tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38164564190137172042024-03-04T23:42:10.031-08:00A Peace of the World.A place to be free of judgement and to release my thoughts. A place to let me be me.Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-27972807941568435172012-02-07T22:05:00.000-08:002012-02-08T09:41:22.720-08:00I very rarely do this...but I'm at a desperate loss. And it's time to put my pride aside, and pull out the big guns...<br />
<br />
Dear God,<br />
You know that I try so hard to be a good person. I try and put myself dead last, so that others may achieve and be happy. I'm so lost, I feel like I'm in limbo. I need you to help me, and guide me to the right place. I feel as though I'm being pulled in thousands of different directions, and all I want to do is please everybody. I need you to send me someone in need of an apartment, so that that huge weight will be lifted off my shoulders, and I can move on the the next part of my life. I'm so scared of screwing up, again. I'm so scared of never finding settlement and placement. You know I work every day to make sure that I earn everything I have. I don't ever want to be just given something, without my fair share of effort in place. I'm getting so tired. I feel as though I'm working, and working, and digging myself into a financial hole that I won't be able to get out of. I'm so ashamed of the disappointment I've become, I'm now warning the people around me to expect my mistakes and screw-ups. Please lead me away from this behavior, please give me the strength to carry on with my head held high. I so badly want everyone around me to be happy, you know I only have the best of intentions. Please help me get out of this hole I've dug for myself, please send me a miracle. My relationship with you has been shaky, at best. Something that I've always been sure of is that you stand for goodness, and that is what I've built my life around. I need you to take my hand and lead me safely through this mess, I don't know what else to do. Thank you for the sun shining today, thank you for the car I drove to work, and the feet and hands I used today, thank you for kind strangers, thank you for the people my life has been blessed with, thank you for parents who care, thank you for the bed I'm sitting on. Please forgive me for not asking you for help sooner.<br />
<br />
Amen.<br />
<br />
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<br />Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-80070477072147950542011-12-19T22:00:00.000-08:002011-12-19T22:01:56.802-08:00more of this.<div>
could it be that everything goes round by chance?</div>
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only one way that it was always meant to be</div>
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you kill me: you always know the <i>perfect</i> thing to say</div>
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i know what i should do, but i just can't walk away</div>
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i pick up put down the phone</div>
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"it's just like being alone"</div>
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oh god, please don't tell me this has been in vain</div>
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i need answers for what all the <b>waiting</b> i've done means</div>
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you kill me: you've got <i>some nerve</i> but can't face your mistakes</div>
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i know what i should do, but i just can't turn away</div>
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go on, love</div>
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leave all the still hope for the escape</div>
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gotta take what you can these days</div>
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so much ahead, so much regret</div>
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i know what you wanna say</div>
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i know it but can't help feeling differently</div>
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about you, and i should have said it</div>
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<b><i>but tell me, just what has it ever meant?</i></b></div>
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i can't help it baby, this is who i am</div>
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i'm sorry, but i can't just go and turn off how i feel</div>
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you kill me: you build me up, but just to <i>watch me break</i></div>
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i know what i should do but i just can't walk away</div>
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i haven't been happy for a really long time. i forget what it feels like. </div>
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i'm trying to be happier, but things get quiet, and i start to think, and i think of all the things i wanted to be for you. but, i'm letting myself put on a smile and laugh, and that's a lot further than i was a few days ago. </div>Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-40944428398571486962011-12-14T16:40:00.000-08:002011-12-14T16:40:49.536-08:00should have known. should have known. should have known. should have known. why didn't i prepare better for the inevitable? i've stopped feeling anyway. there's no way it could have happened. why can't i just get used to it? fuck this. fuck him. fuck myself for feeling like this. fuck the tears running down my face. fuck my life. fuck being happy. fuck the things that remind me of him. fuck my feelings. i hate me, every single thing. get me out of this town. put me on a bus and send me away. let me forget everything that never even happened. a whole motherfucking year later. i'm never doing this again.<br />
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fuck this. whatever. yeah, i'm fine.Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-84053228415807583822011-12-12T15:20:00.000-08:002011-12-12T15:20:34.737-08:00If one drink, could make tonight<br />
Slip my mind, then I<br />
Should drink up, so i can forget<br />
That <b>I haven't lived my life.</b><br />
<br />
You are an example of<br />
<i>Better things to come</i><br />
So why wait on some other escape<br />
That leads me <i>nowhere fast</i><br />
<br />
<b><i>You've got nothing to lose,</i></b><br />
<b><i>Except for me and you</i></b><br />
<br />
If one drink, could make tonight<br />
Slip your mind, then you<br />
Should drink up, so you can<b> convince</b><br />
Yourself that I'm cute<br />
<br />
We are an example of<br />
Why not to fall in love?<br />
It takes a turn, and then it hurts<br />
<i>More than you could dream of</i><br />
<br />
When you've got nothing to lose,<br />
Except for me and you<br />
<u>I love that attitude.</u><br />
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Sometimes it's not that time<br />
For words I cannot hear<br />
For words I cannot feel<br />
The way you want to go<br />
It makes me feel like shit<br />
A mess, but that's not it<br />
I wonder if he'll care, for me ever again<br />
<br />
<b>I'm waiting for the last time</b><br />
I'm waiting for the right time<br />
To see if he will know the things he doesn't say to me<br />
<br />
And I feel the way I feel<br />
Because I need you all the time<br />
And I know the things you know<br />
But that's <i>just not enough to make you mine</i><br />
And I won't do anything that it might<br />
Compromise this time<br />
So I'll just sit and <b>hold my breath</b><br />
Only, it's <i>not enough to make you mine</i><br />
<br />
Someday we will fly<br />
Higher than the satellites<br />
Into a spacial paradise<br />
Where up is up<br />
And down is down<br />
And no one is around<br />
I don't wanna see you cry,<br />
Let's<i> leave the dramatics behind</i><br />
<br />
This is the last time I can try and make you mine<br />
I'll sit here and wait for it<br />
Could be the last good things that's perfect in my life<br />
<b>I'll sit here and wait for it</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eX-jtuXiMg2RwHdAIsKQuXUHbucCdmzTOH5wErRr-KH9AmogXfJugcwHyos6p6dba6zK3tPS_HQ2RCaNKhLfcHkiOfyrYYYPvJSwwvvTpXUsDC0hu4WJbnUN31WwR4T76zGJvyF995oq/s1600/z204756884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eX-jtuXiMg2RwHdAIsKQuXUHbucCdmzTOH5wErRr-KH9AmogXfJugcwHyos6p6dba6zK3tPS_HQ2RCaNKhLfcHkiOfyrYYYPvJSwwvvTpXUsDC0hu4WJbnUN31WwR4T76zGJvyF995oq/s320/z204756884.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div>Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-78267501016165275662011-11-29T22:21:00.001-08:002011-11-29T22:33:54.463-08:00bad<br />
