| Quiero ser una muñeca. |
[Feb. 15th, 2008|11:18 pm] |
| [ | The moment |
| |  exhausted | ] |
Happy Valentine's Day! (A day late...)
I'm scared. I love him, I do. I love him so much and everything's spinning out of control all of a sudden and I have NO motivation to do well in school anymore and I just worry so much...but I've really only cried over things once. It'd feel good to cry again, I just can't get myself to. Like in "A Beautiful Mind", when the wife goes in the bathroom and throws things and sobs? Where is MY breakdown? It's like I'm emotionally constipated. (What a horrible way to describe myself...)
I feel alone, lately. He's sleeping so much. I don't want to leave him alone for too long--so hanging out with my friends is out. And it's not like I mind it. Things are actually kind of awkward with all the friends I used to hang out with. It's probably because they don't think I WANT to be there anymore. I do. I'm just doing what I feel is right--spending as much time as I can with the person who makes me happiest.
God, I've missed "writing" things "down".
A Dios--por favor, cura la mente de mi príncipe...cura la corazón. Ayudame para entender el propio de sus acciónes... Ayudame, Dios. Ayudame. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 12th, 2008|06:29 pm] |
| [ | The moment |
| |  nostalgic | ] |
I'm a happy girl. Just thought I'd let you know. I miss it....so much....I miss talking. I miss thinking. I'm done. I miss my friends. |
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| Shit. Sorry I'm going crazy. |
[Sep. 7th, 2007|11:21 am] |
By the way:
I still hate most of the people I hated a month ago.
And ANOTHER THING:
That whole "I fool around with girls when I'm fucked up thing"? SOOOO FRESHMAN YEAR. The girls getting picked? NOT EVEN HOT. GROSS. IF YOU GO FOR SOMEONE THAT NASTY, JUST GO FOR AN UGLY GUY AND GET A DICK OUT OF THE DEAL. JESUS.
Disclaimer: I have absolutely no problem with lesbians and homosexual males in general. What they do--totally cool and totally their own business. That explosion was not meant to insult anyone ACTUALLY homosexual. Just the ones who are like, "Dude, I'm such a free-spirit, and you're so hot, and neither of us can feel any part of our bodies...let's make out and imply what we did all over myspace. Because we're just like, so carefree. And in love! Because we both like the Beatles and pot! So we MUST be in love!"
GOD I'm sick of people. Gross. |
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| I don't respect anything about you. Never will, Not now. |
[Aug. 16th, 2007|10:45 pm] |
I am afraid of being someone without respect. Someone who has squandered any sort of respect their peers would toss their way; any kind of respect they thought they might deserve. I am afraid of being a person that nobody likes. Not because I am afraid of being uncool or unpopular (trust me, I am already uncool and unpopular), but because then, there has to be some God-awful character trait in me that makes me the totally undesirable human. If even the miserable, mean people won't associate with me,then I'm doomed. Destined to a life of solitude and superficial satisfaction. And GOD FORBID I end up being one of those people and rely solely on drugs and attention to be happy. "Let's get WASTED!!!!" is not something I want to hear--too often. Looking back at pictures from the night before with my eyes all glossy-half-closed and my hair a mess, holding a glass looking not-quite at the camera and remembering, slowly, what I did--that's NOT how I want to spend my "best years". Fuck that. I'll leave that to the lower walks of society. |
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| I got a laptop! |
[Aug. 16th, 2007|09:34 am] |
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It's been a while. And I've learned some things. Mostly, I've learned that the sun shines, regardless of the temperature before its rays hit the earth; I've learned that some people just can't be changed and some just can't help but change all the time. I've been betrayed so many times this summer, just like last summer. But not by a boy this time. Ha, my boy...he looks amazing, you know. Absolutely wonderful. And I'm changing...my hair's longer, at least. |
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| "You're a wreck" |
[Jan. 17th, 2007|10:43 am] |
| [ | The music |
| | 100.7 the RIVER | ] |
So. Wrecks. Ryan. Later on, myself. Of course, mine was nothing compared to Ryan's. I'm so worried about him. But at least nobody's yelling at him yet.
