Lyrics

It sounds better with music, but oh well. Here's the lyrics. Enjoy.

Sometimes I want to give in

It's hard for me now

Counting the days till I get over you

It's okay

It's okay

Now you see you lost your chance

Follow through with all you have left

Take what's left of these promises

Watch them all fade

Come now

Feel my pain

It's hard for you I know

But please try to find some kind of heart

It's okay

It's okay

Now you see you lost your chance

Follow through with all you have left

Take what's left of these promises

Watch them all fade

I needed you

Now I see

So clearly

I'm okay

I'm okay

Now you see you lost your chance

Follow through with all you have left

Take what's left of these promises

Watch them all fade.

Come now

Try to find a heart

Theories and Proving

You know when you want to talk to someone even though everyone around you, including yourself, tells you to just stay away? But you don't want to talk to them for reasons that would seem obvious, but for other reasons, and people still say, "Just ignore them."

Dave has tried contacting me twice in the past week. I completely ignored him last time he tried to talk to me. I didn't even give him the contentment of my response. I just refused to say anything. So we went without talking for over a month and a half, and I thought this thing was finally done.

Apparently it's not.

He texted me Sunday asking how my break was going. Then he facebooked me later that night wishing me a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. He ended it with, "I miss you."

I think it bugs him that he came so close to having sex with me and never did. On top of that, he hasn't gripped the idea that I'm not as dumb as he thinks, and that I do know that he:

1. Cheated on me,

2. Has a girlfriend,

3. Admitted that he's trying to play me while he has a girlfriend.

I refuse to be the "other girl." I also refuse to be used AGAIN, and give my virginity to a complete asshole who is probably one of the last people on Earth that deserves it.

I also have a few other theories. It bugs him that I'm strong enough to ignore him, and that someone actually doesn't want him, especially someone that had something with him before. And because of that, I'm like a challenge for him. His goal is simply to fuck me just so he can say he did, and even brag that he got my virginity out of it as well.

Going off topic slightly for a second...

It's funny that so many men want to screw a virgin because they're the tightest or whatever. But you know why most virgins are so tight? Not because they've never had sex before, but because they're probably nervous. Having sex doesn't stretch the muscle. Relaxation and being comfortable is what makes women less tight, or whatever. So in reality, men want to fuck a virgin because she's nervous and probably not ready and comfortable. How fucked up is that?

[ End off topic rant.]

Anyway, like I said, it bugs Dave that I don't want him, and that even though he can have sex with a bunch of other girls that he's not with, all he wants to do is fuck me to say he did, so I can be another notch on his bedpost.

I know some people would question my theories, and I don't blame them because they are a bit harsh, but honestly, his actions are enough for me to come to my conclusions. He never cared about me because he lied to me, he cheated on me, and he's trying to play me. If you care for someone, you wouldn't do that to them, and you ESPECIALLY wouldn't try to play them just like he's trying to do. Also, another piece that points to proving my theories is the fact that he goes through so many girls so quickly. I'm sure he doesn't screw them because he cares about them and likes them.

On top of that, I heard people used to call him gay when he was in high school because he was involved in theater. My friend Ben has a similar theory to why he's such a player. It's as if he needs proof to show that he's not gay, so in order to do that, he fucks as many women as humanly possible.

I wouldn't be surprised if he had an STD by now.

Anyway, like I said, part of me wants this thing to be over, but another part of me is rather amused by it. I actually do find it hilarious that he keeps trying while I know he has a girlfriend. It keeps my life interesting. On top of that, even though I keep ignoring him because that's probably one of the most torturing things you could do to someone, I have a slight urge to talk to him, just so I can throw everything in his face. But there's another problem with that. My friend Ben is the source of information surrounding Dave, partly because he literally lives two doors away from him so he knows what's going on. When Dave found out that Ben was telling me stuff, Dave confronted him about it and also admitted then that he was trying to "be a player." But Ben doesn't want me to say a word to Dave about everything, although I don't see why it matters because if I were Ben, I wouldn't want to be friends with someone like Dave, but oh well.

There's always the possibility that Ben could be lying to me, but everything just seems to add up so nicely.

