THE STORY GOES ON

So...I had to get rid of my cat...

I was going to post on that date, but it was kind of pinching my heart, and if I'd posted it would have just been a harder pinch. I knew it would be agonizing to have to willingly let him go, but I guess...I don't know. My mum had the woman come over at about 4 that day, so I was trying to invision the ugliest, scariest person possible, so that I'd be relieved when she indeed looked like a normal person. I spent all of my time laying on the bed with him, petting him, and trying to see if he could possibly know what was going to happen, if he know that all the while I was decieving him with a kiss. I don't think he did.

But, when the time came, and I picked him up in the usual style he's use to, I think he realized something was happenning, especially when he saw the stranger. I was trying to say things to make her ill-favored about taking him, but he is a beautiful cat, and it probably wouldn't have mattered. Then, because he'd went back into my room, I had to go get him for the last time. I bent down, kissed his soft, feather-like coat, and said "I'm sorry." He looked at me, and I think he knew what was going on, finally, but he didn't want to believe it. So I picked him up, brought him into the living room, and the woman, rather young, but well-composed nonetheless, took him from my nurturing grasp.

I kid you not when I tell you in the minute, standing there, my cat in the others arms, that the transaction was taking place, my cat reached his arms back for me, his silent plea screaming in my mind, def to all others. I attempted to reach out, but the woman began stroking him, pseudo protectively, as in "He's mine now."

He looked at me, I looked at him, and I could tell he'd felt more betrayed in that moment than at any time in his young life. And I, of course, felt that I'd ultimately betrayed him, as well.

I tried watching him in their departure, but I just couldn't. I closed the door, kept my composure for a few steps, Then staired at the ground, hand at my mouth, and went into my room. I pouted for a little while, apologizing out loud to the nothingness that now was my only companion.

Days have now past, and I suppose I feel better about the situation. Not that I don't miss him, or that I don't believe that he was the best pet I'd ever had, and visa versa, but Maybe he's happy. Anyhow, I'd have to get rid of him in a year; it's probably easier now than a year from now.

But, of course, I had to get a cheap substitute in his place; want to know what?

Two Betta Fish. Bah. Hah. Hah. And boy, are THEY affectionate.

THE WORLD ROTATES, AND YET WE DON'T MOVE...OR DO WE?

This weekend was quite an odd occurrence. Not only did I manage to *corrupt/enlighten* my good friend (who happens to be a preachers daughter), but very strange feelings have arisen in me. How strange? Probably not very strange to anyone else, but definatly strange to me.

Oddly enough... After the festivities of this weekend...I don't miss Him anymore. Actually, I almost feel like I don't even feel anything at all in that department. After feeling nothing but overwhelming, unless, bursting-at-the-seems affection for him for over a year and a half, now I just feel...Nothing at all. How strange it is. I don't even feel sad, or at a loss even, I just feel a complete and sober nothingness. I'm actually sort of suspicious about it, so I've been kind of questioning myself the last few days. I'm pretty sure the feeling is going to stay, though. I mean, I don't even have the desire to communicate with him in any way. Amazing.

Another very strange feeling has arisen in me as well. Actually, it's kind of unsettling and determinedly unwelcome. I saw Logan this weekend. I did not talk to him, mind you, but simply saw him. Earlier that night, I'd been boasting to my friends that if I ever saw him at a party, I would find an excuse to run up and punch him in the face. So, what happens? Of course, he ends up showing up, and walks in like it's no big thing. So I hang out in the other room, and WHO IN THE WORLD strolls in and sits his pompous ass on the couch but the man himself. Now, I was a bit perturbed, but I was kind of keeping my vision fuzzed so I wouldn't have to look at him. I'm not sure how he was feeling, considering this was the first time in months we'd seen each other, but for some reason he kept on staring at me. I'm not sure if it was a glare or a longing in his eye, but I was just wishing that he would LEAVE that ROOM! It ended up that my friends and I left after a while, (one of them was afraid she was going have to restrain me when she saw him there!) so I didn't end up walking the walk. But boy, I still want to!

