Gender Confusion and Past Illusions?

Well, it seems I’m finally writing on this again. It’s not that I don’t have plenty to write about, but apparently I’ve become quite lazy when it comes to writing, and that includes everything. I don’t really remember the last time I wrote on this, and I’m feeling far too at ease to bother checking at the moment. Not only that, but I only just got back to writing on one of my stories. And of course, the writing that comes with education can’t be forgotten. I do my work, of course, but I rush through it and my writing has become rather sloppy, though that’s most likely because there are only two weeks of school left and the work all seems quite pointless now. Besides that I recently got back into reading and rediscovered just how much easier and more pleasurable it is to read what someone else has written rather than writing anything myself—especially when the writer is someone as talented and imaginative as Susan Krinard. (I highly recommend reading her book, Call of the Wolf, it contains two paranormal romance stories: Secret of the Wolf and To Catch a Wolf.)
Anyways, because of this wonderful book and my thoroughly dazed state of mind lately, I didn’t panic much at all when we had testing last week. Math and English went by fairly easily and for the few seconds it took me to close my test booklet and re-emerge myself within the pages of Call of the Wolf I felt rather proud of myself. (Of course, it wasn’t like the teachers prepare us for two weeks before hand, but I was still glad that I’d managed to store the information with my awful memory.) Then, the last part of the testing came, science. How ironic is it that I breezed through the science quite easily in all years of testing before, when I found no interest in the subject and was never prepared by my instructors beforehand, yet the one year I finally take an interest in the subject and have preparation for the testing two weeks before I end up feeling completely clueless during that one test session. Of course, I could always blame it on the fact that I had an intelligent but generally absent teacher for half of the year, and an immature elementary school teacher for the second half of the year, or even on the fact that the teacher who prepared us for the testing felt he only needed to go over mechanical science, and that any other type could not possibly be on the test. However, I feel they have only done the best they could have, and somehow I failed to know for myself what could be on the test and research it for myself.
Oh, well. Getting past that, if anyone is reading this you may be wondering why nothing I have written so far has related in the slightest to the title of this entry. Well, now I’ll get to that.
As for the first part, this morning I realized for the first time that I never feel female. Of course, to come to this realization I had to have noticed it before, but I never really stopped to make note of it. So, this morning was the first time I truly acknowledged it. No, it doesn’t really have anything to do with who I’m attracted to, though it seems I am attracted to both sexes. But it seems that the only time I feel female in the slightest is when I am aware of a male being attracted to me and showing it outwardly. (Though it seems this isn’t very often, for I am apparently more naïve than I would like to believe…or perhaps noticing these attractions is just a waste of my time?) Whatever the case, even when I do notice this I only become slightly aware of my femininity, even dating one of these guys doesn’t increase this awareness. (Perhaps this is why I have lately become so open to the idea of running around nude? It seems I am more comfortable with my body that I have believed in the past.) You might think that, if a male’s attraction can make me feel even slightly feminine, then perhaps a female’s attraction would bring about the opposite, but it seems that is not the case. Yes, when I am attracted to a female or the other way around, I feel…stronger, more possessive…and perhaps a bit more solitary. In fact, I feel almost genderless when it comes to females. I don’t know. It doesn’t seem that important to me at the moment. The point is, though, I just feel…odd. No, I don’t believe I was born in the body of the wrong gender, but it does seem odd that I can look down at myself and find my body entirely alien. People who see me everyday accept my body more than I do. Shouldn’t I be the one who welcomes it more than anyone? I do have to wonder though…if I ever do meet my life-mate, will I come to welcome and cherish my femininity as their arms close around me?
Finally, past illusions? Well, not so long ago I believed I had dealt with all of my past, accepted it, and effectively locked it up for good, or at least for quite a long time. However, it appears I am wrong. Recently they have been unlocked, I don’t know why, or by whom, but they are causing me no end of trouble. They intrude on my thoughts constantly, no matter where I am or what kind of day. I’m having trouble concentrating on writing, listening in class, or even paying attention to my friends. I can’t sleep at night, and when I do I have nightmares. My step dad, of course, is not helping matters. Not only are his yelling, stomping, and slamming around getting worse, but also he has started standing in front of my door late at night more often, and now even outside the bathroom door while I’m in the shower. I’ve tried mentioning it to my mother, but she blows it off. Perhaps I’m overreacting? Whatever the case, his actions and the unsettlement of my mind has made it clear once again just why I’m moving away from him, my mother, and everything I know here, running away from anything that frightens or disturbs me once again. Though I took care of my violent urges a while ago when I locked these memories up and became more peaceful, even smiling more often, it seems the urges are coming back with the memories. Each time my step dad is near, each time I can hear or see or smell him, and each time he does another thing that grates at delicate moral fibers I hold so dear, I feel the urge to do anything I can to harm him. I constantly imagine all of the ways to end his wretched life, especially since he has recently begun to harm my pets, but I know I would never do them. I hope I would never do such a thing. I’m quite sure that this is one reason I must leave and why the gods have decided to make it possible. Harming him would only cause trouble for others and myself…and I’m sure that the moment I caused him physical pain…I would be lost to any hope of remaining peaceful.
These feelings…this confusion…this is why I’m retreating back into my world of books and fantasies…solitude and silence…I think I need to buy another book and reenter that world. All of these things are tearing my mind apart…

