Wonderment

Sometimes I like to sit back and stop anything and everything I'm doing. Just a moment to think. And the melancholy thought rolls in. "Why do people like me?" I can see many traits in my friends that make the likable and why I'd want to be around them. However, myself? I do see as many. I will admit honestly, I do try to be nice and helpful to my friends. If they've been having a bad day, I want to be there and lend a shoulder to be wept upon. Except sometimes, I don't even think I'm worthy of their love or admiration. Allow me to rant and lavish angrily at myself for a moment.
I'm short-tempered, first of all. Very. It's been better lately, but sometimes, I feel that old, violent angry in me comes back where I just want to scream at the top of my lungs, until my throat bleeds and burns. I clench my fists but keep them at my sides. I wish to kick and fight, but I bind myself still. Awkwardly still. Oh, how I wish I could just unleash those bound limbs and fight. This is the only thing I am extremely capable at controlling, before my emotional control. Even at my peak, I somehow coax myself to calm down enough to relax and look neutral once again.
I like to pretend that I'm this knowledgeable person sometimes, this mature figure people think they can depend on. But I'm not. I constantly lecture one friend of mine on how she should stop lying to herself and everyone around her, for her to just be herself. Well, how silly. I don't think I'm myself. I pretend occurrences happened in my life, but they didn't. They were just figments of my imagination used to make people think I have an interesting life that's either funny, painful, sorrowful, lonely, or whatever. If you ask several people I'm acquainted with, you can tell the alternation of a person they're talking about. The problem with my friend and her version of trying to spice up her life is that she is very obvious, almost to the point where I think she's just trying to tick me off by lying. She says things that contradict, events overlap so it can't be possible to happen, the same person at the same time does the opposite thing then what she said the first time, and there are many things. I'm at least relatively consistent, I know how to act with a certain group of people, and I remember generally what I've said to them. you can say that I'm scolding my friend for her acting out her imagined life poorly. Which is still messed up.
Well, continuing from what I was saying earlier. I'm very boring. I don't have anything about me that's interesting. I'm a normal girl with average grades who's mood is neutral half the time. I don't do anything fun. I sit there and play games. Maybe read once in a while. Paint or draw even less often. Listen to a lot of music. Eat some junk food and maybe some fruit. I do my homework. Then I sleep. It's not like I'm in a sport or anything, I don't have this "family" or team. I go home everyday right after school and sleep, trying to not think of what I could be doing or what I should be doing. I don't think about how deep down I wish I was a part of them. To share an activity I want to do with others, to work together, to help each other. Then I think about how useless I am. I'm no good at sports, I can't throw, can't catch, can't hit with a bat, racket, club, etc. The only think I can be even considered good at is running, but still. I fail. I'm utterly useless, and no one would want me.
At times, I am really a nasty person. I think very negative things about the people around me, about my family, teachers, even my friends. And to an extent, sometimes I wished we'd just stop being friends. I'd be frustrated at how they'd come flocking to me all the time when I'd rather not speak to them. I seriously think that the people I want to hang out with depends on the time of the year and how I'm feeling. Sometimes, I see people and I just want to run to them and give them a big hug. Other times, I have a hard time to stop myself from running away from people walking in my direction. And the rest of the time, most of the time, I'm neutral. I notice them, but I am neither excited or displeased at seeing them. I don't walk to them, but I don't walk away, just going to my destination, my locker or a classroom perhaps.
Whenever I just think about those things, I disgust myself. What kind of friend am I? The person you can rely on one minute, and the person who wants to kill you the next?

Invisibility

I sometimes wonder if we all have experienced that feeling where we think we're invisible, that we don't need super powers to be overlooked. It's funny how you can stand there and people will bump past you without noticing they just shoved you with their shoulder. They don't turn their heads, they don't say sorry, they keep walking straight forward just as they were before. Or when you're talking to someone and they never respond. Then you finally realize they weren't even listening, and then you feel dumb, especially if you were saying something really personal. It's not even a, "I'm sorry, did you say something?" or "Wait, did you say what I think you said?" kind of thing. It's absolute unawareness of you even being there, nevermind that you're saying something to them.
It feels a bit weird saying that, since I'm purposely ignoring a friend of mine. I do know he's there, I just pretend he's not. He just irritates me so much in a way that I'd rather hurt his feelings by refusing to acknowledge his presence than spout angry words at him that I'm not confident that I can hold back any longer.
Sometimes, though, when you want to be left unnoticed, you're always seen. Particularly but certain adults known as teachers. They call on you when you don't know the answer and you think, why did you call on me when I'm already shrinking in my seat? But, I guess that's one of the things that I like about teachers. They notice you and, to a certain degree, they care. They can be unfair, they can give a lot of homework, they can give hard tests, they can yell, they can cry, but they care. And they notice.

