The Haunting Time Is Coming Near!

The Ghoullog - Mountaintop Haunt at Cranmore, North Conway, NH


I had another Dr. C appointment, and I woke up completely twisted and kinked the wrong way. Pain on a scale from 1-10 was maintaining at 5. He immediately saw the way I was sitting, felt my back, and said "You're tighter than a tight drum... Let's go..."

Off to the manipulation room we go... And he has me lay down. It was nerve block day. He didn't want to adjust me before the blocks, so we went through all the usual- release form, benefits, pros and cons, and he got the needle. Now... I'm not afraid of needles, as I've been stuck with them so many times before, it's like a little pain prick and it's gone. I've had many hospital visits because of my chronic asthma, and I'm also a blood donor when I'm well and not on medication. To divide off here for a moment, it's really upsetting to me I can't donate blood right now because of the medications I'm taking. *pout* I'll be well someday- and I'll pick back up then. Anyways- first up was mapping which nerves were the most inflamed. This was the most hurtful, excruciating painful part of the process- as he had to use his fingers and push into my back. If you remember correctly, I can lay on that portion of my back on memory foam, or a soft chair/couch, but anything harder than a light pressure on that spot of my back is like sticking a hot fire poker into my flesh. Yes- that bad.

He was kind enough to find the outer nerves first, there were two, before moving to the inner ones. They were the worst- forcing my muscles into a spasm that won't let go, because it's so inflamed and painful. So in go his fingertips- which I'm sure had he touched any other part of my back wouldn't have hurt at all- and I nearly jumped off the table. I wanted to scream, but I buried my head in the pillow and grabbed the sides of the table to concentrate on not moving. This happened a few times, since he needed to pinpoint where these suckers were- and as it turns out, there were two badly inflamed ones within this section too.

He went and got the medicine, and came back with a needle that made me think twice. Even though he had given me one block before (just one area), I hadn't seen the needle last time- only my parents did. I just concentrated on relaxing as much as I could. Signed the release form, and here we go. He started at the top of the affected area, right above my right hip, and moved down. The medicine stung a bit going in, but the pinpricks of the needle going through my skin bothered me this time- and my Dr. quipped that I was "thick skinned". I laughed to myself, because if I had moved, it would risk him losing control of the needle and either ending up in the wrong place or hitting the nerve itself. I'm proud to say, even though it hurt... I stayed absolutely still. I concentrated on how my hands felt on the table... He finished with the 4th shot, then my leg was cold. I thought it was just me.

Dr. C had me roll to my side, then picked up my leg. It didn't hurt as bad... It worked! Success! He was able to adjust me, since all four of my vertebrae from L3 to S1 were out of place- of course, causing me pain and keeping the inflammation high. While the spasm really hadn't released much, he was able to adjust me to get all four back in- which he hasn't been able to do at all up until this point. I was relaxed enough through my lower back now, with the aide of the block, for him to move me.

Then the test... Of whether or not I could walk ok. So I got up hesitantly, and took a few steps. My leg was still really cold- and he said it was normal, the chilly feeling would wear off in a few days. I still felt twinges and pain, but it wasn't nearly as bad. Going through the pain beforehand completely wiped me out, which is why I didn't do anything but sit in my chair for the rest of the day.

This morning, I've noticed while I don't really have the constant pain which is sharp in that section of my back, I've got a dull throbbing ache instead. The difference is that it's bearable. For the first time since this whole thing started 6 months ago, it's bearable- and I'm not medicated to high heaven, not in a fog. Not useless. I still am noticing a slight amount of pain down my leg- but again, nothing like it had been. I think because I had felt it so long, I didn't notice how bad it really was. Coupled with the new medication I'm on, which blocks the pain receptors from getting pain signals, it's a welcome relief to feel like this. I just hope a sneeze doesn't slip anything out of place in my back- which has been happening. I've noticed I'm a little straighter, but I'm still favoring my right side, because it does continue to hurt a little. I'm really hoping this block works more than 6 weeks- which was the average the other one lasted... Even though they're supposed to last 6 months. Aye.

