So she told me I had Amber Oomph. That I am not useless and I am not losing myself in the abyss. The trick is wholeheartedly believing her. The taste of gray that lingers on my tongue will fade. The limitations, my body's ability to trap me within it. All these things will soon be broken---my revenge against...myself? Against something rather. I know at times I have a needed a good kickstart to get myself going. I need someone to tell me I can't in order to make the "can" happen. Defiance doesn't run deep in my blood, but there is a small strain of stubborness that survives and thrives in times such as this. Times where I came so close to losing it all, and now I am realizing I want it all back more than ever. How important it all was. How blind I was to take it for granted. I foreshadowed this I suppose...thinking about how I'd be so happy if I lost it all...then got it back. The getting it back part is the hard stuff. I never thought I'd have to earn what I had from birth. I never thought I'd have to earn back love from myself and others. I never thought I'd have this much confusion regarding roles and relationships. And somehow, presented with all this time to think...I am getting so much more expanse in my views. I lose myself in thoughts like I never thought I could. While my body has taken a break (literally has broken) my mind has massively produced these swirling clouds of questions and dreams that have been hovering constantly. I want to answer them myself...to try to understand what I want and why. Isn't so easy. It's slowly coming...and I am willing to wait. Allowing myself to be patient which is becoming a well trained habit for me lately. I just rely on that time old saying...could have been worse...oops :) I mean things happen for a reason.

The depression I fall into when I write feel so good sometimes. I feel like I have misplaced so many things that are important to me. And now by my own fault I have to cope with the loss. Things I wish I could regain but yet I know my only friend is that which I despise. Slow time. Sands falling in slow motion in an hourglass that tempts me to shatter it. To spill the grains out into my own hand. Give me back control of all the things that slipped away. Feeling my mistakes burn into my skin. Branding me for life to bear the weight of regret. The "If onlys" taunt me with every thought. The way I look at myself in the mirror lately seems to bear a mocking reflection staring back. Like the other part of me and the world who got inside laughs at my misfortune. Tells me I deserved it. "I told you so Amber." This is what you get. This will turn you into the bitch that lurks inside. This is going to eat you up internally, slowing latching its greedy fingers around your mind. Make you feel the unbearable tension and bitterness that you have harbored for so long. And I cry...I cry so much. I cry for who I am becoming. I pray for what I was. I long for what used to be. I long for normalacy and happiness. I long for the right thing. I long for the wisdom to know what I have done and how to fix it. I am tired of life. Or at least I am tired of the recent past and no yearn for some way to grab the upper hand. I want to hold dreams in my fist and fulfill my insatiable desires that have been stolen away. I want the ice to numb me...smother my flames and heartache...take away my relationship with pity and mold me into someone else.

Oh my......talk about changes......car spinning.....something smashed....sirens and then the limitation of not being able to do anything for myself. So how much do I appreciate life now? 2 more long months to go to regain my freedoms and normal life. I never thought anything would be this hard. To break down in tears because I can not do things for myself. Didn't they know I hate asking for help? Why would they make me this way. I always believed everything happens for a reason, but on this one I am still struggling to figure out what I am to learn of this. I suppose I have always had a respect for life. But it is more so now....especially now that I can't get down and dirty and have sex...but seriously I thought I had been through enough with dysfunctional families and such...I suppose my toll has yet to be paid for some reason. I just know that I am frustrated and not making the best of this time I have on my hands. I finally moved away from my parents, established myself as an individual human being, and someone deemed it fit to take that away. Ok so I must be bitter. I feel like I am sick of myself, and the constant babying from people who nag and have made me a helpless child in my own home. It is this feeling though that my own company isn't enough. It is rather disturbing I guess, feeling trapped in myself. I mean I have always liked who I am. It is just that being forced to sit with my thoughts more than usual makes me question more and more who I am which I avoid many times.

Losing touch. Being consumed. I feel like I got my hands on the map but I can't find my compass. Torn into pieces lately by emotions, emotions I haven't had to deal with before. Keep analyzing and overanalyzing, trying to make sense in a senseless box I am trapped in. As if I can be my own therapist. Like I can pay myself in some sick circle of justifications for actions. I really don't understand, although I think I do, a confusing statement in itself. I just feel like I am not fully feeling lately. That I need to turn myself inside out for myself. To remember what I have within me. I forget sometimes, on purpose I think because no one would say ignorance is bliss if it wasn't. There are truths out there that people ignore, simple things that we don't want to see. Sometimes because it isn't what we want to hear, sometimes because it is what we want to hear. In either case looking away and finding meaning in the meaningless, whatever form it takes is so much easier. Take for instance how I try to reflect right now in a sad procrastination attempt. Although is it really procrastinating? Isn't the reflecting what I have been procrastinating? Even now I let it out in little bursts so as to relieve it. Tiny releases of pressure so as to avoid the big one, the mindshattering earthquake that would leave me only with myself, looking in the mirror and not sure I would be all too pleased with myself looking back at me. It is easier this way to tell myself I did think about it. I did my part, payed my penance to me. But the girl in the mirror has not yet received what I owe to her. I don't really know how to go about paying her back or how to move forward with her. I need to take some measures to grow up, while carefully keeping my eye on the line. The grown up line. The line that once you cross you can't really come back. When you are GROWN and have stopped being. The GROWN people live in this land where all is consumed by money and routine. Get up, go to work, come home, go to bed. REPEAT. REPEAT. And so on til they physically die. The growing stages of life have ended and they have died. The body just keeps following the routine because it is all it knows. So please, girl in the mirror I beg you. Help me to grow and become who I need to be at this point in my life. I am going to be out there on my own, with my mirror, trying to make sense of it all it this so called real world I keep hearing about. I promise to acknowledge you and let you be. I am just so scared and your smooth glass embrace has yet to comfort me.

