ranting into space

What was left of the string is now unraveling, unwinding, getting tangled in itself.

Sometimes I don't know what to do. My eyes tend to remain dry, but that doesn't mean my soul inside is not tormented with every step, every breath. Well, that's not entirely true; I am a happy person the majority of the time. I smile I lot. I laugh a lot more. I love life.

But sometimes it feels like nothing else could go wrong.

Then I try to remember where I'll be in eight months from now. That's pretty consoling.

Unfortunately I can't keep telling myself that. When I was in middle school, I told myself high school would be much better. When I got to high school, I found that the differences were small and few; the size of the school was larger and the immaturity even more prominent. Now, a senior in high school, I tell myself that college will be better. Will it? Sometimes I'm not so sure. What about after college? Will I be able to travel? Will I get married? Will I have a family? Will I be published?

Most girls my age have dated at this point in their lives. Why is it that I haven't? Why can't I even find a guy friend who wants to go to a school dance with me? And prom? I want to go, but I want to go with someone. It can be a friend. Many of these questions are rhetorical, I know the advice that can be given. But it just doesn't comfort me.

Then there's water polo. Individual achievement is amazing, incredible, and fantastic, but when you play a team sport it's hard to feel accomplished when your so-called "team" does not even know the most basic fundamentals of the sport. Including the fact that it is a TEAM SPORT. Shooting the ball whenever you like is not how we can win games. Oh, and just because you are going to a college to play water polo (a lower-end college, athletics- and academics-wise, by the way) does not mean you are necessarily a good water polo player. Let the local newspapers gloat over you for now. Years from now, when I'm playing internationally with a world-class university degree, you will look back and regret ever being a bitch to me. You can guarantee that I won't remember you.

Black and Orange are much better colors anyways.

To be loved

Perfectly compatible. That's what I'm looking for. Not merely, simply, seemingly compatible, but truly, madly, insanely compatible. Like peanut butter and jelly, ying and yang,  Jack and Jill. I want to fall in love. Hard. I want to live life. I want to be adventurous; a daredevil, not meekly sitting on the sidelines watching as time passes us by. Yes, time has the appearance of rushing by us, and I want to be so caught up in the stream of time that it seems to stop; to suspend. There is nothing that can describe my longing for a happy life, and I am doing my best to get myself there. Of course, I can't control everything that happens in my life (I guess I have the notion that there is some free will in this world, but some things are beyond our control- like the actions of other people), but for the things I can control... Well I don't want to mess anything up.

They say that there is someone out there for everyone. That true love is waiting for you just around the corner. Maybe it is, but there are plenty if people who live their entire lives searching and never finding that special someone. I have of late been contemplating why it is that I am alone. My theory, as has been seconded or proposed by others, is that I have higher standards than some. On the one hand, I suppose it means that if I do find someone they will be intelligent, athletic, competitive, handsome, and adventurous. On the other hand, there is that "if"...

But who's to say that I need a man to be happy? Certainly not I. But that doesn't go to say that I wouldn't be even happier if I did have a man in my life. Someone to comfort me, to cuddle with me, watch sappy movies with me, get me flowers and chocolate, tell me I'm beautiful, even when I think I'm not. If someone like that walks into my life, he sure will be a keeper. I only hope that he will think the same of me.

It's 2014 already?

You know, people don't give a shit about what I write. I realize that I am a 17-year-old nobody, and that my writing, as I've mentioned before, isn't even that great, but that doesn't mean I don't want a touch of praise here or there (even criticism would be welcome at this point). After all, people only crave attention, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I want some too from time to time. In a world of facebook and twitter and instagram we've been raised and cultivated to believe that we are pathetic nobodies unless we are publicly recognized for our abilities (or lack thereof). But you know what, I don't really care. Maybe I'll succeed, maybe I'll achieve my dreams, and maybe I won't. What does it matter to you? If you like me, that's terrific. If you don't, well then so what?

It's 2014. I am graduating in six months, and I am going to be at Princeton University in about eight. It's a new year and I am feeling hopeful.

Are you feeling hopeful?

Goodbye.
No, hello.
You've stayed a while
and now it's time to go.
you did well,
yes, bravo!
Oh, please,
wish me luck,
I think it's time to go.

To be quite honest, it has been a crazy year. I don't feel obliged to tell you why exactly, but perhaps you can infer from the couple other posts I've written. If not, well, you've always got your imagination. Of course it all has a lot to do with college and boys and school and just life, but the details shall for now remain locked in my head, and perhaps on the pages of my journal, if I decided to write any of it down.

One last thing, why must your eyes sparkle so? and why must your smile be so dazzling? Please stop being perfect...

Have a wonderful 2014, everyone! (ehhhh just me, I guess? But seriously, if there is anyone reading this please say something to me. I want to know if anyone reads my nonsense.)