I need to cry. I have that tight feeling in my chest matched with the mild but ever-present headache residing at the nape of the neck and mid-forehead as well as the burning eyes and tight throat. It's like when you need to sneeze and even though you don't really want to sneeze, it's way better than holding it in and it's kind of upsetting if it never comes because... man... you needed that release. Just like that dumb volcano in Alaska that everybody's been freaking out about because it's going to blow at any moment and then it didn't for weeks and weeks. Then finally it gave a few puffs over a few days and that was it. How disappointing. And I'm disappointed. Because all of the signs are there but I just can't cry. No release. I have reasons to cry. I'm upset about them. I'm sad about them. I'm kind of mad about them. But there's no release. Maybe I put it off for too long. No time to cry now, much too busy! I can't cry yet, the trial's not even over yet. I can't cry now, people will know. And now after all that waiting, I can't cry at all. I put on my sad songs, took in the crap, processed the garbage and feel I understand my predicament. It's not awesome. But even with that... no tears. And now that I've typed this... I'm kind of over it. Kind of.
P.S. I just got a call that I have to pick up my mom. Nope... still nothin'. :)
I met a guy last Friday who claims he can read auras. Apparently mine is yellow. Bright yellow. So some other newly aware aura sporters and myself looked up what our colors meant on the internet. Mine can be found here. Whatever. It's not like I needed one more person (or the internet) telling me I'm a child. I ran around Disneyland like a six-year-old on Pixie Stix. If I didn't have the right amount of peer pressure, I'd live in a fort made of blankets, watch Disney movies and play Nintendo all day and live off of Cheetos and pizza.
The occupations I also found amusing because deep down I feel like I was supposed to be a drummer. Maybe I really was meant to be Blade of Table Nine. Think it's too late?
You wanna know what's not awesome? Walking over a mile to my sister's house... uphill... without a jacket... in my torn pajama bottoms... on wet dirt... in my socks... carrying a 12 lb dog... because when the "sign-my-paper" dude came to the door and the dogs flipped out and one escaped so I ran after him and closed the door behind me so the other one wouldn't escape but, of course, did this all about a whole millisecond before I realized my keys and my cell phone were in the house and my door is always locked so that crazy people can't just walk in. Crazy people like me!! So the "sign-the-paper" dude watched the circus, had me sign the paper and then seriously started to walk away before I said, "Uh... think I could use your phone?" So he walked to his apartment and brought back a cell phone. But you know what? I only know one number. My parents' number. The same number I memorized before entering preschool in case I got lost or abducted or smart enough to run away and start prank calling. So I called that number. And nobody was home. So I left a message that sounded a lot like this, "Hi Dad. It's me, Emily. I'm locked out of my condo so would you please come bring me the key as soon as you get this message? I'll be waiting. Oh, I don't have shoes. So... I won't be going anywhere. Please hurry." The "sign-my-paper" dude listened as I left the pathetic message, asked if I had someplace to wait and then when I said I had a sister a mile up the hill but I wouldn't be going there because I'm in socks he smiled and walked away. So the trek to my sister's began.
But... at least it wasn't raining. And I only had to carry one dog instead of both. Also, the bedroom window I was scared was weak enough to give way with a slight nudge holds up a lot better than I thought. So, there's that.