With mine, it was this split-second thing like a bolt of lightning that splinters across the black sky in a beautiful-scary kind of thing. I felt suspended in air. I felt like I was swimming and drowning. My first thought was, "How ironic!" The image of Ryan, myself replacing Ryan, and somewhat similar visitors and conversation flooded my brain and I realized that I'd hit my head on the wind shield. It didn't hurt. It was just hot. I was cold. I was sweating and shaking and crying and screaming and turning my car into the gas station with shaky, hysterical white-knuckled hands. I was calling Justin, calling my dad. Talking to Justin. Hanging up before the call went through to my dad. The sweet security guard, she was asking me if I needed anything. Telling me I looked pale, was I alright? Did I want something to drink? Was I cold? Was I hurt? Was I sure I wasn't hurt? I just wanted to hug her. It would've been strange, but I just wanted someone to hold me. I was sobbing sobbing sobbing and shaking shaking shaking and the tears were streaming streaming streaming. And all I could think was, "Oh God, Ryan. Oh God, Daddy's gonna be so mad. Mommy's gonna be so mad. When will Justin be here? What do I do? Do I talk to the guy I hit?" I walked around to the back of his car and, fuck, I hit him good. People were staring, and yelling, and I was hysterical. I was crying and sniffling and snorting and sobbing and shaking. I was sitting because I didn't think I could stand up. I didn't think I could. I finally did, but had to lean against the car.
The brakes, where were the brakes. The reflex. The thought. The caution. The concentration. The agility. Where was I? Who am I? |
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| The great weight lifted |
[Jan. 11th, 2007|08:12 am] |
| [ | The moment |
| |  chipper | ] |
So, I'm finally done. Done with senior project, speech, Tale of Two Cities test, sociology presentation, applying to at least one school AND submitting my transcript, finishing all those damn quizzes for Business Law. I'm done. All I have to do is keep the grades I have now and I won't have to worry about exams, I won't have to worry about anything. It's in someone else's hands now...
Justin and I...we're perfect. We really are. Well, perfect like normal. Perfect the way I like perfect--beautiful because of the little bitty flaws. I had this "episode" before my speech where I just screamed at him. See, the big problem is that he doesn't understand high school and the "pressure" involved. The terrifying feeling of going nowhere just because a few people don't like your academic achievements. It's overwhelming, gives me headaches, and he just can't relate. Having dropped out three years ago, he hasn't had to deal with any of it. Having been offered job after job because of his ability and not his stupid little grades...jobs with CEOs. Jobs with banks. Jobs with big corporations. BEGGING him to work for them. And me, I'm going to school every day, putting up with this SHIT, this judgement shit; I'm working as a hostess. BECAUSE I choose to go to school like a regular teenager, businesses discriminate against my ability, dedication and intelligence. WHAT BULLSHIT?! IT STILL PISSES ME OFF. But anyway, I yelled at him. Got mad at him. And later that afternoon, all was forgotten. The end. |
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| Early mornin' riser... |
[Jan. 2nd, 2007|08:17 am] |
So, Pure Prairie League this morning on the way to school made me smile. Spending New Years with Justin made me smile. All these things in my life seem to be making sense...and I can't say I'm upset about anything. Except that I'm at school...and there's no smoking in class?
You really know your friends...when they have to prioritize their social lives.
Anyway, have a good one. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 21st, 2006|08:44 am] |
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TIM LOEBACH RUINS EVERYTHING. |
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| God, I love myself. |
[Dec. 19th, 2006|08:40 am] |
By the way--he proposed!
The ring's at the jeweler being resized because apparently I'm a size 4 (?). So don't ask to see it. I miss it and I'm upset. I'll have it back HOPEFULLY by Friday though. Anyway.
