Friday, June 1st
Wow, I'm writing in here twice in one week. I'm shocked too.
Operation Goth is underway. My parents went out for some business meeting today for a few hours, and I asked Grandma if we could go to the mall. Apparently she used to be into darker clothes when she was younger too, even if it didn't have a specific title back then. So, we went to the mall.
I wanted to go Goth, but heading straight into Hot Topic at age eleven probably wouldn't go over well. So, we started at some smaller locally-owned stores. Five stores later, I had one object of clothing- a leather jacket. I know just wearing a leather jacket doesn't make you anywhere close to being Goth, but it's a good start, especially for it only being the third day of summer.
After we got the leather jacket, we went out for milkshakes. We had fun, and I must admit that right about now my grandma is my best friend. Despite being way older than me, we have fun together and we really are quite alike in a few ways.
It feels like sometimes all I need
Is to be near someone who's similar to me.
Someone who proves I'm not all that strange,
Or someone that shows me that weird is good.
I already knew that weird was good.
I already knew that I am weird.
But sometimes it's nice not to be alone
With my weird hobbies and style.
And although being myself is perfectly fine
I must admit that every once in a while
It's fun to find
Someone like me.
See ya later, Journal!
SAMALAMALAMALAMALAM!
(PS: That sure is fun to say aloud!)
Wednesday, June 20th:
Goth Items Collection:
Leather jacket.
Pair of black combat boots
Two black plain t shirts
Six pairs of colored jeans: two black, two grey, and two purple.
Pair of purple and black headphones
Black mp3 player
It's not like I can use any of this stuff, minus the headphones and mp3, until school starts. Even then, I'll have to sneak it into school and change there. Hopefully someday I will be able to tell my parents about what I am doing. Maybe they'll accept me, but I'm not taking any chances just yet.
I feel as if when I was younger, in the fourth grade, I told my parents everything. Now I'm to the point that if I don't have to tell them I won't. I think most kids reach this age when they become teenagers, but with parents like mine, it's no wonder this stage came early for me.
But, unlike teenagers, I didn't come into this stage full force with no regrets (or at least that's what I think teenagers do). I still want to be close to my parents, and I still want to tell them everything, I'm just too… afraid to do so.
I know it sounds stupid, but when I was younger I had to tell my mother everything just to clear my conscience. I guess I've gotten used to not having a perfect conscience, because now my fear of her not approving of me (which isn't all that of an irrational fear: have you met my parents?) outweighs my desire for a 'clean' conscience.
I still want to have a close relationship with my mom, just like I had when I was younger, but now I know that that will never happen. Between my aspiring to be someone new, and her hating what I'm becoming, things do not look good for us.
Thoroughly depressed now,
Samantha Manson
Thursday, June 28th:
Automated
Sometimes I feel as though
I am just living to go through the motions
I'll do the same thing tomorrow that I did today
And the same thing I did yesterday
I'm stuck in the never ending cycle we call life
And sometimes I wish I was automated
Designed to do just one job
And not having to worry about anything else
But I'd rather be different
I'd rather make a difference in this world
Then just doing average.
So now I know I want to be extraordinary
I know I don't want to go through the motions.
And all I have to figure out is how.
Just like today's poem said, I don't want to be another gear in the clock, doing the same thing over and over again every day for the same result every time. I want to do something different; I want to turn the figurative clock into time machine, unpredictable and epic.
But I'm an incoming sixth grader, an aspiring Goth, and virtually friendless. Literally no one listens to what I do say, and those that can hear me ignore me. What can I possibly do?
I've had this argument with myself many, many times, but it keeps coming up in my head. I think it is because I never get an answer to my question; I can't find a conclusion no matter how hard I look. The only relief I can get from the subject is from forgetting.
I find that the only way I can cure the funks I find myself in is either forgetfulness, which I don't want, or forcing myself to believe that I will, that I can, make a difference. That I can save a life. Just one life, or maybe even starting a chain reaction that saves a life, and my life has a purpose.
Are people born lucky? Is it by luck that I was born into the United States instead of some poor soul in currently living in a third world country? What is his or her life like now? Would she or he have done more good for the world if she or he was born here instead of me?
Well now I am thoroughly depressed.
Guess it's time to force feed some happiness.
Hello, music.
See ya later,
Sam.
AN: Okay, that was kinda sad. Really sad. I can't believe I wrote that. Well, remember to review. And favorite and follow. Guess that's it. See you guys next time!