With an open blog such as this, I run the risk of certain eyes grazing over these very words. But I find this rant to be a necessary form of self-preservation.

I saw him today. Or at least, my mind made me believe that I saw him today. And my heart began to race.

So I tried. I tried it all again, I mean. The acceptance of vulnerability of being alone. And to be honest, I haven't a clue as to where that took me. Surely it was a roller-coaster of sorts. As to how intense it was, I haven't a clue either. This entire situation I find myself in left me, shall we say, empty.

Yes, it is about a boy. A man? A boy? He is whatever he wishes himself to be. However, I find it tragic that he, as bright and as lively as he is, already closed himself off from the uncertainties that the future may hold. This may be my naivete speaking, but is it really all that possible to allow full control of the mind over the heart? If so, is it fair? Is it natural? Whatever your answers may be, because I am in no mood to enter what will be a full-blown debate. A hollow debate that will prove to be, let me tell you.

Whatever sort of nonsense I am making right now... I shall finish on a light note. I am not hurt.

...

And knowing me, my "light note" is known to be relatively "dark and depressing" for others.

So, here I am, empty.

Finding out that someone loves and cares for you more than you ever will for them seems to only result in terrible heartbreak.

I'm aware that I speak incessantly on the topics I hate... so here's another one.

I despise reading back on certain entries that confirm how silly I really am.

I find it hilarious that what I fear the most about going home is running into some not-so-much-my-acquaintances sort of girls from high school. After eavesdropping--I had no choice on that matter--for 5 minutes, I learned the following:

Their goals seem to be to talk about their embarrassingly inebriated moments at last night's party and to point out other girls' imperfections.

Apparently, *Cheryl's boots were "like totally cute" almost to the point where *Britney "sorta wants to, like, kill [her] for them."

Fortunately enough, I find my headphones right after that, and drown out their nasal squawking with some Ella Fitzgerald.

Cheers to the Granada Hills Charter High School Class of '07.

*Names have been changed not for the other parties' privacy, but for my own peace of mind.