The world is good. Senior paper = turned it. Don't care if it's good or not, it's done.
Love you all. Quit complaining. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 13th, 2006|08:11 am] |
One year ago this time, I was constantly with Jenna, Kylie, and Brianna. Constantly talking about how cute Steve was. How well we got along.
One year ago this time, I was a completely different person.
One year ago this time, I was invisible. I didn't wear a lot of makeup, I hadn't lost all that weight, and I was invisible. I was unwanted. A techie. "Lauren...Moseley? Nope, don't know her." Just another number in the Class Rank. And it changed. Somehow, it changed. Somehow, the world saw me. What changed? Did I become more outgoing because of the sudden burst of social life that goes along with Steve? Did I gain some confidence, dating an attractive boy like that? Or does the world really just like pretty people better? Does the world really just open its doors to the fortunate ones, slamming that same door in the faces of the not-so-pretty? I'm sic |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 11th, 2006|08:43 am] |
Since I just posted about "quit complaining", excuse me while I hipocritize all over the place right quick:
1. I have no money. You people who say you're broke and don't have money, you mean "I have between $100-300 in the bank, but Mommy and Daddy say I can't touch that." I really have nothing. No debit card, no savings account, $1 cash. I have nothing.
2. Christmas is coming up and because of 1., I have not finished my shopping. I need to get presents for the following: my father, my grandfather, Kacey, George and Cindy, Nanna and Poppa,
3. I'm excited beyond belief about being with him, but sometimes I get scared. He knows. He knows I'm scared of starting everything so early...we've only been dating for...4 months officially, 6 unofficially (the stagnant-Steve period where he could be dating/doing two girls at once, but I couldn't go to dinner anybody). I want to be with him. I want to marry him and be his housewife. But so early? That's what worries me...shouldn't you want to, regardless of time, if it's really there? Or does everybody have doubts...is everybody scared of this step?
4. I have an F in English. Interims look like this: B, F, C, B. Wow. I'm a fucking winner. Mental breakdown in 5,4,3,2...oops. I'm on overdrive. I can't mental-breakdown anymore or I'll never unbreakdown.
5. Birth control causes people sometimes to gain weight. That, and the fact that I've gained weight anyway, makes me feel like I'm this giant undesirable blimp. God help me, but maybe no money = no food = weight loss? I've done it before, I can do it again. I can ignore the dizziness, I can ignore the gnawing in the pit of my stomache...if I just make myself.
6. I get paid monthly with my new job (at Azitra; it's in Brier Creek, I expect visitors!!). This means that I get one paycheck a MONTH. This means budget, budget, budget! which I don't like. I like to spend, spend, save.
7. I like my new job, but it's hard to learn how to do something new when your teachers don't exactly speak perfect English. It's even harder to take take out orders from people with thick Indian accents who know what they want to order, and you have to look through the menu in an attempt to match sound with spelling. So when you screw up and "Mr. Pikhar speaking" is yelling about how "you forgot the culi but remembered the anari paneer and roti and there is no food to eat now and shit, what does the family eat, shit, what kind service this is??? shit, what I should do now, shit, CLICK." Day three at work..."Mr. Pikhar speaking" is not fun to talk to. It's hard being the minority. Makes me think back to every drivethru I've gone to and someone who is not necessarily American has royally fucked up my order and I've gotten angry...miscommunication. That's all it was. It's not ignorance. It's not spitefulness. It's miscommunication. Lost in translation. You sit on the other end of a phone line and take down orders for people who speak Hindi or Punjabi and are from places like Nepal and Bengladesh and Punjabi and then go yell at someone who speaks mainly Spanish for fucking up your KFC. If you can do that you're a heartless son of a bitch.
Damnit. That's a lot of hipocritizing.
yeah, I know it's not a fucking word. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 11th, 2006|08:17 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Business Law | ] |
| [ | The music |
| | tour club and shaft heaven!!! | ] |
So here's the problem: QUIT COMPLAINING.