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i'm really bad at this. at school, and making good decisions, and speaking my mind, and trying to better myself, and at living. i'm really bad at making up my mind, and telling people how i feel, and being proud of who i am, and confidence. i just wish for once the major happenings in my life didn't depend on other people. i hate that i grew up poor, and i stopped giving a fuck in high school, so now i owe thousands of dollars in tuition. for a school that isn't preparing me for a job that will provide me the compensations so that i can pay off my debt. i feel as though i wasted the last two years of my life, and i've been stuck at square one forever. i hate that people walk in and out of my life so easily, and that no matter what i do, it always comes down to when they decide they want to fix things. i hate that i've created this hard exterior, so that i come to all relationships, prepared to get hurt. i hate that i've become so used to bad luck, that a tiny happenstance, like catching a cup before it falls, makes me take notice and feel lucky. i think i'm just tired of not getting anywhere, and not being good enough, and not even knowing what good enough is, but believing i'll never reach it. and always feeling ugly and feeling like no one ever sees me as a girl they'd want to be with. just for a day, i want to feel what it's like to be called pretty. or to put on clothes and not feel the cloth stretch, or my jeans fall down. or to wake up and know i'll do something productive today. or find my passion, and live it. or to be asked out. or know where in the world my life is headed. i try so hard to stay positive, and believe that things will turn around, and be happy with what i've been given. and i know i know i know i know how lucky i am to have the life i have. i think things just get tough when they all pile on at once. it wears me down. i just need something positive to keep my focus on. i just need to stay strong and soldier on. please don't think less of me for feeling this way. i just need a break.<br />
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<br /></div>Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-33393104326513973312011-10-16T19:10:00.000-07:002011-10-16T19:10:21.656-07:00i'm so sick of it being like this.<br />
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i've never been kissed spontaneously. i've never had someone want to spend the night with me. i've never gotten a loving look, or a cute gift on a holiday. i've never been kissed on the hand. i've never been home to meet the parents. i've never had someone be nervous of meeting mine. i've never gotten told 'i love you'. i've never been hugged because someone wants to be closer to me. i've never cuddled up to watch a movie. i don't know what it's like for someone to like me. i don't know what it's like to not be rejected. i've never been on a date. i've never gotten a kiss good-bye. or a kiss hello. i've never had someone not get enough of me. i've never filled someone's head when they're trying to go to sleep. i've never stayed up all night, getting to know each other. i don't know what it's like to be wanted, to be longed for. i don't know what it's like to be fought for. i've never had a sweet kiss on the cheek, or been told i mean everything to someone.<br />
<br />
no, i'm not beautiful. yes, i have a weight problem. yes, i get sad. and yes i come from a crazy family. yes, i have pimples. no, i'm not skinny, or rock n' roll, or dangerous. yes, i'd rather stay at home and watch a movie, than go out drinking. yes, i've had issues with my religion, and most of the time i'm completely lost. no, i don't know how to properly apply makeup for my specific facial type. yes, i wear the clothes i wear because i'm self conscious. yes, the only things i've ever really been good at, will in fact, get me no where in life. no, i'm not academic. no, i'm not athletic. no, i can't draw or dance or run long distances. yes, i have a past, and no, it's not a long line of various boyfriends.<br />
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but i swear to god, i care. and i will treat you so well. and i will do anything for you if you are nice to me. and i don't make judgements on appearances. and i try so hard to do the right thing, even when people aren't looking. and i put everything i have into things that i care about. and i'm not selfish, and i worry about other people more than i care about myself. and i would never, ever, ever mistreat you on purpose. and i promise to have only the best of intentions.<br />
<br />
so why is it that there are bitches out there who get to treat their boyfriends like complete shit, and still get treated like a princess? why do guys stay with girls who don't care about them? and what is so damn special about these girls that they are above everyone else? guys won't even give me a passing glance, but they will give everything they have to girls who are absolute bitches.<br />
<br />
it's the worst feeling. watching unworthy girls get all the guys, over and over again. while people like me are sitting here, alone, with all the love and care and comfort in the world, with no one who wants it.<br />
<br />
are guys so shallow and so into appearances that i have no other choice than to be beautiful if i want a guy? i should go to the gym and lose weight, but i know that i won't. and i keep coming back to this question: why not? i'm afraid that if i lose the weight, and i'm pretty, and i know how to dress, that even then, no one will want me. and then i'd have nothing else.<br />
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all of it is just stupid, and illogical, and doesn't make any sense. and it sucks so bad.<br />
<br />
i've just had a bad night.<br />
<br />
and i'm so, so sick of it being like this.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyBja6i1AU0SxHwqQ_K5fQJVkl6X2rrD_VbFD5galHkz9v2VqJFKyKhQW47Dy3KJa5jMsBKitQ5a31GOS7uyCzzQXhR1_THYNBJQsuTkD6R1Q16tcBBopbmAyaPdab7hzavSZym5GXJNg/s1600/z206525045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyBja6i1AU0SxHwqQ_K5fQJVkl6X2rrD_VbFD5galHkz9v2VqJFKyKhQW47Dy3KJa5jMsBKitQ5a31GOS7uyCzzQXhR1_THYNBJQsuTkD6R1Q16tcBBopbmAyaPdab7hzavSZym5GXJNg/s1600/z206525045.jpg" style="cursor: move;" /></a></div>Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-47164873463310282422011-09-19T21:28:00.000-07:002011-09-19T21:30:10.710-07:00"Developed Feelings"i don't know if i really like you, or if i just like the idea of you... (i'm pretty sure i like you though). what i do know, is that every wish on every candle, 11:11pm, shooting star, and tunnel i have encountered since i met you, has had your name on it. every song i hear, every picture i see, i relate to you. i can't see a sugar caddy, without thinking about the countless mornings we spent filling the sugars. i can't be near expo without seeing your name on the dry erase sheet. i can't hear about someone spilling a drink, without thinking of the time you hugged me tight because you knew that spilled coke was my last straw. i can't see the tiny broom without thinking about the time you swept your whole section on your knees. i can't see people getting whipped with rags, without me re-living the horrible sting from the rag smack you gave me, that left a mark on my thigh for a week. or how you came up and hugged me when you saw i was actually in pain. i can't see the back-line sink without remembering when you had an "emergency shave" back there. people can't order the "ACE Soup, Salad, & Bread" without me thinking about how we would always curse when people would order that and a water. i can't round that corner from bull to the aisle without thinking about that time you were chasing me through bull and i slipped and fell. and how you made fun of me for weeks. and i can't be near that giant metal bull without me remembering how it felt when you told me you were leaving. and how you told me things wouldn't change. and how you told me we would see each other all the time. you were my best friend at that restaurant. the person i looked for on the schedule, the person i couldn't wait to see every day.<br />
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i told you that i had "developed feelings" for you other the past few months. to be fair, i guess that's what it's called, but it seems like a lot more than that. "developed feelings" is so vague, could mean anything. i know you're with someone, and like i told you, i would never do anything to mess that up. if you're happy, i'm happy. i know you don't feel anything for me, but i just wanted you to know: at the bottom of the bottom, down to it, when all is said and done...i like you. and i miss the friendship we used to share. i miss being able to talk to you, and sharing stories, and looking out for one another when things got rushed. i really valued our friendship, and very much miss it. you are a wonderful person, and deserve to be treated right. and whoever ends up with you, will be the luckiest girl on the planet.<br />
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this is what i should have told you. instead i told you the short version, the only version i was brave enough to give you. and even that took almost seven months. this is what you deserve to know. i don't know if you will ever read this, but if so: this is how i really feel.<br />
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<br />Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-71159266537743367642011-09-06T21:04:00.000-07:002011-09-06T21:04:58.522-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
i don't know why i'm just so sad.</div>
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i have my good days, and i have my terrible days.</div>
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but i guess that's the way everyone is.</div>
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i don't want to keep lying every time someone asks me if i'm okay. </div>
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it's like there's a war going on in my head,</div>