Why do we feel the need to prove things to other people so often? It makes us feel good, I think, because we're showing our intelligence, and, in a way, putting the other person down. I want to do that to Dave because he deserves it. I gave him so much of my energy and devoted a lot of time to him, always trying to keep him happy and forgiving him for stupid things he would argue with me about. In return, he fucks another chick behind my back and tries to play me. I confided in him a very important piece about my life, and I hate that he knows that. He doesn't deserve that information, and he doesn't deserve to know anything about me. It's men like him that make me hate the general male species. It's also people like him that prove that no matter what your age is, it's not the years that make the maturity, but your actions. I know that and have known that, but I was just being hopeful that maybe, just maybe, because this guy was a good amount of years older than I am, and that he is the oldest guy I've ever dated, that maybe, possibly, he would be mature enough for me. I was proven wrong, yet again. Greg has been the winner in that category, and even his still has some growing up to do.

Not saying that I'm extremely mature, but I sure as hell am when it comes to my general age group. I've been told this by many people, including those much, much older than I am. I think the only people that don't see this are my parents. They don't know that I am thinking long term when it comes to EVERYTHING. I do. I think about that more than they know or could possibly imagine. I'm scared for the future more than most things I fear, but they have no idea.

So, to summarize everything... Dave is an asshole and needs to find a heart, I want to talk to him but I shouldn't because I know it's torture that I'm not responding at all, and Dave is an asshole and needs to find a heart.

Haha.

On a slightly lighter note but not really... At least I got a song out of all this drama.

Doesn't it suck that I can only write songs when I'm recovering from pain inflicted by a guy?

Maybe I'll post the lyrics in the next entry. I just have to type them  up.

Bah, Humbug.

It's really sad how the spirit of Christmas seems to diminish as you get older. When you're a child, you're extremely excited for the holiday. You wake up extra early to run out to your tree and see all the magnificent presents that "Santa Clause" gave you. And when you're young, it seems like you got SO many presents, so many new toys to play with. But eventually, you're forced to grow up, and you find out the truth about Santa Clause. You realize that the amount of presents isn't that much, but by that time you don't care because you're too worried about getting other people the right thing.

Christmas, now, is just a holiday that every mall and every store looks forward to, because they know it's their busiest time of year, and that they'll be getting a lot of business. It's so commercialized now.

Not only that, but the commercial world is so centered around people doing things as couples. Especially Christmas, and of course Valentine's Day as well. But what about the people who don't have that special someone to share the magical time of year with? I can't tell you how lonely I've felt the last few years. I've watched my cousins accompanied by their significant others, and I have yet to do that. Granted, as of right now I'm just going along with life and refuse to actually perform a search for a person I could connect well with, but it would be nice if I had someone by my side, reminding me that I'm really not alone.

Last night, I went to sleep thinking, for some strange, unknown, and crazy reason, that Christmas this year would be very special and magical. But... I was disappointed, yet again. I woke up at 9 AM to the sound of my brother in the shower, so I waited until he got out, which he did. As soon as the door opened, I got out of bed and proceded to do my daily bathroom routine of brushing  my teeth and so forth which, I tell you, only takes about five minutes. By the time I walk out into our family room, everyone is already opening their presents. Lovely. They couldn't wait five minutes for me to finish brushing my teeth. Made me feel like I should just crawl back into my warm bed and skip the whole day sleeping.

Too bad I didn't.

It was like any other day, only chalk full of visits with extended family members and presents wrapped in red and green paper. I do appreciate everything everyone gave to me, don't get me wrong. I don't want to sound like a spoiled brat. That's not it at all. The truth is, even among family, I felt out of place. I was quiet most of the time, only speaking when spoken to. I love my family, but despite that, I still feel alone, and I hate that. One of my worst fears is being alone, and at times I can't help but feel that I really am, like I'm just a substitute in people's lives until someone better comes along and takes my place, or I'm just a temporary friend while their REAL friends aren't there.

Before everyone left, a bunch of my family members begged my brother to play piano. At first he declined, but after much convincing, he agreed to play one song. Rolling my eyes, I dragged my cousin into my room with me and decided to play my guitar for her instead. Not seriously, just playfully.

I envy my brother. He's book smart and he's musically talented. He plans on doing a minor in music, and he can actually perform in front of people without getting all choked up. He has no shame sitting there with the piano and singing along to the songs that he'd playing, even though he doesn't have a good voice. But that's okay for him, because he knows that and accepts that, and singing is not his thing and never has been. He hasn't known it as a part of his life. It wasn't his first love.

