Get. Me. Out. of. Here.

I'm so freaking ready for this semester to be over.

First, I need a mental break. This semester has been extremely trying and I have been stretched wayyy too thin. With academics and extracurriculars consuming all my time, it's amazing how I've made it through. I thank God.

As for the roommate situation that I meant to blog about before...it's not any better. People were too right when they said "don't room with your friends". Last year, we were "best friends"...now I can barely stand her! I just wanna punch/slap her or just say "shut up" 75% of the time she's around me. Part of the reason I applied to be a RA is because I didn't wanna be forced to room with her again. Is that bad?

She does alot of stupid things. And I feel like she's too simple to realize that what she does is really dumb. I say simple because she's not an idiot, but she is only "book-smart". She has been sheltered her entire life. It's actually quite sad. She has never been exposed to ANYTHING. Being around the same 25 people your whole life shouldn't even be allowed. That can't be healthy. At All. There is one thing to be sheltered, an entire other to just not know anything about anything outside of the box you've been living in.

I don't expect everyone to know what I know. I'm probably the most Unsheltered college student I know. My parents let my siblings and I know all that was going on in our house. At the time, I wished that they wouldn't tell us so much...that they would sugarcoat issues and situations like my friends' parents did. But they didn't. And I know.

Get. Me. Out. of. Here.

I'm back earlier than I thought I'd be.

I don't know how to deal with death. Plain and simple. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. On November 20, 2010, two young ladies at my school died in a car accident. I knew one of them. Bre was my Resident Advisor my freshman year. She and I were never really close, but I knew her enough to be impacted when she died.

I tear up when i think of either of them, but...I never really cry. When I heard the news, it was almost like I was forcing myself to cry and be sad. I try not to think about the tragedy or the fact that what happened to them could happen to anybody, but...I get sad when I let my mind drift there.

Again...be back later.

Too Much To Say..

I haven't posted here in about a year. I have too much to say.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't who I was. I've always been the strong person in my group of friends. The one who works the hardest, the one that is always busy, the over-achiever. I'm always the one that shows little-to-no emotions. I never show my weaknesses...I'm afraid to. I wonder where this fear comes from. Maybe because I'm the youngest in my family and I've always had to be strong and competent in order to be around my older siblings. Maybe because I'm usually the youngest and most mature of all my friends...and I don't want to lose their respect. What is it?

I keep so much bottled up. Nobody knows everything. My sister is my best friend...but sometimes I feel like I can't even tell her everything. There is always that chance that she will judge me for whatever I tell her.

I'm mentally exhausted. I'm tired of hiding my weaknesses. I wish I was sheltered like some people I know. I wish i was simple-minded like many people I know. But that isn't so. The person my environment has forced me to be is strong, tough, busy, popular, a scholar....Why can't I be different?

I hope there's no limit for this post.

The character and facade that I have "built" seems to be crashing down on me. It's like I'm screaming but nobody can hear me. Can anybody see my pain? No...I guess not.

It seems that whenever I'm happy now, it's a temporary distraction from how I really feel. It never actually feels genuine.

Music seems to be my only release. When I listen to music, my mood mimics what I am listening to. Well actually, make that music and dancing. I dance to forget what else is going on in my life. I dance uninhibited, with no choreography...just dance.

I wish I didn't have to worry about money, about being fat, about whether I'm pretty...about anything. I may exude confidence...but it's not real. I have practiced this act over and over again. I may look like I have it all together, but...I really don't. They say practice makes perfect. "They" were not lying. Can you tell I'm broken?

Speaking of broken..."they" also say that "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." Well what if people just can't tell that I'm broken? Should I alert them so they will be aware of my brokenness? Will they even believe me? Probably not. Whenever I try to express a fear or a concern to those around me...they don't listen. That speaks to what I said earlier about me always being the "rock" for those around me. People are so used to be not showing those types of emotions that when I do...they don't think it's real. What am I to do?

Ok, I think that's enough for now. Be back later.