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The struggle for equal footing can leave a person exhausted.

Plans are moving forward well. My AP portfolio is starting to breathe and grow and become a thing of its own; the voice I wanted to give it has taken root and the subsequent blooming is motivating me further on. I wish I had some work to show, but I'm not ready yet to display it until all twelve images are complete. The concept is "Human Nature;" a study of the harmony that can be found between mankind and man made objects and the natural world. I'm having the time of my life with it.

I am earning and grasping more independence everyday, and come August I'll be a single entity, paying my way through life for the first time and preparing to enter into college. The only downfall of my summer will be that I cannot march anywhere, but fall will come soon enough and with it the start of auditions for winter guards.

There are things that need doing that cannot be done until June 6, 2009. I need to release myself from certain acquaintances, negative friendships and relationships are only poisoning my state of mind. The ability to manually narrow my association with people will be welcome. It's not that I dislike anyone, but I don't thrive well in large circles.

I'm going to continue growing and learning, as I always have and always will.

Tomorrow I will be 19, officially. This birthday holds a stronger symbolism than any I've had in years-more than my 18th, surely, which is traditionally among the most important. The girl I was a year ago was weaker, dependent, and confused about herself and those around her. The girl I am now is secure within herself, strong, and falling in love with the world around her at her own pace.

Lately I've felt unstoppable. And the improvements bring only good things. The hope that fills me on days as sunny as these is inexplicable. I feel warmth glide from space through time and under my skin, pumping me to the brim with optimism.

I wanted a happy post for this blog. It's been a carrier of all my demons over the past months and deserved a small brightening, for I am not constantly conflicted as this page would make it seem.

In truth, without giving too much detail, I am very very glad.

Self Portrait, 19 years.

I feel more prepared and anxious to set out on the next chapter of my life than ever before.

I am ready. But I feel as if by walking toward everything that kept me away, I'm leaving behind what I cared for most deeply when I hoped I'd be brought closer to it. I'm going to keep moving forward, and fight the constant wish to look back. Acceptance that some things must end where they never even started will come.

The process of weeding out.

The air around me is growing staler with each breath I take. These scents, I know them so well that I cannot smell them. I am numb due to familiarity. My soil is spent, sucked of nutrients and my roots crave fertile ground.

Transplant me.


My heart and soul are nearing their bursting points. These rooms and voices and inescapable surroundings remind me too constantly of all that I am trying to escape. To live a life running is not what I dream of, but I will never be able to face these nightmares until I can walk away for awhile and collect my thoughts. I feel crushed and breathless inside of my dreams, my waking hours are pages upon pages scribed utter gibberish that I'll never reread on leafs of acid-free archival paper bound by a butterfly that never had wings. Last night I cried behind a locked door to an empty room. Loudly and freely. But instead of cleansing the act was unsettling, as if from my body the last of my childhood and the last of my naivety were falling. I felt less complete and more unsure. Embarrassed by my violently intense emotions and my inability to control myself. I felt alone. Glad to be hidden. I felt the cold I've been accepting as reality flow in.

Standing on the edge

Give me a sign, because soon I'll have to walk away or step even closer. Grass is growing underneath my toes here.


I miss myself. I miss you.

leave a night light on.

There are still nights when I wake up and I am three years backward, curled up and hiding from the shadows and my shame, and most of all you. I don't know when the terrors will end. I'm no longer afraid to admit to them, to acknowledge their existence. For a time this acceptance held them at bay; but lately, as I enter into a calmer more ordered lifestyle, they've returned. And it troubles me.