I'd say we're starting to finally make progress in the forward direction. Pain level is 2 today. Leg is still cold though.. Hah.

Day 42 - Candy Corn Eyes

I was absolutely, unequivocally, without a doubt self loathing and miserable today. Right back to the red lipstick, AGAIN, to bring my mood up.

It's like a swipe of the color fixes a lot of things. It then inspired me to finish my face- and I came up with a new eye look inspired by fall. Candy Corn inspired eyes. The heavy black shadow really makes the colors pop- for an unusual look. Harsh, bright colors brought my mood up instantly.

My father didn't like it.

I just smiled.

Day 41 - Bite the Rose

I needed to feel better.
No motivation- yet again. So I broke out the red lipstick, since I can't wear my high heels. I think it worked quite nicely.

A black rose to compliment my mood was perfect.

Never Forget.

3 Firemen Raising American Flag at Ground Zero. Image from
Yesterday, it really bothered me what our current "president" was discussing in his over an hour-long press conference. Aside from not really answering questions asked in any way, shape or form, and instead reiterating his agenda, how great his policies are, how his administration is changing things drastically, blah blah, blah... It really stung when I heard, yet again, what he is trying to make today. Attempting to declare September 11 a day of "national service" devoted to cleaning up parks, roadways, neighborhoods- volunteer for the bettering of our communities.

Photo by Michael Macor. Image from Chronicle,

I'm sorry- but this "national service day" should not be reserved for a day 2,977 American Citizens were murdered by extremists. (I do not count the hijackers in amongst the victims) Volunteer work should be done year-round, not just on 9/11. Today is a day to honor those who died. For the fathers, brothers, mothers, daughters, aunts & uncles, children, grandchildren, cousins and friends of ours who died. A day to mourn the brave rescue teams- both the Police and Fire Departments, and other rescue crews who arrived on scene- who tried to save as many people as they could- many of them losing their lives to do so. Today is a day to remember, never to be forgotten. It seems to me that many already have. While I think the first few anniversaries of 9/11 were a little over-exposed by the media weeks in advance... Now, it's like they've saved it all only to be mentioned today. The actual day. I was horrified and disgusted in D.C. last year- that while I observed a minute of silence at the four times:
8:46 for Flight 11
9:03 for Flight 175
9:38 for Flight 77
10:10 for Flight 93

Nobody around me observed the same as I did. I know I can't force anyone to, but I suppose I'm old fashioned and expected people to show respect for 4 minutes out of their day. Is it really too much to ask? It sickens me to think that some of the people out there think of this as just another day of the year. It happened 9 years ago, what's the big deal? Well... The big deal is that over three thousand of our fellow American brothers and sisters were murdered.

Do you think their families will ever forget? Parents, siblings, spouses, cousins never coming home. Pictures, memorials set up in a sign of respect for those that died. Reminding us to never forget. I don't think, in my personal opinion, it's right to desecrate their memory by acknowledging this "day of service". A mother, raising a child that never knew its father. A father, raising a child on his own that was too young to remember its mother. Holiday events, where family comes together... Missing someone, forever. A gathering of friends to celebrate an event- missing one or more people. Tears are cried each year, I'm sure... The same way I imagine that people share the best stories about their absent loved ones in an attempt to at least smile and appreciate the good times they shared. To reminisce about the time, albeit short, they had together.

That morning, I had just poured my Mother and I a cup of coffee, and my Dad had literally just left for work 10 minutes prior. They had gone to a football game over the weekend and in Pennsylvania, coming back through New York on Monday, the 10th. Of course, they came straight home even though it was a long ride. They joked about how one of these days they'd have to visit NYC and take time going through the city. Coffees in hand, Mom and I sat down in front of the TV watching Good Morning America, with me listening to her telling me the funny stories that arose out of being Patriots fans down in Philly Eagles territory. All in good fun, of course.

