Nothing is Permanent. Everything is Temporary.

You sit down on a couch and are overwhelmed by an old familiar feeling. It's an exhaustion, the kind you can't get rid of by taking a nap. It's the crash after an all time high, the fall back to Earth, as you realize nothing ever lasts. Where did it go wrong? It seems only yesterday you were so happy. You look back and can barely even remember where it went right.

It starts with a "Hello, nice to meet you," and an embarrassing faux pas on your part. You always makes the worst first impressions. But you bounce back and begin talking. It turns into little inside jokes and "What's up?" texts. Suddenly, you're spending all your weekends together and staying up until the wee hours of the morning, revealing all your deepest hope and fears. Things you can't usually say come pouring out. And you realize that a trust, previously unknown to you, forms between you. That's when you take a big step back. There's no way that it can be real. You're moving too fast. You're allowing yourself to become closer to them than they are to you. Why would they like you? You're awkward and clingy and annoying. You try to avoid them, but just can't. And one day by an unfortunate slip of the tongue, it comes out. Their reply, "You shouldn't feel that way. You can trust me."

And there it is. Trust, for the first time in a long time. You care about each other. You respect each other. Is it love? No, never. It's just a friendship, one of the best, even. It's spontaneous and freeing. It's pure and the best thing you've ever felt. Even the little fights are beautiful. You're on cloud nine. There's no more insecurities, no more worrying about tomorrow. For the first time, you have been accepted by a group of people that you actually fit in with. In fact, every aspect of your life has improved. Your grades are better. You find it easier to be nicer to people. You've even lost weight and cleaned up your look. And you begin to actually believe that life is going to be like this from here on out.

But nothing is permanent. Everything is temporary.

In retrospect, the downfall had been in the making before it even began. Your parents sit you down and talk about how you're never home any more. They complain about having to take you places and then claim it would be inconsiderate to make someone else always pick you up. Your old friends make snide little comments about how you're never around any more, when they never wanted to hang out before. But you don't really mind. Sure you care what they think, but you're not going to let it stand in the way of the first time in your life that you've ever felt like you belonged. No, that's not what made it go wrong.

No, that job is yours. You've always been your own worst enemy. Trust never came easy to you. Eventually, things will get to you and break down. It's little things that will tear you apart. Those little comments they make that make you think "maybe they aren't that different." The doubts fester over time, and one day it explodes in your mind. You become convinced that they're not only better off without you, but are only friends with you out of some sort of pity. Because secretly they can't stand you.

You take a deep breath and reevaluate the situation because you know that's not true. They still care about you. There's no denying that that. They text you asking if you want to do something this weekend. You say you're busy. It's not a total lie, but you still could do something if you wanted. Still you lie, because it doesn't matter if whether they like you or not.

It's because I can't let you love me.

--

I wrote that awhile back ago. I got over it so I didn't post it. But I recently wrote a poem that this gives a little perspective to.

Suck

That Morning

Sometimes I wonder if when you woke up that morning, you hit snooze on your clock like you always did or if you for once woke up exactly when you should have. I wonder if you showered in that morning like you always did or if you had showered previously that night. I wonder if you had to change your clothes several times to get that perfect combination or if you just threw something on. I wonder if you ate for breakfast. Was it your usual cereal bar and cup of coffee or did you sit down for a bowl of cereal or pancakes? Did you brush your teeth for the full three minutes or did you brushed your hair longer than usual? When you looked in the mirror, did you realize how great you looked? Did you realize you always looked great? Did you check your phone and see my message? Did try to text back your best friend and the message just didn't get through to my phone or was it still too awkward for you to even communicate with me?

Sometimes I wonder exactly what time you walked out your front door, and if you told your mother you loved her before leaving. I wonder if your older brother teased you as you were leaving or if he'd already left. Did your old piece of junk car stalled and you had to try a couple times before it would start running. Did you wave to that woman who always runs around your neighborhood in the morning. Was your mind thinking deeply on a certain subject, or were you mindlessly singing along to the song on the radio? What was playing on the radio? Was it your usual station, or was that song you could never stand playing and you had to change it to a different station? Or were you listening to a CD? Did that song remind you of anyone? Were certain words burnt in your brain?