Turn a Deaf Ear to

The campus vibrated with so much noise that I felt myself being trembled by it. It was distorting my concentration so I mouthed the words.
"Chapter Ten: Stardust. It has occasionally been remarked upon that it is as easy to overlook something large and obvious as it is to overlook something small and niggling, and that the large things one overlooks can often cause problems." I continued to whisper to myself the rest of the text. When I finished, I flipped the page. I shifted my hands so that one hand could hold open the book on my lap. I raised the other hand a distance away from my face. Something hard hit my palm and I glanced at the floor to see a small rock.
"Please stop bothering me," I said, looking up at the group of boys making irritated faces at me.
"You’re so weird. Always sitting there and reading. Don’t you have any friends, you geek?" Brandon remarked.
"Of course, he doesn’t. He only talks to himself most of the time. Who’d want to hang out with a freak like him?" said Patrick.
The pack started laughing hysterically at nothing and walked off. I went back to reading.
I was disrupted again soon by a girl. I noticed her approaching me from behind, so I turned around. She looked surprised for a moment and then she began to be flustered. Finally, she made distinct hand signals that I recognized because my parents made me study it. The girl said, "Can you help me? I’m trying to find Room 312, but I can’t seem to find it."
I smiled and said, "Sure." I quickly placed my bookmark, closed the book, and tucked it into my backpack. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and then said, "Follow me."
We walked down the hallway when the girl's hand started to move again.
"My name is Ashley."
"Nice to meet you," I said politely, "My name is Cecilio."

. . . . . .

"You know, I haven't told anyone, rather, my parents forbid me to," I confided, "To say that I'm actually deaf."
Ashley made a shocked face, but quickly made sloppy hand signals that said sorry repeatedly.
"It's okay," I said with a sad smile, "You of all people can't tell, since you can't even speak. But even the boys who make fun of me. They all don't notice a thing."

. . . . . .

I felt a slight quaking from a distance away and it grew stronger and stronger. I turned back around to watch Ashley's back as she crossed the street. My eyes dashed towards the side to see a car, its speed did not slow for a turn, but rather, sped up since the traffic light turned yellow.
"Ashley!" I yelled. As I tried to run to her, I saw Ashley turn her head back towards me, but then a car promptly stopped, way too far out on the painted crosswalk and in my way. I jumped back, startled that I didn't even notice it coming. I stumbled over my own feet and fell against the wall behind me. I watched over the car top dumbly as the world seemed to go in slow motion and the car approached Ashley who's mouth opened in horror.
For a moment, I thought I heard the screeching of tires and Ashley's shriek.
I soon needed the wall for support for my legs gave way and I sank to the floor.
What.
What was this devouring feeling? This emotion that stole the air from my scream and robbed me of my strength. It tied my throat and blurred my vision. What was this feeling? This feeling of. Of. Of. Loneliness?