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and tiny little things make me crazy.</div>
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it's like i've been on a cliff, a second away from falling,</div>
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for so long.</div>
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i wish this situation didn't make me so upset.</div>
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it would be my life,</div>
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that decides to give me the courage to tell him,</div>
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the strength i've been praying for for months,</div>
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and as soon as i work out the right words, and the right timing,</div>
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he won't talk to me.</div>
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he won't respond.</div>
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and so i'm stuck with the courage and the willingness,</div>
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but i have no way of using it.</div>
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i don't want to eat, i don't want to work.</div>
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i want to hide under the covers all day,</div>
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and pretend like if i don't get up, everything will just go away.</div>
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i don't have any reason to feel this way.</div>
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we hardly ever talk anymore.</div>
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i'm scared he's tired of me, and any hope i had of making him want me,</div>
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is completely gone.</div>
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he was never mine, not even close, not even a little bit.</div>
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i have absolutely no right to feel this strongly about him.</div>
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is it just that he was nice to me? was it just that i thought he cared about me?</div>
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is that what got me so attached?</div>
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am i so pathetic, that i cling to every guy who doesn't just look right through me?</div>
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he's perfect for me.</div>
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or is it just my screwed up view of what i think reality is?</div>
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i hate to say it, because it sounds so childish and over-done. </div>
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but honestly, this thought runs through my head,</div>
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thousands of times a day:</div>
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if i were skinny, if i were pretty, if i held my myself with grace...</div>
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would he want to be with me?</div>
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if i were all the things i want to be:</div>
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thin, with perfect hair, good clothes, </div>
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the ability to dance, the ability to charm, the ability to be graceful...</div>
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would he want me?</div>
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and all of these things run through my head constantly.</div>
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and yet,</div>
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i still eat. i don't go to the gym. i don't starve myself, or workout until i die.</div>
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and why not? </div>
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it's like i'm a self-sabotage. </div>
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like i'm afraid to be happy, or allow myself to be happy.</div>
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people change this about themselves every day.</div>
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people go on diets, people buy new wardrobes, people run for hours a day.</div>
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and why won't i?</div>
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what's holding me back?</div>
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do i hate myself that much, that i won't even give myself a chance?</div>
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and i feel so guilty for writing this.</div>
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like i'm saying, "oh poor me, someone tell me i'm wrong."</div>
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but honest to god, it's not like that. </div>
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i just need understanding.</div>
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<br /></div>
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and i'm getting way too ahead of myself.</div>
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i don't know why he hasn't talked to me.</div>
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it could be anything, any number of things i don't know.</div>
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it's just, these are the things that cross my mind.</div>
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these are the things i think about and hear myself saying.</div>
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<br /></div>
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and honestly, if a thin, pretty girl is what he wants,</div>
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he's the guy i would change for.</div>
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he is who i would want to make happy. </div>
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i just like him so much.</div>
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and i'm just going to keep trying.</div>
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Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-11288235495961013452011-09-02T19:23:00.000-07:002011-09-02T19:24:01.197-07:00It's Time.<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm gonna do it.</div>
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I'm going to tell him.</div>
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Because he's worth it.</div>
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Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-35318626135901373772011-08-24T11:17:00.000-07:002011-08-24T13:50:40.730-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2P-gsL47c_JBnxzXKjfKZDPr2F6OVY3q90nFWWjZwO6elWIgsH-gVhTCAfj8JRuAEZxVoWLXOYeQHoIQ_Kbqylr07oYBmw8lc9-IBFLGjeZzdINgw50R4kVicgf-c2fyFNBEuoMKhg_S2/s1600/tumblr_lexz8wDE381qa6qpao1_500.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;">To the people in my life...thank you for making me who I am.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>Person #1: this situation has turned out very well. when we first started out, things were shaky. neither of us honestly knew if things were going to work out, but they have. you are a really good guy, you talk to me when i'm upset, make sure i'm okay, you are appreciative of the things that i do, and you take what i say into consideration. i'm so happy with the way things are right now, and i think this spur-of-the-moment decision was one of the best i've ever made. you make me laugh uncontrollably and i think we compliment each other in a lot of great ways. know that i'm always here for you, and that i value our friendship greatly.<div>
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<br /></div><div>Person #2: i sincerely hope that you <i>don't know</i> how much of a bitch you are. i sincerely hope you <i>never received </i>my message. i sincerely hope that you still have<i> no idea</i> how much you have hurt me. i hope all of these things because i wouldn't wish that type of guilt on anyone. i hope these things because i can't bare to think that i wasted four years of friendship on someone who turned out to be "that bitch" we always used to talk about. i have never been more angry at anyone in my entire life. i have never wanted to scream at/and or punch someone more in my entire life. i have never been let down so much in my entire life. i'm a good friend, and i only have the best of intentions. and you lost someone who cared for you. you lost <i>a lot</i> of people's trust. and that is your problem that you are eventually going to have to deal with.</div><div>
