Emotional Vomit, Yay!

I'm glad it's Friday. Kinda. Okay, not really. I'm not really feeling strongly for the end of the week, but I'm not jumping because it's over. I'm in an apathetic, lost, searching, not-quite-but-almost self pitying sort of mood.

...Yeah. I'm in a mood again.

And I've actually reached a point where I can't find it in myself to talk to anyone about this. If I try, I feel like people think I'm a) a broken record, b) a whining selfish bitch, and c) looking for attention. But I'm not... I think. I mean, I feel like I'm all of the above, but I assure you that anyone I ask will say the opposite.

Eff. One moment. I need music.

Alrighty. Let's see what I can emotionally vomit onto this blog before I'm too musically saturated to think clearly.
Mmmm, Intervision. So soothing and sweet. Salve.

Prepare for unorganized thought barf.

I can't take people's compliments to heart. Like... They say they love me, and I want to believe them. They compliment me on random things, and I just can't feel like I deserve their praise. In a group of friends, where we're all laughing and having a grand old time, I can't help but feel separated from them. Lonely. Detached.

What's wrong with me?

I don't think anyone realizes how much I love people. I don't mean that to sound condescending or upstuck, I just feel that people don't feel as deeply about others as I do. I make friendships, and I trust people, and that feeling goes deeper than anyone realizes. I hold my friends closer to me than anything, save for family. Every hug I give isn't given lightly. None of my affection is given lightly, actually. I just... GAH.

People. I love them. I'm annoyed by them. I don't understand them.

I see relationships come and go. Quickly. Swiftly. The not-so-quick ones come, and they bloom beautifully, then they die. A flourishing blossom can look so gorgeous and promising one moment, and be charred and dead during the next. I don't know how people can claim to love others one day, then leave with the door swinging behind them the day after. I just. Don't. Understand.

I think that's my problem. I don't get it. And I'm unsure how to deal with it myself.

Subject change to pointless crap WHOOOOSH.

I love hugs. Hugs are fucking amazing. Cuddling is just as nice, but better. Cuddling is like one huge extended hug. I enjoy hugging people. Like, the people I hug are some of the greatest people in the world. I love cuddling as well. Back when I had someone to cuddle. (insert self-pitying shit) Still love it, though. I'd love to have someone to cuddle with. I'm a hella affectionate person. Really. I'm just afraid that a) I'll end up seeming too clingy b) I'll seem needy and c) people will get annoyed. Either that, or I'll get attached to someone and then things will go poof. Learning experiences, children. They're magical.

I think I'm too humble for my own good. I won't lie; my self esteem is shit at the best of times. I'm unsure as to why. It has no reason to be that way. I don't know. D:

GAH.

Also: this is one of the few nights where I really wish I could cry. I can feel the excess emotion wanting to burst out, and I'm sure I'd feel better after it, but I can't. Fuck it. One tear, maybe two. Then my mind tries to take over with shit like "Quit crying. You're being silly and stupid and juvenile.".

That is all. I'm done for tonight. Time to shower, eat, and go to the Jazz concert. Let the music distract me for another night.

Love you guys. More than you'll ever realize. G'night.

EDIT: Back from the concert, can't sleep. Put up another vague status on Facebook, received the expected result.

What the hell is wrong with me? I'm casting out cries for help, but when people come running, I'm too afraid to open up.

I'm like some perverse child who cries 'Wolf!'.

...I need to sleep, before I say/do/post something that I regret. Come back here, Intervision.

No One Ever Reads These Things, Anyway.

1) I love you more than most would think necessary. Oh, well. Suppose it's not really their problem, now is it? But, yeah. I worry about how much you mean to me, and I think far too much about it. I need to quit it, but I honestly don't think my mind can really give it up. Dang.

2) Had a dream the other night. Didn't like it. Everyone was going to this big party, and they were gettin' all fancied up and stuff, and they all had dates. Everyone. Except me, naturally. So I sat, alone, for about an hour in this dream. Just me. No music, even!! And I disliked it. I've never been so close to tears because of a friggin' DREAM before. Meh.

3) I'm listening to the four teaser tracks that Intervision has had on their site for about four months now. And my brain is like EXPLOSION!! YOU MUST GET THIS ALBUM, KATELYNNNNNN!! DO IT NOW! Like HOLEY PHUCK, that man is a musical genius. Not sure how he does it, but all his songs make my brain go through soundgasms. And I really need to get my hands on the CD. Click -->THIS<--and you will see what I mean. The man's voice is AMAZING, and I NEEEEEEED more of his orgasmic vocal drugs.

