Energy

You know that feeling when you're watching your favourite sports team and they're winning? And everything they do is impeccable, and you're sitting on the edge of your seat for the next play. You're sure that there is no way that they could make a single mistake. Plus, even if they do make a mistake, it doesn't matter because they will win anyway.

If you do, then you know how your energy from watching that one sport can keep you pumped up for the rest of the day - if you're into watching sports and winning like I am. Wouldn't it be great if little things like that happened everyday? Wouldn't it be great to always feel full of positive energy?

Worrying

I can't believe school starts in a month. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I always thought I wouldn't have to worry in grade 12, and now I will worry more. And worrying really is the most pointless thing in the world.

People worry when they are helpless, when they feel like a certain outcome which they aren't in favour of is possible, and yet they can't do anything about that outcome. But worrying does not make that outcome more or less likely to occur, so what's the point?

I always used to think if I was better, I would be able to stop worrying and actually do something. But sometimes it's impossible for me to do anything. Sometimes, the only way to be actively involved in the outcome is to worry. It still doesn't help, though.

Of course, previously, I could have done something to stop worrying, and I never did. And it's hard to explain, but I will always remember that. What else do I have to remember?

Bad Mood

I'm kind of in a bad mood. That's what the Olympics does to a person, right? ;)

I have a huge feeling that the school year coming up will not be a good one. I've always been waiting for the year when I'd be in grade 12, but now I can't wait for it to end. I'm just really worried about some stuff I guess. And once again, I'm going to apologise because I won't be elaborating on what I'm worrying about because it's something that only concerns me.

I notice I do that a lot. It's that I'm really tempted to write things here and express how I feel, but I'm not good a that. I like to keep my strong feelings a secret because it's safer. So, I mention something, but I don't elaborate.

 People have said in many different ways how life can not be lived to it's fullest potential unless you take risks, and I agree with that. But I don't think I'm quite ready to take the risk of expressing myself fully yet.

Anyway, tomorrow I might write a brighter entry that's actually interesting to read.

Books

I'm reading a book called House Rules, and it's good so far. There are some parts which I don't like in Picoult's portrayal of a teen with Asperger's. Otherwise I like it so far. I don't think I'll like it once I go further into the book though, for reasons.

I'm also rereading TFiOS. I don't want to talk about. But it's probably my favourite book, and, man, is it addictive. I have to force myself to put it down when I have to leave somewhere. 

I've been reading a lot, so sorry if a lot of my next posts will be about books. 

Connection

I didn't write anything yesterday because I couldn't. And I didn't want to try. Don't get me wrong: I wanted to write something. In fact, I wanted to write about Esther. But now, I won't write about her. I don't know if it's because I don't want to, I can't, or I feel I'm not 'worthy' to write about her.* Maybe it's all three of them.

Lately, I've been reading a lot. Reading could be one of the best things in the world. You get to delve into a new world that was created by someone you don't know at all. Yet, you feel a sort of connection with the author. Sure, sometimes the connection is stronger with some authors than others, depending on the story an how much you liked it, but I think it always exists.

The fact that you're reading something that they spent lots of time on and must have reread millions of times is enough to make the connection. You get to see how the author pictures his or her story, and how they expressed that story into words. I don't know. I just find it amazing.

Of course, this connection is a one-way connection**, but it still exists and that fact doesn't make it any less amazing.

______

*By not worthy, I mean because I didn't actually know her, and I can talk about her, but I feel it would be hypocritical in a way, since I, well, didn't know her.

**Do people say an one way? No, right? That's odd.

Girl At Funeral

She didn't know what to do. All around her were people wearing black, looking solemn for a reason she wasn't aware of. Maybe if she smiled, she could make someone else smile; that had always worked previously. As soon as she started to smile, her mother quickly shook her head though. Feeling that must she be in serious trouble if her mother wasn't allowing her to smile, she frowned.

All she wanted to do was get away from all these people. Why was she here in the first place? When her parents told her that they were going somewhere together, she thought they'd be taking her somewhere fun. Instead, they brought her here.

Then, she spotted food. Letting go of her mother's hand, she went to grab a sandwich. She did it partly because she was hungry and the sandwiches looked good and partly because no one was eating, so if she ate, she might get some attention. When she took a bite, though, no one even looked in her direction. Everyone was acting so weird. Feeling uncomfortable, she quickly finished her sandwich and went back to her mother's side.

Her mother was talking quietly to a tall man who was wearing black.

"Hello," the man said, bending down so that he was her height. "How are you doing?"

She looked up at the stranger and didn't answer. Although the stranger's voice was cheery, he looked sad and she didn't know what to reply. Seeing that she wasn't going to answer, he stood up straight again. He turned to her mother and said, "Is she aware of what happened?"

Her mother patted her hair before saying, "Oh, I doubt it; she's only two, after all." 

No Topic

I didn't write anything yesterday because for some reason I couldn't open blogspot. And don't think I didn't try, because I did!

I keep writing things and then erasing them. I have no good topic to talk about, and, frankly, I want to sleep. 

Maybe I'll write a short story tomorrow to make up for this. Or maybe I'll just write a normal post.