Now then, you're probably wondering "Okay, where's the strange feeling?" Well, here it is: I kind of want to write him a letter. What the hell, right? It's completely bogus, I know, but it's the sad, cold truth. I'm not sure if it would work out though, considering he always takes anything concerning me offensively and just protests about anything, no matter if you're being reasonable and mature or not. We're talking about a guy who I wrote a very general, polite, informative letter to and he wrote back "I hope you die very soon." That's just giving you an idea of this.

Were I to write him a letter, I would not send it over the internet. The internet is lifeless, and puts no personality or meaning into any words written (sometimes it actually makes them harsher). I would send it through the mail, with no shame of putting my very own address on it. I'm not really sure how I would start it out, but I would slowly mold it into explaining how we'd both crossed the line when we established more than a friendship, and that what we had before that was a really beautiful thing (our friendship). This would definatly not be an apology note, but a note explaining why things rolled out the way they did, and that any other way would have just not worked out. I would then say that it is best for the both of us things are the way they are, and that it's OK not to write back, because I know he probably doesn't want to. I just thought I should say something to clear the smoke for good, and not only erase the chalk board, but give it a good scrub down.

That paragraph was probably just for my own personal welfare, but, then again, isn't this whole blog?

IT'S AVOID-YOUR-HOMEWORK TIME AGAIN

So...I applied for the Public Library Wednesday...wish me luck, lass *puts on a huge clover hat a drinks a whopping shot of scotch*

So, now I'm having questions again about what I want to major in when I get to college. I'm torn between Acting and Film Directing...tomorrow I'm going to do some intensive overviewing of my course catalog and TRY to make a decision. Definantly, no matter what, I'll make a decision by the end of the week. I really need to fill out the rest of the application and do the essay, and all of THAT fun stuff.

Rilo Kiley is so great. When I listen to her music, I feel like there's no reason for me to talk for the rest of my life. She says it all for me.

I feel sort of strange right now...sort of nostalgic. First and foremost, I feel at a strange disposition: I really need to get all of my homework done, and squeeky clean my room. But I feel odd beyond that...or maybe I'm just telling myself I feel odd...now that's definantly odd.

I just wish...I don't know. He keeps coming into my head, but I don't think it has anything to do with him...but maybe it's more of a symbolic thing, maybe I need a relationship? Truthfully, I'm kind of afraid of being hurt again...maybe I'll take that test again and see if I'm "ready to date again." But even if I am, who am I going to date? There's no one I can think of right now that appears appealing to me in any way, at least, in that area. And anywho, if something came up, it wouldn't last, because I'm going to be gone a meer two weeks after graduation.

I wish I would stop bullshitting on here and start doing my homework.

Elliot Smith is (or was) super mondo cool.

So he would sulk and drink and mope
and cross his arms and hope to die.
And then a fairy came one night
to bring this sorry boy to life.

She pulled some strings,
spun him about,
that boy sprang up,
and began to shout,
"My arms, my legs, my heart, my face,
they are alive."
And she would cry, "liar, liar,
What have I done?
You're no lover and I'm no fighter."

The story goes on.

So he would buy her things and kiss her hair
to show he was for real.
And she would take those gifts and kisses
though just stringing him along.
She knew about those wooden boys,
it's an empty love to fill the void
Pinocchio, oh boy, how your nose has grown
So he would cry, "liar, liar,
I'll prove it to you"

But then it grew.
He had grown tired of her
so it was true.
He left her apartment
and he walked all night long,
'til he was stopped by the shore of the ocean.
But still he walked on
amongst the whales and waves
and screamed, "liar, liar"
and his wooden body floated away.
He just drifted away.

And now I wonder how I was made
Now I wonder how I was made
My arms, my legs, my heart, my face,
my name is Driftwood.