New Semester

I'm happy midterms are over, but I'm not looking forward to gym. I'm going to miss my journalism class, and switching study halls almost every day is going to get annoying. But I can cope, easily. What I find strange about people, myself included, is that we always complain about our lives, and how we wish school was out and certain classes were over. But when summer comes along, despite the fact that it's nice to be out of school, you find yourself missing the people you saw every day and sitting in those classes. And by the time you go back to school the next year, everything will be changed again. People will look different, mostly older, and you will be sitting in new seats in new classes with unfamiliar. So as much as I'm complaining about school now, I'm going to take it one day at a time and not wish anything way, because in a few months I just might want it back.

On another topic, I'm not very good at being photographed, but there were a few decent photos from Friday night...

I don't particularly like the first one, but my friend was so damn excited when she took it, I had to post it. She thought I looked great, but I guess that's just her opinion. Personally I like the last one.

I'm just not a dress person.

Not Meant for the Party Scene

Last night was one of my best friend's sweet 16 party. I've known Kinnari since I was in 4th grade, and I've been close with her ever since she decorated my tree with flowers in the fifth grade. I don't usually go to parties if they're something big like a sweet 16, but Kinnari knows me too well. She would have known damn well if I said I couldn't go just because I didn't feel like it. Plus, she pretty much cornered me into unintentionally saying yes. She asked me if I had any plans for the Friday that midterms ended, and I said I didn't think so. She kept asking, "Are you suurree?" until I said, "Yes, I have no plans." And right then, I was roped into going to her party. First of all, wearing a dress was extremely awkward. I am not fond of wearing dresses in the first place, but because of that, when I do, everyone freaks out. They are all yelling at me, in an excited kind of way, and flashing cameras and telling me how pretty I am, as if it's that much different when I'm wearing jeans. It's partially flattering, but mostly overwhelming. Also, I don't dance. I'm pretty much incapable of dancing, especially in front of people, but if the music is really great, like at a concert or something, I can't help but dance around. Last night, though, was basically four hours of the worst music I've ever heard. Every song had the same frigging beat and...I don't even know. It was almost to the point where I needed to walk out of the room so I wouldn't have to hear it. Every ten minutes, one of my friends would literally drag me onto the dance floor, where I proceeded to stand there awkwardly until they looked away and I was able to escape. I was tired of smiling for cameras and making stupid conversations and basically lying through my teeth when Kinnari asked me if I was having a good time. Kinnari awkwardly danced with the guy she likes, twice, and I'm happy for her, but it also makes me plain depressed about myself.

When you love someone, you start giving up pieces of yourself to become what you think they would want you to be. You know they will never love you as you are now, so you coordinate your outfits around when you see them. If you bought a new shirt on Monday, but you pass by him in the halls on Wednesday, then you'll wait until Wednesday, even though the sensible part of your brain knows that it doesn't really matter. You pick up their phrases and their hand movements, and when they're upset, you're the one aching. When you love someone enough and you finally realize you might not have a fairy tale ending, you know what it's like to love and hate at the same time. You find it necessary to show them up, to be blunt when they smile and wave, or to look extra good not to impress them, but to make them wish they had gone for you to begin with. You make sure you're walking with someone, or laughing at a friend's funny comment, when they walk by, despite the fact that they're not even looking, and if they were, well, they don't give a damn.

Sue Me, I'm a Liar

I am a liar, but on second thought please don't sue me. This morning I asked my mother what I should do about staying after with the freshman from my journalism class, and she said that there's no right or wrong answer, and she's not going to tell me what to do, just that sometimes you need to do things for yourself and not others. So I messaged her on Facebook and said that my mother neglected to tell me I had a dentist appointment until the day before and I'm sorry but I can't make it after school today. I sent it early this morning and spent my free exam period nervous that she would find me and ask personally if I could come. I am a bad liar, and I might as well have, "THIS ISN'T THE TRUTH" stamped onto my forehead.

On the bright side, I didn't see her, but she messaged me back and said it was fine because she stayed during her lunch period instead. How convenient.

A few days ago, I was on the bus and Kinnari was talking to Liz, this girl who lives on my street. I've known her since kindergarten, and she's one of the sweetest girls I've ever met. So I can't say I have any envy or hidden rage towards her after hearing this, but apparently she likes Lee...that guy I thought I liked for two weeks or so. What's even worse is that he was texting her all night over the weekend, and saying some things I'd really rather not repeat.