Drifting Away
--Malachite

Confused Self-Loathing

Lately, I feel like a complete failure. I don't know why. For the most part I'm actually elated, for I shall be moving to Florida and away from my "family" at the end of the school year. However, not even wolves taking over the world could get rid of my depression right now; I'd just feel ashamed of myself for being human instead of wolf. That is the problem. I am disappointed in every area of my life. I keep thinking back on all of the things I've done in my life to embarrass others or myself, or things that I'm just ashamed of, seemingly without reason. I feel that anything bad that has happened to me has been entirely my own fault, and that, when it all comes down to it, I'm setting myself up for more pain. I'm completely convinced that I've hurt, embarrassed, or made everyone I've ever met hate me. I feel like a monster, built to cause pain or sorrow to others. I think I've done plenty of things I shouldn't have done, didn't comfort those I should have or even failed to speak to those I might have. I'm still utterly sickened with myself whenever I cry, but at the same time I hate that, as time passes, I am unable to understand how others are feeling, and thus make them feel better. Sure, I'm a good listener, but I don't comprehend their emotions. I feel the reasons I do cry are petty and selfish, and the other emotions I feel are pointless as well.
Nothing I do feels good enough to me right now. My writing, drawing, speech, grades, social skills, relationships, anything; you name it, I suck at it. I'm even disappointed in my eating habits, exercising habits, and overall health. At times I barely eat at all; the thought of eating or even smelling cooked food sickens me. At other times I eat everything I get my hands on, and if I can't get a hold of food, I chew on my arm. I can't exercise right now, because the stress causes the pain of my medical problem to flare up more than it already has, but I feel that is an excuse. I hate that I'm sick, tired, or in pain all of the time, and, since I've been told this my whole life, I have to wonder if I'm exaggerating or imagining things. I feel like a complete baby.
I've realized that I don't quite fit in with other people. At times, I'm fine with this. A large part of me really hates being crowded by so many people, and would really prefer to be alone with her thoughts, her imagination, and her world. At other times, the part of me that is an absolute reck surfaces, getting that "unwanted" feeling that I also loathe myself for. Sure, I have plenty of friends, yet another part of me hates them or just finds them bothersome, but this one small part can't let go of the need to be accepted and loved. It is that part that I hate the most and have, over the years, squeezed into the back of my mind until she is little more than a wisp of shadow, but sometimes she still pops up. She is the one full of self-pity and sorrow; she is the one who causes those uncontrollable tears that I hate so much. Oftentimes, that other part of me can't help but rage at her, yelling insults and threats, not only at her, but also at those around me. These I am able to suppress through the sheer will of the first, and largest, part, but that does not stop me from seeing the things the raging piece of my soul envisions, filled with such lust and malice.
I feel like my mind is being split. No one really knows me; no one ever has. I won't let me them. Not even I am sure who I really am anymore. Sometimes I am the mysterious, serious young woman who tends to her studies, writes, draws, or sits emerged in some fantasy world. At others, I am the depressed crybaby that regrets everything and enjoys nothing. Then, I am the murderous beast, who longs to do so many things to those around her, dreaming plans out in detail but never being allowed to carry these plans out. Finally, of course, is the mask I put on around others, when I become instantly happy, bubbly, and hyper. In truth, sometimes I am happy, but rarely as much as others think I am. At times all of these personas combine, making someone new, interesting, and terrifying.
Slowly, my own insults eat away at me. I no longer know myself or have any confidence in the things I do. I hate every part of my soul and continue to gnaw away at it, bit by bit. I'm afraid that, eventually, there may be nothing left of what was once me, whoever I am, but this fragile mortal shell...and sometime after that...it will cease to exist as well.

