Changes.

Tonight was the first time I had seen you in who knows how long. It wouldn't have happened, but I was saying goodbye to a friend, and I didn't see you until it was too late. I tried to walk away, pretending I hadn't even noticed, and walked faster when I pretended that I didn't hear you call my name. I had to stop and turn around when I heard my name shouted at the top of your lungs, because we both know there was no way I would not have been able to hear that obnoxious squeal.

I'm sure you noticed my forced smile. I didn't really make any effort in attempting to have it appear genuine, anyways. It was no pleasure of mine, was it? I had absolutely nothing to say to you, even if I was holding back all vocabulary of sorts. We exchanged the occasional, "How are you?"s and the stereotypical answers. "Work. School." Wait for it, wait for it... "Still with my boyfriend." THERE it is. I could tell that was the only thing you wanted to say. I could hear the stammer of words as you searched for something, anything, so that He was not the focus of your life. Poor job of doing so, I must say. I could see you just itching to bring it up. I get it. You're dating him, you have been dating him, and you will be dating him. You don't have to tell me twice.

You've completely changed, and I don't mean that in a good way. Your eyes are dark, and empty, just like the words that came out of your mouth. Your hair is naturally blonde, and this dark coating you've been casing it in just makes you look washed out and sick. Your lack of inner beauty is shining through. Above all else, you pretend you have the perfect life, but through all your feigned smiles and forced bubbly voice, I can see just how unhappy you are.

You used to not care what anyone thought of you. Or at least you knew how to pretend you didn't care, but I guess we all crave the approval of others. I remember when you had dyed your hair a light brown/dark blonde, and you said you hated it, because your light, yellow blonde hair was what made you YOU. You loved to laugh and have fun and spend time with the ones you loved. You used to be able to carry conversations that lasted for hours on end, embellished with our giggles and our tears. You were determined, and had so much potential, and now you're letting everything else hold you back.

Had this chance run-in meeting happened about a month ago, I would have taken this opportunity to say everything that I had wanted to for years. I would have wanted to speak every cruel word I could to completely tear you apart and make you feel absolutely and utterly worthless. I wanted to make you feel so small and alone, and I wanted my words to penetrate deep and become embedded in your brain so you could remember them forever. But seeing you tonight, it wasn't anger or hatred that I felt, but pity. I sincerely felt sorry for you, because I could see how unhappy you were. Your eyes emulated your misery, and you're doing everything you could to hide it. You're looking for happiness in the places everyone tells you you should find it- Through your one and only long term boyfriend. Through your appearance, with your artificially dark hair and extra blanket under your skin and unflattering clothes. Through your few friends you only have because they are who you live with and are convenient for you, as you have the talent of burning bridges with those you were once close with. Because those are the only things that can make you happy, right? At least that's what everyone tells you. I immediately was filled with guilt for all of the cruel things I had said before. Of all the cruel things I wanted to say. Whether or not you are aware of this, I can see it clearly. I only know because I went through it myself this past year, and it was hell. Seeing you, and seeing your eyes, was like looking into a mirror with my reflection from a year ago, and I just wanted to completely break down again.

I'm not saying that I want to be friends with you again. By any means, your lack of perspicacity is something I honestly don't think I could handle any longer than our brief two minute conversation. But no one deserves to be miserable and despondent.

Fame.

I'll probably edit this later. But I'll go ahead and post it now.

I find it interesting how one becomes famous anymore. More and more, Fame has become another label, and the only way to get that label is to become scandalous, provocative, and become something that sometimes you entirely aren't. But who wants to worship someone famous who is genuine?

No one has ever heard of Stefani Germanotta. She has natural dark brunette hair, with matching mahogany eyes. Her music is pretty, as she is a talented pianist as well as song writer. Her music conveys the familiar messages of love that we hear all too much about anymore. Her voice is deep and rich, filled with the color. She wears her fashionable outfits, nothing too glamorous or extreme, her makeup is simple and natural. She is plain, sweet, simple, but nothing special. She is too much like everyone else. Nothing Special.

Everyone, however, has heard of and heard Lady GaGa. She is everything Stefani is not. From image- with her platinum blonde hair and extreme hair styles, over the top designer couture outfits, consummate make-up, to music- hard beats and dance techno and lyrics of sex and disco-sticks, to behavior- openly admits and shows attraction towards men and women, sexual acts in public- you get the picture. Don't get me wrong, I believe Lady GaGa is absolutely fabulous and one of the most talented musicians out there, and she deserves every bit of fame she gets.

Why this comparison? Because Stefani Germanotta and Lady GaGa are one in the same.

My point lies in this- young girls are already faced with so much from the media, with the need to be thin and the need to be loved (and the only way to love and be loved is to have sex with someone who won't last forever, right?), and now they are shown the only way to make it in today's society anymore is to become like this provocative icon. They have to be outlandish and crazy. They have to become a focus of sex. They have to become all of these things to be recognized and acknowledged.

I guess I will never be accepted by society.

Creativity.

Nothing profound or fancy. Just thoughts.

I honestly don't know what it is, but lately I've had this huge burst of creative energy, and I don't even know where to begin to use it. All I want to do is paint and draw and write and play the piano and play the guitar and compose and sew and CREATE. It's been so long since I've done any of the aforementioned activities, and I don't know what I should do first. This energy is building up, and it's only a matter of time before it gets out of control.

My problem? I can't seem to bring myself to gain the courage to start any of these activities again. I've mentioned before, I'm so intimidated. I have these desires and urges to go out and create and share these things with the world, and then I see others, get scared, and become discouraged. It makes me not want to even make any kind of attempt. I know it's really irrational to let talented individuals get the better of me and hold me back, but it's something I've struggled with for so long, and something that's very difficult for me to overcome.

I wish I could write as well as her. I wish I could paint and use a camera the way she can. Why can't I play the guitar the way he does with such ease? I want to play the piano the way they can. I know it's all about "Practice! Practice! Practice!" and determination and everything else, and I know that I'm the one who is in charge with expanding my talents. However, my irrational fear and frightened mindset seems to have this ever present hold on me, and I can't seem to shake it's firm grasp.

And here it is that I am stuck, conflicted, and angry. Not with anyone that has caused intimidation upon my self conscious, rather with myself. This pent up creative energy and this intimidation and discouragement seem to be battling inside of me, for lack of a better term, and I can't seem to make the outcome of this internal conflict.

Pavement Kisses.

As I was writing about this, I came across this my friend had written, and she put it into words better than I could. Written by Emily Craig, although I feel the same.

Is it better to possibly sacrifice friendship for the truth?

I have a friend that I would never break confidence for but she is lying to another friend, who she says she wants to marry. I can’t understand why she does it. I want to shake her and hold her and comfort her and teach her that lies cannot be the foundation of a relationship. But she is waist deep in the sludge and I am helpless watching holding my hands out to her but without a voice that she will listen to.

It’s not fair to her. She needs to learn the lessons and pick herself up and put herself back together. And he needs to know the truth. But she is so fragile like a broken bird that I can’t ever betray her confidence. But he deserves so much more, and it’s tearing him to pieces.

And so the cycle of pain continues.

And I watch helplessly from the sidelines. Waiting for the time to come when I can step in and comfort?

Honor, duty, friendship, secrets, truth, trust —- what good are these when pain still comes no matter what path I choose?