I must be the type of girl who falls for guys that would rather watch me hit the ground.

Too Nice?

I don't know if being too nice is such a bad thing, but in some circumstances, I feel like it is. Around people I like or respect, I am always nice to them and considerate. But I feel that sometimes I give up too much for the sake of someone else, and they would not do the same for me. It makes me wonder whether I should continue living like this, or take karma into my own hands and treat people how they treat me. This is possibly a stupid example, but today I had my algebra midterm first thing in the morning, and then since I have 4th period lunch, I could leave early. I could have been out of my high school by 10 AM at the absolute latest, but I ended up being in school until 1 PM. It was one of those incidents where I took on too many things without realizing how I would regret these decisions later on. Originally, my plan was just to have my father or grandfather pick me up from school after my algebra midterm. However, my friend also had 4th period free and wanted me to stay with her. She wanted to study for bio with me, and even if we procrastinated studying, spending two hours with her is always pleasant. I agreed because I didn't want to make someone come and pick me up when I could always stick it out for two more hours and take the bus. While these thoughts ran through my mind, I wondered briefly if this was a legitmate reason or if I was trying to convince myself that it was. Then, one of the girls in my journalism class sent me her articles to edit, and mentioned that she was staying after in Mr. B's room both Wednesday and Thursday. Without thinking properly, I offered to stay after with her. After all, I am here editor. She said that was really nice of me, which was all the validation.
It wasn't until this morning that I realized I did not want to do either of these things. Really, I wanted to go home and take a nap and read a little, and then be rested so I'm not exhausted when I study for bio. I stuck through the two hours of doing NOTHING in the commons and then stayed after with the girl from my journalism class. Did I mention that I almost had a heart attack because I realized that she never emailed me back to confirm she was staying after? Yeah, I practically ran into Mr. B's room and asked breathlessly, "Is Allison staying after?!"
She was, to my relief. But it was also on the verge of torturous because, unsurprisingly, she has no layout done. Does she honestly expect to fill and properly lay out three pages in a few hours? It's not such a stretch for me, but I've been laying out in Adobe In Design for a year. I know how to work the program. She doesn't. I'm willing to help her, but really, should I be taking an hour and a half of my free time because she waited until the last minute to work on this? It is not even my project, and I was more anxious than she was.
I wonder if some of my actions are within reason, or if I convince myself they are.

On a spontaneous note, I am officially in Outsiders withdrawal. My uncle, who teaches alternative, drop out, and special education students in Shelton or Stratford or something with an "s," had his classes read the book. I don't know if it's part of the curriculum or if he thinks they can relate because half of them are probably in gangs. They finished the book, and apparently the class enjoyed it, which is good. Two or three weeks ago, my uncle borrowed the DVD from me, and now I miss it. Maybe knowing that it's not in my house, knowing that I cannot watch it if I want to, is what's making me miss it so much. Either way, I wanted to watch it as sort of a celebration of me making it out of my midterms alive and unscathed. Oh, well. I have Kinnari's sweet 16 party this Friday night anyway. Part of me is looking forward to it because I get to see my close friends, but part of me is absolutely terrified because
A) dresses make me feel awkward,
B) put me in anything but flat shoes and I will break something; "something" applying to both body parts and breakable objects
and
C) I don't dance.
I don't even have the ability to dance. That cotton eye joe shit everyone knew in elementary school was way over my head.
Also, I simply don't have the ability to loosen up and unravel like that in front of people.
That sort of makes it sound like I'm one of those people who blasts dance music while home alone and dances in her socks and a boa, with a brush as a makeshift microphone.
I am not one of those people.
I just don't dance.
Worst of all is that all of my friends are going to push me to do it, and they don't realize I can't.
Kinnari told me, "I'll get Liz and Jill and we'll teach you how to be a hoe on the dance floor!"
How am I supposed to say no without sounding like a bitch or letting them down?