In between bouts of laughter, and sipping coffee, we then heard Matt Lauer stutter, and announce a breaking story. It was then the cameras cut to the first tower. Mom and I immediately turned to the TV and watched- like statues- the burning building. What happened? What could have caused that fire, that gaping hole in the side... No, sides of the building. There were fluttering things coming down from all three sides- paper? It must have been. We watched. Matt then said there were unconfirmed reports that a plane had hit the tower, but it was thought to be a small aircraft. No commercial breaks at this point, the cameras were fixated on the tower that was burning away so furiously. White papers still fluttering to the ground, almost like it was slow motion. Then the reports came in that it was indeed a plane, but not a small one like originally thought- it was a commercial airliner jet full of passengers that were aboard.

While we were listening to Matt and Katie Couric trying to sift through the papers and notes which were being passed to them, with their occasional comments... I couldn't help but think this was a sick, sick joke. It had to be. The building couldn't actually be burning- it just wasn't possible. I was trying to convince myself that it was just a movie effect, and someone was pulling a cruel prank. And then, as Mom and I continued to watch, the second plane hit. We watched in horror as it came out of the sky, and deliberately hit the second tower and explode. Matt and Katie were silent. The person on the other end of their news feed cussed. We started crying.

Second hit. Image from

We watched it as the fireball erupted from where the plane crashed into the building, spewing papers and office materials out of the broken windows. I remember hoping that the people on those floors didn't have time to see what happened... And I hoped that they died quickly so that they wouldn't feel pain. Matt and Katie both tried to speak, their words stuck in their throats, and then started to tear up. I think, collectively, anyone that was watching TV at this point, or there in NYC, were already starting to mourn. It was that moment I realized this wasn't a joke- the towers were burning because two planes were purposely flown into them. What will be next? Boston? San Fransisco? D.C.? Houston? Chicago? What's next?

Lady Liberty Mourns. Photo from

Glued to the TV, and I was the only one with a cell phone at that point. My Dad hated them, and he was on his 2 hour trip to work... No way to get ahold of him until he arrived to his office. Maybe the radio had broken to make a special announcement, and maybe it hadn't. Then it hit me. My parents had been in NYC yesterday- the 10th. I cried even harder. My coffee was cold. I didn't want to get up and heat it up- I was glued to the television. A phone call, an architect friend. He was crying too... Mom and him talked for a while, and through the tears I heard her catch her breath. "If they're lucky, they'll have an hour, they're going to fall" the friend said.

"No, really? They look so... Permanent. I thought they built those to protect from fire?" Mom started...

"With a normal fire, yes. But this is jet engine fuel, and the way it's burning it's going to super-heat and melt the core of the building and they're both going to fall... They don't have long." our friend said.

I tuned out at that point, not wanting to hear this. It was bad enough the planes hit the buildings, they can't disappear. They're what makes the skyline of NYC just that- unique. Mom finished the conversation, and I got us some more coffee. We were glued to the TV. Then we see dark things falling down from the buildings, papers flying out the sides of the towers had stopped. What, are they dumping office equipment out? Then shapes... Oh my god. People are jumping out of the windows, to escape the flames. There's nothing below to catch them... To escape the fire they're jumping out of the windows... I broke down. These people were trapped- the lack of stairs to get down from the upper floors, the smoke and lack of oxygen, and fire in the building were blocking access for rescue teams from below, and the flames and smoke were making it impossible to rescue by extraction on those upper levels- the doors to access the rooftops were locked. Those people were in an oven. I didn't know tears could flow out of my eyes at the rate they were going.

Pentagon. Image from

Matt started talking again- a report of another plane being hijacked, this one had crashed into the Pentagon. Who could orchestrate this kind of attack?! What the hell is going on?? Then crumbling.... The first tower hit, WTC 2, was simply gone. It crumbled down, like an accordion.Our friend was right. 56 minutes, the building was decimated. The other one would go soon. 

