Goddammit. The real world sucks.

Are these blogs just correspondance letters between you and I, because we're too scared to talk about these things in some sort of way that allows immediate responce?

A bit, I guess.

You are depressed, Mairead. And I don't want you to be, because I care about you. But problems are challenging to remedy if the symptoms for them are unclear.

I was able to convince my mother that I was sick today. I wasn't in the slightest bit sick, but good acting does have its advantages. Besides, I do feel like I needed a day off from school. My room, which had been a wreck since I was in that strange, strange mood, finally got cleaned.

I'm unable to distinguish whether I have real feelings any more at all. Are these feelings shrouded in mist, or are they at their full quality? I can't even determine that anymore.

While cleaning, I found a poem that I wrote about a month or so ago. I posted it on my poetry site.

I found my gloves. They had been lost for a while.

I found the thermometer.

I'm not even done cleaning yet.

Meh... my thoughts are just choppy little fragments... I don't even have anything in particular that I wanted to say. I just want a moment to... empty my mind. Yes, they are simple little thoughts with no real value. Just little bits of my life, barely making a mark on my memory.

Morgan is talking to dad in the other room. I find it hard to talk to him now. Both my mother and father are trying to convince me that the other one is insane. I believe both of them are perfectly sane in many respects, however not so much in a multitude of others. My mother is trying to get my father put in jail for the thousands of dollars of child support he owes. I don't want my father in jail. I love him, but maybe he deserves it. I don't know. meh. fuck it. argh. What the fuck ever.

There are troubles in areas of my life that shouldn't have troubles.

My life is changing so much. Everyone around me is faced with so many decisions, and so am I. All of my friends are meeting dilemmas and possible solutions and failures in some areas and successes in others.

Fuck.

The real world sucks.

Where did the blue pills go? Where is the reset button? Why are these red pills so full of flavor but so devoid of nutrition?

Meh. I'm getting metaphorical like my dad. Not that that's a bad thing. Or maybe it is. I don't know. Fuck it all.

Who took the reset button? Is there no way of going back, going back to the bliss that was my past life?

Hapiness? What the fuck is that? Sadness? What are you talking about?

Oh, that's not what I mean. I feel all of these emotions. Every single one. Now, however, I am unable to determine which ones are good and which are bad. Love, yes, love. Good feeling, yes? Yes, it should be! It's not, though. Nor is it a bad feeling, though. The world isn't all black and white, there are the in-between colors too. Love is neutral. Love is just... love. For me, I know it's there, and I know that it makes me happy, even, but something is missing from it.

Eh, fuck. I'm beginning to be self-contradictory. I guess that I do think love feels good. It does make me happy. It's not complete, though. None of my feelings are complete anymore. I'm going through life like it's a movie. Scenes happen, and you know it happened, and you also know that it will most likely be an important scene that will tie in with the whole major plotline of the movie itself, but you don't care too much about it. The memories of the scenes themselves, however, are far away and distant, until something in the movie pops up to remind you of the scene. And then you go "Oh, yeah. I remember that"

What a dumb metaphor. Why the fuck am I being so metaphorical?

My dad called while I was writing this. I just felt like mentioning that.

Whatever.

Music: The View - Modest Mouse
Song that I'm about to put on: Sea Of No Cares - Great Big Sea