I Haven't Truly Written Since AGS, And I Think I Resent Myself And the Entire Experience For That.

I don't know where to start; I can’t even make out where it all began. I have tried to keep myself away from this screen, from this keyboard, and this fucking house to keep my mind consumed. Even now I can’t stay focused, I can’t keep myself concentrating on writing my feelings out so maybe I’ll feel better.
I need to start, or, well, resume where I feel I really stopped explaining the reasons I do the things I do, and stopped caring for the people I was doing them to. I left for Arkansas Governor’s School, fully prepared to change my entire demeanor, open to any ideas, any fucking ideas different from my own, from the people I had known all my life. I don’t want to relive what I’ve been going through the past few months, simply because, I don’t fucking understand any of it.

thesaferoad (6:27:45 PM): Do you feel it is related or not? Maybe it's not so simple as to be able to decide that right now, but you said both previously so
thesaferoad (6:28:03 PM): I can't tell which is which, and maybe up is the new down. I'm so scatter brained, and I wish I could go back and do so much differe
thesaferoad (6:28:24 PM): ntly. And I wish I could fucking tell you what's been going on with me, but it's not even worth it now. and I just wish I could go
thesaferoad (6:28:40 PM): back to that one fucking day when you wanted to see me, and muster up some balls, and decide you wouldn't be disappointed and that
thesaferoad (6:29:15 PM): even if you would, it would be okay, because i would still care for you, and be on the way to falling for you, wholly and honestly.
thesaferoad (6:29:23 PM): god dammit i just feel so much regret.

It’s true. I feel a lot of regret, I feel a lot of emotions all of the time. Sometimes I can’t contain them and sometimes I make myself because I don’t want to look stupid.
I guess here is where I start the whole story, the parts I can remember and which are not blurry or some sort of distant, faded kind of memory that I can’t recall correctly; not even worth mentioning. What I’m writing is as blurred as I’m feeling and that’s apparent. If it wasn’t before, it’s fucking clear now.

and i want to stroke his hair and hold his lovely hand and admire his nose which runs in the family and i love anyways, even though i have high expectations for noses and his do not meet my shallow standards; and because i just wanted to mimick his every move if not only to be the girl who mimicked his every move because then i would be something more than the girl who simple wanted to mimick his every move, but instead sat back and admired them so, without being noticed. Maybe part of why I want to take him away and treat him so right is because I know he won't allow me to. But regardless the urge is there. And it's overwhelming. He has completely and 100% enamored me, and if i could go back and do it all differently I would kiss him and hold his hand and not allow him to write those fucking letters to Mary because I never could make myself like the idea of her anyway. And I would be completely selfish and tear his world apart. And that's why it happened as it did: no kisses, no ripping of letters, and no holding hands.(that was a long stream of thought i didnt edit inside of my head and clicked send to anyway.)


This is all I can do for now, which sucks, but it’s reality.