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Wednesday, December 29th, 2004
3:59 pm - [pretty good year]
hold onto nothing as fast as you can



I don't know. It's that feeling where I can but can't breathe, where the air is too thin and everything is dissatisfying. I have no reason to feel this way at all, I don't know why it's happening. It's complete discouragement. It's as though nothing will ever go right and everything is going wrong. My body is sore and I don't want to move, but yet I feel as though I'd lash out and kill the next person to talk to me. It doesn't make any fucking sense.

Moreso, it's not fucking fair. Really, it isn't. It's fucking bullshit. Why. Why? Why is it that I need something to function normally. I fucking took it today, too... and now I feel as though "Well, since I feel this way now after taking it, I might-as-fucking-well just not take it."

I'm trying to convince myself, "No-- this isn't your fault. There's something wrong with your brain; you have a fucking disease." But then I counteract that with, "Well, you should be able to control it. You're defective. You suck. You don't deserve to live because you can't be fucking normal." And I'm using it as an excuse for various behaviours. It's odd how I engage in so much cognitively distorted thinking, but yet I'm aware of it... but yet not aware of it at the same time. I spend so much time trying to convince myself this way or that way, I don't even know what the truth is anymore.

Point being, I feel awful. I feel like screaming and crying and falling into a heap on the ground and not moving for eight years. I don't know what to do with myself. At all.


--
Yeah. I don't really know what I'm talking about anymore.

current mood: eh.
current music: tori amos ; pretty good year

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Friday, December 24th, 2004
12:04 pm - [i'm on a champaigne high]
a picture may speak a thousand words, but a thousand words can paint a picture unique to the individual-- it's all in the interpretation.

semestre one of college-- done.
two-thousand-and-four-- ending.
it's so final. it's so odd to let go of this year, the year i graduated high school, the year i got a job, the year i turned eighteen and bought a car and started college. it's just too final for me. i don't do well with change.

i keep reading through old entries in both my deadjournal and livejournal, from a year ago or two years ago, even. they're all so different from the way i write now; everything back then was more poetic, though i didn't realize it at the time. it really doesn't make sense. but it's strange reading through those past posts and remembering those events that i deemed worthy of posting about. some of them i remember so vividly, it's as though i'm back in that exact situation at that exact time-- i remember every detail, even the aromas.

well, there. i updated this thing with a few paragraphs of nonsensical rambling. i've been slacking at updating my livejournal, too. oh well. c'est la vie.

~Brianne.

current mood: eh.
current music: champaigne high ; sister hazel

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Friday, September 10th, 2004
9:24 pm
i feel:
discourated.
yet positive.
yet negative.
hopeful.
yet not.

and everything contradicts. my dream last night put things in perspective, which is strange.

there are so many people i miss, and so many things i miss.

and i just want to cry and kill myself.
but i know that wouldn't solve anything.

i hate my livejournal, i like this better. probably because there's a whopping one person who has me added as a friend (hey, you!) so it's not like 70 people, 50ish of whom i've met, are reading me bitch and complain about how much i hate myself and how fat i am.

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9:21 pm
oh my.

i'm so bad at this.

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Thursday, July 1st, 2004
10:15 am
i never udpate this, because i never have anything to say.

thinking of things to write about in my livejournal is hard enough, much less trying to do this.. diaryland.. the other three livejournals.... you get the point.

so sorry i suck. not that anyone reads this anyway

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Sunday, June 6th, 2004
8:57 am


You Are a Classic Gucci Bag


You've got style mastered - because you stick with what works

Like this Gucci Bag, you prefer classic items that stand the test of time

You're also a bit of a practical girl, who prefers function over fluff

You prefer a big bag, so that you can have your stuff with you at all times




What Kind of Handbag Are You? Take This Quiz :-)




Find the Love of Your Life
(and More Love Quizzes) at Your New Romance.



current mood: awake
current music: crazy love

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Wednesday, February 18th, 2004
9:52 pm
Kind of Shampoo Do You Use: herbal essence.
Kind of Soap Do You Use: bath and body works - warm vanilla sugar
Are You Most Scared of: bugs with a lot of legs
Car Would You Like to Have: 1997 mitsubishi eclipse, silver. or a BMW. or a 2000 black jag.
Do You Want To Get Married: not really.
Do You Want To Have Your Honeymoon: yes, despite my lack of marriage.
Makes You Smile: people that get into random ghetto fights for no reason... especially cause the general population of my school is white, so it's like malibu's most wanted or something.
Gives You A Funny Feeling When You See Them: YOU.

WHICH OF YOU'RE FRIENDS...