That's my problem. Singing really is my first love when it comes to music. Put me in a band and I would much rather be the lead singer than the lead guitarist. Colin knows that he can't sing, and he doesn't want to. He's perfectly content behind his piano or his trumpet. I, on the other hand... I need to sing. I express myself through singing, and I when I'm singing I'm showing people who I really am. I'm at my most vulnerable state, and from the looks of it, I'm not ready to show that to the world yet. I desperately wish I could get some confidence in myself and be ready to just throw myself at society, screaming at them to take me or leave me as I am, and not care which decision they make. But I think because I've been so outcasted by society, and because I depend on people, I'm desperately seeking for those out there who will let me contribute to their life. I'm afraid that if I just embrace myself for who I am and show others the true me, they'll cast me further into oblivion, and I'll be left with nothing. My father already hates that I'm a feminist, and he's convinced that I'll never get a guy with that kind of attitude. My mother wants me to forgive more easily. One, I want to find someone who will respect my passion for women's equality and respect, and two, I refuse to let those back into my life that will treat me like crap.

I've gone off on a tangent, as I always do. Start off with the diminishing spirit of Christmas and end up with talking about my peformance and personal isssues.

I'm such a lovely person.

Anyway... Merry Christmas to all of those who actually enjoyed the holiday. Might as well for make up for my lack of enthusiasm for the day. I apologize to all of those who had to read through my Bah, Humbug entry.

Hypocrite

I think, in a way, I'm a hypocrite. Well, I think we all are one way or another, as much as we'd like to deny it.

For a good part of my life, and still currently, I tend to hold a small grudge against my parents for not being affectionate. I rarely get hugs, my parents don't tell me "I love you" as often as other parents do, and just tiny things like that. I don't doubt that they love me because I know they do, I'm just such a needy person when it comes to the emotional aspect of a relationship with someone. I'm also very touchy-feely. I don't think my parents are like that at all. The way they do show their love for me is by purchasing items that I really don't need and giving them to me. And then, when my mom and I get into an arguement, she tries to use it against me, claiming that I'm only nice to her when I want something. And that hurts, because in all honestly, I'm not that much of a materialistic person, especially in today's society. Of all the guys I've dated, I've never asked them to buy me anything and never expected it, and many times I've paid for the guy when we went out to dinner. I could give so many other examples, but I'm not going to go off on a tangent. The point is, I'm not superficial, and the fact that my mother believes I am really bothers me.

I am a hypocrite because I can't show my parents affection. I don't know if it's because I hold a tiny grudge towards them for this and several reasons, or if it's because I'm just plain stubborn, which I am. I do hold grudges, especially when people do wrong toward me. I like to do my best to avoid being walked on and used and treated like crap. Of course, I'm not as strong as I'd like to be and those things have happened before, but I think I hold grudges against people as a defense mechanism. My mother keeps telling me that I need to learn to forgive, but honestly, I'd rather live my life with people I choose to be in it as opposed to those who don't really deserve my company and friendship, as conceited as that sounds. When I accused her of wanting me to be like her, she denied it, but I still don't think she can grasp the concept that I am going to be my own person, and that I am far different than from who she is. I will not ever marry a man like my father. I don't understand how she can put up with him, and part of me thinks that it's because she forgives too easily.

That really scares me. For most of my life, I've seen my parents as loving and meant to be with one another. But now, I'm having images in my head of my father treating my mother like crap and abusing her emotionally. The more I think about it, the more I can see it, and I really don't want to see that. Some of the things he says to her he really shouldn't. He's always moody 70% of the time. Shouldn't you be happy when you see the one you love? Shouldn't they make your mood so much better? Instead, he takes it out on myself, my brothers, and her. I think that's why I refuse to be so forgiving, in fear that I really will end up with someone like my father, simply because I'll feel like I won't be able to find another person who will want me, which is the reason why I stayed with a few of my ex-boyfriends.

I think that I believe holding grudges against people makes them see the wrong they've done and how much it's affected me, but that might just be a wish. I hold grudges against my parents for so many things.

