True or False?

I can love you on my own

Where I am safe
Although, alone.

Valuation.

Can you fully value something for what it's worth if you've never had to work for it?

That moment when you say something very significant and uncharacteristically vulnerable to someone who makes a joke out of it, and it feels like you just got shot in the heart.  And you're still lying there after half an hour feeling the hole.

I guess that's the hard way of finding out how much that person really means to you. 

An Ugly Truth: And the third little piggy, built her house with bricks.

Well, if I looked like that, I'd  be really nice too--with an amazing personality to boot. 

Because with a face like that, overcompensating is necessary.  Evolutionary, in fact.

The mantra is, "It's the inside that counts."

And of course it is:  Guys want to get their dicks wet.    

So there's hope for us all. 

But sooner or later, he'll open his eyes, remember his ego, look around, and realize that he doesn't want to settle for less when he can have more.  And there's always more.  

Then you're fucked.

But hey, at least you were, right?  

Men can be pigs in the inside.  Women?  Some women resemble pigs.  Some particularly more than others. 


And all we can do is move on.

The problem is,

I'm interested about people, not so much interested in them--or being involved with them in that way, much less involving them in my life.  As I run into more and more awkward professions, it becomes obvious that it's my enthusiasm and singular nature that tends to land me in these sorts of situations.  It creates half of a bridge that people try to run across without realizing that the other half--you know, the crucial bit--is missing.

I realize my enigmatic attitude causes somewhat of an unwarranted headfucking.  These people probably deserve better.  OR. Maybe I do.  Well, that would explain everything.

But in actuality, it's just that I haven't figured out what I want yet, or if I even want anything at all, at this point.  Realistically, seeing how we're readying ourselves for a period of major transition in life right now, it's not the time to seriously commit to anything but yourself, really. You have to sort yourself out first. 

I just wish I would be able to maintain that mentality during my period.  Ugh, when you're bleeding your insides out and your hormones are overtaking your sensibility and exaggerating your emotions, there are just so many things you want, things you don't ordinarily want, much less need (e.g. intimate companionship, cupcakes, etc.).  Then a week pasts and you just feel silly for having those thoughts and acting out.  It's argued that PMS is a culture-specific syndrome limited to Western countries, you know.  Other societies primarily report physical pain for their PMS symptoms.  It makes you wonder if it's all in our heads, this whole mood swing thing.  Growing up, we hear and learn all about this PMS crap from crazy women, scared men, and well-meaning textbooks--it wouldn't be unlikely that that influences us on a subconscious level, causing us to act a little psychotic during our time of the month as well.

OR MAYBE, it's catharsis. 

Ok, shut up, Chantal.  Shut up.  You could analyze this all night and still get nowhere.

This is Your Ambition Speaking:

Ten years from now I see myself hunched over my eighth glass of champagne in a French restaurant (window seat), dreaming up ways to escape the banality of every day life.  Alone.  Without a husband, without children.

I will feast on the souls of men to compensate for my own, and discard their hearts like how you would  bones.  The only thing I will have commited myself to is a psychiatric ward where my  feelings will be chemically induced and where my thoughts will be chemically repressed.  With such aid of narcotics, I will see the world through rose-colored lenses and frolic in our paper towns full of paper people, blissfully unaware of the unbearable lightness of being.  Like a sheet of paper, I will drift and breeze through the crowd, and someone will ask,

"Who is that?"

To which I will reply, "Anyone."

I am but a possibility. 

.......................................................................................

C:  Interesting. Reminds me of a mixture of the druggie books I'm so fond of and girl characters from John Green novels.  And honey, ten years from now you won't be hunched over your eighth glass of champagne. You will probably have fallen off your window seat in a slump and passed out in a very unladylike manner. And you will be snoring.
C:  It's a fictional free write, dumbass.
C:  I thought you were talking about yourself!  I'm seriously LOLing.
C:  Actually, I probably wouldn't mind if that was how my life turned out.  Maybe I'll revise it and add a cat.
C:  LOL I WAS GONNA SAY SOMETHING ABOUT A CAT.

You talk about your feelings, your situation, your thoughts to others when all you really need is a hug from the right person. We all want to be held--to be held in arms, to be held in respect. To be held with love.

That's why no matter how you try to cope, you don't feel better. When was the last time you felt touched? It's a terrible thing to be alone inside, I understand.

I'll be damned if I turn out to be another cliché.

But really, that's exactly what I am--we all are because we want the same things in the end, and there's no shame in that. Originality may be lost, but the meaning remains, although it does vary.

The difference lies in how we express ourselves.

I really hate that one viral video where the babies are "talking" to each other. It's so fucking annoying. I'm saying this because it's featured in those advertisement videos that automatically play when you go on a website, and I keep coming across it.

It's like, I'm going through intriguing content when all of a sudden, I hear a really loud baby obnoxiously screaming "DAH DAH DAH DAH DAH DAH DAH!"

Oh my Fucking god.

It makes me never want to have kids.

...Though I'm kind of cranky right now, so I probably don't mean the last part. I can't sleep.  Regardless. They're still really annoying.

Stepping lightly through dark puddles wearing naught but stockings and ballet flats, the rain blurred my eyes and made my hair cry.

Everything drips in this weather.

We are so far from the ocean--yet, when it pours, it sounds like a coastal lullaby and I can't help but drift into its white noise.