CHRISTMAS IS SOON.
CHANCES ARE, EVEN IF IT'S NOT THE HOTTEST MOST COOLEST POTHEAD BOY EVER, you have SOMEBODY who loves you.
YOU WILL FIND SOMETHING TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE. Although, that was more for me than anybody else...nobody else seems worried about their future. They either know they're going to college already, or aren't and don't care.
YOUR GOSSIPY FRIENDS ARE NOT REALLY YOUR FRIENDS.
THE BOYS YOU THINK YOU LOVE--YOU PROBABLY WON'T BE WITH FOREVER. I'm trying to talk myself out of this one...considering the fact that I ammmm unofficially engaged and will be officially engaged as of Christmas-ish.
DRUGS ARE NOT THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS IN YOUR LIFE. In fact, they aren't atall important.
WHY IS NOBODY WORRIED ABOUT THEIR FUTURE?!...or is it just not cool to talk about it? |
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| Sporadic. Chaotic. and almost my birthday. |
[Dec. 5th, 2006|08:37 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Business Law | ] |
| [ | The music |
| | Phil Myers talks and talks and talks and talks and talks... | ] |
Dear Diary.
School is stupid but focalin is good and makes me do a lot of work and focus a lot. But it makes me thirsty. I sound like a 10 year old but that's okay because I don't want to write a lot because Max is reading it and so is Mr. So-and-So in the back of the room and Miller's not here and that's upsetting because he's an ass and it makes me laugh and it's hard to make me laugh in the morning so I like him.
Justin is good. I got him the right size present. I just hope he likes it. I want to get him something else because I know he's getting a lot on me and I feel cheap. Anyway.
The classroom smells like grits, for some reason.
It's cold and sunny and it feels like winter and it smells like winter and the air cuts through your lungs like winter. I love the cold. It makes everybody prettier. Fatter, paler, and prettier. I love it.
My birthday is in 19 days. I can't even pretend to be unexcited. I'M SO EXCITED!!!!! I want everybody to wish me a happy birthday on Christmas Eve.
Although, it is the one year anniversary of Steve and my first kiss. That's gonna hurt. I'll try not to think about it though.
I love you. |
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| It's one of those days, when nobody's home...everyone's here, but you're all alone. |
[Nov. 28th, 2006|08:21 am] |
So. I'm exhausted. My head is killing me. Something's not right and I go from hot to cold. Haha my sexy Express jeans don't fit. I've got to lose weight. I've got to stop eating. I miss my ribs. I miss my hip bones. I miss skinny arms and sunken eyes. I miss the "You're so skinny!" comments. Yes I'm vain, yes I'm sick. Yes, there is so much wrong with these statements. But I want it. I feel huge. And ugly. And so unsexy. I want to feel sexy again...I want to feel like one of Those Girls. No matter how much I know he loves me, how much I love him--it doesn't matter. Every girl wants to know that she's one of Those Girls that everyone stares at and wants to be when she walks into a room.
The weather, the cold, the brown rust orange and burgundy leaves...the way the smoke from my cigarette coils and dances in the spotty rays of sun that seep through the almost-naked tree limbs. I love fall-winter. |
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| Disclaimer |
[Nov. 16th, 2006|08:33 am] |
Ladies and Gentlemen,
I would like to sincerely apologize for an discrepancy encountered throughout these entries. They are not only candid thoughts, but my own personal opinions. If they offend you, quit reading. If you're upset because they're true, quit reading. And by the way, chances are that if they're about you in a mean and abusive way, you should quit reading. I never meant to cause such controversy with my opinions, but I did. What I say here is what I say. It's just like a diary that no one can see, only everyone can. And if you're offended, it's your problem. Because the ones who are offended aren't even "members" or "friends" or whatever. These people go out of their way to read my presumably offensive livejournal entry of the day. This is a disclaimer. I may write and post ANYTHING I want. The general publics' FEELINGS are no concern of mine on this silly little page with its silly little text box. It is my venting space. Get over it.