--Pure Essence Scattered by the Wind,
Malachite

Romance Under The Moon

Greetings, once again from this isolated, yet hardly peaceful place in southern West Virginia, where I have once again been imprisoned. Yes, I know it has been a long time, and I will explain that in case anyone actually reads the writings I continually clutter up the Internet with. As I believe I said during my last update, I was in Florida. Yet, once again, like a dog on a leash that has just found something interesting to sniff, I have been yanked back. For a brief period of less than three months I breathed the intoxicating air that belongs to freedom. I felt the sun, warm on my back as it has never been before, breathed the thick sea air, and even tasted its waters on my tongue. However teasing that time was, while I was living it, it felt like unending happiness. Of course, I like this area as well; it would be perfect if it weren't for the humans that dwell here. If I am ever able to move to Florida to live with those I consider my real family, one thing I will miss is the scenery. I've never been much for heat, sand, the sun, or even water, especially salty water. I will miss the mountains, however small they are compared to others. I will miss the forests, fighting to reclaim the land that is rightfully theirs, and I will most definitely miss the snow. I have ALWAYS loved the snow, so crisp, clean and clear. It's like a cool cloth pressed over the forehead of the world, comforting it and willing it to sleep. It blankets the trees, yet doesn't kill them, and its ivory coat compliments the glow of the moon herself. How I would love, just once, to be able to run swiftly over the snow of large clearing and dance in the full moon's glow. I would sing praises to the face that smiles down at me and protects me at night. I would sit and stare for hours, even if it meant giving up my very life to my cold, if only to watch the full change of Her night. It would be an honor to die watching Her.
It seems I have drifted off subject. I have a habit of doing that, so if you ever meet me and it becomes an annoyance, then please point it out. I guess I might as well explain what exactly kept be from the Internet for so long and what happened in that time.Well, while I was in Florida, my computer, of course, was fixed. I brought it home with me. My mother even had the Internet hooked up for me a week after I came back. The problem is, my computer was pretty much built by my father. I had never used dial-up, or anything other than a cable hook up, and because of this I never had the need for a built in modem, the kind you use to hook up through your phone. Well, I guess I forgot to mention that I was being hooked up through dial-up, so after my internet was hooked up, I found out that it wouldn't work and why. This was in August, I'm pretty sure, and it's December now; I was only first able to access the internet again on the 10th, so a lot happened, and I have a lot of things to cover. So, now you have two choices. You can either decide, "Why should I read something to long if it doesn't effect me?" and go surf the internet somewhere else, or you can think, "Hey, this might be kind of interesting." and decide to stick with me and read what I have to say. Well, if you chose the later, then bare with me.
After I realized I didn't have Internet I asked around, finally talking to my father, and found out the answer from him. So, he promised to send me a modem to get me back on the Internet. Well, he works a lot so it would be a while before he could send it to me, so I had to face reality. I would either have to wither away in my room, missing role-plays and online friends, or I could actually begin to socialize more with people at school. I chose the first for a while, but then I started talking to people, and I found out that it wasn't completely horrible. So, I repaired old contacts and let people know that, yes, they were still, indeed, my friends. I learned the shocking fact that everyone in school knew my name because I am "cool." I also learned that I was friends, on some level, with a great deal of people in that learning facility, and not just on the Internet. I shall never understand how I can make so many friends and be liked by so many when I do not reach out to them the way they reach out to me. Am I coated in some kind of highly intoxicating drug? I fear I shall never know.