Shanksville, PA crash site. Image from

Reports came through again, a fourth plane crashed into a field in Pennsylvania. Speculation that it was headed for somewhere in DC- the White House, The Capitol Building, someplace important. I sat there, close to my Mom. Both of us crying, flipping the channels, same news on every station. Not even a half hour later- the second tower, WTC 1, collapses.

Emerging from the Ash. Image from

What few media personnel, and civilians, that were inside that zone... Watching as the building fell and the tidal wave of dust and debris overtook everyone on the street. Everyone was the same gray color, walking around in complete shock or hysteria, trying to get out, get away. Those people in the buildings... Are gone. The people in the streets are covered in ash from what burned inside the building, compounds, chemicals. They were covered in the ashes of the people that were burned alive. I wished this wasn't true, I was having a nightmare and I'd wake up. It couldn't have happened like this... Everyone ducking for cover, in a doorway, beside or under a vehicle, running like hell down the streets. Crying. Screaming. Silent. Lost. Bloodied. The cameras overcome by the dust blotted out and only saw specks of ash and debris. We could hear people crying, screaming, running away. Alarms the firefighters wear to locate one another- but we couldn't see them even though the camera was still rolling.

The news stations simultaneously showed the enormous ash cloud of where the Towers had stood this morning, just hours ago, and the burning wreck in the side The Pentagon that was hit. Nothing broadcast about the plane in Pennsylvania... They weren't sure if there were survivors there yet. They quickly confirmed that none had survived.

The following morning, I remember seeing the rescue crews set up just a few blocks away from the Trade Centers in NY, beds, medical equipment, and personnel there ready to help injured people inside tents, in an effort to keep the dust and debris out. Then seeing them again, in shock that hardly anyone was brought to them- just those people that had managed to get out of the buildings, or into the streets. My Mom said "They don't need them... Not that many, there won't be enough bodies. This is going to be a search for remains... If they find anyone alive, they'll be very lucky." I knew she was right... But I hoped. Like millions of other people, I hoped some of those people would be ok. As a nation we all did.

WTC September 16, 2001. Taken by USGS field crew members.Todd Hoefen & Greg Swayze

The air was dusty for weeks on end. Lights lit up the area, and it was absolutely haunting. It's a graveyard. The site where the World Trade Centers sat. The wing of The Pentagon which was hit. The field where the fourth plane crashed. They're graveyards. I watched as this unfolded. As I realized many of my friends lost family, and friends, to these attacks. I know not everyone remembers this day- especially the younger children and those born since then... But it's still my opinion that this not be declared a day of service.

It is a day of remembrance.
It is a day to honor all those who died.
It is a day to honor the families and friends of the people murdered.
It is a day to mourn.

Image from

During the Christmas Season that year, I volunteered for the Polar Express at the time. The guy that runs the event extended an invitation to all the families that had lost a member to come stay at a hotel which was complimentary donated, and tickets to the event were also free. Only about 40 families showed up. Most of them were Mothers with small children. Since we volunteered to be Chefs on the train that night, my Mom and I took the car that most of these strangers were on. The children were excited, but there was an undercurrent of sadness so strong- I nearly cried. The parents- a few Dads with children, but mostly Mothers, and in a few cases Grandparents only- were emotional, choking back tears. Single parents on a train ride. Grandparents who had lost their own children, now raising their grandchildren.

We served the hot chocolate, and gave the nougat candy... Nearly every child said thank you to us for serving both. They were so quiet, reserved... Afraid to let the magic of Christmas get too close, I think, for fear that something else would go wrong. So I started being silly, making funny faces at the kids. Mom and I started singing, and dancing as best we could on the train that was rocking back and forth on the tracks. We were finally getting them to start to open up... They helped us sing, they watched outside as we went through the woods to the "North Pole", even the adults joined us. These children were too young to be so sad- but suffering through a trauma such as they had, I didn't blame them. We wanted to make them forget for a little while. We kept rushing from side to side of the train- asking if the kids were seeing signs that we were almost to the North Pole, look a wolf! Collective "Woooooowwwww's", sighs, they were getting antsy. Finally opening up to the excitement of the evening, the magic we were trying to create...

