Its cold in here...That dosn't really have anything to do with what I'm going to say...but it is!

WARNING! Be forwarnd that the fallowing contains anoying amounts of "rantage" and some other sort of stuff that isn't too fun to read about. Feel free to skip over it if you like

 

I don't know if I'll be going to far putting this in here...I was just going to type it out and send it to where all private matters go...the duck tape box under my bed. But I decided perhaps I could find some way to get everything across on here. Futile this may be, I have nothing else seperating me from Algebra.

As humans, especially teenage girls, we conterdic our selves. I hate doing it, I notice myself doing it all the time, and it sucks. I hate it when others do it. But then I remember that I did it. Why I did it. And it makes sense while there doing it.

I do it because I start out with some blunt statment that I made in a moment of anger or happness or just pure emotion, then later after a good while of listening to FIF or Relient K, I slap my self and think "Why the heck!"

So when they spend the longest time trying to make me do something then when I begin to do it, and  THEY start becoming sad. I get confused.

Maybe I'm bipolor, maybe I'm manic depressive, maybe I'm just your AVRAGE teenager. It just seems that the happier I get, the more complacated they get, and the more I try to please them. I'm so parenoid at this point. I ask if their angry, because when I didn't they though I didn't care. Now I'm just being nosey.

It's not hard to please them, but it's not something I'm willing to do. I get selfish, thinking that I can have it all, when in reality I know I can't. But how many times have I talked to him about how pointless reality is? How many times have I just jumped off the edge? How close have I come?

And now that it seems I'm braking down I relize I'm extremly happy. This is going to get quite the response and I may not be so happy after that, but I guess it's just frustrating . To have it all yet to live under the fear of it instantly dissaperaing to only be a memory.

Memories are cool, but life's better.