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<br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span><div>Person #3: i never knew friendships could last this long. i never knew i was going to meet someone who could share my highest of highs and my lowest of lows, and still stick by my side. you are a wonderful person. it is incredibly comforting to know that i have someone who i can talk about anything to, and who will never judge me. i am so, so, so thankful for the friendship we share. we really will be the old lady friends who have watched their kids grow up together, and reminisce about the good old days. this is honestly what "friends forever" means.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>Person #4: i've pitied you, i've guilted you, i've looked up to you, i've run to you...lots of ups and downs. growing up this way taught me more before the age of nine than most people don't learn until they are grown up and have kids of their own. i've grown up in absolute chaos. i've seen and heard things i pray most people never do. you've taught me to let things go and to love someone when they are yelling at you, when they are blaming you, when they are making you laugh, and when they are at a complete war with themselves and have lost all hope. i know in my heart that you have only good intentions, and that you love me. i hope you know how much i love you and that i will never give up hope on you. thank you for being the one who raised me.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>Person #5: i think you are seriously one of the most kind-hearted, good-natured, and sensitive guys i have ever met (even though you try very hard to make everyone think otherwise). i also think that you have some problems that you are going to have to work through if you ever want to become truly happy. i'm here for you if and when you decide you want to talk them through. i think you are a very nice guy, and your hidden sweetness is too good to be wasted.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>Person #6: you. i don't know if there's anything i can say about you that i haven't said before. i don't even know if i can accurately describe how i feel about you. i constantly think i've built you up in my head to be this wonderful, amazing guy that can't possible be real. but when we talk, i find that you are real, and that you are exactly who i thought you were. i think you've lost of a lot of your positivity, that something in your life has caused you to not be as happy as you used to be. i want to help you find it again, i want to make you happy. i just want a chance.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>Person #7: you are the most loyal and loving father. you have guided me, taught me things, and protected me. you have put up with more than anyone, and although you blame yourself for most of our family's hardships, you have also worked harder for this family than anyone else. i don't even know half of what you have dealt with in the past thirty years, but i know that it has worn you down immensely. i don't want you to feel any blame or guilt, because you absolutely don't deserve it. you joke around, you make me laugh. yes, you drive me crazy sometimes, but i couldn't have asked for anyone better to have raised me. </div></div><div>
<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDtmphqclyWCRV8SIzYuQgPDf9-oT1zVsPAs-DjUED7JOkS7F2DOZd8fSe7SvwDn1AM167I1noqFvrj8QZnIzwIaOciWbkITSIiDhyphenhyphenyEToanQVN7iVLUIK1iwqn4nAoRJ1WfoxV-iMj8iU/s320/dad-funny-iphone-lol-lyrics-message-Favim.com-98625_large.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644521959292659138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 203px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div></div></div>Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-2653583930840345082011-08-10T21:52:00.001-07:002011-08-11T11:22:37.045-07:00Expected.<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE8ExhMdhiQP-IERiyulIEMN-tinWaSB-M5RLoOV1Q6e1V4SqpHv6eMkR-BPAkehXDgtqsdoqFJW7KUerNW3XVkorYH0UCEyP-cXUAXOZGnm5FCl1xT4Z_BbYxprDVgyJ5LcTOizH_m4dh/s1600/z218306317.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#66FFFF;">i'm not as special to him as i thought i was.</span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#66FFFF;">it's not his fault.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#66FFFF;">he has no idea what this meant to me.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#66FFFF;">i don't have the guts to tell him.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#66FFFF;">it's breaking me.</span></div></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#66FFFF;">
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<br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7sOKqPQ6bwAVFufiDSwHUaBx_jQiTGKDCqHxYVrLLNcovDhALRIpEmnzAiuhuI4j4B_YHvp_hzzJQmmSvERcfL48uluS3EQaIa1ARIYjRvF2QAomvscn524Zs-jcduO9432TDH1niuuqU/s320/z187167258.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639466932765374242" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px; " /></span></div>Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-42720643863981811612011-08-03T16:44:00.000-07:002011-08-03T17:18:14.754-07:00Nags Head, NC<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUXs1nIsM1XorJ-rP0GAXQO-PPjcTf92RYZNH8jRVn0xp7CjpDhlNDxJ5UUACJk6wLl_CvNAQI4zDSwHhvfxhxK1UK0edNSqwIpWxganozNhQDWwbJHzHRk3fYbZ4aIFvBM-AP58lym-uU/s1600/z215624706.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9a56oBKO7psh1Pgb-2wawkfz6bql2Fc4w-kUbZWUeqOOCrdYc5YpjfbBfoDjLC_kUCGp1FMO4TGLBkWRGHWmp0FCSqfxVLh8Hywg93NYok7pekDbkOx3fzy5OmgPy37sZUpKsAPpeFhks/s1600/tumblrl6ssw0qiwh1qbzslb.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9a56oBKO7psh1Pgb-2wawkfz6bql2Fc4w-kUbZWUeqOOCrdYc5YpjfbBfoDjLC_kUCGp1FMO4TGLBkWRGHWmp0FCSqfxVLh8Hywg93NYok7pekDbkOx3fzy5OmgPy37sZUpKsAPpeFhks/s200/tumblrl6ssw0qiwh1qbzslb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636787991199949618" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix7p_MJgDED_Fdb_bKOf8BD5Tno_IuHD4QIzvJt2FYLnAawPmlUuhyphenhypheniRlcQp7XOgsVs7CXKdY7LqyQkBe8mHXL5IC_DZXx3B5y9kbwZ1DXGb0J4Bw79XvVOLPsuhb_-H3rCrFQR0nk-mMi/s200/z196681269.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636787998512742546" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /></span><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span>it is utterly astonishing to me how at home i feel here. i am just as attached to the long stretches of ocean and beach road as i am to my hometown. so many amazing things ended and began for me here. here was the last time i was able to spend with one of the most incredible women i have ever known: kay rowe. and here was where my love for surfing sparked. where i picked up my first board and stood up on my first wave. here is where i find my strength and comfort, my true self and who i want to be. <div><br /></div><div>staying here with the two most amazing people in the entire world (my grandparents) makes me realize how precious time on this earth is. i savor every second i spend with them and every breath of sea air i get. i know that they aren't going to be around forever, but they are literally the image of who i want to be when i get older; they know everything, they put others before themselves, they are experienced and are still looking forward to whatever comes next. they are the reason i am the person i am today. and i can't say enough how much i love them. </div><div><br /></div><div>being here, i find myself planning for the future, something i find very difficult to do back home. at home, there's busy, and work, and dealing with. but here, i see clearly, i see my past and my future. i see kids playing and loving the water and i think to myself, "those are the type of kids i'm going to raise." ones who are ever so familiar with the waves and the simple ways of life. i am healthy here. everyone is healthy here. </div><div><br /></div><div>i stare at the waves, and their strength, beauty, and grace. i watch the sand move beneath my feet, the seashells float in and out with the tide. i watch the blue distance, where the ocean melts with the sunset sky. i hear laughing, dogs barking, the crashing of water, i close my eyes and let my senses take it all in. the wind in my un-straightened hair, the sand stinging my legs, the sun beaming down on my thirsty skin, i am so peaceful here. i have to take that feeling with me when i go home. it's like an epiphany; it's like a mad love affair; it's like medicine to me. this town is a beautiful place.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUXs1nIsM1XorJ-rP0GAXQO-PPjcTf92RYZNH8jRVn0xp7CjpDhlNDxJ5UUACJk6wLl_CvNAQI4zDSwHhvfxhxK1UK0edNSqwIpWxganozNhQDWwbJHzHRk3fYbZ4aIFvBM-AP58lym-uU/s200/z215624706.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636788001754608418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 132px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(...and after all this beauty i see, i still think of him every single second.)</span></div>Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-16365345565346091762011-07-25T21:25:00.000-07:002011-07-25T22:13:28.656-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicb4YWAzhs-Sqafy6dbNPHByVrVyQEt5cFh_EXt21UUYo7tdoPkRrWtD8SqNJlvNfEZSb_cAlF0NVHrlVqiCGcnpQYmdjAi_TU6htqTneRc5dJkPTvx_0GbDWLJWXokh3Mek04-bJtRdJp/s1600/z216195712.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHe78HMYZ-vLSuRnLokVAVuM4teyegpLclRELlfU4Xl9MwwXLzubZwAYdK2ST6zuCBsgYdw7kq4hV45QtszBdrXTxc3MNLAhTx9D1iNarVtX7ITgkdLgcWXEpmNT-t8cTQ7_1H-kjISw6C/s1600/tumblr_lmjxds5Jbh1qdqou4o1_500.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="http://f.cl.ly/items/3v2o2b401L3Q1J3U3L0N/tumblr_lo8vzdIJ8Y1qzjqrio1_500.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://f.cl.ly/items/3v2o2b401L3Q1J3U3L0N/tumblr_lo8vzdIJ8Y1qzjqrio1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:11.1111px;">i want him to be right here with me.<div>i want to be comfortable in my own skin.