2 Down, 3 To Go

I had my spanish and english midterms today, so that explains why I'm home early, although I would be home earlier if we didn't have a delay. Usually I pray for any extra sleep I can get but I wanted to get my midterms for the day over with. I got out at 12:50 instead of 11:25...but I guess it's not that big of a deal.
Tomorrow I have algebra, and then I'm hanging with Raksha in the commons because 4th period is my lunch.
There's obviously no midterms for that.
Then I'm staying after with the girl from my journalism class, because I'm her editor. I'd really rather go home, but you know...she needs my help, and I was in her position, I'd be pissed if my editor couldn't come because she didn't feel like it. So I'll go. Plus, it will take the stress away from Friday. That's when the journalism midterm is, and I don't have one because I'm in journalism II, but my job is to help out the J1 kids. They're pretty much slackers...which is why I'm nervous for Friday. I told them what they needed to do, and if they don't get it done...well, is that really my fault? The only other thing I could do is physically make them do it, or do it for them.
I'm going to stop stressing and make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Midterms Suck

Mmm...that's about all I have to say.
I hate wasting my time studying when I know I won't remember any of this information in a week and probably won't need it for the rest of my life. But it's not like I'm going to allow myself to fail my midterms. Sometimes I wish I had the ability to let go like that, to let go of what doesn't really matter. But I can't. Or I won't let myself. It's just how I am.
Aside from school holding me back once again, I had a good weekend. I was able to see Marisa on Friday night. My sister and my father had a softball tournament up in Saratoga, New York, so the house was left to my mother and I. We went up to Marisa's house at 4 on Friday and had dinner. We went to Blockbuster and rented American Psycho, which was a really great movie. I went to the library the next day to get the book, but apparently it's been lost since August, so they have to file a request to borrow it from the Fairfield library. Marisa laughed at me because as soon as the words, "Based on the novel by..." came on the screen, I was like, "OOH, A BOOK!"
So Friday was a really great night. It was the hardest I've laughed in months, to be honest. Or maybe since the last time I hung out with them. We started laughing because there is one point in the movie where Patrick sprints around a corner, but he does this weird gallop thing with his legs, and we almost died. Then, when he calls his secretary, crying, to say that he won't be able to make it into the office, she starts asking if he's alright and what he needs. He yells, "STOP BEING SO FUCKING SAD!" There is a shot of the secretary, looking worried, the phone pressed to her ear, and you hear Patrick shout, "JESUS!" Except it sounds like he's yelling, "JAAAYSUS!" We fell into a fit of laughter and I ended up in a tangle of blankets on the floor, tears streaming down my cheeks because I was laughing so hard.
I'm always happier around my best friends.

I have to stop soon...I have to study some more for spanish. I really don't feel like doing that.
Sigh.
Oh and on top of all that schoolwork, I have a bunch of books to read and barely any time to read them.
This weekend I finished Keeping Faith by Jodi Picoult and now I'm reading another one of her novels, Vanishing Acts. I have American Psycho to read when my library gets it in, and I have Desperation by Stephen King, which is a considerably long book. That might take a while.
After that, I need to read The Tenth Circle (another Picoult book) and Let The Right One In by John Ajvide Lindqvist. It was made into a movie, and I had wanted to see the movie...before I realized it wasn't in english and not playing in my theater. So the book is sufficient for now.
Not to mention that I still want to reread the Twilight series minus Breaking Dawn because that was just horrible. I feel guilty not getting through the whole thing...so I might try...but no promises. I want to reread my Anne Rice novels too.
Oh lordy.

Nightmare

I didn't realize when I changed the title of my blog from I am Jack's Mannequin to The Sky is Full of Dreams...that it would be extremely ironic. Ever since I changed it, I've written at least three blogs dealing with my dreams. I guess I should have suspected one of these nights I would have a nightmare, and put that here also. When I was younger, I had one recurring nightmare, but it wasn't that terrifying. Not the kind of nightmare where you jolt awake in a cold sweat and can't remember where you are.
Not the kind of nightmare I had last night.
As usual, there were a few different segments, almost two different dreams, but the last one stuck out to me. All I remember about the first one was that my family was swimming together in a large pool, and my mother started sobbing in the middle of the pool. I didn't know how to react, so I pretended like I was planning on reading anyway, and left. On my way out, I heard my mother say something like, "Have you ever thought of someone you love who has passed...and all of sudden it hits you harder than ever?" I knew she was talking about my uncle. Her brother. He died unexpectedly when I was in 8th grade. It was October 21, I think, which is kind of said just because I know the day he died but I don't know his birthday. Anyway, he died in his sleep at a friend's house. It had something to do with drugs or alcohol or, knowing my uncle, probably both. My parents never told me the full story because they don't know it themselves. Under normal circumstances I would suspect they were just withholding information from me, but I caught my mother researching drug related deaths multiple times.
I guess we'll never know, but if you want to know the truth, I don't lose any sleep over it.
If this sounds horrible, it's because it is: I didn't cry when he died, and I didn't attend his funeral.
Sorry, Mom. Sorry, God.