4) Thoughts of you, mixed with the amazing colors and songs of Intervision, creates a very enjoyable cocoon of content that I can sink into. It's like a being underwater sort of feeling - having the pressure of the water all around you - but you can actually breathe. It makes my heart smile.

5) I miss my cat.

6) 'm not entirely sure why I'm writing all this on the here and now, but whatever. Intervision is amazing. Have I ever told y'all this slight fact? Like, really. I DARE YOU to listen to their three albums and NOT find a song that you identify with. Lalala, so very random right now.

7) I've reached a point where I can safely say that prolonged exposure to certain types of music has an effect comparable to people on a range of different substances. Take now, for instance. INTERVISION has effectively plunged me into a mildly self-pitying, interpretive, introspective thoughtbox that is useless to anyone for the next hour or so. Yey, drugs that I can't get in trouble for abusing.

8) "Sailors be warned, it's a red sky mornin'; the makin's of a perilous day..."

9) I don't want to be alone for the rest of mine life, noes. I also don't want to attempt another relationship and have it not work out. First time sucked enough as it is. Don't want to go through it again. No, no. I'll pass on that lovely little experience. However, I also know that if I'm too scared to try again, there's an even smaller chance that I'll end up with someone. What a vicious, furious cycle.

10) It's really weird. But. Out of the people I've genuinely liked (I can count them on one hand), The only ones. Who have actually liked me back. Are untouchable. I don't know if anyone else realizes how much that messes with one's mind. It's like, "Oh, you like me? I like you, too! Unfortunately, I don't like your genitals, so we can't be together." The irony in this next statement made me laugh, but I must write it to maybe sufficiently pass across my mindset at the moment, and maybe for longer than just this moment. Fuck. Genitals. (Immature mind goes 'Hee~') Like, seriously. Am I the only one who doesn't care what kind of underwear they wear? It's a personality thing, that I'm attracted to. And I'm RIDICULOUSLY in love with your personality, darling. However, you had to bring to light the fact that you dun like my underwears.

...Shit. I've just now realized (after the music has stopped and my mind is somewhat cooling) that I'm ranting about gay men and underwear. Dayum, Katelynn. This is almost a new low for you. V_V

 Last bit of music-induced bullshit before I leave you alone: I don't build walls to keep people out. I build them because I'm terrified that no one will love me enough to climb over them. And I realize how much sense that didn't make. Fuck.

...I need more Intervision.

And My Views Are On The Table -religion(flame)warning-

Earth below us,
Drifting, falling;
Floating weightless,
Calling, calling home...

Yeah, dunno why I put that up there. It's what's playing on my Playlist at the moment, and the colors are helping me think. I think I'll put this one on repeat, aye. And basically this is just a buffer, so your tender eyes don't see the blasphemous blog entry I'm about to lay down. Go to bed, O thou who is easily offended. Leave this terifying article to someone who will contribute something other than "OMG WTF, YOU'RE GONNA GET STRUCK BY LITENING, LOL."

That is all.

The rest of you, please, come sit with me and attempt to listen to what I have to say, and thank you for suffering through that first little bit.

Anywho, I think it's high time I sit down at the computer and figure out exactly what the hell is going on with me--specifically in the area of friendships and religion. As usual, this won't be in any organized form, and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be rambling. You've been warned.

Religion. Friendship. Why can't they mix? Why should anyone have to give up one to keep the other? I have very good friends from all walks of life, and I love them all. So why, if the viewpoints of one friend disagree with my own, should I have to choose sides? Situation is as follows:

Jane is really close friends with Jill. Jill is a super-religious Bible thumper with a tendency to be rather stubborn. Jane has several friends who are, for lack of a better word, gay. Jane is perfectly fine with that--she's got no problem at all with it, and is just as close to them as she is to any of her other friends. Jill, however, is a mite prejudiced against homosexuals, and is trying to convince Jane that GAY = BAD, and that being friends with said gay people will end up with Jane burning in Hell.

...Do you know what it's like, having a close friend telling you that you're going to burn in Hell? It's really something. Nearly akin to someone taking a very thin knife and inserting it into your chest, carefully, so you don't notice it going in--then TWISTING IT.

