leaveten's Diaryland Diary


alvin and the chipmunks

me, anna, alex, and katherine. we lived across the street from eachother, their dad was armenian like our mom so somehow that led to us being introduced. we were both half of something, there was some sort of common ground i guess. today it all goes back to when we moved out. we stopped seeing eachother every weekend, many weekdays. for a while we just faded away, never completely. katherine was most interdependent on us. she called, e-mailed, myspaced, text messaged, every chance she got. slowly she made new friends and that came to its end. as kids we were all eachother had. the only escape from our seemingly "perfect" worlds we tried our best to keep secret. who knew that back at our house i was being abused, hit with cloths hangers for riding my bike in our driveway, i had my weird schizophrenic way of escaping on my own, i lied about it. back at their house their parents struggled for divorce, that was a story alex knew most about. their dad being gay, it wasn't even a concept i understood at the time. i grew up not knowing what gay was, what race was, i seriously didn't know what race was. i thought everyone was the same thing. i don't know how to explain it but i just didn't know. it seems impossible not to, but i guess it isn't. maybe thats why i'm so liberal minded now, because i never knew, i never had any idea put into my head as to what society was, what's right or what's "normal". after seeing alex the other day, and discovering what i have about my sister (the 13 year old sex fanatic pot head), i wanted to write about how everything used to be fine and how things got so fucked up without us knowing as we grew up. now i realize that isn't true. things were always fucked up in a way. i wonder if me, anna, katherine, and alex just had have hard lives. maybe it's just us that expirience these strange things that are supposed to be so rare, the chances so slim. or maybe they're not rare and everyone's just going through their own fucked up thing back where they are. and the best friend you know isn't really the best friend you know. maybe the world isn't so superficial as i think it is and everyones going through some form of hardship like we are. or maybe we're a strange occurrence. i like to think not, it would be so much more optimistic to think the world is suffering, that way i can find some sort of hope that the world is real.

people, i've found, constantly wonder why the sad things touch us most. why sad poetry is remembered above the happy ones. why people are pessimists (we all are, we just don't all admit it.. it would be very sad to be truely optimistic) and get so lost in the bad times, and only remember the good when it's a long lost memory that we can sulk on and wonder, how we let it go, how it's so far away, when at the moment it didn't mean as much. i think it's because this is where we relate. this is where it's okay to let out all the things we usually have to hide. the things like our parents fighting, the people we care about being hurt, things that we know not to show, the stuff behind the fake smile. it's where we feel an inch of hope that it'll be okay to let it out, and no one will judge us.

the pessimist in me knows, we will always be judged.

8:05 pm - 12-17-07


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