So this morning I woke up with the intense urge to write. To just put fingers to keys and thoughts to screen, even though, to quote Augustus Waters, "My thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations." It's like there are a thousand colours, a thousand musical notes all rushing around in my skull, dancing and whispering and singing in a language that is just beyond my cusp of hearing.

It's very quiet. everybody is either asleep, or gone. It's cold, too. My house is filled with artificial heat, but I can tell that if I stepped outside, my skin would turn to gooseflesh and my breath would make clouds in their own miniature sky.

I've been thinking a lot recently. And singing a lot, and writing a lot, and talking a lot less. It seems that nothing worth talking about is being talked about, so I can't share my mind with others. So I'll write a poem, or draw a picture, or mutter to myself until the words come out right. I've found that I rather like words. It's gotten to the point where, if I close my eyes, I can see them. They look like water, or ribbons, or dust that's caught up in sunlight, or the sun beams themselves. They writhe and twirl and give suggestions as to what they could mean. Colour gives their tone. Red for confusion, a tumbling grey for nostalgia, and metaphors and hidden meanings glide by in a blue that is somehow both electric, and the deepest blue you will ever see.

It's three days until Christmas, but somehow, I don't feel very cheerful. I don't feel the breathless excitement that I used to around this time of year. It's not the same. I miss home. I miss it so much, it physically hurts. It's been almost a year since we moved out, but I still haven't finished unpacking. I can't, because that would mean that this is home. It would mean that I've given up. And I can't do that. I know that can't stop fighting, but I'm so tired. I'm so, so tired, and I feel like I just can't do this anymore. I don't keep sharp objects around me anymore. If I do, then bad thoughts come into my head, and what if one day, I just can't shake them? I almost didn't, once, but I got scared. I don't think I'll ever be brave enough, so for now, there's nothing to worry about.

Now, I think I have to unpack some boxes.

Message from a post-apocolyptic world

If you're reading this, the Mayan's were wrong.

Thank you.

Hi. I haven't posted in a long, long time, but I swear, there's a reason. Or rather several.

1. I went on a college trip with my mother and my sister for her to look at colleges in Oregon, Washington, and Canada. Ten day road trip. There was many an argument between the elder of the participants in this journey and I got a crap ton of knitting completed.

2. My first year of high school started. Holy crap in a mosh pit. I seem to be getting even less sleep than I was previously (if that's possible) and the homework NEVER FREAKING ENDS. I do have excellent teachers though and my classes are shockingly fascinating except for biology. I love the subject, but the teacher makes me want to kill someone. as my girlfriend said, "I learned more by drawing a dragon in class than I would actually listening to her.")

3. And speaking of which, I got a girlfriend! Clara has gained 62 exp points and has moved on to level 12!

4. My friend lent me Pokemon Red. 'Nuff said.

5. I blame YouTube. And Tom Milsom. I spent 13 hours yesterday listening to every single Tom Milsom song I could find on Bandcamp and drawing.

6. I am a lazy procrastinating bastard.

"Well, then. Why are you posting now? You've waited so long, why now?"
 
Someone commented on a blog post saying that they missed this blog. That it made them happy, and that caused me to realize that something that has never happened to me before is happening right now.  Someone is listening to me. someone is thinking about the same things I think about, taking my opinions into consideration. And that's scary. To think that I am communicating to people, be it many, a few, or just one is possibly the most frightening and most wonderful thing I have ever pondered. And I promise to post more often. I have a commitment now.

So, thanks, Shira. And don't worry, surviving is an instinct. Soon, you'll be able to do it without even thinking about it.