your 123’s

you’ll need this in the real world, your teacher says 

life is tough

with lots of obstacles 

but you just want to dodge them

play on the swing sets instead 

high, high, higher you go

life is not what you think it is 

life is something more 

you say yes because you can’t say no

you eat your veggies cause you’re afraid you won’t grow

don’t wanna seem stupid, so you learn what you’re taught 

dad says you won’t be successful if you don’t buy it before it’s bought

you’re taught to do what you’re told 

life’s only good if you’re gold

but life is not what you think it is

life is something more 

if you live like you’re told

it will always be a bore

Ay Wazzup?

I got into my major! You have no idea how relieved I am. Except, my cousin, who is about 50 years old, was telling me about the ID program and how intense and demanding it is, and how I will be working constantly and all of this other stuff. So, now I'm a little nervous, but at least I'm in, right? 

Bad thing about now being in my major is, I now have very little motivation to keep up with school in terms of non-art-related classes such as, FI. I have a paper due soon and although I like the topic, I can't bring myself to actually try and get this done and done well. 

2nd draft is due tomorrow. It is now 11pm and I haven't started....fuck.

Summer's almost here. I still don't have a job in line, and I really need to find one. ASAP. 

Other than that, I really have nothing else I feel like saying. I hate blog posts with no real direction. I much prefer to have one that is only about one specific thing and not just random updates of my life. Oh well, maybe next time.

Happy Easter, by the way. I haven't gone to church since Christmas, and I feel like shit. Maybe I should go to confession? 

Yeah, I think so. 

I have always known this, but for awhile I guess I forgot.

I'm an impatient person when it comes to certain things. And on many occasions, I can be quite stubborn. I get this from my dad. My mom says that in that way, we're just too much alike. Whenever we get in an argument, it lasts forever because both of us need to have the last word. And it ends up being that neither of us want to apologize because we never want to admit we're wrong, so neither of us do. We just wait it out until everything is okay again. 

Recently, I feel like at some points my stubbornness and need for things to be "my way" have annoyed some people, specifically some of my friends. And for that, I want to apologize. I'm not really sure if you read this, but regardless, I wanted to put it out there. I truly don't ever mean to cause any conflict or to be a hard ass about things, but it's just in my nature. 

Today is the anniversary for Brooks Berry's death. He and I were in a class together, but I didn't know him really well at all. He passed away three years ago, and to this day, I can remember the assembly we had in the old gym, where Mrs. Walker announced that Brooks had been taken off of life support. A huge gasp full of pain filled the space that day. The girls who were closest to him were hysterical. The once large assembly room seemed so small now, and it was as if the walls were closing in. As we sang sad church songs, my eyes filled with tears. A junior in high school, gone. 

I hadn't even planned on writing about Brooks today, for in all honesty, I forgot what today was. But I find it a little ironic. 

Not to be cliche or anything, but you really don't know when your last day is on this earth.  I'm not going to say that you should live each day as if it were your last. It would be great if you did, but that's just not very realistic. But I do think that it's important to try and move past the little things that are annoying to you. Yes, they make you want to scream sometimes or just walk away from everything, but at least you're alive. 

Lastly, to all of my friends, I want you to know, I'm sorry for some of the things I do or say or don't do or say. I'm sure I can piss you off sometimes. But I want you to all remember that, I'll always be by your side, even when you're down and out, and I for real mean that from the bottom of my heart. 

Dazed.

You know how sometimes you see something and you get this instant bad feeling, as if you just got punched in the stomach or as if your heart is literally just breaking in half, and afterwards, you're just in this daze where you just can't listen to anyone and don't want to talk....well, I felt that earlier today. And no, it was not because of portfolios, though I wish it had been. 

I can't even word this well. But I feel like, in my life, I have gotten this feeling a lot. I was hoping that maybe it would just not happen anymore. I guess that's not the case, though. Maybe if it happens enough, I'll just become numb to it all and eventually, the feeling will just pass and it won't phase me as much. 

For today, though, it's sticking with me. I have a really hard art history test tomorrow and I know nothing. I can't concentrate. This is the first time this semester that I'm going to study on my own, and it sucks for more than one reason. 

I need to study with someone. I need to get an A. I need to get my life together. And I really just need to somehow, not feel this way. Or maybe it'd be better if I could just not feel at all.

Love is not for me, I promise. 

I really do think sad songs were made for me.