Gradually I was pulled into the treacherous cave that is this thing called a "social life," and it became harder and harder to get out. In times I even welcomed it, using it to help me forget the absence of something I had loved for so long. I went out to the movies as often as money would allow, I met up with friends in town, and I even went to every local football game. I even went out with someone I had been attracted to for a time. By the time of the homecoming events, I was quite popular. My friends started to argue with me, working to convince me of how attractive I was (am?); they started mentioning small things, the way my body moved, the way my different features looked. I still refuse to believe myself attractive, but every once in a while, I would give in, and I found that it made it easier to look into the mirror and accept myself. As homecoming approached they had begun to badger me to enter to be attendant in the parade. They even went so far as to ask people if they would vote for me, if I were to enter. It seemed I had a good chance of winning. For one fleeting instant I imagined actually winning something like that, something that seemed so important in this place away from the world, where who you know is all that matters, but then I the others, girls obsessed with appearance and popularity. This was a prize for them, and I had no right to join in something so fickle. So, I drew back from my social life momentarily, and watched the voting pass by, but I jumped back in soon after, for I could not desert the excitement. School let out early, and I actually left for town instead of going home on the bus and disappearing into my room. The group of friends I set out with was so large that at times it spilled into the street as we headed to the center of town to await the upcoming parade. We broke off into smaller groups, choosing our viewing spots and chatting as we waited, and finally it came. In a burst of color, noise and excitement it came. The noise hurt my ears and I quickly pulled back, but I made sure I could still see, for the colors held my attention. All of those bright colors in one place, many so unnatural that they made me dizzy, and then the glimmer of metal from instruments, clothing, and jewelry. It was a blinding rush. It pulled me in; such excitement, and I wasn't even sure for what! It just seemed so strange to see so many humans gathered in one place and for no point at all, not that I was aware off. We had these back where I used to live as well, but I had never attended. Could someone please tell me the reason for homecoming parades? What is a homecoming? Who is coming home? I used to think it was for some secret war that was being fought every year, and that the heroes returned home briefly at this same time every year, but that has proven to be wrong.
Suddenly, just like that, it was gone, moving away from us. People began to leave, and only then did I realize that it was over. I moved from my roost, for that was what it was, a high place, nestled under a bridge where normally only pigeons go. I was covered in dust and dirt, but I was too excited to care; my blood was still rushing with excitement. Everyone was going home, but I knew it wasn't time for me to just yet. There was more to come. Some of my friends invited me to return to one of their houses, where they would have some fun until the game started, but I declined. One friend stayed behind with me. We bought refreshments, and then went to the school playground beside the football field and lounged around on the swings for hours in the sun. This proved to be a bad idea, for the beverages were carbonated, and by the time people were arriving for the game we were both dehydrated and my mind was a haze. The others arrived and for the rest of the game we wandered randomly back and forth between the playground and the bleachers. The others were in as much of a haze as I was, for it seems the fun they had spoken of involved consuming mass amounts of alcohol. However, the worst of it proved to be someone in great want of attention that had taken barely a sip and was now claiming to be overly drunk and doing her best to act it. The cops were there, and our group was given a lot of glares and reprimands for nothing at all, for even in the dark, black is an unwanted color to these people. My boyfriend tried several times to drag me off into the dark. Once again, I declined. I had wanted nothing of his attentions for a week now and I was getting annoyed. As a means to avoid him and have some fun at the same time my friend and I began to parade around, holding hands and pretending to be going out. I soon realized that I was not completely pretending. I had feelings for her; I wanted this to be real, and I wanted her to want it too. (For anyone who reads this and decides to comment on how wrong this is; you need not waste your time. You are, by all means, entitled to your opinions, but you should keep them to yourself, for I won't bother to read such things. I do not suffer fools, nor their words.)
