[no subject]

I’m working on re-discovering my grace with words.

A self-proclaimed writer, I pride myself on the words dancing off my fingertips. Only now that my words have found themselves off beat and dancing on the wrong foot, I’m not quick to tell the tales I have to tell.

My love for my own verbal offspring is completely conditional and I can openly admit that.

Something here is obviously dysfunctional and not good for the family environment I’m trying to mimic. This renders every thought I have mutated and socially unacceptable. As the motherly figure in this horrible metaphor, I’m slowly being reduced to tears as I slide a leather skirt over my razor burned thighs and walk the literary streets of shame.

I’m doing everything I can for this family, but I just need a little bit more compassion and compliance from these god forsaken children who just don’t seem to understand the trouble I go through every night. Slaving over the key board as though it’s a burning stove, I’m sweating and trying to cool these third degree burns without wincing. I’m strong, I keep telling myself but I know it’s only a matter of time before I get so fed up I take a drive out to the ravine and take care of things the old fashioned way.

"After this I shall think nothing of falling!"

And so the pessimist returns.

Her hair is unkempt, the circles under her eyes more prominent than ever. She seems to be walking a little bit slower, but that could be caused partially by a recently relived injury. For some reason she’s been dedicating most of her attention to the weather other than focusing on more important things like when the last time she ate was or the time of night, but it’s okay because “it could be worse”, right?

Now, Our Lady Unlucky knows there are more tragic things going on in the world. She knows her recent troubles are nowhere near as seismic as those other things, but she can’t help but grow tired of waking up every morning knowing something to top off yesterday’s misfortunes is waiting for her in the hours to come. Just in the past two days her injury has been enhanced, she’s run out of medicine, she’s got a point at work for something beyond her control, she’s grown to hate her job, and she’s homesick beyond all reason. (But really, when you leave a place like she’s left you would be too). So this obviously leaves Queen Cry Baby near, if not at, the end of her very tattered rope. In an attempt to soothe the pain (both physically and emotionally) she spends much of the day thinking of where she’d rather be. She’s come up with plenty of escape plans and alternates to where she’s at now, but for some reason she’s reluctant to actually pick one to go through with. Perhaps the uncertainty of what she’s picking. Or perhaps she’s fallen so far down a morose rabbit hole that she doesn’t want to find out what else can go wrong. Whatever it is, she’s in no mood to figure it out. She’s come to a point where she’s annoyed with it. She’s annoyed with not being able to really tell it to anyone other than [almost always] herbally enhanced best friend. Princess Pessimist isn’t looking forward to much more of anything anymore, and what makes the entire situation harder for her is she’s unsure of how to even present herself anymore.
And now that it’s been said, we’re going to pretend we never read a thing and we’re going to move on.

Let’s see if we can entertain your already tired eyes. Let’s talk vices. With plenty of time to sit, think, and observe people and their vices, one eventually realizes vices go beyond substances, so we’re going to start with a more fascinating vice- sexual projection. I’m not sure you understand what that means, so let’s elaborate. Everyone puts off some sort of “sexual vibe”, whether it’s absolutely risqué or pretty much non-existent. And here in sunny Florida, there are plenty of people with varying “vibes” but the ones that stand out (of course) are the louder and more sexually suggestive ones. At first we tend to assume these sorts of people are comfortable in their own skin and maybe really enjoy connecting with people. But after really thinking it out, you have to wonder if maybe there are deeper motives. If you’ve ever had the opportunity to be close with one of these people, then you probably know what’s really going on. These are the people who don’t want the attention, they need it. It makes them powerful. It feeds their ego; gives them something to brag about. Of course we don’t always approve of their bragging, but that’s okay to them simply because it goes from being a power thing to being an edge. Of all the vices, I really think this one is the worst. If you’re the one with the vice, you never really know what people really think of you or if the people you’re “projecting” yourself towards really like you for who you are or what you do. It’s much worse than substance abuse, maybe not in the medical sense, but at least in the personal sense.

Let’s leave it at that. If we dive further into the ocean of vices we run the risk of endangering ourselves. We run the risk of drowning in our own hypocrisy and damaging those close to us. Let’s say goodbye and promise to talk about this later (because we all know the chances of anyone bringing this up again are very slim).

"Do you suppose she's a wildflower?"

I can handle people not liking me. And I can handle people being mad at me. But I can not handle feeling forgotten. I think being forgotten is my biggest fear. If someone can forget me it means I haven't made any sort of impact on their life. It means they don't need me. Or don't want me. It's not a good feeling.
Same thing goes for being replaced and ignored.

But now that I've stepped off my soap box, let's get down to business.

It's 7 'o' clock here. Amidst a pathetic thunderstorm, I've turned on the television only to be greeted by lovely tornado warnings.

I've never liked T.V.'s.

The apartment is strangely silent and though I wasn't sure I liked it for the first few minutes I'm positive its exactly what I've needed. The chaos that comes with the people I've met here is insanely overwhelming. I miss the sound of the ocean. I miss the sirens that scream down Kuhio. I miss the pop music blaring from the 10th floor of the Ohia. And I really miss the obnoxious, belligerent, chain smoking friends I left on December 19th, 2007. It's sad to think I can remember the last days I saw any of them who mattered to me he 16th, the 17th, and the 19th. Its even more sad to think of the people I didn't really get to see before I left. I don't get attached to people like this.

"I'm sure one day you will."

Yes, you were right, but fuck you all the same.

I can't wait to get back.

I am having fun here though! I mean, it's hard not to. I'm constantly surrounded by amazing people. I love my job. And theres plenty here to keep me busy. It's just not Hawaii. The girls aren't the same. The boys aren't the same. The atmosphere is no where near the same. I need some aloha.