Myself, two sisters, brother and Mom are in this photo. This was not taken in 2001.

"Look! Look! Look! What's that?" Mom and I shouted all of a sudden... The kids pressed their noses to the windows of the train car- and a few of them yelled "ELVES!!!!!!!! They have lights!!!!!!! I see Santa's sleigh!!!!!!!" We had some of the kids from one side of the train come over with others in the row across so they could see. We helped a few stand up on the seats and look. "Look! There's MILLIONS of them! Do I get one of my own?" We answered yes- each family gets an Elf of their own to walk them on up... They hurriedly scrambled for their boots, jackets, hats and mittens. They all wore their PJ's (of course, that's tradition!) and were quite warm. They were all chitter-chatter and excitement... They literally couldn't get dressed fast enough- and were trying to drag their families off the train as quick as they could.

We did it. We managed to turn these sad kids into delighted and excited little ones chomping at the bit to get up and see Santa. Out of respect, they were the first ones allowed to disembark from the train. The elves led them up the path to "Santa's Barn" with little white lanterns. They threw snowballs to some of the elves playing out in front. They all got front row seating to the stage. Nearly everyone that volunteered on the train walked up to see the performance that night. The children were finally forgetting, for just a little while, the pain they had been (and will forever be) living with. The adults were emotional- eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill over... And most of their children/grandchildren telling them not to cry, it will be alright- Santa's going to visit. Which of course- made them cry. Made most of us "Chefs" cry too. Many of the Elves teared up.

Not the 2001 performance. My Dad was Santa for a year.

The performance went off without a hitch- and when Santa came out... The kids were in absolute awe. Stunned that he actually showed up- right there in front of them. Of course- a little boy was picked from the crowd, as with every performance, and when asked what he wanted for Christmas he replied "Well, I'd like a bell from your sleigh for everyone."

Voices and excited squeals of delight immediately erupted from the NYC children... "We're getting bells!" was almost everything we heard. At this point, the show was nearly done, so we had to get back to the train. We prepared the bags, with the bells, and greeted our guests as they boarded the train for the ride back to the train station. I held the bag, as Mom reached in and pulled out the silver bells and handed them to everyone- kids and parents alike. I've never received so many hugs as I did that night I volunteered. What broke my heart is we had extras... And each family was given an extra bell for the loved one they lost. The parents cried, and the children held on extra tight to that bell so they could give it to their gone mother/father/family member. We sang some more, I rubbed my cheeks against some of the children who wanted "magic sparkles" from the glitter I had worn- of course with permission from Mom or Dad or Grandparents. During the ride back, some of the older kids continued singing with us. The younger ones, however, were starting to peter out and quickly fell asleep- curled up in the arms of their guardian, or against an older sibling. They still had the bells clutched in their little hands... One was theirs, one was for the Mom or Dad they lost. A few families, both. We made absolutely sure every person that wasn't able to be with their children that night still had a bell given to them. Looking at their sleeping faces, and the mixed emotions on the faces of the adults and children that were still awake, I realized then what this night meant to them. What we did for them.

They had forgotten for a night the pain and loss they would forever suffer through.

We did our job.

This is why I refuse to recognize this day as one of "National Service".

God Bless America. I will never, ever forget.

Faces of the Victims. Image from

Day 40 - I Hide

Day 40 - I Hide, originally uploaded by The Snarky Princess.

I paint a good face, don't I.

I even managed to get my hair pretty today. It's time for a new dye job. You can see my blonde roots.


I look nearly normal. I'm a good artist, I suppose. I'm so tired. I'm very frustrated. But I'm never giving up.

Day 39 - Shoulder

Day 39 - Shoulder, originally uploaded by The Snarky Princess.

To me, this is one of my favorite spots on my body. The curve where my neck and shoulder meet.

Lazy kisses there tingle and tickle a bit.
This place here, and the curve between my ribs and hip are my favorites.