</div><div>i want for once, the clothes to fall the right way.</div><div>the jeans to fit perfectly.</div><div>the hair to fall into place.</div><div>to look in the mirror and to not immediately have to look away.</div><div>i want our time to be concrete and memorable.</div><div>i want to know if he thinks about me even a fraction of the amount of time i think about him.</div><div>i want to know if i'm just grasping at nothing, and if i should give up.</div><div>if he has any idea how i feel.</div><div><br /></div><div>i want the confidence to believe someone could like me for exactly who i am.</div><div>i want the confidence to hold my head up high and say, "fuck you."</div><div><br /></div><div>i want the strength to cry and to release.</div><div>i want the strength to make myself happy.</div><div><br /></div><div>i want people to understand that i am here for only one reason: to do good.</div><div>i want people to realize i'm a good person, and i would never, ever hurt people intentionally.</div><div>i want people to know that i have every intention of doing the right thing, and i'm honestly just doing my best.</div><div><br /></div><div>i want direction in my life, and knowledge.</div><div><br /></div><div>i want to stop the gut-wrenching feeling i have in my stomach every time i think of him and how far away he is from being mine.</div><div>i want to know why it's been months, and i still feel the way i did the first time we spent time together.</div><div>i want to know why i can't pull myself together and get over it.</div><div><br /></div><div>i want to know why my life is being pulled in the direction it is, and why things just can't be easy for once.</div><div>i want to know why i live my life to be the person everyone sees as "the nicest person you'll ever meet."</div><div>and i hate myself for being like that, and i want to change because it's getting me nowhere, real fast.</div><div>but every time i do stand up for myself i feel guilty.</div><div>and every time i vow to never act bitchy again.</div><div>and the easiest thing for me to do is be "miss bubbly" and "miss puts others before herself."</div><div>because that's truly who i want to be.</div><div>but i can't help think that the anger will still be waiting underneath the surface.</div><div><br /></div><div>i just. want. serenity.</div><div>and reassurance.</div><div>and to release the obscene amount of pressure i have in my back and shoulders.</div><div>and to give myself a chance.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-size:9.25926px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHe78HMYZ-vLSuRnLokVAVuM4teyegpLclRELlfU4Xl9MwwXLzubZwAYdK2ST6zuCBsgYdw7kq4hV45QtszBdrXTxc3MNLAhTx9D1iNarVtX7ITgkdLgcWXEpmNT-t8cTQ7_1H-kjISw6C/s200/tumblr_lmjxds5Jbh1qdqou4o1_500.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633523910434069186" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 172px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-size:9.25926px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 9.25926px; -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicb4YWAzhs-Sqafy6dbNPHByVrVyQEt5cFh_EXt21UUYo7tdoPkRrWtD8SqNJlvNfEZSb_cAlF0NVHrlVqiCGcnpQYmdjAi_TU6htqTneRc5dJkPTvx_0GbDWLJWXokh3Mek04-bJtRdJp/s200/z216195712.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633524630990091122" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-size:9.25926px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 9.25926px; -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div></span>Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-7424212377419217752011-06-17T10:13:00.000-07:002011-06-17T12:03:33.064-07:00Bravery<div style="text-align: left;">i'm not brave. i don't have the courage it takes to stick up for myself. i've never been able to tell someone when they've hurt me, or when they've done something to upset me, or when they've done something that puts me out. i just deal with it and <b>move on.</b> i know exactly why i'm like this. when i was young i wasn't allowed to show true emotion. i was kindly asked to store it away and not let anyone see it. so i did. and learning how to do that has plagued me since. even now, as a college student, with bills to pay, jobs to work, and my <i>adulthood</i> nearing, i still don't know how to tell people what i feel. i have no issues standing up for other people. if someone hurts the people i love, i have no problem kicking ass and taking names. as long as i'm not the one to show that i've been hurt, <i>i can handle it. </i></div><br />the problem is, recently i've run into a situation where i'm either going to have to stand up for myself, or end up homeless.<div><br />how am i supposed to sit back and let a friend, who i've trusted, and stood up for, and been there for, treat me like i'm insignificant? why am i the one that gets tossed out like i'm disposable and not worth anything? part of me wants to scream in their face, "i don't deserve this!!" and part of me wants to just let it happen. say, "<b>fuck it.</b>" and watch them all leave.</div><div><br />where is that line? where is the line where i either decide to fight for myself, realize that i am worth it, and make them all see that, or...decide to let it go, realize that the people i'm fighting for aren't worth it, and that i've already given too much and not received a damned thing? should i be the one to take one for the team again, or 'fess up to being the one with the issue? which is something i absolutely <b><i>hate</i></b>. i cannot stand being the one that is causing a problem, especially when it comes to people's feelings.</div><div><br />communication is at a complete loss. we all need to sit down and talk this through. that's the only way things will change and not be at a complete and oblivious standstill. but it's tough, because i feel as though in that moment, with the way everyone has been acting, we are either all going to shut up and not really say what we need to say, or explode and all of us will start screaming and <b>blaming</b> and destroying any chance we have of working this out.</div><div><br />this isn't us. this isn't how we usually are. we are generally, and relatively-speaking, a very low-drama circle of friends. recently though, that's all it's been. drama, drama, drama. and i know, every single one of us hates it. <div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>so i'm just going to say it: i've been hurt recently. very <b>hurt. </b>and a few people have let me down and made me feel unworthy. and some people have made my life very complicated lately. and i'm very angry and have a lot bottled up inside me right now. and i would love for my world to stop being so wishy-washy. i want to know something for certain, and need some concrete plans. i have experienced (even more) that i do have people in my life that will stick up for me when i just can't, and will help me through anything. and i thank god every day for my <b>friends.</b></div><div><br /></div><div>i know that right now i am just venting to the internet...to, potentially, absolutely no one. but it's helping me get my head on straight. it's helping me sort everything out. it's a stepping stone to getting me to <i>where i need to be.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 217px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUhqMVWdFK8dV99EPzRNU7LUQ79q_HKuhvYrp9Gp8Z8KCiTycM-onhcU5VRVnXGQN-ZJDlEJH1IH3YHAGDnPwNEDFcY28WFibNLVTgTdTpVmiwGhZ895AiQs40NLoqU5MYHdpgJBB1rW7L/s320/tumblr_lb8o72VsH01qezuplo1_500.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619261737449183602" /><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRUM-8RR92oEmFqv4-01V3t-6-dTQFWg-3Gujy6S4ermUwIQ9A1zNIWIcOvAdl5F58Psd5PEMhnAzG6xguDPKn7WHxGMpZHhr9-7zpXcO4xgHoj9_U3uGUQ_nmleK_xpoInVVF1ap4fsKW/s320/tumblr_lepubtoP5I1qaobbko1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619261746170423362" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 89px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAwMZsvDVYm2GXnYb3Zb1x5sEFVm5SohmD2q13lEYiG8d_0GDI2juxsreEotqbjiudStX-pJSVvFuG-uHSZrwUgOL1J7XKVc0OYOrBjNfyQTeuoi3i9CtsEQ_V34yteyQ6R8CAILGd0dj/s320/z112768052.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619261754361490786" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD9O9pltJfjL1gIxXfdqBcsYoy-gC7j7tUY3mFT05lhNLfglX7_yLD1YjfsnFU1PPUNIwhT5KCLBKgujyrJLdXA6ShZnOCZ1p0_vcZcQuO8MICuH1aYeFijkDy9kRLjE1gSiC_TKv_xu7N/s320/tumblr_lfpykiOgmF1qdwetoo1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619261758342330546" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwGQojfS_YxFok4Oz49Stw-7RcJ3BhCRidcv6ffDVSaZm2RX4oGBaoGNL3ZN9m9aK9Yq28eXXG8GdTdSKNPXbFaiO8zDmfiDxnSC8cLnWcL2btysch6CaeAMelIALelBfh2jkR_4IRH9g/s320/tumblr_lffifkBvog1qaobbko1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619261744082919250" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></i></div></div>Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-34433577635686506752011-04-28T14:39:00.000-07:002011-04-28T17:35:36.653-07:00Two More<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuV7z6m8P5lYtZ_k73bzSL7tHrJCxKCoNKug9WfpKpfaSo17FFWqijD6WKBevYNEyGE9js2P9zMjD4mLpAX6T6r8fc3KoLAeZQ9cVbyM2I6DqAwAI7SAoUHI3RYQQkRQM21WCUXhoxG6p/s1600/tumblr_lflarz0txw1qa9u6ko1_500.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuV7z6m8P5lYtZ_k73bzSL7tHrJCxKCoNKug9WfpKpfaSo17FFWqijD6WKBevYNEyGE9js2P9zMjD4mLpAX6T6r8fc3KoLAeZQ9cVbyM2I6DqAwAI7SAoUHI3RYQQkRQM21WCUXhoxG6p/s320/tumblr_lflarz0txw1qa9u6ko1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600757285459160130" /></a><br />two more days.