I hold a grudge against my dad for being so insensative. I hold a grudge against him for skipping the best vocal recital I've ever had, and ever will have. I hold a grudge against him for being so angry much of the time. I hold a grudge against him for ignoring me when I'm crying right in front him. I hold a grudge against him for really fucking with my head after all the times he's raised his voice at me for stupid reasons. I hold a grudge against him for treating my family the way he does. I hold a grudge against him for being such a loner. I hold a grudge against him for being rude to strangers that don't deserve it. I hold a grudge against him for seeming so uncaring through the most important times of my life.

I hold a grudge against my mom for thinking my music is just a hobby. I hold a grudge against her for not supporting me in my music as much as I needed, and still need, her to. I hold a grudge against her for skipping the part about music being part of my duel major when talking to people. I hold a grudge against her for refusing to believe I have actual problems. I hold a grudge against her for yelling about crying. I hold a grudge against her for thinking I'm a drama queen. I hold a grudge against her for being so closed-minded. I hold a grudge against her for only caring about school and college crap despite the fact I had so much emotional stress being pressed on me. I have a grudge against her for when she used to hit me. I have a grudge against her for being angry at me when she realized I actually did have a REAL problem.

My parents don't go to doctors because their religion tells them not to. One year, around Christmas, I was coming down with a really bad sore throat. I was a minor at the time, so I couldn't make a doctor's appointment without my parents knowing. I did everything I could to try and fix it, but it wouldn't go away. Eventually, I saw white patches in the back of my throat, and I knew I had strep throat. When I told my mom, she replied with, "How can you see your throat? I can't." So I told her that I can raise the soft palet of my mouth and see the back of my throat, probably because I'm a singer, and they're there. And she got angry. She gave me old anti-biotics a day later, but it pissed me off that she was ignoring a medical emergency. I had strep throat! And she didn't want to do anything about it!

Like I mentioned before as well, my parents never really fully supported my passion for music. They always assumed it was a hobby. If I could, I would pursue it as a career. I don't think I'd want to be famous, but I'd definitely want to touch people with my music. They don't realize that, and they never did. They never went out of their way to tell me that I sounded good when I practiced, and they never tried to making me sing or play my guitar in front of them. But I remember one night specifically that wanted to make me cry tears of joy.

I was in my room and it was really late at night, probably 2 AM. I was sitting on my floor, guitar in my lap, playing and singing "Wonderwall" by Oasis. Half way through the song, I hear a knock on my door, and I stopped abruptly when my door opened. It was my dad telling me that my guitar playing woke him up, so I apologized and he left. I sat there for a second, and he came back a moment later and said, "Sounded good, though."

That was the first time either of my parents went out of their way to compliment me on how I sounded. When he left, I wanted to cry. I think I did cry. It was amazing. My parents actually did something emotionally correct. It was the most amazing feeling.

I do love my parents. They've given me so much, and I love them. I appreciate it all, whether they see it or not. I just wish they'd give me a little more affection. And still, I'm a hypocrite for not giving it back to them, but that's because I hold grudges like a nail in a wall. We all have our flaws, and I guess it's a good thing that I can admit mine. Or so I'm told, anyway.

Go to your place.

There's a beach, which is funny because I am not a beach person, and yet, it's mysteriously calming. There is a beach at night. The sand is so soft and white, but not the kind that clings to your feet and clothes to the point of tough removal. The sky is dark, save the full moon and the blinking stars, the only source of light.

The beach goes on for as far as the eye can see. I'm walking. I'm beautiful. My hair falls down to my waist in long, dark waves, and straight bangs lay across my forehead, a combination of my old and new self. I have no makeup on, and still I am flawless. My entire body seems to shimmer and give off just a slight glow, so faint you would thing the moon was simply gracing my skin with its magnificent, cooling beams. On the contrary, my skin is actually glowing, just a tiny bit. My body is draped in a sleeveless, flowing, white gown that trails behind me when I walk, staying immaculate though it's dragging in the sand. The light breeze of the night sends the extensive silk of the dress dancing in the wind behind me as I walk. My eyes are bright blue and need no makeup to enhance the color. My face shows no signs of trouble, and I am at peace.