Herein lies my question. Why the fuck can't I love all of my friends equally? I really don't get it. And here is where I question things I shouldn't really question--like God. What God would pose this problem to the people He loves? What God would let someone form close relationships with people, then make them choose one or the other? And if homosexuality is such a crime, then why did God allow it? The last time I checked, loving someone wasn't illegal, or against the Bible. Does it matter whether the person you love has the same genitals that you have? Maybe it's only me, but I tend to look at personality and values--and not whether they have a pole or a hole. I'm not saying that I currently find any female attractive, but I think that's just because I haven't found anyone who's been more than a friend. Yet.

Subject reversion--And if God loves the world so much, why does He let His people murder each other, and rape and steal and lie and go to other countries and MURDER in His name? It doesn't seem right to me, that a God of Love and Righteousness and Justice would turn His eye on all the hurt that is caused because of people believing that they're doing what they do for Him.

Can you maybe see how I might be questioning Him just kind of a little bit?

I just don't understand it. I'd really love to understand it, because maybe then I could straighten my most tangly issues out, once and for all. But until then, I really think Jane is going to have to suffer onward and continue with these skirmishes with Jill.

Because, when it really comes down to it... given the choices, I think I'd rather burn than give up the friendships I've made. I don't care.

Come. What. Fucking. May.

Like watching a bubble...

...It rises into the air, so beautiful, so perfect. Then the wind picks up, and tosses it about. And you know that the bubble will burst eventually. You just don't know when.

...This is going to hurt us. I just don't know when she's going to find out.

See, I have a friend. I net her a few years back at a musical festival. She lived in the neighboring town, and we both played flute at the festival. Sat next to each other, chatted about life and stuff. Seemed like pretty good friends.

The following school year, she moves to my town, and we become even closer friends. She really depended on me to support her, and through a confession one night I stayed over at her house, she told me that if it wasn't for my friendship, she'd probably have committed suicide. (She has a self-esteem problem. Majorly.)

That's a fucking sobering fact, boys and girls.

Anywho, I get a call from her earlier today, and we're chatting about life and such. I don't even know how we got on the subject, but the conversation turns to homosexuality. And she goes on this FLAMING RANT about how she really dislikes (i.e., HATES) homosexuals. Naturally, I don't tell her that a few of my best friends are gay. Tactfully, I change the subject.

Aaaaand, then she goes to ask me how my relationship is going.

...HRM.

I can't lie to her. I told her we broke up, and that it wasn't a big deal, and that we're still awesome friends. But she wanted details, and I refused to give them to her. Because I know she'll freak the fuck out.

I feel like I'm betraying her. I know she's going to find out about this eventually, but I'm terrified to see where it goes from there. If she does anything after that... I'd never forgive myself. Ever.

Now, I know there aren't many people who read this, but if you do, I beg for your advice. On my knees, pleading. There are unshed tears in my eyes. I. Don't. Know. What. To. Do. I don't care if you're just browsing through the blog list--I need your help. I don't care if you don't know me, I don't care if I don't know you. I don't care if we're friends or otherwise. I'm stuck, and I've nowhere to go.

I'm sleeping on it, though. Praying a bit. Or a lot. Wait it out. What more can I do?

...It's like watching a bubble--one that will trigger the atom bomb.

-brooding silence-

Really dunno if anyone reads these anymore, but I figure it's still a good outlet. And if you are reading teh bloggage, don't hesitate to comment. Comments make me happy, aye.

...Anyway.

I realized Monday that I am beautifully torn between Moscow and Grangeville. I left Monday morning to go home for Thanksgiving, and as I drove out of town, my chest felt like there was a gaping hole in it--and I nearly started crying. I don't really know why, though. I knew I was going to be back in a few days, but why did it affect me so? And it was the same thing as I left home to return to Moscow earlier today. I really didn't want to go. It's like... Idunno.

I thought about it on the drive up, and came to this conclusion:
>>I didn't want to leave Moscow because in some recessed corner of my mind, I've made this place my home. And in that little recessed corner of my mind, the little-kid part of Katelynn screams, NO I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE!! But I had to leave, because I had to get home. But I was already home. And... blah, this is tangly.

>>Vice Versa, almost. I didn't want to leave HOME because, well, it's my HOME! That, and I really worry about Dad up there by himself. And even though Dad was on his mail route when I left and I had the house to myself, I was freaking out. ((I don't think I've ever cleaned the kitchen that fast. Ever.)) I left before he came home, and I passed him on my way up to the 'Scow. But BLAH, why does this ache plague me in such a manner!?

-lapses back into brooding silence-