Blurred, because it's softer... More feminine when out of focus. So easily broken- touch hurts and it's awful. I don't like being touched if I don't know who you are, or if you reach out and grab me before I see you. Sensory issues.

This place... I love this place. It's one of the places that it doesn't hurt when fingertips touch me.

Day 38 - The Revenge Body

Apologies for not keeping up on this the past few weeks. Today I resume. I miss the photos.

He dumped me.
Months ago.

So far, I've lost almost 50 lbs.
It's the medications for keeping my back pain under control. It's been a rough road. I'm finally on medication that doesn't make me high out of my mind. It's nice to have most of my thoughts back- though, motivation I'm still having a tough time with.

The pain eases a little each day- but some days it comes back full force. I'm trying to stay optimistic.

I suppose it's time to be very shallow and a little bitchy.

Meet my revenge body.
It's no longer his to enjoy!

Boy, that makes me gloat.

Astrology Chart = Me.

This birth chart report shows the positions of the planets for me.

The Sun represents vitality, a sense of individuality and outward-shining creative energy.

Sun in Pisces

As the twelfth and last sign of the zodiac, Pisces contains within itself a little experience of all the signs. This gives Pisces Suns the ability to identify with people from all walks of life--from all backgrounds--in some way. These individuals are not only changeable and adaptable, they have open minds and tremendous understanding. But Pisces itself is often misunderstood. Pisces Suns may spend a good portion of their lives yearning for understanding, and the other part in a state of divine discontent. Suffering is sometimes glamorized in the Piscean world.

Sun in Pisces people are frequently pegged as wishy-washy, but this is all a matter of opinion. What you will find behind a vaguely directionless, spacey manner is a deep person with real dreams. Their dreams are more than getting that picket fence or making it up the corporate ladder. Pisces are tuned in to a higher purpose and their dreams transcend the individual. A deep love for humanity, and compassion that knows no bounds is found with this placement of the Sun. Pisceans are not known to be cutthroat business types, nor are they given to throwing themselves out into the world in an aggressive manner. But make no mistake about it, Pisces can be extraordinarily successful when given the chance to express themselves. The arts, marketing, music, teaching, drama, healing arts...these are all fields in which Pisces can find expression. Their imagination, attunement to humanity, and remarkable intuition endow them with enviable gifts of insight and creativity.

Pisces is a sensitive sign--both sensitive to criticism and sensitive to others' feelings. Easily touched by human suffering, at least in theory, Pisces wouldn't hurt a fly. They believe in people, are deeply hurt by compassionless human behavior, and have a hard time saying no. Harsh realities are avoided either through escapist behavior or self-delusion; but every now and again reality does raise its ugly head, and hits Pisces over the head. This is a sad time indeed. Pisces retreats into their own world, self-pitying and giving pep talks to themselves ("I will never trust again!"). Rest assured, though, that these periods are rather short-lived and even useful. Pisces seems to derive energy from their (generally short) bouts of self-pity. They come back stronger, with a spring in their step, ready to face the world again, and just as, if not more, compassionate and trusting as they were before. Some might even wonder if Pisces finds pleasure in suffering. Sometimes this is the case, but most of the time, Pisces pulls a lot of creative energy from sadness. Pisces is the poet or artist with angst, although this trait is often more apparent with Moon in Pisces.

Some find Pisces' tendency to be late for appointments, spaced out behavior, and absent-mindedness amount to irresponsibility. Pisces would be shocked to know this, however. Who me? Pisces wonders. Irresponsible? Pisces Suns absolutely care--their love knows no bounds--but their retreats from ordinary life (whether they are as simple as daydreams or actual departures) that they so seem to need every now and again are not always understandable to no-nonsense signs, such as Virgo or Aries. Many Pisces seem almost allergic to things like shopping lists, maps, directions, and instructions, and for some brave souls, even watches -- they prefer to feel their way through life than to follow some plan. We find plenty of artists, poets, and musicians with Sun (and other personal planets) in Pisces. Piscean themes are woven throughout the songs of Billy Corgan of the Smashing Pumpkins and Kurt Cobain of Nirvana, for example.

