Do you ever wonder if someone has stopped caring?
I do sometimes. I mean, it's not like it matters much. It doesn't matter to me if you stop caring about me as an individual. Well... maybe that isn't entirely true. Otherwise I wouldn't be bringing it up, I suppose.
I don't stop caring about anyone. Like. Ever. Haha, some people find that hard to believe. But I figure, with all the chaos and pain in the world, why not care for everyone even when they don't expect it from you? Eh, something like that.
Lately, I feel artistically blocked, yet motivated to do something that means something. I feel like having a day of silence. Where I envelope myself in my self and search for whatever it is that I'm searching for. I need to release everything. Just let go of the bad. I mean, it's life and stuff happens that you don't want to happen sometimes. There really isn't much you can do about it. It's sin. And it sucks.
I think it's incredibly ironic that there is a song for every mood or feeling. Sometimes, I don't want to speak. I just want to play a song and then expect someone to understand that the song is what I'm trying to say. I've been listening a lot lately. To music. To people. To silence. Sound is one of the most beautiful parts of life, I think. That and life in general is a beautiful thing. I mean... like all parts of life. I find beauty in the strangest places sometimes.
Anyway, part of my hair is pink. I think it's awesome. Mom doesn't like it much. She also doesn't know that I'm going to get it redone... and more so. And Dad. Well, he didn't even notice. Which is fine because it saves me another pointless argument about what I do with my life.
I met a guy who asked me out on a date. I guess I said yes. But I feel bad because I'm so busy all the time. I mean, neither of us are looking for anything serious- it's just a date. He's nice enough. Twenty-one, almost twenty-two. Works at the Coney Island down the street from where I work and at the fire department. Bad taste in tattoos though, in my opinion. Doesn't really seem like my type. If i even have a type. Anyway, we'll see how it goes.
I found out who sent me flowers anonymously, I found out the reason that this all generated in the first place, and now I get talked about behind my back. Apparently, I am not allowed to be friendly and talkative without being misinterprutted as being flirtatious and interested. Not quite sure how I'm going to fix that mess but it will be fixed.
Steph is coming over on Saturday. My neighbors will most likely have fireworks so we'll head over there. Jason is supposed to have a bonfire and said he wanted me to show up. If that's the case, I'm making Steph come with me. Something just doesn't feel right to me.
Anyway, I'm learning Italian. Why? Because I can, of course.
That's all for now.