Everyday since this mess has happened, I've been having these vivid dreams where all my teeth fall out in one way or the other.  They are terrifying. 

I'm not one for dream interpreting, but three days of nightmares with the same reoccurring theme causes for some sort of self reflection.  According to Global Oneness, my dreams--which are a psychoanalysis of myself--can be interpreted as follows:  

-Teeth are the strongest visible part of the body and therefore if they crumble, decay or come loose, it can imply that our very foundations seem to be crumbling.

-Another rationalization for these falling teeth dream may be rooted in your fear of being embarrassed or making a fool of yourself in some specific situation; these dreams are an over-exaggeration of your worries and anxiety.

-Teeth are used to bite, tear, chew and gnaw. In this regard, teeth represent power, and the loss of teeth in your dream may be from a sense of powerlessness.  You may be experiencing feelings of inferiority and a lack of self-confidence in some situation or relationship in your life. This dream is an indication that you need to be more assertive and believe in the value of your own opinion.


In other words, my subconscious is telling me to grow a pair.

Fuck.

I suspect that a year from now, I will look back on this entry and wonder what I meant at the time by the bleak singularity of this ambiguous word.

The longer you are without something, the quicker your need for it lessens; it's a reprieving feeling as well as a frightening one at the same time. 

However, the sense of loss involved under these circumstances render much confusion in my mind--is this progressive or recessive?  Does it indicate a feeling of security or indifference?  What kind of an adaptation is occurring?

Poor planning and disorganization--spontaneity, I've found, tends to lead to these extremely unattractive ramifications.

Chantal, you are feeling disconnected from people and life in general, and you need help.  You can _____________.

a)  Join the church community, then eventually accept Jesus Christ as your Savior
b)  Begin seeing a therapist--figure out how to word your sorrows and history without getting anyone arrested
c)  Become a habitual drug user, either with antidepressants or something more recreational
d)  Adopt a kitten to temporarily replace human interaction with animal affection

Eric, he who despises all hair and fur, is driving me to pick up a kitten today.  Is this really happening?

People have a tendency to leave so much of themselves behind, their memories inadvertently seeping into your life as leftover words piled in the corners of your mind spill into conversations, becoming a part of you. 

These constant connections made between what have been said and written by others blend together to form personal thoughts and ideas, none of which are truly your own.  Yet, that is what makes human interaction so disarraying and beautiful at the same time--everything is salvaged and reused.

Do you want to lose weight?

Don't eat.  At all. 

It's really that simple. 

Then it just happens.   

After losing the first ten pounds, you don't feel it anymore.  The next ten just breeze on by.  When you reach a two digit number on the scale and you're only 5'3 like me, the process begins to slow down.  Your body begins to compensate the loss by storing fat and conserving energy to delay starvation.  As this continues, you gradually lose the rest of what you're left with.  At this point you are extremely malnourished, tired, and even more depressed than you were to begin with.

When you're depressed, you don't do anything to make things better for yourself.  Simply, nothing really matters anymore.  You empty your mind and your body. 

It starts off as a choice.  You don't eat until your body starts shaking and you begin to feel light headed. But after awhile, you forget what it means to be hungry--hunger becomes just a concept.  

It's all in there, in your head.  That's why, as an observer, it's so difficult to understand a person in this mental state of mind.  That's why it's so hard to fix--because the only person who can truly do it is yourself, and you have to want to be better in order to make yourself better.  And this can be hard because the chemical levels in your brain may prevent you from doing so.  That's what depression is--a lack of self will and purpose.      

This is a reminder to self:  Start by eating.  Regardless of the condition you're in, remember that it's still a choice.

I'm sorry lover, but I think we're done.  It cannot be. I lack the passion and the commitment required of me to continue this tenuous relationship we've somehow managed to hold on to over these past couple of years.  I may have the interest and the talent, but we both know that there needs to be more.  I'm not right for you;  I'm not aggressive enough, not competitive enough to keep you.

We've grown apart--or rather, I've grown up. 

It's time to let go.  I need something more reliable; something that makes me feel a little more secure--something that can provide me with greater opportunities in the future, and that of which allows for a broader scope of interest.  Yes, there's someone else.  

Design, I've left you for English.  

It will be officially over tomorrow when I turn in my forms to be signed by the counselor. 

I hope we can still be friends.

::laughs::

So I read this to R and she started lecturing me for procrastinating.

"WHY ARE YOU WRITING A LETTER  TO YOUR MAJOR?!  YOUR MAJOR DOESN'T CARE!  IT'S NOT EVEN A PERSON!! YOU SHOULD BE STUDYING FOR YOUR MIDTERM TOMORROW!!!"

She has a point. 

Ok!  Off to study now.

Leaves lie discarded against the cold concrete, withering to dirt, as their owners proudly display their bare branches, newly studded with rain drops from the night before.

Titling your head a little, you watch as they glitter against the grey sky.

On a more random note, I would like to say that I have utter faith in Mrs. Piggle Wiggle's methods for reforming children. 

Provided that I have any in the future--as the prospect of reproducing is still terrifying to me at the tender age of twenty (I am still quite very young, you see)--I will be sure to use her as a source of inspiration and a guide for success.

I bought a box of dozen cupcakes today all for myself.

Maybe that's why I choked on a sprinkle. 

There has been some sort of cosmic intervention, and I'm being punished for not sharing.