<br />two more days and i'll never see your face walk through that door.<br />two more days and i'll never hear, "hey homes!" again.<br />two more days that i can't take for granted.<br />two more days that i have to share with everyone else.<br />two more days until everything changes.<br />i feel like i'm losing you, and i never even fucking had you in the first place.Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-20325694256391112272011-04-12T19:20:00.001-07:002011-04-12T21:19:40.091-07:00Untitledto me, he is absolutely flawless, perfect for me in every way. he's driving me crazy. all i want is for him to be happy, and if he is happy, i won't do anything to disturb that. i want him to never, ever feel bad about himself. i want him to know that i find him wonderful, compelling, interesting, and amazing. i want him to know that he is unlike anyone i have ever met. he is wonderfully unique. i want him to know that i can convince myself that i'd be completely fine without him, but as soon as his name lights up my phone or i see his face walk through the door, all convictions are lost. i want him to know that i'm not crazy. that he doesn't occupy all my thoughts, that i can make myself forget the investment i have in our friendship at any time. i want him to realize that's a lie. he doesn't look at me like i'm retarded, he laughs along with me. he makes me ridiculously happy. our inside jokes, the songs we sing to each other. his laid-back, incredibly meaningful words of encouragement when i'm having a bad day. if he's in a bad mood, i wait for him to talk with me about it, or wait for that inevitable joke we share that turns his mood around. his easy-going style perfectly compliments my usual high energy. he's a good guy, with a good heart. he dances because he feels like it. we sing off key because it's fun and it makes us laugh. he jokes around and isn't afraid to look stupid and act silly. he doesn't forget my stories, and always has new ones to tell me. he caught my attention the first moment i saw him. in a split second i realized i would follow him anywhere if he wanted me to. i honestly don't know what to do. all i can do is live in every second that we share, not take it for granted, and let what ever happens, happen. i don't want to ever mess up what we have right now. if that means keeping it at a friendship level, then so be it. i wonder if things would change if he knew how i feel. i wonder if i'll ever have the courage to find out. as for right now, i just have to let it be. i'll breathe in deep, and exhale, and pray for the nerve to drop a hint.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuEUlAStz54Py-E80SH6N9OflqEJU0cfyqayVAYfIUGM6SSDIhFWqJ2glAiIAcl0qkkaaVDMFv0ScPzTqbDkxQTHmkv8zff70OmbtqQXjZtaIb6QKpfvaqNNAYAeCHL9x7psE0XcVVhND/s1600/z206340090.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguuEUlAStz54Py-E80SH6N9OflqEJU0cfyqayVAYfIUGM6SSDIhFWqJ2glAiIAcl0qkkaaVDMFv0ScPzTqbDkxQTHmkv8zff70OmbtqQXjZtaIb6QKpfvaqNNAYAeCHL9x7psE0XcVVhND/s320/z206340090.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594916886649493058" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigmGgNdGpe9K8Ugr_-vaY3-GjpG3pCZk4DhkbhBOaiGJfw4GQeIUF0hDm9KwjiJIcemjT6U8lBJZCRSKbVeXIB_vq1IEzOxZuw_WUQt_gCNlezCHp3dwFXFYe4e_NocpazEwcD6LTDvKFw/s1600/z203677586.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigmGgNdGpe9K8Ugr_-vaY3-GjpG3pCZk4DhkbhBOaiGJfw4GQeIUF0hDm9KwjiJIcemjT6U8lBJZCRSKbVeXIB_vq1IEzOxZuw_WUQt_gCNlezCHp3dwFXFYe4e_NocpazEwcD6LTDvKFw/s320/z203677586.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594916879463848690" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFeDiiPH8Y_Y9dvRzYBPuuIXtAO0v9eJSNqCPY_xqgCKNbi6XYi_4i6AeoppVOUehlol_XiV6Kmq5N4-zfu5tTLKsz206REpSflpXm0xba1jaoJKwl54nakTP-4qcLkt1wK-4MUPt5OCHj/s1600/z208434657.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFeDiiPH8Y_Y9dvRzYBPuuIXtAO0v9eJSNqCPY_xqgCKNbi6XYi_4i6AeoppVOUehlol_XiV6Kmq5N4-zfu5tTLKsz206REpSflpXm0xba1jaoJKwl54nakTP-4qcLkt1wK-4MUPt5OCHj/s320/z208434657.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594916879274065010" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOR5Dn8BQUDL90qZWcFnRcoTzesKBDSkjQz9FpniUksCuQvryzNNr871LAJDkN2vSH3RrnNnT7v7-KdTmS5g2CfjavadiB6h63IDLTfJGNyfOnuCvz6TLid5pq4DilPuTQTqIBunS2ufJ/s1600/tumblr_le03sxhGve1qaobbko1_500.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOR5Dn8BQUDL90qZWcFnRcoTzesKBDSkjQz9FpniUksCuQvryzNNr871LAJDkN2vSH3RrnNnT7v7-KdTmS5g2CfjavadiB6h63IDLTfJGNyfOnuCvz6TLid5pq4DilPuTQTqIBunS2ufJ/s320/tumblr_le03sxhGve1qaobbko1_500.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594916881142316178" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIIQmFBFIuAbAFHIlWyBxl5V5n5ov_Sh9PN9W-coyCGsO5g58B1NaOShiJGANQ7bYKR-UD-_8xxmYNPM0Ok64KQobDpVZGhSfEAxGzcha1_uLnS8UHRkzouM5TMeuVvPkRjzmv06p6D-Q7/s1600/tumblr_lgn8tk1mP01qasuqno1_500.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIIQmFBFIuAbAFHIlWyBxl5V5n5ov_Sh9PN9W-coyCGsO5g58B1NaOShiJGANQ7bYKR-UD-_8xxmYNPM0Ok64KQobDpVZGhSfEAxGzcha1_uLnS8UHRkzouM5TMeuVvPkRjzmv06p6D-Q7/s320/tumblr_lgn8tk1mP01qasuqno1_500.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594916875541905906" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBWk-rBz0bHb0XCZI8nOqLCvpNi2q7Zkjz9BhQki8HTP4K-Db4zpADi0Vf6nWewSDi1bzI-l7gEd0qgQghoAlNUf9jSI8rpWJogxuXfm-OfZ-5eVEOF4vXjtYnx0iN3vBdwK2dniSP00Uu/s1600/z170977999.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBWk-rBz0bHb0XCZI8nOqLCvpNi2q7Zkjz9BhQki8HTP4K-Db4zpADi0Vf6nWewSDi1bzI-l7gEd0qgQghoAlNUf9jSI8rpWJogxuXfm-OfZ-5eVEOF4vXjtYnx0iN3vBdwK2dniSP00Uu/s320/z170977999.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594917413685947986" /></a>Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-21511408449995365382011-02-06T21:58:00.001-08:002011-02-06T22:21:25.738-08:00Dreams.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjlnR1FuCC0RyAcMVbnRQkpZM-ARDTgScUezphwYYVT8TuAGVDqiQvWJPFgR-I7b5g9FyOfQi6_dgLvHRjwdvcChqTTvsNj3rS6YghyphenhyphenVfm-QQocgURARuKCx1GjWgGPMJSqu8BNbRVEp6L/s1600/tumblr_lfxmymEXxR1qdxovqo1_r5_500.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjlnR1FuCC0RyAcMVbnRQkpZM-ARDTgScUezphwYYVT8TuAGVDqiQvWJPFgR-I7b5g9FyOfQi6_dgLvHRjwdvcChqTTvsNj3rS6YghyphenhyphenVfm-QQocgURARuKCx1GjWgGPMJSqu8BNbRVEp6L/s320/tumblr_lfxmymEXxR1qdxovqo1_r5_500.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570826238840147042" /></a><br /><br /><br />Monster, ghosts, killers, etc. Those things never appear in my dreams. I never have scary dreams. Never. My nightmares involve crying. Completely irrational, inconsolable, sobbing. In my dreams, this crying can either be caused by something (usually something that would never make me cry in reality), or it can be completely irrational, with no cause. All I know, is that in these dreams, I can't catch my breath. My sobbing pushes my lungs to their limit and I can't escape. It's the worst feeling in the world. I can feel that capacity of pain in my dreams, but it's a pain I never feel in reality.Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-69331323318308029172011-02-01T20:49:00.001-08:002011-02-01T20:54:56.436-08:00Impossible to IgnoreIt's not a reality, it's just a wish.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWr0MKUbjuIvHp55eT_CezKqKfpD-Uw0134tBTnXjtdW5WvRTPsKlAnDf-8NOFjrp9DtIXA4SDQtTGaE08rZQcGILwaBR3NZhxlyRmuiEdxp90tnzty9So3HgI8L6ZS2VMDPTBEi-Q_Qai/s1600/z218492696.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWr0MKUbjuIvHp55eT_CezKqKfpD-Uw0134tBTnXjtdW5WvRTPsKlAnDf-8NOFjrp9DtIXA4SDQtTGaE08rZQcGILwaBR3NZhxlyRmuiEdxp90tnzty9So3HgI8L6ZS2VMDPTBEi-Q_Qai/s320/z218492696.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568950926548518754" /></a><br /><br />I want companionship. I want butterflies. I want intrigue and danger. I want flaws and repetition. I want to hear nice things and feel warmth. Oh boy, I just want you.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9P6CbhHzZU4umAKPhpquLEWbTZY1mb0hhiH6FAeCztJUhdgDyrGT1nVqbBkmUB-o4oltjYy_B4n2yNdYsjggxzEcoPNfs7DU5GlHCVix1AflAtLm-ys7j3MWxWt1zS1GlrxVv4bVYWTN/s1600/z186948511.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 317px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9P6CbhHzZU4umAKPhpquLEWbTZY1mb0hhiH6FAeCztJUhdgDyrGT1nVqbBkmUB-o4oltjYy_B4n2yNdYsjggxzEcoPNfs7DU5GlHCVix1AflAtLm-ys7j3MWxWt1zS1GlrxVv4bVYWTN/s320/z186948511.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568951088449425810" /></a>Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-57196343918471619932011-01-24T12:59:00.000-08:002011-01-25T18:42:08.011-08:00Roadblock.For so long I've been at a roadblock, unwilling to move forward. I've stopped myself from being happy, from doing all I can to succeed. This semester, I'm changing. Whether or not I actually succeed is irrelevant, I just want my mind to be happy. I just want to know that I tried my best. I want to prove that I'm good for something. It's not going to be easy, I've been set in my ways for...forever. I spent my whole life thinking I wasn't good enough for success or happiness. And that is a mindset that is ridiculously difficult to change. My best friends have given me motivation; they told me that they think that I can do it, and that they will help me. And that is literally the best present I could ever receive.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLsPlOqF8SEWOWLOcD01sh0Tbjm1ZLqUfP3O8J5rTHy5Y5FgnAgR3TAd4MEq6vFuV1PP1rerKvHIVBIaAvvxN2CM-y-DPDHvT1Offogy6AZ9eEn1CkQ-ZDkRUW4PS7sNEiafZBJBeUg7YI/s1600/z210577644.