On to my nightmare...
I was sitting on my bed, on the side that faces the rest of the room, and my friend Rebecca, who I sit with in lunch, was sprawled on the other side, her upper back against the wall. Algebra notes and worksheets were spread in front of us, which makes sense because in real life, she helps me with my algebra homework when I'm having trouble. Anyway, neither of us were working on algebra and didn't plan on it. I was holding two small vials in my hand, both of them fatal.
Rebecca and I, we had a suicide pact. I don't know why I didn't make her swallow her poison at the same time as me, but I didn't. I opened my vial and drank from it, expecting immediate blackness, maybe a flash of pain and then nothing. Emptiness. But nothing of the sort happened. My stomach felt a little strange, but I was still sitting on my bed, alive.
"What?!" I yelled, turning the vial in my hands to read the small print. It said something about how the poison would be in effect once the person was sleeping...meaning I would die peacefully in my sleep. But this time, all these extra minutes I was having now, they were giving me second thoughts. "What do I do?" I asked Rebecca, who shrugged nonchalantly, as if I asked whether I should buy apple or orange juice. I tried to shove the second vial into her hands, but she slowly shook her head and told me no.
"NO?" I boomed. "What do you mean NO?!"
"I mean, no," she said calmly.
"We had a fucking suicide pact, Rebecca. You don't back out of a suicide pact at the last minute. What we were you going to do, watch me die and then walk out of here like you don't know what the fuck just happened?"
She didn't response, but the silence was enough of an answer.
"Jesus Christ," I said, still fuming. "I can't believe you, Rebecca."
Just then, my mother knocked lightly on the door and asked, "Is everything alright in there?"
This was the first time she had bothered to check on us, since my whole family was downstairs having a party. It must have been a holiday, or a family member's birthday, but I guess I thought it was a good day to kill myself because there'd be so many people in the house, no one would accidentally walk in on me during the act.
"We're fine," Rebecca replied, chipper as ever. I glared at her. "We're just working on algebra homework."
"Okay," my mother replied. She was obviously satisfied with that monstrous lie. "Come downstairs whenever you're done."
I listened to her footsteps fade, and then felt inconsiderate for not saying anything sentimental, like, "Mom, I don't hate you, even if I've said it a million times," or "I'm going to miss you, and I'm sorry." But then she would have known something was wrong, that I was already on a downward spiral towards death, I would have rather let myself die in my sleep than be hospitalized and eventually moved to an institution under suicide watch.
Still, I had no idea what I was going to do. I thought of all the places I had yet to see, all the people I never said goodbye, everyone and everything I would leave hanging...and now I was having second thoughts. I was cursing myself for ever putting my lips to that vial. I was cursing myself for not reading the goddamn label first. Under the weight of all these decisions and burdens, I broke down. I sobbed on my bed, hunched over, unaware of what to do. Do I allow myself to fall asleep, and give up? Or do I stay awake for days and days, terrified to go to sleep because I might never open my eyes? How would I know when the poison was out of my system?
"I don't know," I sobbed, looking up at Rebecca. She stared down at me, blank faced and unsympathetic, and I wondered how I could ever trust her with something as serious as a suicide pact.
Maybe I just wanted a way out.
Maybe this wasn't about the pact anymore. Maybe it never was. It was about how I wanted to die, but I felt the need for someone else's approval first. I needed someone to be there, someone who I could place my false faith in.
"I don't know anything anymore," I said, quietly this time. I settled into a more comfortable position on the bed. Curled on my side, facing the wall, I said, "Good night, Rebecca."
And I closed my eyes.



I'm sorry if that disturbed anyone in the slightest. It disturbed me, too. I would up curled on my side, facing the wall, and flipped out. I was sweating even though I was shaking, and I didn't know where I was. Then I realized my mother was saying, "Laura, it's 5:30, wake up."
I realized it was just a nightmare.
Just a horrible, mind-bending nightmare.

On the bright side, it was the only school morning of the past two weeks in which I was thrilled to be awake.