Easiest to Talk to: none of them.
Is Most Likely To Become An Athlete: jesse
Is Most Likely To Become A Model: christy
Is Most Likely To Become An Actor/Actress: christy
Is Most Likely To Become A Millionaire:kristin
Is Most Likely To Marry A Millionaire: krystal
Is Most Likely To Get Married Many Times: jt
Is Most Likely To Never Get Married: myself
Is Most Likely To Become Famous: ME ME ME. cause.. i don't know.
Have You Known The Longest: krystal
Is The Shyest: katie.
Is The Weirdest: krista
For Advice: anyone BUT melissa.
Who You Call When You're Crying: amanda or jessica.

FOR OR AGAINST:

Long Distance Relationships: against.
Using Someone: against
Suicide: against
Killing People: ..... uhm... for the right reasons!
Smoking: against. lung cancer = not cool.
Doing Drugs: personal choice, i guess, but i believe in trying everything once.
Premarital Sex: against.
Driving Drunk: against
Gay/Lesbian Relationships: it's a personal decision. i, myself, am not a lesbian.

NUMBER:

Of Times You've Had Your Heart Broken: Never
Of Hearts You've Broken: None
Of Continents You've Lived In: one
Of CD's That You Own: Mucho
Of Scars On Your Body: Lots, and they show up more when I'm freezing cold and shaking.

WHAT DO YOU..

Want: to lose about 30 pounds!
Wish: FOR WORLD PEACE or at least for my camera back. whores.
Love: my friends. sparkly waters from kmart. really hot showers.
Miss: having a future?
Hate: melissa for fucking off and applying to my first choice school under the majour that i want, whilst taking AP classes and not wanting to go to that fucking college.

RIGHT NOW:

Wearing: pajama pants, green shirt with some random design on it.
eating: nothing
drinking: nothing
watching: little letters appear on the screen split seconds after my fingers touch the respective keys.
missing: josh, even though he never liked me.
feeling: pissed off
mad at: my camera, for being gone.
happy for: nothing, fuck you.
wishing: i wasn't a fat ass?
needing: sleep. to find my fucking digital camera.

current mood: crappy
current music: dave to the matthew's band.

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Tuesday, January 20th, 2004
7:28 pm - latin is a lovely language.
In my LJ, I cannot write. I cannot be myself. I cannot be self-revealing because I see those people on a daily basis. I need somewhere where I can vent and rant and call everyone a filthy fascist whore and not be shot down for it. I don't want to insult people, I just need a release.

But I do not deserve a release. What, then do I deserve?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing. I deserve neither success nor failure. I deserve neither gain nor loss. I deserve neither love nor loneliness.

I try to write poetry, and fail as the words don't flow together in perfect harmony like they do in my mind. They get lost in translation between my brain and my hands, or maybe between my hands and the pen/pencil meant for recording them. I really don't know, and I suppose it doesn't matter. All that matters is that I fail, once again, at doing something I have such passion for. I failed at dance, because my mother refused to drive me/pay for the lessons. I failed at the piano because we moved and my mother decided it wouldn't be worth continuing. I failed at singing because I couldn't handle choir anymore. I failed at academics because I let myself slip into the 3.92 land, when I know I'm capable of better. I could have taken AP classes and gotten above a 4.0, but I didn't. If I'd done so, I would have gotten in early decision for cal poly, but I didn't. Instead, I sit typing words that don't mean anything to anyone except myself in a journal that no one reads.

But maybe it's good that no one reads it, though I really couldn't care less.

I don't know what I want, entirely. I do know that I want out. I want out of this town, I want out of this body, and I want out of this mind of mine. I want to travel the world and actually experience things, but we all know I won't. I'm too tied down by expectations... by promises made years ago. The next 8 years of college seem stifling, and I've yet to finish high school (I graduate in June). 8 years... it seems like a waste for a job that I might not even be able to acquire. There's always that hope, I suppose, but I've never been one for optimism.

I want to re-invent myself, but that's so cliché, and everyone that's tried it has failed.

But who says I have to be like everyone else? I wouldn't want to be. I don't want to be a part of the drama that builds up during juniour high, festers during high school, and continues on through college and the rest of adulthood. I want no part in the immaturity or the hypocrisy-- the obsessions and obligations of having to conform. Again, I guess it really isn't obligatory, but there's a consequence for every action. I've completely lost my train of thought, moving on...

The Semagic icon is flashing in the lower right-hand corner, telling me that one of my "Friends" on livejournal has posted. That site sickens me, it really does. Each and every entry is about how their pitiful problems are consuming them. "My mother won't let me go to so-and-so's house so I cut myself with a pushpin and omfg!111 ONE DROP OF BLOOD CAME OUT." Don't. Fucking. Go. There. Your problems aren't important. My problems aren't important. No one cares. NO ONE CARES. But I care, and that's what fucking kills me because no matter what, I can't stop.


