I've got the meaning of life in my pocket...

well, see, I don't really have the meaning of life in my pocket, and that's the whole point...

I went for a walk today, and I picked up this leaf, and I suddenly got this feeling, similar to deja-vu, like I was suddenly part of this low-budget drama, and my character had been searching their whole life, trying to find the meaning of it all... and they pick up this leaf, and all the sudden it's all clear... and then the moment ended... and I laughed and laughed and laughed, because it's all so silly...
it's just a leaf...

it may not be the meaning of life, but it's an interesting story...

I want to go home, but I don't. Actually, what I really want is a hug. My mom tore up my bulletein board this morning. Years and years of memories, carefully cut down and arranged into a work of art that fits in a 3 foot by 5 foot rectangle... and just because I didn't have a calendar, and I keep forgetting stuff (the two things are related in her mind, but actually have nothing to do with each other), she decided to rip stuff off it and throw it. She broke three things. My keychain I made in third grade. My porcelain carousel horse that I got in Ocean City, years and years ago. And my "medicine bag" that I made at camp six years ago... Countless other items are scattered about... I could pick them up and begin again, but it'll never be the same...

I guess that's the story of my life... My mom may try to spoil the present, and destroy my past, but I will always have the future to look forward to... If I make it through the present first...

I finally have the argument against her constant complaint, though. She says I'm "sliding" through life, never doing more than the minimum. Not true. I just don't see the need to work my ass to the bone, to be "successful" in life. I'd rather do what I can, but not put myself too far out, and be happy. I'd rather be mediocre and happy than lonely, have my hair fall out, and the best at everything I do. I want to live life, not live work... And if what I want to do with my life is be on the computer, talking to friends and those I care about, and otherwise spend my time writing... I say I should be free to do that. Too bad she doesn't agree with me...

Two more years... Just two more years...

I don't know how she can be so nice to me one minute, and a banshee the next... Even I, with all that I say I'm a volatile person, even I don't change that quickly. And I don't scream at those I profess to love. I don't try to hurt them. Not at this point in my life, anyway... But I don't want to grow up and be like her... Please, god, or whoever else might be listening... Don't let me be like her...

My life is no sitcom, no drama, no comedy, not even a reality show... It's a surrealist's worst nightmare...

I guess Tanya was right about one thing, last night... I want to be one of these Aes Sedai... To be able to just wrap somebody up in air and put them away... that would be so wonderful... That, and they know how to make gateways to take them anywhere, instantly...

I hope your phone's fixed, Dave, because I might have to call you... I'm edging on depression again... I'll make it through to the end of the school day, I think, because I usually do... But I don't know about after that... I'm about to fall through to the dark abyss again... and I'm not sure that I even want to hold on to the edge, anymore...