As I walk, the humble waves crash gently and softly against the shore a good distance away. The sweeping of the air brings the scent of salt to my nostrils, and yet at the same time, there's a sense of sweetness in the breeze as well. I approach a magnificent, black, shining, baby grand piano. The bright white and black keys seem to invite me to touch, to play. As I sit gracefully onto the black piano stool, settled neatly in the sand, my fingers grace the keys and beautiful music flows from my fingers, soon followed by the soothing voice that has come from a spot inside me I didn't know existed. The music is relaxing and warming, and as I play, myself and the piano glow brighter than before. I stand, but the music continues to fill my ears, a faint smile on my face.

I'm rather surprised a guitar is not laying next to the piano, but I'm sure it will be there next time I visit.

The sky begins to lighten, and I make note that it is my time to depart. I take one last longing glance at my piano, then turn my back and step forward toward the tiny black iridescent ball that lay glistening in the sand. My hands scoop it up and I watch intently. The ball starts dripping, and the slippery substance slips through my fingers onto the sand below, though surprisingly the sand does not absorb the liquid. The ball keeps melting but refuses to reduce in size. The dripping increases, and falling quicker and quicker as the splashing at my feet grows louder.

The ball explodes into a brilliant white light. The lack of sound is deafening, and for a moment I cannot see a thing. Just the blinding light around me. My beach returns to visibility, but all around me is a flooding of white liquid, similar to the consistancy and texture of what was falling from the black ball not even a minute ago. I turn to face my piano only to watch it be completely devoured in the white liquid. Even the sea is covered. I am in an abyss of bright, white fluid, but I am not being engulfed by it.

My eyes close and for a second more I can see the light reflecting against my eyelids. And then it is black.

And I return.

I just want to cry.

I hate when people try to act as if they understand when, in reality, they don't.

I've taken voice lessons for 8 1/2 years. This semester, I continued with them, but at the end of the semester during the week of finals, you must perform a song in front of the teachers in the music department.

I have stage fright. I don't have it when I perform in a choir, but rather, when I perform solo. The last time I performed solo was 2005. And I hated my performance. I thought I sounded horrible.

Yesterday was my vocal lesson final, called "Juries." I was scheduled at 2:30. I went into a practice room at 2, trying to keep myself calm, and it didn't work. I hated the way I sounded while I was practicing. Eventually, I started to shake, my entire body was cold, and all I wanted to do was cry. Five minutes before I was supposed to perform, I left and didn't come back.

Someone I spoke to later that day described it as a minor panic attack.

Lovely.

And now I'll have to do this all over again next semester in order to get a complete grade. I don't want to.

And you know what my teachers tell me? "This happens to everyone. It's normal to be nervous. Just get up and do it."

DO YOU THINK I CAN SING WHILE I'M SHAKING AND TEARS ARE POURING DOWN MY FACE?

It's not normal. Stage fright to this extent is NOT NORMAL. And I HATE that. I hate that, despite I have so much passion for this and want to share my music with the world, I can't, because of this stupid, stupid problem that just won't seem to go away.

As much as I hate to say it, I'm not cut out for this. And when I think about that, I just want to cry forever. And it's not even like I can talk to anyone about it. I talked to one person, but I couldn't actually cry to him. I just want to break down, right now, and have someone hug me tightly so I know I'm not alone. I don't think I've ever felt more alone than I do right now. My cousin and I are drifting because she has other people, better people, that she can hang out with. My best friend Elyse is too busy and although she tells me that she will always be there for me, she isn't. She disappears for weeks at a time without so much as a message telling me what's going on. And I hate that so much. I don't just want her to call me so I can complain and cry to her, but just so I know that she's still my best friend, and that she's okay.

Everyone else... yeah, they're friends, but I don't feel right calling them and telling them my life story. They're the people you have fun with, not the people that you can lean on.

I just. Want. To cry.

Feministic Views

Sometimes I get laughed at for being so pushy about women's rights, especially when I get incredibly pissed off at some stupid music video with a "hot" girl showing off her entire body. And then they say I'm overreacting. I'm not! People just don't seem to care, or even understand.

"I respect myself and always have. I don't think there's any reason for some of the stuff that women celebrities do. It's a real shame, and it offends me because you're representing me. We're all women; we're in this together. And then they start to go downhill and people aren't paying attention anymore. So they start stripping their clothes off, because that's all they have left. I swear to everything I've ever known, I will never do that."

Amy Lee said that quote, and that's just one of the reasons why I love her.

I sent that to my friend Mark, and he said, "Yeah, but I wish she would."