Then came a moment of shock and dread among us all. There was such a silence that even those that weren't watching the game noticed it. Towards the very end of the game, the announcer stated that one of the team had been injured. The injury looked bad. He made the mistake of only stating the first name, though. We believed it to be one of our friends. My friend and I seemed to be the most devastated. I had been a good friend and she had feelings for him, but the game was over and we headed for the dance as was planned. She comforted me over it, but shed not a tear, strangely. I watched her dance for a while, brooding, and then he showed up. It turns out that he had not been the one injured, and my friend, relieved as she was, barely left him for the rest of the dance. She had danced with me only once before he showed up, and now all dances were reserved for him. I watched them, and realized that it hurt. I was jealous, not of what they had, but of the fact that he was dancing with her and not me. Then, with perfect timing, my drunk and stinking (no not stinking drunk, just stinking) boyfriend came in, settled down beside me, and touched me in a rather offensive place. I blew up at him and fled to the bathroom. She, along with another of my friends, came to comfort me; it didn't exactly help. I kept looking at her, wishing she I could tell her with my eyes exactly what I felt, and then, failing, I would burst into tears all over again. As soon as I had calmed, I went out and broke up with him, saw her dancing with her new boyfriend, and went back to the bathroom upset. They rest I was told afterward. It seems that, afterward, my ex had immediately gone to dance with one of his ex-girlfriends. This followed in my friend, the one I had feelings for, slapping him. The rest of the dance passed in a cloud and I left, still upset, and brooded for the rest of the night.
My two friends went out for a week or less, I'm not sure, and then, after telling me that relationships never worked out for her, she broke up with him. He yelled at her when I missed a day, and I came back furious; we haven't talked since. Soon after, she somehow became aware of my feelings, and I learned, from someone else, that she had feelings for me as well. I am unsure how true this is, even with such a reliable source. My ex was becoming persistent, demanding to know why I broke up with him. Finally, more to hurt him than anything, I told him, especially the part about my being attracted to another female. He began giving me puppy eyes whenever I was around, but acted fine any other time, so I avoided him. Then, he started groping my friends. They became angry and told him off, so he started groping the one I liked. I yelled at him for it and threw him into a teacher's podium, and that ended it; until recently, he received nothing but glares from me.
Despite momentary teases and hints at the way she felt, my friend never revealed her feelings to me, though she began to make it quite obvious. The whole school believed us to be going out, but we never did. I think she would have been ashamed if we had, because of what some of her friends would think about her, so I left it be. Then, I started talking more with another guy (by now you'll notice that I won't use names), one I harbored feelings for from the year before. Suddenly her attitude changed; she didn't talk as much and her temper was short. Finally asked me, "Are you such a coward that you can't stand to face the world alone?" It hurt and infuriated me in ways I'd never imagined. I left the classroom shaking with anger, and then, finding no outlet for it, burst into tears of frustration. She pretended it had never happened, and the feelings I'd had for her faded, until now, where they lie somewhere below friendship, where people earn no trust from me. I apologized to her to repair the friendship (I didn't see the point in staying angry since I was already making her a dress for the upcoming Christmas formal.) and she accepted it, at first acting like I was going to kill her when I approached, and then acting as if I had been the one at fault, which is part of the reason I no longer trust her.
I started talking to the other guy more and more, realizing that I still had some feelings for him buried deep within me. (Call me fickle if you will, I know that is what I think of myself, but my feelings for a person never die, only diminish over time or bury themselves.) Apparently he talks about me whenever I'm not around, hardly leaving the subject, though he has a girlfriend.
The time for Christmas formal came, and I went, for lack of anything better to do, but instead of during, the drama began on the day of the dance, the last day to purchase tickets. Apparently, the guy's girlfriend hadn't wanted to go, but he didn't, even though he doesn't dance. She was fine with it, as long as he didn't go with any girls. Well, he came up short of the money required for a one person ticket, so he asked me is I would go with him so we could purchase a couple's ticket together. (It's slightly cheaper. I guess it makes sense.) I agreed, and she was furious. She started claiming that he had never told her that he was going. (It was a lie.) She still decided not to go, even though she could have bought a ticket perfectly well on her own. He came with me to purchase the ticket, and wouldn't quit grinning. He was shaking and said he didn't know why, but then claimed that he must be cold, even though the room was stifling hot.
