I'm missing summer, but the sky is so preeeeetty.

[urbanamazon]

Freaking cold outside, but the northern lights are going ballistic. Green and purple .. don't think I've ever seen purple before.

If life is going to be anything like this when I'm on my own, my sanity will be out of the question.

I'm so broke at the moment that I'm not sure if I'll have enough money on hand for food at school. I mean, all I've been able to eat today is a bowl of Cheerios, some hashbrowns, some perogies, and two cups of hot chocolate. I'm considering some ice cream for dessert, but probably not. I need to get some decent sleep tonight. And I actually need to get up in the morning. If I get enough sleep, this might be possible, but it's a bed made almost completely of feathers. College people do not sleep on feathers. They sleep on cement. Less temptation.

In media today, we did puppet movies. Yes, puppets. Made of popsicle sticks, tape, and foam plates. Nearly laughed ourselves silly with every single one. Yes, this is college. I hadn't made a puppet since Drama 10.

Weird.

And I found out that Mom disagrees with my idea that maturity should be based on wisdom and not age. Would've escalated into a pretty good argument, too, if we hadn't been interrupted. I needed a good rant.

Got to yell at all the guys in Anime Club to shut the bloody fucking Hell up. That theatre place echoes really nice. I liked that.

Then Adam nearly passed out a few minutes later. Nearly gave me half a heart attack, too. He started having trouble breathing, saying he was so cold when he was burning up and sweating. He hunched over in his seat, and I thought he might have just eaten something that had stayed on the lounge counter a bit too long. But then his head started to drop and he kept shuddering to keep awake. I helped him out to go get a drink of water, but he barely made it five steps out the door before nearly collapsing. I had to yell at another guy to go get my mug and get water from the fountain. Adam kept gasping for air, and it sounded like he was almost crying. Kept saying 'sorry', as if it was his fault and he was inconveniencing me. After a few sips of watr and another minute to get his bearings, he was okay.

At least, he said he was okay. Apparently, this has happened before. I asked if he had seen a doctor about it, or if he was taking meds, but he prompty snorted, "Doctors. What do they know?"

I don't get it. Why are some people so calm with shrugging something like that off? I nearly thought he was having a seizure, I had my cell phone ready to call for help if we needed it, and he slams his walls down and walks away as if nothing has happened. Why are some people so dead-set against admitting that they might need help?

I have very little medical skill, despite all of my dad's paramedic textbooks bending the shelves in half downstairs, but I'd like to think I know when someone should not be shrugging off a sudden spell of fever and fainting.

But I just don't get it.

No one else seemed concerned, either. Is there something I'm missing? Something I should know about before I overreact like I usually seem to do when it's someone else's problem? Am I just sticking my nose in someone's business with good intentions but bad background like I usually seem to be?

Should I just give up and let everyone solve their own problems because my own advice ends up getting shoved back at me shredded and coated with shit, like I should know better?

Ah, fuck it. I'm going for ice cream.

---

Nothing ever grows in this rotten old hole
And everything is stunted and lost
And nothing really rocks and nothing really rolls
And nothing's ever worth the cost
Baby, I'm damned if I never get out
And maybe I'm damned if I do
But with every other beat I've got left in my heart
You know I'd rather be damned with you
If I gotta be damned
You know I wanna be damned
Gotta be damned
You know I wanna be damned
Gotta be damned
You know I wanna be damned
Dancing through the night
Dancing through the night
Dancing through the night
With you

Yeah, sing it, girl.

Shut up and get me a bus ticket. If life is a highway, I'm heading south to wamer situations.

Comments

[durlock.livejournal.com]

If you read this before Monday, here's so you know.

Don't really care if I'm broadcasting this to the entire world, or just the people that read here, but hey...I do stupid things, but this might not be stupid.

So, yeah, I think of myself as a freak of freaks. I believe in the paranormal, I believe in the astral plane and reincarnation. Although none of this seem to have nothing to do with what happened in the Club, it does in my opinion.

There's two reasons why I nearly passed out, died, keeled over, whatever.

The first and seemingly obvious reason is the medical reason, the spot on my lung, or my heart. It could be something like cancer, or it could a blood clot. I don't know.

The second reason, and the one I'm more inclinded to is the not so scientic reason. This would be under the reincarnation thing. Granted, I'm much easier at saying this in real life, but the words seem to flow more eaisly on text because I can type this and you don't see me crying or in pain.

Anyway, before I get the preverbial slap and being told to get on with it, here it is. Why you might think I'm out of my head.

I don't know when it happened, I doubt I ever will, but I was a simple person back then you know. I was always at home, and I know that my name was Shyla. I know, it was a female name...because I was a woman back then. I've not been a male that often. I was first born as one, and I am one now, but none of this matters.

I was a simple house-wife, I know this...my life as Shyla is all that I remember. Just this one day that everything was perfectly normal. They same routine....

Everynight, "I love you." Every single night. I said these words to my husband. Every single night, I got those fucking words back. But now, I think they were just lies, just to keep me happy.

Every fucking night I said those words, and the final night? What do I get in responce, not those words I ached to hear everynight when he got home.

"I'm sorry..."

Those were the last words I ever heard in that life because I was dead moments later. He cut my throat without so much as a thought.

Do you know how much it hurts Sarah? To wake up screaming, thinking you're dying, bleeding all over yourself from a gaping slice in your neck? I couldn't stop crying. I admit, I cry, I cry a lot. I was crying Monday, and I was saying sorry. I was saying sorry...It's all I can think of when I have those reactions...because I died.

I was sorry that I didn't do enough to keep him happy, to keep him loving me. I was sorry...for any mistake I made.

I can't believe I'm about to cry again...I should get over this but I can't...it was the first memory I ever had...and it pains me every time I have it...

I think I'll just shut up right now...if you don't read this by Tuesday...cause I just remembered we don't have school...I'll tell you.

If you do read this...leave me a comment on my LJ...we can talk somehow or something. I've to just go...I need to curl up and cry again...