Short description:

She is compassionate and sentimental. She likes isolated occupations: administration, archives, history. Spirit of self-sacrifice.

Weaknesses: tendency to be led astray, lack of experience or inability to apply experience practically. Lethargy, over-sensitivity and emotionalism.

Mars in Pisces

Mild-tempered and gentle, these guys and gals move through life in a manner that can hardly be considered direct. Mars is the planet of action and assertion, and Pisces is a passive sign that rarely asserts itself in a direct fashion. So the placement of Mars in Pisces is an unusual combination. Sometimes prone to feelings of guilt about their anger, and difficulties with asserting themselves, Mars in Pisces individuals seem to "go with the flow". This is certainly not a very active position for Mars, and natives will often let life "happen" instead of trying to control their life direction. This is a charming position, as individuals with Mars in Pisces don't appear like they are capable of harming a fly. However, those that don't find creative expression for this energy can stir up a storm through indirect aggression.

Mars in Pisces people are not averse to playing games to get what they want, although even they don't always know exactly what they do want! Their desires are changeable and moody, and it's hard to really know where these natives stand on any particular issue. Alternatively, some Mars in Pisces people do take a stand on issues that are Piscean in nature, making compassion and love their mission. Energy levels fluctuate a lot, coming in bursts of activity followed by inertia. Because it can be difficult to align this ebbing and flowing of energy in the day-to-day world as it is, finding a job that supports this may be tough. The happiest Mars in Pisces individuals are those that have a creative outlet that allow them to express their desires of the moment, their compassion--and even their anger--freely and imaginatively. An example of Mars in Pisces is Bono, lead singer of U2, who seems to have found the perfect outlet for his creativity through his music, and as a spokesperson for love and compassion. 

House V in Pisces

With lofty feelings, she is full of tenderness, sentimentality. Things do not always go her way. A meeting with a person who is either not free, too young or from a different family or social background means that living together will be done in the utmost secrecy while waiting for the chance to legalize the situation quietly, without any trouble. This state of affairs will make her melancholy. A lovely little family will result from this union.

I really hate when these things end up saying scarily accurate information. This pretty much explains me to a T, and this is the only time I will admit such. If you really want to understand where I'm coming from, what I'm about, why I am the way I am... It explains it all. All the quirky, kooky things I do make me the oh-so-loveable brat I am today. Why I fight for some things- and others I let go, because I must. Not because I want to- oh no. There are so many things I don't want to let go of... But I have to, because I have no other choice.

I'm still looking for my niche. I know I don't belong anywhere- I've known that for a long time. I go where the wind takes me, here and there... And places in between. I'm not like everyone else. I'm different- not in a freaky way, but just... Cut out to make my own paths and not follow ones that have already been made. I don't think I'm meant to settle down- my heart was given for the last time. I shall keep it to myself now, for fear that it will- yet again- be tossed aside as if unimportant, irrelevant. I don't like feeling vulnerable- although I am. I have a tough exterior that you all see. But I do hurt easily... And many times it's a comment that isn't even meant as said. Or it's inaction from someone- disappointment, because I expect friends to put just as much effort as I do into friendships. I know this has been severely lacking on my part lately due to me being hurt, and medicated. I need to remedy this- I know. Get back in touch with those people that I've not forgotten- but just not contacted because I've been so out of it.

Aside from everything else... I still love him deeply. I talk a tough game, and if I see him, most likely I'll be distant and almost cold. At the same time, my heart will break every time I see him, and that's something I will have to deal with. But never again will I entrust my heart to anyone but myself. He will never see this hurt he's caused- I won't allow it. As for my dreams... They've drastically changed. Each day, trying to work a little harder to get there. New options on the horizon, but now no time for a family of my own. I have my siblings, cousins. This will need to be enough. This is all that will be said on the matter.


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