The girl who cares.

current mood: listless
current music: Ave Maria ; Chanticleer

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Tuesday, June 24th, 2003
12:17 pm
This is a story
of TERROR
and JOY.


Harry Pittman~sobs uncontrollably and sinks down into the corner of the room in a fit of tears~
Jola Miamigga told Harry "it could be worse. you could be a rabid pig in the outskirts of Middletown, Nebraska chasing a dust devil that stole your mother's tupperware."
Harry is bewildered and says to Jola "pigs can't be rabid, jola dear. rabidity is only for the marsupials of Marsupials Inc., home of the rabid marsupials and founders of the Marsupials Against Wallaby Abuse Foundation (MAWAF). Didn't you get the memo?" Jola is amazed and replies with "no, i didn't. but in nebraska there is a rabid pig chasing a dust devil. just be glad it isn't you."
Harry says "it's a marsupial disguised as a pig, then." He refuses to believe her. Jola states "no. a pig."
Harry looses it. "PIGS CAN'T BE EFFING RABID. IT'S NOT POSSIBLE. ONLY MARSUPIALS!!!!!!!! ONLY MARSUPIALSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. BROOKE SAID SO, DAMNIT!" Jola tries to stop her, using this line "one pig. he is ancient. he invented rabies. he gave it up to the marsupials because he didn't want to hurt the other animals. the marsupials were mean to little nebby, the nebraskan pig. he makes snack cakes."
Harry calms down and says "i suppose that's alright, then... just as long as it's only marsupials from here on out."
Jola says "of course."
Then it hits Mr. Pittman "oh! thaaaaaaat pig. Isn't he also the one who invented the holiday Snarklegrummut which was later overridden by the Cabbage Kings of the midwest Russia?or is that a different rabid ancient pig?" Ms. Miammiga is glad. "no, that was the same one. He was also auctioneer to the communists of south switzerland."
"RIGHT!" exclaims Harry.
Jola says "and he built that bridge across the sea of nigeria."
And happy little harry pittman says "and the liaison between don silvestre alguilar and his son paco, during the French Revolution and the Rennaissance and he constructed the ihungry tower just south of the eiffel tower!" Finally, Jola knows all will be well and yells "yes! and he followed the yellow brick road, only to find it lead to a group of insane babbling fleas who wouldn't stop beeping and tooting." Harry is a little confused until he realizes he knew of this. He says "the same fleas who wanted him to run his hands... err... paw things... thru their fros?" Jola has never been so glad "yes! while bouncin' o-24" But her joy is quickly ended when Pittman says "madness. this is sheer and utter madness." She wonders if he is calling her a liar. she questions "is it?"
"yes it is" harry says. she is still worried so she asks "why?"
Harry says "because the uzbekistanians told me it was." Jola wants to cry. The uzbekistanians are mean people so she tells Harry "but they are against the ancient pig. and his cousin, the spaghetti boar."
Harry Pittman retorts with "they aren't against the cebu, though, and the cebu is the pig's best friend." But Jola Miammiga knows better and says "but he is a dirty liar. he really stole the tupperware. I SAW IT."

boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooeeeeeeeeeeebbbooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
this is the emergency broadcast system. This is only a test. Please remain calm while we ensure that you are recieving the proper safety ...thingies. yes. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait. wait.

ok. we now return you to your previous program.

And Jola looked at Harry and they both smiled. The end.

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Tuesday, April 15th, 2003
10:31 am
Wow... I NEVER update this. I'd completely forgotten about it. I've even been neglecting my deadjournal. Livejournal is so much better

if you have a livejournal code, go to: http://www.livejournal.com/~_cerise_ and add me as a friend and I'll add you back.

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Sunday, February 9th, 2003
9:58 pm
I adore my friends... they're all wonderful people. Some of the people that I know through DJ or LJ are some of the greatest people that I've ever known. I wish they lived here, tisn't fair. ~Sniff sniff~ Enough of my complaining.

This journal is horribly neglected, good thing it doesn't have feelings... if it did, I'm sure it would be suffering from some pretty bad psychology issues by now. My other blurty is even more neglected. Meh, whatever.

Goodnight.

current mood: tired
current music: Downfall :: Trust Company

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Sunday, February 2nd, 2003
10:23 am - ...Qué interesante...
Hmm, I made this account but never wrote in it. Comment if you find this, I wanna see how many people randomly stumble upon my little journal thing. If you're really that bored, you can visit my deadjournal or my livejournal. I'm really not that interesting of a person, so... yeah...

Have a nice day.

current mood: bored
current music: I was only (seventeen) + Beu Sisters

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