Everyone Should Be Blessed With A Blog.

This is a tribute to my blog and how much I love it. This is going to probably turn out random as hell, but hey, that's one of the things I love about blogs.

I love my blog because:

- I like to journal, but I always lose my journals.
- I hate it when my parents find my journal.
- I don't feel free to write anything in a journal.
- Only Steph reads this blog. (If anyone else does, you sure do a fine job of NOT commenting)
- Random people can comment and I couldn't care less what they think (Doesn't mean I don't want comments... Just if you're going to diss me, I frankly don't give a flying fuck.)
- Whenever I have some steam to vent I just blog.
- Whenever I have something random to say and no one's around I can blog.
- When I think up a bunch of rantable thoughts about pomegranates I can write them here and never lose them. (I'm totally going to do that at the end of this.)
- When I'm on another comp I can post things here to have them later on my own comp....

And the list goes on. But I'm tired of writing why I love my blog so now for the entertainment of Steph... And whoever she shows this to... An original rant on the topic of the ever lusty and sensual fruit....- Dramatic pause- ... The POMEGRANATE.

Ahem -Clears throat- Ahem... Is this thing on? Yes, yes it is... What? It's been on for ten minutes?! And no one thought to tell me?! Are you saying everyone heard me talking about that time... -Cough- Never mind... Moving on.

The pomegranate. A clearly over priced waste of time eaten by the rich or those who own a pomegranate tree. Usually eaten to curb a sweet tooth to those health-conscious weight freaks who do not posses enough money for liposuction. Also may be ingested by those who are pregnant, OCD, in college trying to get out of writing a term paper, or have WAY too much time one their hands.

The pomegranate is nature's tease. From the outside the pomegranate appears to be a large, round, heavy and most satisfyingly plump fruit that can fill you up for hours. This is a fallacy. The skin is tough, and if you are anal it takes as much time to eat, as to digest. Then there's that weird white stuff that you find on oranges in it. So you have to eat around that. THEN by the time you're done your pomegranate, about 2 hours after you started it, you're hungry again! Because you burned off all the calories you got from it just trying to cut it up, discern white nasty orange stuff from seeds and then eat it!!! It's almost as bad as celery. And don't you DARE get me started on celery.

So you're feeling pretty good now that you're done this trial of eating the pomegranate when... What's this?! You're covered in pomegranate juice, and so is everything else! And guess what people... POMEGRANATE STAINS. That's right so now that you spent all this time eating that delectable pomegranate... You have to clean it up. The process of eating a pomegranate is now over 3 hours long!

So not only is a pomegranate a waste of time, it makes you do the unpleasentry of CLEANING. You waste three hours on something that makes you eat it's seeds.... Which is another thing.

Eating pomegranate is like eating sperm... Wait... Seeds are.... Feminine? Either way eating pomegranate is like eating sperm or eggs. Mind you, it probably tastes better, but that's not the point. You are eating it's future children. Point blank. How does that make you feel? Confused? Scared? Alone? Turned on? You make me sick.

The pomegranate knows you're going to eat it. It likes to be eaten. Why do you think it's that lovely reddish - pink colour? To stand out against the oranges and bananas, to make you want to pick it. It is human nature to pick the pretty one, and it knows it. It's a conspirator. It conspires with all it's future children.

Now this is the truly shocking part. "Why?" you ask, "Why would the pomegranate conspire to make us eat it's future babies?" Well... The thing is... Once ingested, they take root in your stomach and slowly take over your brain, until they are in control. Once in control they turn you into an old guy who looks faintly reminiscent to Jean Chretien.

And that my dear children is why pomegranates are bad.

... And judging by your parlour... You just ate one...

You poor bastard.

I Want To Die.

I want to die again.

Why is death always on my mind recently?

Hypothetics. Pathetic.

Drowning.

Dead.

So simple and yet I can't pull the trigger.

I can't take that last breath.

I can't do anything about it but wait for peace, peace which will never come, never stop the burning pain. I want to cut and bleed and die, but I mustn't.

I promised.

I'm starting to wish I never made that promise.

Holiday?

New Years.

A.
N ew.
Y ear.
T his.
H ate.
I s.
N o.
G ood.

W hy.
I s.
L ove.
L ost.

D rop.
O ut.

So... This is 2008. Somehow I didn't think I'd live this long. Really I didn't, what with the way I live. It's getting better, and one day it might fix itself. Perhaps, you know if I'm really lucky. Christmas was "merry", but I can comfortably say there was a dismal tinge to the air as the joy of the hoiday was somehow drained from everyone long before it actually began. What with the running away and all. No one needs that. Not you, not me, not anyone.

My dad is a heartless seamless cold calculating bastard who pretends to care. Pretends to live for others. Pretends life. Let's play pretend... Can you spot the faker? No? Look harder. The part I hate is no one ever sees it until it's too late and there's no escape. I mean if there was a way out you'd take it right? But no, in this sick world, there is no such luck as that. Another thing about my loving father. He's an addict, and terrible with money.

My mother... My mother, well... All I can say for her is that she tries. After much caoxing she took my siblings and found a house to rent. They will be enrolled in school, and developp lives again. They're lucky to have that done for them. Momo works a shit job that pays $16.00 an hour. She leaves early in the morning and comes home late at night. If she's not sleeping, she's cleaning or cooking. As I've previously stated, she tries.

I am not a lost cause yet. I refuse to live with my father, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere. He's crazy, he'd kill me, and I'm scared of him. I can't live with my mother. The pressure, tension and full time dependence would be enough to make me want to die. I have this friend. She's amazing. Her parents are amazing. I'm moving in with them for the time being. Until I'm 16 then I can move out and be on my own. I know 15 is young to be moving out. You're not me. You couldn't possibly understand my motives though I try to explain them with much effort.

This has all happened in the past 11 days. All of it. The past 11 days. Too short of time, too much to adjust to. I know. I shouldn't care, I should be happy that my life is going somewhere and improving. I'm pleased that it's changing. But somehow I'm still not happy. I almost forget what happy feels like. Sure, I know the momentary happiness. But in the overall scheme I'm as depressed as I am depressing. I think it's going to take a long time to change. It might yet.

It might not.

I'm not through with this.

I can't keep it quiet.

I want to scream.