I hope this doesn't sound like I'm trying to be to artsy or to philosophical or something. Because I'm really trying not to. I personally can't stand when people take themselves to seriously. I love to joke around but sometimes all these random serious thoughts build up in my head and I have to put them somewhere....and that somewhere is here...in this blog...that I rarely use.

For some reason that I can't explain I'm overly excited to get back to school. Usually I hate going back. Maybe it's because I'm finally a senior. But in all honesty I really wish I was 12 again. I've been thinking what people will say about me when I die, hopefully at a ripe old age. What would they say about me? Am I going to be important to more then a group of friends and my family? And how much weight do anorexic girls need to lose before their period stops? Damn you BBC and Rhodes Farm documentaries. 

The most important thing I've been thinking about is character development. Sometimes I feel like if my life were a novel it would be boring because I never do anything. I don't take risks and the development of the character "Sally" would be nothing more than saying:

"She was hidden from the world. Not by cages and dragons but by her shyness. The shyness that was always masked by bubbly fake self confidence. She made fun of most of the people she was jealous of and had a difficult time keeping friends. Whenever they would get too close to rip her from the dream she lived in she would push them away. She didn't want to become an adult. All she wanted to do was play with Barbies and not understand every sexual joke made. She wished she looked like the image in her head. She wished she was as talented as that image. But no one can have everything. She knew she was good at something. She had to be. All of her friends had something they were good at. Something they enjoyed doing. Writing was her passion...but was she really good at it? None of her teachers seemed to think so. The British 11 year olds that could starve themselves were her idols...not because they were sick but because they had a goal that they wanted to reach...and sometimes reached it. Looking like walking skeletons. What if she never reached the goal that she didn't know yet?"

This is my sonnet that I wrote for creative writing. Steal it and die! [ps if you have to steal MY writing you are a sad sad human being]

Bal Masqué

Hidden behind masks of silver and gold

Questioning eyes ask for a dance lover

Dresses swish, heals click in midnight cold

Glasses clink with the proposal of her.

Spring nights filled with string quartets of grace

Secrets kept from no one and spread around

Lovely dresses of red, adorned with lace

Carelessly dropped, a face falls to the ground.

Magic crumbles away as it all ends

Champagne fountains have run dry in the hall

Minds soar as time slows, it stops and it spends

Decorations fall to reveal cracked wall.

Stars retreat into the end of parade

Sore feet sleep at the end of Masquerade.