The dance came, people dressed up. Most went to show off their dresses or the dates they'd snagged. My friend looked good in the dress I had made her, and apparently my dress fit me much better than two years before. (Something about curves according to my mother.) The guy was the only one who didn't dress up. He wore a dress shirt, yes, but with it he wore fingerless striped punk gloves, torn jeans, and chucks. You couldn't help but smile when you looked at him. He was probably the only comfortable person there. (Though I was fairly comfortable. I've found that you can be comfortable in almost anything if you pretend that you're naked.) Another of my friends even proclaimed him his idol. Neither of us liked to dance, so, other than my being dragged into the cha cha slide and a slow dance with my friend, we both sat there and talked about anything and everything for the whole four hours we were there. There was barely a pause. Towards the end of the dance he became silent, and then turned to me, and told me that he had been crushing on me last year. (I hardly understand the use of this world, since it has led to no hurt for either of us, but I guess it must be used for lack of a better word.) The amazing thing was exactly when he had started liking me, for he told he that he had never figured it out until that night.
The year before, we had come into Geometry class to find a dead mouse lying on the floor. Amazingly enough, even the males panicked. I, however, because of my strange impulsiveness, walked right up, plucked the mouse up by its tail, and began to talk to it there in front of everyone. I named it, (I don't remember the name) and then started telling it how sorry I was that this school had ended its life, and that I would keep it so that it's body would be safe. Then, the teacher walked in. He face paled as soon as she saw it. She asked for someone to take it to the dumpster outside, and I, of course, was the only one who offered to. She made me carry it in a paper towel and said no when I asked to keep it, so I left the classroom petting it and talking to it. He said that that was when he first started liking me; that combined with the way I teased the teacher. He said he had never seen anyone act like that before. (Indeed, I have been told a lot this year that I act like no one else. It makes me proud; I don't want to be like a human.) Amazingly enough, this was around the same time I began crushing (?) on him. Then, he told me how the music he heard me listening to a few days later had seemed to call to him, which is why he first came over to talk to me. But he said he was never sure how to talk to me. (I have to admit, I made it pretty hard.) When he was done I stared at him until he looked away, and then I told him that I had had a crush on him as well, but I had been told (by his cousin it turns out) that he hated me. He only looked at me, amazed, and stated once more that he had not known how to talk to me. We were both smiling for the rest of the dance.
That was the 9th, the day before I got my modem and hooked up my Internet.
As for the reason for the delay, my father sent the modem, or so he thought. He sent it from work, but somehow his shipping department (I think that's what it is.) mixed his last name up with another, and they won't send it out until that person has paid. So, of course, that person hadn't, but my father straightened it out and I now have my modem and Internet.
As for current events, I talk to that guy as much as I can now, we both smile much more than usual, and he has become quite hyper every day, which is rather unusual for him. He has begun avoiding his girlfriend (such actions puzzle me). I am unsure if he plans to break up with her or not. It matters not to me, I'm happy just talking, smiling, and laughing with him, and yes romping (as in mock-fighting for those who think it's something else) with him, though my aunt would kill me if she knew. (She told me I shouldn't, something about guys getting to rough. Am I really that fragile? I haven't broken anything yet.) His behavior does confuse me though, especially since I've been told that I am completely oblivious to advances from either sex. (I wouldn't have such a hard time of it if humans weren't so strange about it and just got to the point.) For Christmas I had limited money, so I bought $9 worth of candy at a dollar store and handed it out to anyone I felt deserved it. People are quite happy with me. I even got a hug and a kiss on the forehead.
No matter what is happening, or will happen, now that I have Internet I am withdrawing from this strange "social life" some, though not all, for I have been advised against that. However, I have at least learned some things during this period. Social interactions are very complicated; so much as a slight movement in the wrong direction could lead to disaster. Humans lead very complicated lives, most of it revolving around these social interactions. They are also very emotional beings and their emotions can swing either way from second to second. The most common emotions seem to be love and hate, the later often being caused by the first. So, it would seem, that deep down, humans are very passionate creatures, and most, though not all, long for or all involved in...romance.
So, I must wonder of those who are like I am, and dance under the moon, do they do so out of love, or even to ask her for love? Does she ever grant that wish?

