i blog about reality all the time

it's so hard for me to stop wishing something would happen. like, you know, getting over someone and all that jazz. because i've had my head in the clouds all my life, i'm used to bending the rules of normality to get what i want. and it's just hard to sit back and watch people adapt to 'pure reality' and be stuck with nothing but my dreams to keep me going. and when those are crushed, i'm absolutely clueless on what to do next. i get really depressed, but that's not the worst part. it's the getting better that's hard, because sometimes i'll have moments and segments of days where it seems like everything is getting better. but it's not. it's all a trick, and when it actually does get better, how will i keep my dreams out of the reality i'm trying to pursue? i don't even know if reality is worth any attention i could give. my life.

where i'm from

I'm just gonna post lots of poems I write in school here, kkz? :)

I am from the frog pond,
from quads I didn't want to ride
and swimming pools I was too embarrassed to get in
(chlorine, cousins
who thought of me
as a city rat)
I am from the bleeding heart plant,
the treehouse in the woods
my brother and sister built
now just a memory.

I am from roadtrips,
from Diane and Tara.
I'm from Alanis Morisette
and James Taylor,
from pirouettes and plies.
I'm from a wardrobe of
fur coats and fawns.

I'm from gingerale,
broken mugs and neglected tea.
From acoustic guitars,
power chords and Vienna sausage.
I am from the eight-sided circle
reading "stop Voldemort"
at the bottom of the hill,
far off in Virginia,
or a castle across the seas
from Silly Strawberry toothpaste
and the Walmart parking lot
all of the magic
stowed away, kept in blogs
and annual conventions
the kind of interaction I was born for