A lot of things have come to pass in the last few months and to be honest, I am not entirely sure where to begin, where to start the on flowing list of phrases and words that I have swallowed all too well, where to begin the tale of why the pool of tears collects only the watery songs of my life. I haven't wept; every time I feel my throat constrict, feel my face wrinkle as the tears pool into the fast infinity of my eyes, and feel my voice begin to shake, I just take a deep breath and then will everything to the back of my mind, back to the darkening scapes of a world that only I can see and hear, back to the place in which I hide myself within the cool canopies of solid stone and high bridges of peace and broken dreams. Everything fills so distant and the voices that once rang out across the vast plains of my mind have fallen into a silence that makes me marvel at its arrival; only one voice, out of the thousands of tears, each with holding a tale of its own mangnitude, only one voice crawls out from the darkness. Its an old voice that has a ring of childish innocence to it--it is a voice that has remained within me since the very beginning of my weariness. Well, I suppose that I should pick up from where I last left off, ne?

My mother was finally released from the hospital and was able to attend my graduation ceremony just as she wanted; she has made a smooth recovery. It took a while for her injury to heal, but she eventually got there (of my father made the process a lot harder than it should have been--he made her push herself too much which slowed the healing process somewhat.)My father got the shingles not long after her release because of his high level of stress (he blamed mother). The Shingles are a type of virus that everyone who has had chicken pox has; it is a variation of the chicken pox and will remain dorment in its host until something like stress or an injury causes it to awaken.

Graduation came and went and with it a burden that I had carried upon my shoulders for a good thirteen years; to see all those gleaming faces smiling with pride and contentment, to see all of us adorning to the same garments, to feel their hearts swell within my chest as each and every single one of us walked across that stage--it was an amazing thing, it truly was. It felt nice to belong to something great, to accepted into the grand scheme of things, so look out with not one pair of eyes, but dozens; in that moment I knew that this is where I was meant to be--in this place with these people. As I exited the areana, I remember seeing Mr. Wood and glomping him--I must have surprised him, but I was just so damn happy!--and then so many faces, gleaming with smiles greeting my faces as we spoke words of congratualations and goodbyes. As I looked at all of my classmates, I realized that gone were the frightened children that had entered highschool with a troubling gaze, gone were the clads of youths who were carefree of the world, and in their place stood women and men, all holding their heads with pride. Stumbling and tripping, we took our first steps together and now, as we set our sets onto the future, we take our last steps together...or is it that we took our last steps first and our first steps last?

My cat, Patches, passed away. I never got to say that I was sorry, sorry not letting her know that I love her, that I would never replace her for those kittens. I never got to tell her goodbye.

I see her everywhere; she's sitting at the corner of my eyes, always with me. They are small glimpses of black and white, of a figure outlined in the darkness. I miss her.

My family has always been a broken one from the very beginning--I always knew the truth deep down inside, yet I could never fully accept that truth. For so long I deluded myself into thinking that everything was alright and that nothing was wrong, but all the clude were there, all the signs of the things to come were waiting with baited breaths for that lonely thread to be caught upon the cat's claw and when that paw finally reached up and wrapped its long talons around that thread...Threads of every color came crashing down; moments and memories blending together as tears and pain echoed somewhere within my heart. I think, what made me really cry wasn't that my parents wanted to split up, but rather that this was the end of my family, that this was the end of hidden truths and unspoken words, this was it. The anger that I had given came upon me so suddenly that I understood that by asking my mother to stay with my father--even if it was just until they could stand our their own to feet--would me condemning myself to life of self hate, to a greviance that I would hold closer than any other. For the first time in over twelve years, I wanted to die. I wanted to walk out to a highway, to look down at the water below a bridge and just fall into the cool waters there and be devoured by the sea's sharp teeth. Logically, I know that it wasn't my fault that my parents were seperating, but at the same time it wasn't entirely not my fault and because I caused my parents nothing but trouble since my birth, I felt responsible. I cried, more for the way it was told than by the actual act of them wanting to go their own ways.

I do not understand exactly what it is about death that makes people what to get together and suddenly try to make up for lost time. My relatives do't keep in touch with each other, so I grew up only knowing a small portion of my mother's side of the family (Aunt Donna, Courtney, Uncle Timmy, Danny and his wife, Daniel, Michelle, Grandma, Aunt Kathy and Uncle Tom). So when my father's brother Arthur passed away, me and my sister was introduced to the whole family. I didn't care for them; they were strangers who all peered upon my family as if we were some type of rare animal. I was glad to finally leave their house--although I did like Mary, but only because she was the only one out of all of them who spoke to us with warmth.

Cory, a close friend of the family, got into a motorcycle accident; he is not going to pull through. Tomorrow they are pulling the plug. I will be attending another funeral.

Jabnel kept my spirits up though; my heart felt lightened by talkign with him.

My transition into college went smoothly and I have already adjusted to the college life; I am doing very well in all of my classes. Math is a struggle but I manage. Mrs. Nettle is a perky little thing, but I like her; she is a very open and energetic person. Mr. Hancher, my chairman, is really funny; he is one of those people who can make relaxed because he is so funny. I have made a few friends and am opening up a lot; I may learn to bloom yet.

Well, that is all that I will write for now. Sorry for the lack of details about my schooling and stuff. I am also sorry for not talking to you guys as much as I used to; I've just been so caught up in life. It will be a long time before I post anything up on dA.