Enthralled -- Malachite

Confused Reflection

If I had a choice I would make it so I would never be confused again. I would understand those around me, their actions, their words. I would understand things even when I was dreaming. In my existence, confusion is an annoyance that deserves to be gotten rid of. It doesn't help me at all, though it signals that I have something I need to learn. If I could easily comprehend all things as well as I comprehend some I would be quite happy. I don't like not understanding something, because for me it feels like I've done something wrong. I haven't learned the right things, or talked to the right people, or maybe certain parts of my mind aren't working right. I guess it all ties in with blaming myself for everything. I guess I have to stop that.
As for the delayed post, it's because my computer broke, then my parent's computer broke, and when I was allowed to use this computer, I forgot I had a blog. x.x Not that anybody who doesn't know me in person reads this thing...but still. To explain, I'm down in Florida for the summer. My computer is here and will be fixed at some point, but until then I get on this one every once in a while. Unfortunately I have about a month before I have to go back. I'm working on several stories and now have a notebook to put my new poems in. I don't really feel like typing much. So I'll leave you here.

--Reflecting Back, Malachite

Exhausted Scriptures

Wow, looky here. It seems I'm still alive. Astonishing isn't it? Probably. After much research and an increasing of symptoms, I have concluded that I do indeed have anemia. Isn't that wonderful? I sleep 24/7 now. I go to bed early just to wake up exhausted, takes naps as soon as I get home, and fall asleep in almost all of my classes. None of it helps, I stay tired. I think I may need a change of diet, or a few years in one of those cryo-lock things...sounds fun...cold...but fun. Of course, it would be at this time at I finally get ideas on several new poems, and all of my stories I'm working on. They're always on my mind, but between work and sleeping all the time I really don't get much time to put any of it in written form. Someday...I'll have the right subconcious to write all of my stories in perfect, coherent words on paper, while sleeping. That'll be the day. To top things off, I've also started to have fitful nights. Strange dreams, voices telling me important things I don't remember, and something that always wakes me up every couple of hours panicking. Honestly...I get more sleep on my textbooks...perhaps I should put one in my pillow, you know? Bleh...well, I guess I'll leave it here for now and try to type up more of my story before I fall asleep on the keyboard...

