He's here.

He's here, and after ten months, after nearly a year, it's almost as if he hasn't left, but it is almost as if he's been gone forever. Tell me how that's possible-- or don't. I like to wonder. I like to think about this. I like to think about him and us and them and everybody and taking everything in is like boarding another ride. I like the way I catch him staring at me. I like the way I catch him staring at me even after I've yelled at him to stop. I like the way his eyes are brown one moment, but then the light shifts and it's hazel. I like the way he slides his hand into mine and I like how it fits, I like the non-existent space between our palms. I like the way he swiftly pulls me toward him and I like how the air around him is the same as before and how he doesn't mind leaning down to whisper short phrases into my ear. I like how I smirk and prod and ridicule him one minute, and when that minute is over I'm in his arms. I like how he wants to taste my fruit smoothie chapstick and how I reject him and end up giving in later because "No one deserves to be deprived of this taste." I like a lot of things about us. But I will probably never say it to his face. Yeah, bring on the nausea and corniness. Make fun of me for this post or not; you'll be making fun of the truth. He's here, and we're different, we're both different, we both have different haircuts and we're different from each other, but I guess that's merely another thing I like about him. Enough said.

I wrote that exactly two years ago. It's almost frightening, how you could mean the world to somebody one year, and absolutely nothing to them another year.

And this was my first post in this journal, written exactly one year ago:

I find it refreshing to have started a new journal. My old one seemed to bear too much weight. I updated it all throughout the course of high school, and now that I've moved on from that phase in life, I think it's time that I move on to another journal. The old one was beginning to suffocate me; I don't know why. Maybe it was because a great deal of the entries were too solemn. Too melodramatic, and too angsty.

But I think it would be healthier for me if I started writing in happier tones.

Right now, my eyelids are growing heavier but have something to smile about. He's scared and I'm anxious but he still sings for me, and I'm keeping him.

This summer will be interesting.

Now, I feel the need to move on to another journal once more.

He's happy and I'm broken but he's okay and probably sings for someone else. I couldn't keep him.

This summer will be interesting as well.

http://wildcaptain.livejournal.com

I finally have the heart to unpack.

Apparently, I am capable of accomplishing a good deal of deep thinking in the grocery store.

I need to make the decision to be happy, because lately I haven't been. It's a process, and it's something I have to do if I want to maintain healthy relationships.

It all starts with a smile and a pack of orange tic tacs.

I want to feel a sweet soreness in my face from smiling too wide.
I want to laugh so hard that tears start to rim my lids.
I want to stop dragging myself through the day with a glum disposition.

Maybe I want too much.
But I just want to feel special.

I had the strangest dream last night. Well, it wasn't the most bizarre dream I've ever had, but I still thought it was pretty interesting.

I should have written it down when I woke up, because it's all rather hazy to me at this point in the day. Basically, it mostly took place at the university I attend, as well as a secret treehouse. It had a lot to do with theatre and an improv group that was trying to recruit me into their club. Most of the dream consisted of me acting in scenes with the improv group around campus, and apparently acting had become illegal in our school, so we became a band of rebellious thespians trying to escape the evil clutches of the anti-theatre force...

Yeah. It was awesome, needless to say.

In other news, I felt like absolute crap when I woke up today! Woot. Everything I predicted had come true. Damn, I should be a fortune teller or something! I had to wake up early to leave for the hospital because I had an allergy appointment. Unfortunately, my eyes were swollen because of all the pathetic bawling I had done the night before, and my parents thought that I was having allergic reactions again. (When I react to allergies, one of my common symptoms are puffy eyelids.) They were really worried, and once I told them that I wasn't breaking out again, they immediately assumed that I had probably been crying all night because I wasn't going to do the Disney College Program in the fall anymore.

Wow. Well... I could see where they were coming from, but I wouldn't sob over that loss, even if I did shed a tear or two after all the technical difficulties with the DCP. Besides, I realized that I'd rather attend the program in the spring. I told them that I wasn't upset over Disneyland, that I wasn't upset at all, and that I was just tired.

I'm just tired.

So, the entire patch test was a negative, just like the scratch test. They still haven't found what I'm allergic to yet, and maybe they never will. At least my skin is returning to its normal state. I just need to be extra careful with anything I come in contact with.

Maybe I'll live in a bubble, then nobody would be able to hurt me.

My mom knew the nurse that was examining me, and so the appointment was prolonged as the two colleagues had a nice little chat. My mind was wandering so I didn't quite catch what they were conversing about, but there was a point when my mom looked at me and said, "Sometimes, nobody will be around to take care of you. The person who can take care of you the best is yourself."

I'm taking that to heart. Fuck sleepless and tearful nights. I'll take sleeping pills if that's what it takes to get a peaceful rest. Fuck lying in bed all day and moping. (Okay, that one sounded like sad sex.) Fuck skipping meals because of not having the heart to eat because of your harsh words.

Fuck being weak.

Anyway! Kristin just called, and apparently she's coming over. She needs me to play a piano accompaniment for her audition at the Starlight Theatre. Maybe that will help get my mind off things and pain and other shit.

"I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

Exactly two years ago, I wrote this in my old livejournal.

March 27, 2008.
The storm's passing.

I'm feeling a little better, surprisingly. (That, or going for so long without any decent amount of sleep is causing me to hallucinate and feel temporary feelings of bliss.) I have been making many realizations, one of those realizations being the fact that I have been coming to irrational conclusions. I keep misunderstanding myself, my own intentions. I keep misunderstanding others-- and their intentions.

I looked back. I looked back at what I had so determinedly called my New Years resolutions. "Patience, strength, responsibility." And here I am, a couple months later, with nothing to show for it. Here I am, a couple months later-- and the determination is gone. But I want it back. I am wholeheartedly sick of bringing myself down and bringing others down. I'm better off than a good deal of other people, yet I am acting as if the world is crashing down on me. It isn't. It feels like it, but it isn't.

I'm alive ... aren't I?

I'm loved ... aren't I?

I really need to stop screwing things up.

Sometimes, I still feel this way. But most of the time, I'm happy with my life. Nobody wants to hurt me, and if somebody happens to, then they probably didn't mean it.

Keep your damn chin up, Bianca.

Member A: So, I've been meaning to ask you- how was Alice in Wonderland?
Member B: It was great, man. The effects were really awesome. Tim Burton did a really good job.
Member C: I didn't really like the 3-D version, though...
Member B: No? Really?! Were you stoned?
Member C: ... What? No...
Member B: That, my friend, was the missing element.

Don't you just hate the feeling of going to bed with a tight throat and a hollow heart?

Never throw yourself at someone, regardless of how much you appeal to them. They just might fling you back.