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLsPlOqF8SEWOWLOcD01sh0Tbjm1ZLqUfP3O8J5rTHy5Y5FgnAgR3TAd4MEq6vFuV1PP1rerKvHIVBIaAvvxN2CM-y-DPDHvT1Offogy6AZ9eEn1CkQ-ZDkRUW4PS7sNEiafZBJBeUg7YI/s320/z210577644.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566317031837112322" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><3Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-85920468079371168812010-10-20T15:27:00.000-07:002010-10-20T16:46:06.038-07:00...my posts are sporadic and far-between. why do i find it so difficult to write down what i'm feeling? why am i afraid to get it all on paper? i wish i was the type of person who could release everything onto something material, maybe then i wouldn't feel like i'm about to explode from the inside out. maybe then i could look at things objectively and gain perspective. why am i afraid to be by myself? honestly, my most sincere wish, is just to get in the car, and leave with no real destination, with or without the notion to ever return. i think all i really need is understanding. just for once i want things to fall in to place, to make sense, to be set in their ways. <br /><br />is it possible to be afraid of release? i've always been one to embrace other's expression, to see the core of who another person is. but when it comes to letting myself be found, there's constantly a roadblock that stops me from ever getting anywhere helpful. am i afraid to be happy? am i afraid for things to work out in my favor? am i afraid to show emotion? am i afraid to release everything out onto paper? am i afraid to see who the real 'me' is? maybe it's because i don't trust that it's actually my true self. maybe it's because i'm afraid i'll alter how i actually feel to please everybody else. <br /><br />maybe i'm afraid of who's going to see it. maybe i'm afraid no one will ever see it. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJyEPoKZdryoIuEa89vp0oUJO7HNYExxLlFxY9Ko-3DIGxVihkBDgzydfgPEW9-q7Sz-9oSc9yisWV5dR7zNgkafFQpY2AvQtJKsaKymoh26r4KCL-GhFFjysYfM-H69qOheE_992GqIdn/s1600/z193044571.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJyEPoKZdryoIuEa89vp0oUJO7HNYExxLlFxY9Ko-3DIGxVihkBDgzydfgPEW9-q7Sz-9oSc9yisWV5dR7zNgkafFQpY2AvQtJKsaKymoh26r4KCL-GhFFjysYfM-H69qOheE_992GqIdn/s320/z193044571.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530263570759895218" /></a><br /><br />i so want to fix this.<br /><br />there's a boy. and it's the classic: "he doesn't know i exist." but how come i've talked to him a total of three times since we met nearly four months ago, and yet i think about him everyday? why do i think we'd be so good together, when i barely know him? granted, everything i know about him would fit right in with my life and who i am. but, i honestly know that he will never actually see me, he'll never want to know me or spend time with me. he doesn't think about me, he doesn't wonder if we'd be good together. and i understand that. i wouldn't want to be with me either. <br /><br />guhhh. even as i'm writing this, i'm debating erasing all of it and forgetting about this post. and let me tell you, this happens all the time. what if someone sees this and their opinion of me changes? what if they see past my emotional shell? part of me sincerely hopes no one reads this. it's like i don't want anybody to see me until i get to the physical and emotional point of stability that i'm aiming for. but i also know that that point is so far away and may be unreachable. why can't i just buckle down and make it happen for me? i'm capable, but i hold myself back. are we allowed to want something so badly, and at the same time be completely terrified of it? maybe i need something drastic to happen. maybe i need a time limit. maybe i don't want it bad enough. <br /><br />all i know, is that i am so grateful for the people that i have in my life. they make everything make more sense <3<br /><br />i don't really know how to end this post. so i'll just end it here.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLsyHfPTzzv3lAB5hpFaGw650eFS9cAIBMGUYo_mzPpwpBbl5CxTi-jHCdnBywjL2T2NrbeMtSYt1Z7WaPUCltlanBNAxkV3g3xj08wePI7EmwmKcvtiRf2bC-SI-CYqeyYNB27KOi1EKZ/s1600/z217087307.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLsyHfPTzzv3lAB5hpFaGw650eFS9cAIBMGUYo_mzPpwpBbl5CxTi-jHCdnBywjL2T2NrbeMtSYt1Z7WaPUCltlanBNAxkV3g3xj08wePI7EmwmKcvtiRf2bC-SI-CYqeyYNB27KOi1EKZ/s320/z217087307.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530277403830749554" /></a>Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-2058222306348293212010-01-28T19:23:00.001-08:002010-01-30T09:07:22.341-08:00A Long Time Coming.there is someone i want to kiss. there is someone i want to punch. there is someone i want to notice. there is someone i want to notice me. there is someone i want to write off. there is someone i hope i never do. there is someone i can't ignore. there is someone i can't let go of. there is someone i want to scream at. there is someone i want to love. there is someone i want to release all my feelings to. there is someone i've known forever. there is someone i haven't met yet. <br /><br />i can't let myself go. i can't breathe. i can't find it. i can't release and feel free. i can't trust myself with my own life. <br /><br />i want to be so different. i want to make something beautiful. i want someone to love me. i want to find him. i want to be comfortable. i want to feel alive. i want to know something for sure. i know for sure, i don't know what i want.<br /><br />someone should take me seriously. someone should sit down and listen to me. someone should look at me, not through me. someone should take a chance on me. <br /><br />i should wear my heart on my sleeve. i should tell people what i think and feel. i should trust. i should be proud. i should live.<br /><br />he said, "i know you." <br />he said, "i want to be with you."<br />he said, "i want to know everything."<br />he said, "you're my friend."<br />he said, "i've never felt this way before."<br />he said, "my heart's being pulled in another direction."<br />he said, "i won't do it again."<br />he said, "that was a different me."<br />he said, "i've changed."<br />he said, "tell me how you feel."<br />he said, "it will get better."<br />he said, "you deserve better."<br /><br />he said. and i never doubted him.<br /><br />i am lost. i am somewhere. i am turning over a new leaf. i am learning. i am losing. i am tired. i am angry. i am leaving. i am missing. i am over it. i will never be over it.<br /><br />i need breath. i need placement. i need sight. i need control. i need to let go. i need to give up fear. i need to give in. i need to understand. i need sense. i need noise. i need clarity. i need someone to say, "let's run away." i need completion.<br /><br />i'm summer. i'm winter. i'm not even close. i'm nervous. i'm locked in. i'm searching. i'm young. i'm empathetic. i'm amy. <br /><br />who is amy?<br /><br />i try. i feel. i look. i obsorb. i touch. i cover. i love. i care. i run. <br /><br />i didn't know that's what you wanted. i thought i was good enough. i didn't look like much. i thought you cared. i didn't know you didn't mean it. i thought our time was special. i put my arms around you. i thought it was true. i thought it made sense. i gave up for you. i stood up for you. i saw through you. i thought i finally fit. i trusted. i believed. i gave you my all. i choked.<br /><br />i...i...i...i. i. i. i!<br /><br />you.<br /><br />you were a light. you were the best part of my day. you taught me. you stung me. you yelled at me. you hated me. you cried. you had impeccable timing. you thought your words didn't hurt. you thought you didn't have an effect. you thought you did what made sense. you left. you ignored. you apolgized. you didn't mean it. you took it back. you gave it back. you fought. you broke. you hurt. you lost me. you didn't have my back. you lied. you changed. you scared me. you scarred me. you didn't see me. you gave it time. you were everything. you were everybody. you were every experience. you were the world. you were a reaction. you were a sideways glance. you were a stare-down. you were my wildest dreams. you were my future. you were a passerby. you were a mistake. you were by chance. you were just a thought. you were all my thoughts. you were a rush. you were a song. you were a wave. you were a laugh. you were out of bounds. you are a feeling. you are a sight. you are a glitch. you are a problem. you are unknown. you haven't happened yet. you will change my life.Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-64147225727972205142009-12-07T18:25:00.000-08:002009-12-07T20:54:16.569-08:00The Holidays<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrb99cuCdeWCns0l507_cy8ZSmA0yACw1DYlvGSRt_27cPWaen6W3YUV2nVbVb_nHUVLlVu4blqRyQaec0vTNGRTm9hVenmCcTKXMPMrVboDTvcXAx0yiHZQ6U6u2JOKlgMDQ7OgT49_9o/s1600-h/christmas-lights.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrb99cuCdeWCns0l507_cy8ZSmA0yACw1DYlvGSRt_27cPWaen6W3YUV2nVbVb_nHUVLlVu4blqRyQaec0vTNGRTm9hVenmCcTKXMPMrVboDTvcXAx0yiHZQ6U6u2JOKlgMDQ7OgT49_9o/s320/christmas-lights.