I flipped out on him, and he said I was taking it far too seriously. I'm not. It's people like him that don't understand. I guess I shouldn't expect him to, considering he's of the male species, but he could at least have a little more respect towards women, especially a woman like Amy. And his response was, "I'm human."

That's not an excuse. You could make that excuse after murdering someone. "I'm human." That doesn't mean anything. That's like saying that just because you're able to function and think in that way makes it right. IT'S NOT RIGHT. Women are scientifically proven to be able to multi-task easier than men are. Women are also more detail-oriented, logical, contemplative, passionate, intuitive, and have better verbal skills. And it goes unnoticed by most of society! And there are stupid girls out there who abuse those skills and dumb themselves down, using sex to control men. And it's pathetic. THAT is what makes guys have a lack of respect for those women out there who really deserve it. They come to expect it, and a lot of them assume that we just get dolled up to please them. NOT TRUE. It makes US feel good about OURSELVES. It's rarely for them. But when they just assume that we're putting on a pleasurable appearence for them, they come to expect it all the time, just like the expect us to strip off our clothes and give into their sexual desires when they want them. And then when we don't, they get angry or annoyed and think we're bad girlfriends or lovers, or just a bad girl. I once had an ex-boyfriend tell me I was a bad girlfriend, but I didn't do anything wrong emotionally. The only thing I did was take the physical stuff at my own pace, sometimes FASTER than what I wanted, and he decided I was a bad girlfriend for that. Not only was I a bad girlfriend, but a PRUDE as well. I AM NOT A PRUDE, AND I AM NOT A BAD GIRLFRIEND. No one has any idea how much I put into my relationships, and I don't just mean my relationships with men, but with my friends as well. Nine times out of ten, I get let down because of it as well.

Right now, I am very anti-male. I don't want to be this angry, or this mean all the time, but I can't help it. I've come to realize that people who I thought had respect for women actually don't, and it makes me wonder how many people really do? How many guys out there can honestly say they're in a relationship strictly for how the person makes them feel emotionally? How many men-- not even just men, but women too-- can say they have sex to express how they feel about a person? Not many people, and it's so depressing to know that I am one of the few out there that really feel this way. Maybe I only feel this way because I haven't actually had sex, and maybe it will change when I do. Maybe I'm just having false hopes about the whole sex thing. But maybe, instead, I'll find someone out there who thinks the way I do, who agrees with me on these topics, and who will treat me like an equal, who will treat me with as much devotion as I'm willing to give to a person.

But as of right now, it's not looking good.

S. Ashleigh

Passion/Lack of Individuality

There's so many people out there that strive to be individualistic, yet few truly succeed. That may be a horrible thing to say, but from what I've observed, it's true. I mean, how many people can you honestly say is one of those completely different, interesting people? Not many. And it's sad. Society puts all these images in our head that we HAVE to be this way to fit in or else people are going to look at us weird and laugh. And that's horrible. I really don't think society is a good thing. They've corrupted so many people with the "right" way of thinking. Not only this, but people then become afraid to stand up for what they believe in due to the fear of being shunned and ridiculed for it.

I think that, in order to really and truly stand out from society, you have to put out ideas and truths about yourself that creates a vulnerability. And that sucks, especially for those who are deathly afraid of being laughed at or looked at in weird ways. I know I'm one of those people. I feel like I'm pretty different from most people out there, but no one ever sees that. You know why? Becasue I'm afraid. I'm afraid of being laughed at, and ridiculed, and picked on. I wish I wasn't. I wish I was a stronger person. I wish I didn't care what people thought about me, but the truth is, the majority of us really do to an extent, whether they want to admit it or not. It's a pretty horrible thing that society has corrupted us THAT much.

