Today was my fake birthday. I am fakely 18 now. Yay. I want to watch Garden State, or listen to the soundtrack and fade away into the pure white room Andrew Largeman wakes up in at the beginning of the film. I want to be British and start actually using the word film instead of movie, and spell theater "theatre." I want my grandmother to stop taking away privileges that aren't really privileges, but have become necessities to keep, if not my life, then at least my sanity, intact. I wish I could be the perfect person I always pictured myself being, never sinning and always loving God, praying to Jesus and being like "Him" and never questioning the world as viewed through my "faith" that had been so wonderfully taught to me. I wish things could be that simple, black and white, right and right, nothing's wrong sweetheart, go to sleep. I wish I was really good at playing guitar, or piano, or something - so good I could just play, and disappear into the music I create, letting it flow through me like some electric current. I wish I could be poetic. Some people, when they are depressed, get this soft, sad, delicate beauty that inspires you to comfort them, to cradle them in your arms and make their world a better place. I get that, but only inwardly. I let it out in writing, I try to make music, I speak in ways that express the anguish that is the struggle of living. Some people, when they get depressed, find no release, no escape, and in their bitterness simply try to take this from others, pulling slowly away at the fibers that hold their lives together, so that everyone can feel the bitter agony that they feel. I can only pray that I will never be that way. And work very hard never to become that person who I have come to fear and loathe to such a degree. I can only pray that I will become a better person than I am, so as to no longer be a part of the cause of that kind of depression, to give no reason for her to aim her bitterness and sorrow at me, to walk away blameless, knowing that I have been wronged. It isn't poetic if there is dirt on both sides. Pray for me, friends, that I may become a perfect person as I always had envisioned it: tolerant, loving, hopeful, faithful, peaceful, and blameless. Innocent, perhaps, but always blameless. ~ I find that I am no longer angry ~ Having worked out the meaning of this feeling ~ I find that I was only angry at myself ~ And now I am sorry ~ Grandma, know that I am sorry I'm going to go pray, something I haven't done in a long time but somehow still works for me when I do resort to it, regardless of my lack of any distinguishable form of faith. Thank you for reading, I hope you have gained something from it as I have. ~ Beth