I’m Sorry Now

So here I sit in the library waiting for my next class and really working hard at staying awake. That task will become more difficult once I reach English. The poor teacher is so boring and so redundant, and it would be okay if she was repeating things that made sense or mattered in some way but she doesn’t. We were supposed to read paragraphs from this letter to Birmingham by Martin Luther King Jr. and we were supposed to get in groups and analyze them for the next day, well when the next day came she analyzed like the entire letter and left nothing for us to talk about! I don’t know if she’s naturally that boring or if she likes hearing herself talk. But I guess I shouldn’t complain, she gives good grades. We have that essay I posted on here the other day due today and I am nervous. This guy in my class just bragged and bragged to my teacher about it so now she’s probably expecting some kind of out of this world essay and I probably won’t be able to live up to that. Oh well, we’ll see when I get my paper back.

Frank has been acting kind of funny lately. I have been talking about him coming here in August, I said I’d even pay for his plane tickets, if he’d just tell me the dates that worked for him. ( he doesn’t have a job during the summer so he has lots of free time) and he says he has the dates but he hasn’t given them to me? Even when I have asked he just changed the subject. I know his mom is going out of town and he was looking forward to having the house to himself and all, but damn, I want to see him too. I don’t know if thats why he hasn’t mentioned the dates to me or not but I am kind of curious as to why he’s so reluctant. I hate to keep bringing it up, I feel like I am pressuring him, but it’s not like we have all this time to get the tickets, at least at a good price. I guess I will just not bring it up around him anymore and see what he says? If he want’s to see me he can make the effort. I am tired of bugging him about it. I feel like I am being pushy and I hate girlfriends that are like that. Sigh.

I haven’t heard from my friends in a long time, not unless I call them or something. I know I complain about it a lot, but I hate always making the attempts. But damn if I don’t get lonely and give in. I just want some one to care and make the effort but it doesn’t look like I am going to find that around here. Took my friend to Six Flags for her birthday and I never got a thank you or a phone call or anything. Real nice huh? Shrug, what do you do? I don’t mean to whine and bitch so much, but I just don’t have anything to be happy about right now. Nothing to look forward to to  keep me in high spirits. My days keep repeating themselves and I am getting so tired and restless. So much so that I just want to say "screw everything" and walk away from all of my responsibilities. Kind of young for a midlife crisis huh?  Maybe what I need is to go home after English and take a shower and nap!

I like this computer, well the spot it sits in. Right by a big window and I catch myself staring out of it and forgetting where I am. I just start to drift off to another place. Its kind of nice. When I drive home I see such pretty land around, green hills, farm land. But its so vacant but how can that be when its full of life? I don’t understand how something can feel so empty. But it does. Feels like I am driving through dead space and its thick and hard to breath. I try to fathom why people are happy and content just to stay here and it’s pretty impossible. There’s no chance for big opportunities or adventure. I know some people who have never been outside the town I live in. They are happy and content to just stay there day after day after day. There’s nothing here to provide big opportunities and adventure. Young girls turn to drugs and attatching themselves to boys at 15 and try to start a family. There’s nothing else to do. I get so scared when I think Missouri may swallow me into her depths and I will get in so far I wont be able to get myself out. That scares me more than anything.

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WATER COLOR MEMORIES

I can’t paint you a portrait, of myself.

nor can I draw, sculpt or design,

the fleshy shell that looks so much like me.

Because the true self portraits,

are buried thoughts and images.

Too deep for anyone to really see.

How do you show the love and hurt, joy,

and regret in just one picture?

That for me is so easily put into words.

How can I paint you a picture of me,

when beauty is in the eye of the beholder?

and I tell you now, I am blind.

The color of my eyes mean nothing to me.

In fact….to look at them, you can tell,

they’re a little too far apart. Did you notice before I said something?

But in them, if you look close enough,

you can almost see the flicker

the shimmer…For a brief moment,

of me.

Look, and you can see the many times, I visited Disney Land.

Smiles…smells of ice cream…the sounds of children’s laughter.

You can see my last look at home,

as we drove,

300 miles east. No Hollywood Nights for Hanna’s teenage years.

Are you still looking?

Can you see my heart break over love. For the first time.

Can you taste the salty tears I shed? There were many.

Or even deeper yet, you’ll see my fights,

my reconciles with friends. The day I turned 18 and got my first ink.

The grander of me in my cap and gown. I smile as I think on it,

now.

You can see the day I became a woman,

with my first kiss. And the time I decided to spend the night.

How I gave him such a large part of me.

Because of that, I am altered, but unchanged. He became a part of me that day too.

If you look deeper, into the depths so far,

even I can barely see. You’ll see my father hanging from an oak.

I hate Michigan. And I hate I cried for a stranger.

The other memories passed by too. The time I threw my mom a

a surprise birthday party. Her happy tears made my heart race.

The moment in time when

I got my acceptance letter and I treated

everyone in the room that mattered most..my mom and my cat, to a victory dinner.

They are all just days, mixed with a little rain and the colors of a rainbow…

to make the memories of me. A paintbrush of life

that looked deep into my soul,

used it as inspirations….to make me what I am today…just another watercolor memory.