So one day I realized I had found myself, but wasn't quite sure what I found. Counting down to buy, to live, to love, to learn, to leave, to die. And I don't want to live life counting, granted it is okay once in awhile. But I don't want to spend my entire life counting and neglecting the things that aren't associated with counting. I can't be sure what those things are at this point, since everything has become a counting goal. Example: I will be happy when I live on my own. I will be happy when I finish school. I will be happy when I find my soulmate. I will be happy when I am happy. Why can't I just be happy now? It is a wonderful thing to have goals and things to look forward to. But sometimes just waking up and knowing I am alive should be reason enough to be happy. If I lost everything I had right now, I would be so sad. But if I got it all back imagine how ecstatic I would be. I want to be that way now.

Ooey-Gooey Valentine's Day. Somehow it seems so nice and mushy and romantical when you have someone to share it with. Like you could be with this person 24/7/365, but on this particular day you remember why you really like/love them. Sorta sad that we take our loved ones for granted most of the time. Let's see...what would the perfect Valentine's Day be? How bout covering the lovey dovey person in whip cream and eating them up. No...too Hannibalistic. What about going camping and laying under the stars, only to be eaten to death by mosquitos. No...too Hannibalistic. What about making some din-din like tortellini and garlic bread with pesto sauce. Add some sparkly cider and you got a perfect little night. He brought the Irises (my fav) and the cutesy bear I begged pathetically for. Some ass slappin entertainment provided by a never been kissed barrymore girly...yes my night was cuddly and warm. Naked bodies snuggled together, heat and smiles radiating through the skin and lips. Touching lightly...slowly slumbering off...hoping I don't snore and make him kick me. Hoping he doesn't do a surplus fart and scare me from his embrace. Finding the morning stick in my back, unable to play since work calls my sleepy head. Ah Valentine's Day. I'm so tired but it was so worth it. So maybe he and I can have our own special little Valentine's Day every day. But not Hannibal style.

Some days I wake up and I feel so good. Like I am not sure what is going on or where I am going but I have faith I will get there and the destination is worthy of admiration. Other days I don't know where that faith runs off to, but I feel so scared and lost. I know I am not alone in these feelings and at 21 I still have a lot of growing and developing to do as a person. I just wish there was some magic potion I could buy so I could drink my dose of faith everyday. Faith in humanity, faith in myself, faith in the future, faith in the people around me.There are those good days when the sunshine and hills can make me cry, touched by beauty in its simplicity. Yet other days the most beautiful sunset makes me sad, as if this is the last one I'll ever see. Or it is the end of all ends. I wish I understood me more. I mean granted I know myself in certain ways, but sometimes I don't see myself. I know other people do and I wonder if what they see is something I would be afraid to realize. I feel like this little girl clinging to a swinging pendulum. It rests for a greater percentage on the happy side, but when it swings into darkness the little girl can't see the brighter side. She forgets eventually the force will drive her back to sunshine. It is when she forgets that she loses her faith.

Oh my goodness. I've only been here 2 and a half hours and I am ready to go crazy already. I sit here wishing I was sleeping or doing something fun. And of course I got ditched today so on top of it all I am lonely. God damn I need a raise for these unbearable conditions. This grandma lady who isn't on my account anymore but can't let go....she is constantly at my desk interupting my sleep. It isn't like I don't have things to do to keep me busy, but they are boring and I'd rather write or play Bejeweled (what an addict I have become) Must add that to my list of things to go to Anonymous meetings for. Along with materialistic whores and taco bravo and adults obsessed with childhood and young women with a fetish for Harrison Ford and molesters. I am such a bad girl. Although the boy likes to be molested. Maybe if I hide under my desk people will leave me alone. Or I can start crying and run away. And when people ask what is wrong I can say my imaginary friend died and I am having a hard time. Or my best friend's boyfriend dumped her and it is hitting me so hard that I can't think. But it is so so sad grandma, they were meant to be. Boo-hoo. My personal favorite is running to the bathroom but some people think that you don't deserve to be left alone there either. I need to work at an office with people who are not socially retarded work-a-holics. Thank god I don't have to go to meetings for that. For Valentine's Day I am hoping I get mean pills. Or maybe deaf pills. I should start using sign language only and claim I am now deaf. Then I could just use the finger and tell them that is the only word I know. Well I couldn't tell them...cuz all I could do is flip them off. I'd write that is the only sign I know. And then I could cry. So they would think I was a crazy deaf person. I need a different job. Or for people at work to be abducted by aliens.

So I'm at work wondering why this guy thinks I might have liver spots or anal warts. He thinks he isn't good enough for me or something. And that I could get paid for my charm and wit and presence. That is amusing. Pretty much I am this big clutzy dork. People don't pay attention to me unless they are laughing at me. I am quite cute though at times. And humble. The materialistic whore tendency has got to go though. Lately I am hooked on remnants of childhood. Storybooks with purty pictures and Garbage Pail Kids. This pressing need to reclaim my childhood is starting to consume me. Or maybe I just ran out of things to buy and I reverted to the old and familiar. Like those damn McDonald's Happy Meals that I never liked but saw as a comfort food. Good advertising with the adjective Happy thrown in there. Who can resist? Like if I plaster those boxes on my wall I can have this Happy collage and my life will be that of a 4th grader once more. Right now anything happy is appealing to escape the silicon valley smut I have gotten wrapped up in, addicted to the smell of the green stuff...yet feeling absolutely meaningless in the bigger scheme of things. This is not what I want. I just want some Strawberry Shortcake sheets and the boy with the complex to realize I like him and I'm not Blue Light Specialing things.