II

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgtoten lore-
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books currease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.


I hate being the happy person in the group. Today, for instance, marks one of the most depressing days for me this whole year, and believe me, I've gone through a lot of those suck days.

I said hi to one of my best friends, and she replied. I answered with an emoticon showing my sadness and a "I'm depressed." She said "Dude I am waaay more depressed than you are. Why, what's up?" After I told her, she told me the same thing everyone says whenever I'm down in the dumps -- "Let's drink!"

She then told me what she was being depressed about and although, yes, her problem was FAR more colossal, I just can't understand why people don't think I can be sad, too.

Is it because I'm named Joy? That I shouldn't be anything but happy? That I COULDN'T be anything but happy? That all I have to do is show up and brighten someone's day?

That's faulty.

What if I can't brighten up my own?

These next few posts are not so much compromise as they are pathetic excuses so I won't do my final paper

She resurfaced on the edge of the icy water. This is it, she thought. She wondered what could've happened if she accepted the challenge given to her by the goblin, she wondered if this was how dying felt like, she wondered lastly what other people might think once they see her body floating on the surface of the pond.

Maybe this isn't as bad as it seems it is, she heard her mind say. After all, I was practically born into this lake, I'm a naiad, for Neptune's sake! In fact, had it not been for that goblin's treachery, it would not be me, but him, in this lake -- feeling every muscle numb, every hair standing up, every tooth chatter, every...

And then, darkness.

But it was not quiet, for in another world, a banshee was screaming.

From spiral staircases

There are a few things no one tells you.


First, no one really tells you if the things you dream of will become a reality. No one can really assure you of your dreams, or can promise you a future and fulfill it. No one can tell you he'll stay with you forever and stick with it. Not because he's unable to do so, but because he can't ever be sure if he can.

No one tells you that you will be unable to do something permanent tomorrow. No one tells you that you can't make or destroy a life come the next day - because you totally can.

More importantly, no one tells you when you're really ready; truly an adult. Suddenly, you just wake up and you're doing things you never really thought you'd be doing. You open your eyes and you're doing the laundry, cleaning your apartment, and filling out forms. You're not who you are anymore. You're not who you want to be, even, sometimes.

You're just you, you're *still* you; but you're not, not really.

I'm at that point in time right now. Now I pay the bills, talk to people in suits while wearing suits as well, and driving a car. And nobody told me the time was now. In fact, I don't even remember waking up and seeing the world from a different vantage point. All I know is, I'm not a baby anymore. And in an unspoken point sometime in the past, I became someone else. Not completely, but partially. I became the person no one told me about.

That's pretty scary, don't you think?

Because we all need something to hold on to should the occasion arise