I feel like I should write something here… But I can not think of anything with substance (meaning I can not think of anything that isn’t Emo).

     This is my self-inflicted to do list….

       – Write more
       – Do laundry
       – Clean my room (this has a lot to do with the washing of the laundry)
       – Catch up in schoolwork
       – Paint more
       – Stop being stupid/Emo/human/all three

     Two of these are accomplished relatively easily; can you guess which two? ….Bingo: do my laundry, and clean my room, and I will probably do these things after I am done here. Other than that, I am most likely sunk.

     I do not like what I am doing or who I am. Not particularly, anyway. I mean… I could stay the way I am and I’d be fine with that, but it’s like sleeping in your clothes instead of pyjamas: it’s nice every once in a while, but it gets old if you do that all the time. …I think I am a bit more insane now, with not being able to speak with my sister a whole lot (though this, too, is partially self-inflicted). I bottle things up more than I used to, I think. And while I have a good relationship with the parental units, I don’t talk with them like I do/did with Sarah. I haven’t talked with anyone like Ie wanted to since Sarah left: I simply don’t have anyone that I feel comfortable confiding in (at least, not as much as I want to confide).

     And I do not like being seventeen. Everyone gasps when they find out: like they can’t believe it, or like they know I’m going to have “the time of my life.” I do not like this growing up feeling. I do not like that, despite my dislike and knowledge of it, the growing up is inevitable. I do not like being asked which Uni I’ll attend, or when I’ll learn how to drive. I do not like some habits I’ve gotten into. I do not like that I am deceitful, and that people will not/would not believe me. I do not like a lot of things. But I suppose that these things I am going through are very much like a refiner’s fire, and I am the metal, being shaped and clanged into something beautiful.

     All of these things, plus some others, equal a jumbled, gloomy mess of a human with the name livia?tacked on it. It all makes me lack inspiration; makes me lack motivation. In short, I believe I have become the poster child of apathy. I forget who said it (someone to do with Over The Rhine, I think), but I am reminded of this quote: unny how we think people are more interesting when they are suffering?- or something to that effect. You may wonder why I have thought of this… It is because my life is actually pretty great on the surface. This could also be why I don’t have any artistic inspiration. So now I this robot that can only function on my sorrows and I will never be an artist if I am happy.

     And then…. You just have to wonder….

     And then the whole school thing… yeah. That should be fun. I will be doing school well into June, and possibly (though I cringe to say it) July. I do not like school. It’s similar to my dislike of salad: it doesn’t appeal to me, but I eat it anyway because I have to.

     Whatever. I just rambling some things that have been in my head.

     No poetry, again; it not worth your time or mine (especially since most of it is nonexistent). I am off to do the laundry and take a hot shower.

Without a doubt,
   -Olivia