It starts at a young age, too. I think I was 10 years old when I started really worrying about what people thought about me. In elementary school, your mother dressed you and you went to school like that. It didn't matter who you were swinging next to on the jungle gym, or who you played Four-Square with. You were just having fun. And then you enter middle school and start to really care about what you're wearing and how you present yourself, not to mention who you hang out with. And then high school comes around and you go through that awkward stage of finding out who you are as a person and how you want to present yourself to society by the clothes you wear, the hairstyle you have, the makeup you wear (if any), the people you talk to, the music you listen to, the places you go, the things you say... You have to be careful with ALL that stuff. And even when you think you have a good idea of those things, whether you want to believe it or not, you spend most of your life figuring out who you are. And then what? You have the option of affecting someone's life and being remembered, or just completely dying off and disappearing from the world as if you never existed. And, depending upon the way you were raised or your surroundings as you grew up, you make that decision early and you can't really do anything about it once you've decided, even if it's not a concious one. In high school, you're either one of the people that EVERYONE knows, whether youre famous or infamous, or when people mention your name, they reply with, "Who?" And some might not even mention your name at all. And then you leave high school deciding if you want to make that decision again in college, and then again in the workplace, and your life in general. It's one stage after another, and each time, you have an option of entering a new environment and being who you want to be. It's up to you whether you succeed or not.

In high school, I wasn't very popular. In fact, I was one of those people that had friends in many different groups. It sucked because when I would go to hang out with one person's group, I would feel out of place because I didn't know anyone else. They would talk about other people they know, and inside jokes, and I would have nothing to input into the conversation, thus fading into nothing. Eventually, I stopped trying to hang out with those people, and I think that's when I realized who my true friends were. Sadly, my two best friends don't even live in the town that I live, and go to different high schools. And they're both younger than me! One of them I'm a little skeptical about, despite the fact that she's family. She has her own little group, too. She has two best friends, one of which she's known since second grade. I envy that so much. And yeah, I guess everyone has people they put first, and I guess those two girls are before me, but I can't help but feel a little.... insulted, I guess? We're family, and she chose those two others, who aren't blood related, before me. But I guess I shouldn't complain. She's lucky to have such close friends.

Anyway, when I left high school and moved to college, I was determined not to be invisible like I was in high school. I thought it was working. And then shit happened, and now I'm back to exactly where I was. I'm never invited anywhere, and I think the only reasons I AM invited out is because the people I used to hang out with invite my roommate, and I guess they feel obligated to invite me as well in order to avoid being rude. It's just funny because I was the one who they started hanging out with first, and then I introduced that whole group to my roommate and everything just went downhill. Granted, it may be partly my fault, because I ended up hanging out with this guy a lot, but I still made time for them. But I don't know, it just seems like they didn't want to make an effort to include me in anything anymore. Like, I have to make an effort to hang out with them. And still, when I do, I'm just kinda.. there.

I talked to my best friend Elyse about this, and she said that I shouldn't worry about it. She gave this incredibly long and comforting speech about how they're still high school kids and because I was above the high school level WHILE I was in high school, that I'm probably above their level now. "Don't make them your priority if they're going to treat you like that. Anyone who acts that way doesn't deserve the effort you're giving them." I guess she's right. I mean, I don't like to get drunk and party all the time like a bunch of people I know here, especially this one girl Alyssa. She gets drunk EVERY time she has a chance, and it pisses me off because she uses the excuse that she wasn't able to do that when she was in high school. Neither was I! But you don't see me getting trashed every week. I wouldn't be surprised if she turned into an alcoholic. That's probably a horrible thing to say, but frankly, I don't care because there's no possible way she would ever see this.

I don't even remember what the point of this was anymore. I've just been thinking about this for a while, about how I can really show how different I am from everyone without screwing myself over and making me uncomfortable. But it's hard. I think so deeply and passionately about things, and people think I'm overreacting when it comes to certain topics. For example, today, I had to give a presentation in my Music Industry class about a person that we really admire in the music industry. I chose Amy Lee because I think she's a very strong, talented, mature individual. I went on for twenty minutes about her, which was over the time limit, I'm sure, and I know I was getting really heated about certain topics like her feminism and refusal to use sex to sell her music, and about how artistic and talented she is. In that class, there's this group of immature boys who I could tell were smirking. How is that funny? I don't understand it. I didn't realize that being so passionate about something was amusing. And that just pisses me off and gets me even more heated!

I'm rambling. I do that when I write. I just go off on tangents. Again, it's the passion thing.

I don't know. I think I've written too much again. People are going to get half-way through this thing and give up. But hey, it's out there for those to read it if they care. And if they do, then great. If not, then that's okay too.

But I'm done for now.

S. Ashleigh

Yes, I Am A Virgin.