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412724144066489602" /></a><br />ohh Christmas...what do you mean? this holiday season is completely different from all others. my brain is static. my heart is alone. my joy is under construction. the city lights and red-nosed reindeer create a magical atmosphere, a constant i can always rely on this time of year. it's always tough to know that you're going to be alone for the holidays, i hoped this year would be different, but it doesn't seem that way. i'm just a girl with a lot of love to give, but no boy to want it. it's lonesome, and i miss a lot of what used to be. the holidays are difficult to decipher, and i don't have all the answers right now. more to come when i figure more out.<br /><br />BUT.<br />i have my best friend. and that's really all i need =]Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-42683216642964844962009-09-01T19:54:00.000-07:002009-09-01T20:34:52.345-07:00Hello, College.hi. i'm all moved in now, into my scarysketch dorm room at virginia commonwealth university. i love being on my own, spending everyday with my best friends and learning things i actually find interesting.<br /><br />i've decided that i'm in a very transitional period of my life right now. i can't exactly figure out who i am. i know it's not something that i really need to have figured out as of present, but i can't help but wonder. i know what i believe in. and i know what i percieve to be good moral, and nothing is going to change that. i've had a lot of difficulty adjusting to life here. i'm so used to having the cusion of good friends constantly around me, knowing that i'm in a safe place, with people i can trust. i miss the comfort of smalltown life. i miss guard practice everyday and spending all my time with the people that make my life wonderful. college is such a huge place, and i haven't quite got it all figured out yet. i know that this is where i need to be, but sometimes i feel like the only reason i'm here is because that's what society told me to do. when you graduate high school, you go to college. i know that it is childish to even think about not growing up, but that's what i want to do. i want to stay in a time bubble where i'm with my guard and everything is happy. i've never been very good with change, and i can't stand the idea of my happiness drifting further away with every day. i suppose i need to find another source of happiness, another way to feel at home, but it's tough. the whole idea of home is being somewhere where you know people love you and respect you for who you are and i don't feel like i have that right now. honestly, if i didn't have my best friend here with me experiencing all this too, i don't know if i could take it. <br /><br />i feel like i need to get away. have a good cry, or stand on something very tall and scream out into the wind. i want to be secure in my own self and not have to constantly worry about what people are thinking about me. that's always been a problem of mine, and probably always will be. i never trust people enough to not make judgements of me. i feel like i need to feel the rain, close my eyes and breathe into the sunshine. i need a good old-fashioned day with the people i love, to know that they're still close and not slipping away. the term 'too emotional' keeps playing through my mind as i write this. i guess that's just who i am. emotional. and this is a good way of releasing it. <br /><br />i know that the days of powhatan winterguard are over for me, and i'm honestly having a really tough time accepting it. it's the only place i've ever been truly happy and really felt like i belonged. i loved the feeling of working so hard for something you cared about. having your ass kicked, and loving every minute of it because you knew that it was making you better. it's been said a million times, but it still is on replay in my head. "what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." and i guess that applies here too. i'm stuck in this 'real world' where i am no longer someone. i'm just nobody. and that's a horrible concept. comfort and acceptance are very important to me and it's hard to feel either one of those things in a city this big. <br /><br />i'm very grateful for having my best friend here with me. it's made everything easier and it's a wonderful reminder of what i have back home. we were discussing the other day about what would have happened if we had gone to different schools, and the answer: absolute chaos. and as we both don't need anymore chaos in our lives, it's very good things worked out as well as they did. <br /><br />i look back at this entry and i realize how many stupid times the sentences start with the word 'i'. i hate it. everything shouldn't be about me and my problems. i've been told that sometimes it's okay to have something for myself, but i feel selfish. like instead of getting my measly self-provoking complications out, i should be out helping the world and taking care of people with real problems. i hope that this remains a place where i feel like using the word 'i', isn't so bad. someday i will make a change in this world for the better and i will actually be able to fulfill my needs through fulfilling the needs of someone else. a way to make the world a better place.<br /><br />a lot is going on in my life right now, and it's very difficult to accept most of it. i want to feel everything i can, for exactly what it is, be it pain or happiness.<br /><br />all i can do is look forward and try my best to not look so much into the past. i will always look back those times fondly, they were truly some of the happiest moments of my life. the people i spent those times with are completely irreplaceable and have to have a prominent place in my life in the future. as of right now, i'm signing off on a good note, happy to have gotten this out. college will be a completely new experience for me, something i've always welcomed. i'm happy with my life right now, and i know that everything has it's place in life. i need to make it through this to feel completely content later. 'later' meaning in the next few weeks, months, and years. i welcome this milestone in my life with anxiety and open arms.Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-205664445113813342009-07-12T20:39:00.000-07:002009-07-12T20:54:55.810-07:00Gah.hi. OHkay. so i just realized what may be my biggest pet peeve. my god. when people make the same freaking face for every. single. picture. they. take. i mean come one! mix it up! maybe throw in happiness, or apathy, or exasperation or sommmmme sort of emotion. if every picture in existence of you has the same pouty, kissy, generic, myspacemirror look to it, i'm talking to you! variety is a good thing. embrace it. take it out to dinner. and then maybe people won't remember you as the person whose face froze for all time in the most ridiculous of manners. <br /><br />just something to think about.<br /><br />oh. also. i love free slurpee day =]<br /><br />peace.Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3816456419013717204.post-26961748441554867762009-07-12T20:11:00.000-07:002009-07-12T20:27:28.690-07:00I. Hate. Towing. Trucks.hi. so on friday, heather and i went to the canal club in richmond to see her boss' band, memory fade, play. they were really good and i even got a free cd, despite my attempts to win one in a bet that if we beat the drummer, zane, in pool, i'd get a free cd. that didn't work out too well for me. but anyway, the band was really cool, and super nice, and they finished their set at around eleven, so we started to make our way home. let my paint you a pretty little picture:<br /><br />two seventeen year olds in schockoe bottom, richmond, walking down the street on a friday night, at 11 pm. they turn the corner and suddenly realize that the car that they arrived in has suddenly disappeared. who else to blame but marshall bros. towing specialists? the two girls then call the number on the billboard, conveniently located for all the towees to see. the two girls then walk across the street to the parked police car, explaining that they are underage and that their car has been towed. the nice policemen find a nice cab company to take the two girls on a nice drive to a nice hellasketch street in the outskirts of henrico. <br /><br />so. upon arrival at the towing services office, we notice that the lights are out, and no one seems to be home. so we call the towing guy and he says that he'll be there in about twenty minutes. pah! heather and i sit in front of the office, on the ground (making sure, of course, we're in clear view of the camera, so if any one murders us, they'll have it on tape) for about 45 minutes before the towing guy decides to show up, towing along with him, two more cars. i mean really, who tows cars at midnight? that's people's way to get home. should be illegal. anyway. he shows up and heather doesn't have enough moeny on her card so we end up paying 55$ in cash, 50$ on her card, and 50$ on my card. yes. that's 155$ plus the 25$ from the cab fare of unpredicted, unnecessary pay. the guy finally releases our car and we are back on the road at around 1 am. ohhhh the adventures that define my life =]<br /><br />peace.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs187.snc1/6256_205755295388_623445388_7697961_7694108_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 604px; height: 453px;" src="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs187.snc1/6256_205755295388_623445388_7697961_7694108_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />FABULOUS Marshall Bros. Towing Specialists.Amy Watlingtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07185957917627788042noreply@blogger.com0