Withering Rose

As I have said before, I am still sick. But just because my life isn't as dismal as it should be, the flu has decided to tackle me, literally. I was feeling fine today, because school always makes me feel better. Then, suddenly as I sat at lunch, it hit me. I recognized it by my sour stomach, headache, dizziness, and the fact that I was ready to pass out and the room was spinning. I stumbled to the office after refusing help from anyone. I almost fell a few times, but I did manage to call my grandmother to have her pick me up. After getting my stuff I ended up sitting in the office, and was out cold by the time she got there. Unfortunately, she decided that since she was going to be picking me up anyways she might as well car pool anyone who wanted to run errands. So, I ended up sleeping in her van for another hour before they were done with their things. When I finally did get home I immediately passed out on my bed and lay curled up in the same position for four hours.
My half-sister, Brittany, woke me up when she got home. Since my parents stayed out late, I ended up watching her for another four hours. I don't believe I have ever talked about her, other than grouping her with the other heathens here. She's really not that bad when she does what I ask, which isn't much. I'm not a tyrant. She is nine now (I've finally gotten close enough to her to remember her age). She's tall, about to head spans shorter than me, with blonde hair and green eyes. She's a tomboy, and has a lot of my interests. Including: our pets, video games, computers (I think I will introduce her to roleplaying and writing in a few years), drawing, hiking, and though she has slight dislexia she is getting fairly good grades now. I spent most of my time watching her writing and helping her with video games. I really don't mind her that much anymore. Though I think it's rather funny that she admitted that she listens to be and not our parents: 1) Because I am her sister. 2) I put her in time out if she's bad. 3) I am nice to her now.
The final news is that I have come up with yet another story. One several of my friends are anticipating. I don't think I will tell you what it is about, but I will show you a poem I came up with that has to do with it.

Withering Rose

My beautiful rose,
Oh beautiful rose,
As she grow sickly,
Her petals close,
Her cherry lips,
Once full and sweet,
Cannot give kisses,
And to talk is a feat,
She withers quietly in her bed,
No complaint will she utter still,
Never again will I see my rose,
Blooming in life's great thrill,
Her leaves are shed,
Her stem grows weak,
And all that I think,
Is 'I'll never hear my lovely rose;
Laugh softly or speak,
Her gardens wither, her gardens cry,
As her light grows dim,
Her heart has been broken, and she'll never,
In love's full splendor swim,
She begs for me to leave her here,
But I can't leave her to die,
She weeps for her broken heart,
And all I do is lie,
How could I ever betray her like this?
I've cheated and I've lied,
And all for a different kiss,
It's something I can't hide,
Even though her heart is broken,
My withering rose loves me still,
Her love will not die, even in death,
Though I rather think mine will,
As the day goes by,
My Rose's soul fades a little more,
Her pain may be great right now,
But perhaps release lies in store,
The chickerel weeds grow strong and fresh,
As my rose breathes her last breath,
Though they'll grow strong and flourish,
All that awaits my rose is death.

Life's Sludge and Value

While traversing the path of life, you are almost always tredding through sludge. No matter how dark or how putrid, the sludge is a hindrance of everyday life. The sludge comes in different forms. For some it is different, for most they are the same. For me, that sludge is sickness, depression, and the things that drive me to it. As I've told you before, I'm sick. I'm still sick; it has lasted for months now. I'm getting sick of it. But it seems this time, since apparently I'm not allowed to miss school, I'm spreading it. Yes, my virus hit the school today. Half the students left and a few of the teachers went with them. I feel guilty about it, but there's not much I can do, now is there? Also, my eyes. I already wear glasses, and that doesn't bother me. But recently I found out that the different tints in each of my eyes are not normal, nor are the flashes of light, and now...my eyes are starting to fail me even with my glasses. Worst of all is my depression and the things that cause it. Those things being the same as usual, the ones I have written of so many times...However, through the sludge of life you may often find things of value hidden in the murk. You can choose to pick them up, or to pass them by. I prefer to pick them up. The most recent ones are: my new story for a young writers competition and my new volunteer tutor job at the Middle School. Ever since my 8th grade Literature teacher suggested that I try writing I have enjoyed it. Nothing has made me happier, until now. Today was only the first day taht I have helped the kids in the Middle School. But already I feel like I'm making a difference. It makes me prouder than my stories ever have. I hope that someday I have a child or two of my own to guide through their difficult journey...Well, since things are getting complicated here, I'll leave you with that tonight.Until next time--Malachite