I've always been the one with the broken heart, never the one breaking hearts. In a way, I guess that suits me. I am a lover, rarely a fighter, though I can get fierce at times, especially when it comes to a subject I am absolutely passionate about, like music, for example. You start with me on music, and I could go on for a decade.

So many of my friends say boys are complicated. I believe otherwise. And, please, to any guy reading this, I don't mean any offense. I know there are exceptions out there, but my conclusions have come from my encounters. Men, in fact, are very simple creatures, when honest with themselves and others. They let you know what they want, you do it, and they're happy. Unfortunately, most of the time I cannot give a man what he wants due to my own standards and self-respect.

Yes, I am a virgin.

And now some of you are asking, "How old is this girl?"

You can decide that for yourself. How old do I sound?

Anyway, as I mentioned, I have always been the one getting my heart broken, never breaking the hearts. There was one occasion when I did "break up" with a guy, but one, we weren't technically together, and two, he felt no passion for me whatsoever, unless it came to my body, and therefore there is no possible way I could have broken his heart. Besides, he did screw some other girl behind my back and lie to me about "loving me." Sure, I'm a hopeless romantic, but I have yet to meet someone who can fall in love in less than two weeks.

Yes, that fling lasted two weeks. Pathetic, right?

Strangely enough, I went back to my ex-boyfriend after that short incident. Naturally, he played the shoulder cried on, the welcoming arms, the open ears. And, due to my hopeless trust in people and my inability to see how bad a person really can be, I went back to him for about two months.

That was a horrible decision.

Just like Two Weeks Guy, he ended up using me.

Our typical night: Him coming over and hanging out in my basement, watching movies, which turned into clothes discarded onto the floor, then him leaving soon after.

Go out to dinner? An amusement park? Catch a new movie in theaters? Nah, he didn't have any money to do that. He just gambled it all away during the poker nights he spent with his friends. God forbid his "girlfriend" wanted to go out once in a while. Who could possibly get bored of sitting in a basement and "watching movies" all the time? Certainly not him.

Needless to say, that ended soon enough. I got the guts to tell him I didn't want to do this anymore, and that I felt used. Ironically enough, he said the same thing. Funny how he waited to tell me until I was on my period. He had to get enough of my body before my monthly friend, and then call our... "thing" off. 

That's okay, he was an idiot anyway.

No, seriously, he was a legit idiot. He couldn't get into this one state school that is ridiculously easy to get into as long as you have decent grades. He tried three times and got rejected every single time. And then he tries to tell ME that I'm the stupid one.

HA.

And then there was Greg. He was the only guy who actually treated me like a person, the best guy I've ever dated. He didn't use me, and he even told me that he wouldn't have sex with me because he knew I wasn't ready.

How many guys do you know that would turn down sex? Honestly?

But looking back, I think he would have been the one person so far that I wouldn't have regretted losing my virginity to, if I did.

Yes, I'm still a virgin.

Greg and I broke up because I was leaving. At first, I failed to see his rationality in the decision, but I do now. He's the only ex-boyfriend I still talk to, and who I'm actually friends with. Granted, it took me a while to get over him, and throughout that summer after our break up, I was a complete mess, but I'm over him now, and looking back, I wouldn't have minded losing my virginity to such a good guy. To be quite honest, I have thought about going back and telling him to take my virginity, but because of my passion, I'm afraid I would develop feelings for him again.

Damn me and my emotions. Or maybe it's damn my morals?

In a way, I'm a hypocrite. Any virgin I meet, I always end up telling them to wait for the one person they trust and care about, and to treasure their virginity. Sadly, a huge part of me does the opposite. At times, I find it more of a burden. People will view you as immature and child-like, perhaps innocent. People find out you're a virgin and they look at you differently. With men, they're either reluctant to take your virginity for fear the girl will get too attached, or they're dying to take it away so he can brag to others that he "nailed a virgin," because apparently, virgins are in high demand for those males that keep score of how many women they've screwed like how many touchdowns they can make in a football game.

I could go on for days about this topic. In this paragraph, I was about to expand my views on the act of sex and how society tends to mistreat it, but I'll save that for another blog. It seems I've over-blogged myself on my first try. For all I know, no soul in the world could give two craps about the ridiculous boys I date, my virginity, and how I seem to be out of place in the world when it comes to sex, along with many other aspects as well.

Until then, happy blogging.

S. Ashleigh