"it came without packages boxes or bags!"
12/26/2001 04:46 p.m.
I hate it when I can't get someone off my mind. I hate it when all of my poems that were meant to be selfloathing and hateful turn into mushy love poems. I hate it when I get all weird and lame and ...

vulnerable.

oh, gag me. I hate this. This helpless feeling of



love.
Like you could do anything for that person, and worse, you want to. I hate broken hearts and longing and missing and giving all with nothing in return. I want to take and make him want me. I want him to know what I go through, maybe that'll change his mind about our dear little Anna. I hate disliking someone I've never met who's probably the nicest person in the world. No doubt, nicer than me.
I JUST want to know, why didn't he call? If he was SO concerned about my health, if he was as in love with me as his eyes said when our eyes locked, why didn't he call? Wow, I bet I'm the first one to ask that question. *wipes the sarcasm dripping from her mouth*

and once again, I sound bitter and angry at the world. and once again, I'm a very joyful person. but you people don't believe me. Maybe I should try coming on here when I'm happy about something. I'm always happy, just the extremity of the happiness, well, varies. You see, it's like with poetry, I usually write when I'm at the extremes of life, which is what makes me come out looking depressed, in love, lame, or, heck, let's just say it..
joyless.
I'm in no way joyless. :) see, that's me with joy. oh, what the heck, it was Christmas :D

seriously though, I'm joyful.


who the heck am i talking to?? and why do i keep saying heck? i'm going, you people are driving me insane.


I am currently Detached
I am listening to secret smile, semisonic

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chocolate kisses in a heartshaped box
12/26/2001 02:25 p.m.
One day I'll fall in love. That deep and passionate love with hours long mushy talk phone calls and flowers and stargazing. It'll be a time in my life I'll remember for as long as I live, and if it doesn't work out, what I'll compare every other potential love with. I want that so much. Too eager, yes, too impatient, not really. I've been patient with all these losers who I was so willing to give my heart to that just turned their heads and coughed...
I'm so frustrated with life. With love and the pressure everyone puts on you to find it, and keep it. Holidays are like labeled as the time that my family gets to find out that, once again, I'm alone and looking. Good gracious, I'm only fifteen years old. I feel drained and insufficient. I feel old, beyond my years, and I despise that feeling. That tiredness that only comes with aging. And it's here. I laugh, I act young, yes, I mean I do have my moments. But my soul is old. A rough childhood can't be blamed for that, I don't know what can. I guess my incessant quest to grow up has had an effect on my soul. And only my soul.

whoa, it's too early in the morning to think about this. I guess I'll go mess around with the guitar I have no clue how to play. My fingers hurt and I've only two chords memorized, and I can't even transition. Oh well, give me a year.


gosh, I sound sad. I'm really not. I'm a very joyful person. Mornings aren't mine, though. And it's morning.
I am currently Calm
I am listening to stevie wonder- i just called to say i love you

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I'm an idiot
12/26/2001 01:34 a.m.
I was just reading through my journal entries to see how mysterious and awesome I sound... when SUDDENLY, I realized......




I don't. bummer
I am currently Stupid
I am listening to ok, seriously, I'm going to bed now

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why I'm up so early
12/26/2001 01:32 a.m.
I'm so glad they have the word "bleh" in the mood choices. I was wondering, as I searched aimlessly, how do I feel on this Christmas night? Bleh. That's exactly how I feel. It's only 8 frikkin 29 and I'm tired as a brother. My eyelids are all heavy and I just want to take my pants off and go to sleep. Too much information? (need any more proof that I'm sleepy). I usually withhold such information, I save it for those who know me best. (I talk to myself a lot) not really. The only time I talk to myself is when I'm cursing frustratedly at my guitar. Course, then, it's at my guitar and not at myself. Course, it is an inanimate object and that's a little more off than speaking to myself, an animate object. Object, that's rather insulting. Course, I said it, so does it matter? does anything matter?
yes, sleep.
I am currently Bleh
I am listening to the keys as I babble and babble and babble and bab..k, I'm done.

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Merry Christmas!!!!!
12/25/2001 03:59 p.m.
My grandparents got me an easel with oil paints and a pack of color pencils and pastels and watercolors. I'm so scared to open the oil paints because I don't want to make a mess, and I don't think I could do anything with them EXCEPT for make a mess.. :D. Maybe I'll try them out.
But, best gift :D, my parents gave me a guitar. It's acoustic, and a Washburn. It's beautiful and I'm so excited to learn. I was practicing and stuff and I got a wee bit frustrated, but I'm working on it. :D I love Christmastime... I can finally get working on coming up with a band! :D or maybe I'll just go solo..... :)

well, I guess I'll just go and learn some chords... be looking for my album--my name is melanie :D

I am currently Creative
I am listening to jingle bells--as sung by bing crosby

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trying to have a merry christmas
12/24/2001 09:52 p.m.
I hate to be the one who "can't get him off my mind" but that's the sick, sad truth, I guess. His name is Sean and he decided to get a girlfriend while I was home sick. And now I'm scared to ever see him again, because I know I'll break down and ask him "What the.. what were you thinking???". I could have sworn there was something there. I would have bet my life on it. Good thing I didn't.
I am currently Lovesick
I am listening to the rants of my family

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