1) I want to get a tattoo. A few of them, actually. I want to put quotes that have touched me. The ones that mean the most to me. I also want to get angel wings put on my back. That’s something that I’ve wanted to do for a long time.
2) I have 30 days until school starts. I want to have at least finished chapter one of my book by then. And since lately I’ve really been itching to work on it, I really hope that I can accomplish it.
3) I’m anxious for school to start. For some reason I’m abnormally excited to get back to work, even though I’m taking all honors and AP classes. What can I say? I’m weird like that. I’m especially ready to start fencing! It just seems like it’s gonna be so much fun and I really hope that I’m good at it. This will be the best P.E. class I’ve ever taken.
4) I’m starting to find that I don’t miss my friends as much. It’s not that I’m forgetting about them, just the opposite in fact. I’ve come to accept the fact that we’re separated. I’ve accepted that I won’t see them in the halls anymore, or run into them around town. And I think that I’m okay with that. Because even though I won’t see most of them ever again, through all of this I’ve become a lot closer with them.
the blog, I mean.
I don’t want it to be about all this negative crap going on in my life. Not that it isn’t nice to vent and all, but I want it to mean more than that.
I’m going to document my journey as a writer. The difficulties, those moments where I’m hard at work and then suddenly my mind goes blank and I can’t think of anything, well basically the difficulties. Because that’s really about 98% of the writing process.
I also wanted to say that it’s 4 in the morning and I probably won’t go to sleep since there’s no way in hell that I’d be able to wake up at 10:30 if I did.
And yeah…that’s it:)
I guess I kinda expected things to be different. I thought that we were past all the stupid fighting and arguments. But I guess 3 years away wasn’t enough time for her to grow up and get over herself. I mean honestly how the hell did I manage to piss her off while not even being in the same house as her, not even having said one word? Well I guess that’s how talented I am.
And I’m getting tired of everyone saying, “Oh that’s how all siblings are. You fight when you’re younger but once you two are older you’ll be like best friends.”
Well everyone is wrong. Me and Brittany will never be best friends. We won’t ever be friends. We’re hardly sisters.
There are these moments when I think that we can get along, that we can even start to begin the relationship that we’re supposed to have together. But then I say something that pisses her off and it’s like we’re back where we were 3 years ago. We’re just too different for anything to work out between us.
I’ve been in situations where I could be friends with someone who was almost the complete opposite of me, best friends even. But I can’t form a relationship with someone who thinks that I’m only there to help her out, to do stuff for her. And it’s when I don’t do what she wants me to do that she freaks out. Everything has to go her way. I’m not allowed to have an opinion. As far as she’s concerned I don’t have one.
Sometimes my mom gets pissed off at me and tells me that I’m acting just like her. I don’t know if she knows that it hurts me as much as it does. Because I’m nothing like her. I never will be. I just find it ironic that she gets angry at me for being ‘just like Brittany’, when it’s so obvious that Brittany is her favorite. Brittany’s the cheerleader, the pageant queen, the college student, the one who managed to turn her life around and manage to actually get good grades in school.
I’m just the daughter who’s never done anything illegal, never been in a fight, never had the cops called on me, never gotten any grade lower than a C, never been a cheerleader, has no interest in wasting everyone’s money on frilly sparkly pageant dresses, always on good behavior, never talked back once…I’m the perfect daughter that no one wants.
And now everyone wants me to be Brittany. Everyday I get asked, “So when are you going to be in pageants?” and I just want to scream, “NEVER”. But no one cares what I want. My mom’s out looking at dresses for me, my grandma is telling everyone, “She’s next!”, my cousin is telling people that I want to do pageants, Brittany is giving me all of her old dresses…And I don’t want any of it. I don’t want to be that kind of person.
I don’t know why people just don’t understand that I like being in the shadows, standing in the background quietly observing everyone else. I don’t want to be dressed up, covered in makeup, and paraded in front of people. And maybe that makes me a really boring teenage girl, having this opportunity to get all this crap, but it’s not me. And I don’t want it to be me.
I’m perfectly happy wearing jeans a tank top and my converse. I’m perfectly happy being myself.
I just wish everyone else was.
That’s what I tell myself everyday, every time that I try to write something. And it’s true. Anyone, and I do really mean anyone can be a writer. And I take that in two different ways: I take it as “Anyone can be a writer so don’t think that you’re better than anyone else at this”. But I also take it as “Everyone has the chance to make something great, including me”.
So that’s why when people ask what I want to be, I don’t tell them that I want to be a writer. Because I already am. What I want to be is an author. I want to have my words - my imagination, my dreams - to be published. I want thousands of people to read a book that I wrote.
Because I read all these books, and they all leave an impact on me. They make me think about my own life, about my relationships and my friends. And that’s the kind of impact that I want to have on other people. I want to make people think.
And if that means writing something that would never happen in real life - that could only be possible in our wildest imaginations - then that’s what I’ll do.
And maybe some people won’t like it. But that’s okay, because being a writer doesn’t mean that you set out to please everyone. It means that you set out to write something that you can be proud of, that you want to share with the world.
And that the same principles that I have throughout my life. If I don’t like who I am, then how could I be expected to have someone else like me. I dress how I think makes me look best, how I want to be presented to the world. And yeah, that’s made some people be annoyed by me or made some people think that I’m weird or a loser. But I don’t really care. Because I don’t have to please everyone, and I’m sure as hell not trying to.
“If you’re trying to please everyone, then you’re never going to make anything that is honestly yours.”
“Bravery fits a bit awkwardly on me, but I am trying to grow into it, fake it ‘till I mean it, convince it that it was meant for me. I took those steps towards faces I didn’t know and, hell yes, let me tell you that I was afraid, but it ended up okay. I ended up okay.”
- you are not as awkward as you think.
- people are mostly nice. don’t be so afraid of them.
- most of your gut feelings are accurate. follow them.
- defeat is just a state of mind. onward, always. onward.
This is one of those times. I just sit there staring at the screen, trying to think of words but nothing comes to me. I’m just not dedicated right now.
I want this to be good. Because I know that I’m on to something here. I just need to get it right. But I just don’t have my heart in it.
I’ve been getting this spark lately. It pops up at random times. It a feeling different than that, “Breanna you need to be working on this” voice that’s been running through my head these last few weeks. And I can only hope that the spark will stay next time so I can get some inspiration back.
I’m trying, but maybe that’s the problem - I can’t push this. It needs to be great, and it’ll never get that way by me halfheartedly writing random crap down. I’m just waiting for the words to come to me.
I remember years ago, someone told me I should take caution when it comes to love, I did. And you were strong and I was not, my illusion, my mistake. I was careless, I forgot. I did. And now, when all is done there is nothing to say. You have gone, and so effortlessly you have won. You can go ahead tell them all I know now, shout it from the roof top, write it on the skyline; all we had is gone now. Tell them I was happy, and my heart is broken, all my scars are open. Tell them what I hoped would be is impossible.