You make me so Mad

The worst kind of mad
The suffocating mad
Mad that you can't do anything with
To yell or to cry?
To break something maybe?

This mad, won't be expressed
This mad, just swells inside
Pushing at the edges
So that it makes you twitch
Tears well but never fall
Words form but go no where
Arms swing but never hit

You make me so mad.
You suffocate me
You attack my character
and call me a fool for thinking so
It's always my fault
You can do no wrong

No I will not carve pumpkins with you
No it was not selfish of me to put off my homework
No I don't tell you, and you want to know why?
BECAUSE the last time, I didn't stop hearing about it for
m o n t h s.

And I will lie if I have to
I will tell you I'm done
I will tell you I have no homework
and guess what?
I will finnish it anyways.
I don't want to fail.
I'm not stupid.

How dare I push you over the edge eh?!
How dare you try to push me around.
Fuck off.
I can hear you bitching to your precious girlfriend
who you hold in a golden light of parenting
I will never parent like her
I will never parent like you
I am not you
I will not make your mistakes
I am me
I will make my own mistakes
And I will live with them
If you're going to set me free,
You have to let me go.

Clue in.
I will do want I want
When I want.
Not because I am selfish.
Because I am a person
and I deserve to

I am not selfish.
I am no more selfish then you.
And it was you, yourself who said
"we're all a little selfish, we have to be"
because otherwise, we can't take care of ourselves?
Right?
Well you're doing a shit job
Practice what you fucking preach.

Sh*t My Dad Says

#2: "Men are stupid. Men are really really stupid. Keep that in mind, Holly. And remember, lesbianism is always an option."

Sh*t My Dad Says #1

This is a take off a Cosmo artical, `Sh*t my Boyfriend says`, which is a take off of a book/new tv show called...you guessed it, "Sh*t my Dad says"!
Some of them are wise. Some of them are weird. (paraphrased).

#1: "Guilt is dog crap. When you see dog crap on the sidewalk, do you stop and think Should I step in or over that dog crap? No! Of course you don't, you just step over it and don't look back. Stepping in that dog crap would just make things worse. And so will feeling guilty. It should not be guilt that brings us to do good things, and therefore guilt has no purpose and should not be stepped in."

"I is a Holly"

First, I am Holly,

and then I am a woman.

Then a daughter,

Then a student,

Then a friend.

I am, a Holly.

I am a feeler

and a talker.

A weeper

and a laugher.

I am a Holly.

I am a lover,

I am a hater.

I am confident,

I am scared.

I am honest,

I am a lier.

I am strong,

I am weak.

First, I am Holly,

and then I am a woman.

Then a daughter,

Then a student,

Then a friend.

Sometimes I forget.

Sometimes I am a friend,

before I am Holly.

Sometimes I am a daughter,

before I am a woman.

Sometimes,

I pretend not to hate,

I pretend I am always brave.

Sometimes,

I bite my tongure,

and quiet my laugh.

Sometimes,

I deny my emotions,

and my gut reactions.

But that is not who I am.

Unwritten

When she sits down to write, she pauses, taking a breath and trying to focus. Ideas start to form, creating images on the blank page in front of her. Depictions of storylines and charaters dance before her, but it's a game. As she reaches out to to grab one of the visions, it disappears. She watches in desperation as the others also start to slip and fade away. She grows frantic, stretcing out both hands, closing them around nothing but empty air. The ideas run away, like playful children, and her heart creeps into her throat as those fabulous images retract and return to their original state: straight blue lines that cross the blank piece of paper.

Her vision starts to blur as she stares at the same piece of paper, so she crumples it up and tosses it aside, only to find another blank sheet laying under it. She starts to feel as though she has hit the bottom of the sea and she is not strong enough to resurface. She battles with the urge to blame herself for the loss of those ideas, for the lack of inspiration. She puts her pen down and folds her arms across her chest, leaning back in her chair. The cold skin on her hands shocks her and reaches for her hot tea to warm them. Her fingers flush red as the blood returns to them and she pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. Making a mental note to pick up more, she puts the last one to her lips, sparking a match with her free hands. She inhales, a comfortable feeling creeping over her. The smoke reaches out and relaxes her shoulders and posture, casting aside the tense atmosphere that ruled the room moments before. Her cell phone rings in the distance but she cannot be bothered to pay it any attention.

When the cigarette is reduced to nothing but ashes, she finds herself back where she started, staring at a blank piece of paper. The smoke is replaced by guilt as she closes the notebook, shutting out the possibility of ever seeing those dancing ideas again. She takes a sip of her tea but it has grown cold. She spits it out and pours the rest down the sink, watching it spiral down the drain until it is completely gone.

Silly Holly

Silly, silly Holly forgot to blog this week.
In my defense, it was a busy week.
I hope you haven't checked my blog yet >:P

FACEBOOK.

Maybe it was because I was brought up in the 90's, but as a young girl I dreamed of being a teen and spending night after night on the telephone with friends and boyfriends. All the movies and TV shows depicted teenagers bogging down the phone line, and parents stomping around loudly, complaining that the phone was never free.

What did my actual teen years bring me? Facebook. A website originally designed as a college dating service that quickly grew into a "social networking website". Facebook is so well known, you can find it in online dictionarys and my guess is that it will be making an appearance in Websters before the end of my life time. I finally "logged on" after a lot of nagging from a friend and I was thoroughly confused. I could not find my way around Facebook to save my life, so I dubbed it "stupid" and walked away. But, like an addiction, Facebook was calling me back within weeks. I have heard many a smoker say that they didn't like cigarettes the first time they inhaled but that their longing to like them kept smoking until it became something they enjoyed, something they needed. I feel the same way about Facebook.

Friend Request, confirm.

Status Update, like.

Picture Posted, comment.

Honesty Box, delete.

Inbox Message, reply.

Relationship Request, accept.

To be continued...