I have to admit though, it's funny. It's amusing. It's really great, though, that you (collectively) hate me so much but that you (singularly) canNOT get out of my life. If you wanted out as much as you say, you wouldn't be reading this still. And you (singularly and the other You), if you would PLEASE grow up and forget about me and the fact that you're ridiculously insecure. I don't want him. I don't want him. He makes me feel sick. I have enough anger inside me as it is...seeing him, let alone being with him will only make it worse. So get over it. I know I'm prettier, but Jesus, you're a cute girl. Don't be QUITE so insecure. And quit going through my stuff--PLEASE. It's just annoying and makes you look pathetic. The fact that you can't have enough self respect to KNOW you're good enough to keep him satisfied...so you have to go through MY phone....just to be sure. Or maybe I'm completely wrong and you went through my phone because you feel the need to bring me down to pick yourself up (the bully complex? He's just doing it because HE'S insecure)...you find flaws in me, report back to your WONDERFUL man, and then you're better than me? I think that one fits you better...although you are the insanely jealous type. Hey, if it gets you to sleep at night...
Sorry about that little rant. Hope I didn't hurt anybody's feelings. And I hope I don't get any REALLY ANGRY text messages.
Love,
Lauren |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 13th, 2006|08:45 am] |
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I want out. Away from the superficial idiots (including myself). Away from the drugs. The abuse. The language. The lack of intellect. I'm sick of it. I want out. |
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| A Knight's Tale = Canterbury Tales |
[Nov. 7th, 2006|08:50 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Business Law | ] |
| [ | The music |
| | I keep forgetting. | ] |
The loneliness of smoking on a backporch and watching the auburn leaves fall is overwhelming. Disheartening, but somehow comforting. The somber rustling of leaves in the brisk wind...the wind that's only a precursor to the chill that'll be cutting through our coats, our clothes, freezing our little self-centered hearts. Somedays, my head hurts, and my cough shakes me, and the wind blows and it feels like I'm going to blow away with the leaves and the dirt and the trash. It feels like there's nothing really holding me here...I look forward to the future so much, it seems like I'm just waiting to get out...not living in the present. The present is a purgatory of sorts...I'm just sitting here waiting to be one of the Chosen. One of those who succeeds, gets out, leaves everything behind. The past, the shameful things I've done--the ones I can try to forget but when I do they suddenly pop up again and it hurts just as bad again...I remember the shame, the hate, everything I felt about myself and it crawls inside my skin and manifests itself in the depths of me...
I'm ready to get out. I'm ready to run away. I've been confrontational forever and rarely have I run from my problems...I'm ready to. Ready to run. Ready to forget. Ready to be someone else. First, a number, then, a person. Ready to make new friends. Keep a select few. Ready to get over my past and move on. Ready to forget him. The hurt. The hate. The hurt that I hate. I'm ready to get out. |
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| Young Stunna' |
[Nov. 6th, 2006|08:51 am] |
So. So here's the thing. When there's no tragedy in your life, everyone else's tragedy doesn't really make sense. Quite frankly, The Wreck lately doesn't bother me. Chances are they were stoned. Chances are there was some lack of good decision-making that could have prevented this accident. I'm glad they're alright. Don't get me wrong. But I'm tired of people making bad decisions and making it out somewhat-to-quite alive and becoming this Martyr. You make a mistake and just because you're not DEAD doesn't mean you should be praised. It just means you screwed up, but somebody somewhere decided you deserved a second chance, so don't screw that one up too, ok? Nothing more, nothing less. You're not something special. You're not something horrible. You're just another stupid teenager (like we all are) who made a mistake and lived through it and has been given a second chance (for whatever reason that may be) to make something of yourself. DON'T SCREW UP.