Silly Little Me

I feel like a little rant today (don’t question my judgment in “little”). I try to do my best in everything I do. I try. Of course, I’ve noticed that half the time that I’m wasting my time just sitting there, either playing games on the computer or really, just sitting there. I like to amuse myself by telling myself that I put in my full effort into my homework, studying, and all those things. In the end, I realize that my “full effort” is just exhorted into my vegetating. It’s funny how I like to say I enjoy writing or reading in my free time, but I just happen to forget to say, “Oh, and play mindless, brain-melting-into-putty-degrading games on the computer pretty much most of my life.” I guess I just want to save face.
The stereotypical opinion people have on me when they first meet me is that I’m “pretty”, “smart”, and “nice”. It starts to get annoying when people shower you with this nonsense flattery that just makes you feel like an absolute moron when you fail to meet their unintentional expectations. If I get, say, a ‘C’ on a test, the people around me would say, “You getting a ‘C’? What happened there? Did you forget to study or what?” I find that those are pretty embarrassing comments.
I actually prefer insults over compliments sometimes. My parents never really did praise me much, so I suppose that it’s from their reactions that I feel slightly disgusted when someone highly congratulates me. I’ve become accustomed to being “average” no matter what I do, that I’m nothing really unique in any my achievements. If I got an award or something special, my parents just say “good job”; if I’m lucky, they’ll give me a smile and a pat on the back. Yesterday, there was an award ceremony for students that teachers thought were outstanding in the class. When my mother first got the invitation, she was indifferent and said something along the line of “Do I have to go?” This is all normal, and I understand why my parents aren’t as involved as others. They’re comfortable at home; they’ve had their share of a tiring life and just enjoy kicking back at home when they can. Maybe I’ll be like them when I get up to their age, even though I haven’t labored as much as they did. They farmed, were in some military training, and such. Me? I just bum around home while attempting to do homework, then I go play games on the computer, then go back to homework at nine, and then I finish up at around one or two in the morning. Yes, I do have an unhealthy lifestyle (slowly but surely, I’m fixing it). I don’t know how I’m not overweight since I eat a bunch of junky food, also. My mom’s theory likes to blame it on the fact that I never sleep, so all my bodily fat is used up as energy.
I think I’d rather be fatter. Sure, it’s “nice” to just be average all the time in everything you do, but then people who think they’re fat start saying how lucky you are to be skinny. Those people irritate me, but after they say it to me a few times, I get a hysterical laugh or two out of it, so it’s all good, I suppose. But honestly, what’s with people and their overcomplicated desire to be “pretty”, or “skinny”, or whatever they want. Sure, I’m self-conscious about my legs and I think they’re unattractive, but whatever. Who cares what people think! The only thing that drags down people most of the times is what they think about themselves. I know that there are those jerks around that openly say whatever they want, without regards to other’s feelings, and then the insulted person starts to feel insecure or upset.
You know what I just realized after my ranting? I can contradict myself forever. I’m pretty sensitive to what people say to me, yet I say I prefer insults and that I don’t care what people think or say about how I look. Now I feel like this entire entry is beginning to have no point besides the fact that everything is true but then sometimes I contradict myself, and so everything I said is wrong. I’m beginning to lose my train of thought.

Dreaming

I wanted to become an author since the 8th grade, after doing a Career I Search project. "Do what you want to do, do what you LOVE to do," my English teacher told us over and over when she gave us the assignment. I didn't really know what I really enjoyed doing until I thought about it during that year. I felt really motivated by my teacher's words when I realized that I loved to write. However, I'm only human, I have my doubts. I hear all those people say degrading things about books they've read, like Twilight, saying stuff like, "It's the worst thing I've ever read!" or other nasty comments. I know there are just books certain people just don't like, but I really don't think they should badmouth it the way they do. It doesn't just irritate me, but frankly, it scares me a little. I'm one of those sensitive people who cry easily. Of course, I'm not waiting for some kind of miracle that'll make everyone who reads my future books (if any) will love it. Nevertheless, all that critism frightens me a little. But it's the real world, what can I do except try to toughen up? If you haven't noticed, I have a bit of a doubt problem in my capability of writing books. I write stories right now, but once again, I doubt my ability in publishing and making a living off of writing stories. I mean, there's the economic problem, too; that's not helping me much with my confidence.
At times of doubt like this, I wish I knew what would become of my future. Unless some genius invents the time machine, or I reach that point of my life where I have a better idea of where my life is headed, I'll just keep dreaming the outcome and working towards it.

Just One of Those Days

So today was a pretty decent day. My friends, Diana and Revathi came over to my house to hang out (even though I think it's pretty boring at my house, Revathi insists that vegetating together is much more fun). My other friend, Yasmin, she was supposed to be here, but due to a slight mix up about the plans, it turns out she couldn't be with us today on our day of sitting around, with occasional chatter. We played some Chinese checkers, stared at each others' blogs, and sat there talking about random things. It wasn't a "wow, today was the best day of my life and it was so exciting!" kind of day, but it was nice to have them to just to chill.

Crying Sunshine

Everytime you think of sunshine, what do you think? Light? Warmth? Happiness? What would you think if the sun began to "cry"? I think of those moments in life where it's like nothing could go wrong and then it just does.