Maybe I sound ridiculously pedantic and pretentious. But I believe it.
Maybe I'm just cynical and hateful. But I'm so happy lately!
It sucks when you're so used to fighting for a chance to complain to your friends who come to you to complain and then you have nothing to complain about so they whine and bitch and moan to you and then...you don't really have a rebuttal of, "Well, guess what happened to me--." It's slightly upsetting. But in the end, just really uplifting.
To know that you have good grades, a family that loves you and a wonderful boy who loves you...to know that none of them want you to change a single thing (with the exception of smoking) and they STILL love you...it's one of those thoughts that makes the cold wind not seem so bad when the sun shines on you. It's one of those thoughts that forces you to find something good about that song on the radio that you hate (am I the only person who still listens to the radio sometimes???).
Oh and on a not-so-happy note: I will not miss you when you're gone. You and your superior little self with your superior little girlfriend. Where you get these airs of perfection I don't know. I could list the flaws but I won't. I could call you out but I won't. Just know that you, you are dead to me. Call me a whore and spit in my face and tell me you never loved me and I won't cry, won't scream. I had this Divine Epiphany, a long-awaited one at that, and realized that if you're too stupid to realize that you DID hurt me, that not EVERYTHING was my fault, and that you really don't have a heart, then you don't deserve another fucking thought of mine. My mind, my heart, my soul--these things are too precious to waste on a prick like you. Too precious to waste on a white-trash, self-absorbed idiot like you. I do, however, hope that you are happy with your second-rate girl, your less-than-second-rate job(s), living in a presumably less-than-second-rate apartment (this is futuristic because I don't count the fact that you live with your second-rate girl's OBVIOUSLY less-than-second-rate mother (what mother thinks it's appropriate to drink with her daughter and her boyfriend who lives with them???)). I do hope that one day you get the satisfaction out of life that I know you always wanted. I just hope you get it before you lose everything slightly resembling morale. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 31st, 2006|08:25 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Business Law | ] |
| [ | The moment |
| |  blank | ] |
| [ | The music |
| | I'll bring music tomorrow. | ] |
So it's Tuesday but it feels like Monday and I hate Mondays and so I hate this Tuesday. This weekend was not spectacular...I stayed at Justin's Friday night after I saw Tilly and the Wall for the third time. I loved it. I slept better with him than I have with anyone else. I feel so close, so secure, so safe with him and it's comforting and I love being with him. I get so happy sometimes...it's unnerving. I know he'd never leave me...not on purpose...I know he loves me. He'd never hurt me. Ever. And I'm happy. And I'm content. And it's all okay. And I feel like a stupid emo kid.
And I went to a party and it got busted by the cops but I wasn't drunk and neither was Justin so we left. I called my mom and told her I was gonna be late because of the police and she said okay and it was okay. So I was just another stupid teenager, another stupid teenage girl dressed like a slut for Halloween, at the party wearing my date's jacket in the cold...sparkling and shaking like a whore in the brisk night...pacing, smoking, cursing, smoking, pacing. I was with fiftysomeother stupid teenagers. Standing around. Cursing Nick and cursing the Pigs. Even though if it would've gotten us out of trouble, we'd have all barked like dogs on our hands and knees if they asked us too.
I'm just cynical. I'm just indecisive. But it seems like this weekend represented everything I wanted, got, and don't want anymore. With the exception of Friday night. The party...the only Leesville party I've been to for...more than an hour...it wasn't that thrilling. Especially the cop part. That wasn't so exhilarating. Moreso annoying than thrilling or exciting. I got bored. I got annoyed. I got cold. I got tired.
Anyway, it's a Monday-Tuesday and I'm in a bad mood, out of Ibuprofen and have my usual morning headache and usual skeletal-system-wrenching cough.
Have a great day, everybody!
PS. Caitlin, I'll get you your money. I could only sell them for $15 rather than $20 though. |
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bitchy