Sometimes I wonder if some jerk cut you off, and if you swore a string of obscenities under your breath. I wonder if you sped to school cause you were running late or if you just didn't care because there were more important things on your mind. Did you even know what time it was or was the clock in your car a couple minutes slow? Did you catch all the red lights or ease through all the green lights? Did you wait impatiently at that one red light, or did you take your time before hitting the gas again? Did you see that truck coming or did it hit you before you even knew what was happening? How bad did it hurt? I hope to God that you didn't feel a thing. I like to tell myself that you snapped your neck on impact, but I know that wasn't your fate.

Sometimes I wonder what your last thought was about and if you knew you were going to die. I wonder if you thought about all the things if you had to live for and all the things you wish you'd never did. Did I cross your mind at all? Did you know how much I would miss you? Did you know how much I'd cry at your funeral and for the entire two months afterwards, and how many nights I would sit up wondering about every single thing happened to you? Could you have ever known how much I wish just one little part of those things on that morning had gone different? Because if it had, you'd still be on this Earth, even if you weren't with me.

---

I came up with the idea for this in Driver's Ed.

I'm kinda going through a breakdown. My mind hurts and I'm going back into that phase where I just absolutely hate everything about myself and I can't see myself ever having a happy future.

Once In A Lifetime

So I'm in my room right now, eating Cool Ranch Doritos, drawing, and listening to the Talking Heads' album "Stop Making Sense". So out of frustration with my momentary lack of artistic skills, I get on myspace and decide I need to change my status. Then when it asks me what mood I'm in, I come to a blank.

And I realize that I'm perfectly happy. It's as if nothing in my life is wrong.

I know that's not true. My life right now is far from perfect. First off, I have a massive headache, and I feel like I might be sick. There's other stuff, too. Most of my close friends have boyfriends or other friends that they'd rather spend time with and I'm okay with that. I do have other friends. They're all at different schools, but when I am with them I have some pretty damn good fun. Still, it doesn't help the sting when I realize I'm starting to drift from all of my closest friends. Again. Not to mention I'm still failing Chemistry, and I'm probably going to end up not being able to bring it up before Finals. And I really don't want to do summer school or worse, repeat Chemistry.

Hell I'm not even eating the right flavor of Doritos. I like Nacho Cheese better.

But all of this isn't an issue. I'm happy in the purest form of the word. I guess it's just the feelings of euphoria from last night haven't worn off yet, but something in me doesn't want to stop smiling. I love it. And I love how, for once, this feeling is one-hundred percent me. It's not because I'm smitten by some guy or because somebody else made me happy. I'm just happy. It's as if there really isn't any problems.

I'm positive if I were a drawing, I'd be smiling like this: ^w^

The Drugs Can Have My Mind

"One of my friends used to say, "You live. You die. Why is that so complicated?" I wonder that a lot."
-A Boy With Wisdom Beyond his Years

I woke up this morning and realized I don't remember becoming friends with most of the people I would consider friends.

The act of friendship is a funny thing. What really separates friend from friendly acquaintance? I often hear people saying, "So I was talking to my friend Jim, well he's not really my friend, but you get the point." How odd of a thing that is. I guess I'm just one of those people who will be friends with just about anybody and even people I don't necessarily like I am at least cordial towards them. So it strikes me as odd when people say they only have two friends.

Then again, I've been there too. I've been in moments where I felt like I didn't have any friends, yet, every day there were people I'd pleasantly converse with. So how could that be true? Maybe people just don't like to consider people who they haven't known very long good friends.

Anyways, back to the crisis at hand. I'm lying there in bed and I realize most of my friends, I can't remember becoming friends with. So I get out my laptop and I check myspace and I look over all these people in my friend list, trying to remember how they became my friend or at least how I met them.

-Nichole Fiore, met in second grade, became friends the normal grade school way, reintroduced in seventh grade, hated her, loved her, hated her, repeat.
-Helen Rose, met at freshman orientation, became my good friend when we went ice skating, became my best friend somewhere along the lines of our daily walks to Byington.
-Sarah Craft, met in first grade, became best friends, lost touch, met again in seventh grade, became friends through a nerdy love for Star Wars, and the fact that technology classes are super boring.
-Cortnee Ruthann, met this year at lunch, friends with Emily, really funny, a good deadpan humor to combat Emily Boling's crazy humor.
-Savannah Taylor, friends with Stacey Padilla, was in my Visual Communications class, we shared similar tastes in music, movies, books.
-Jaclyn Rogers, my cousin. Been friends since I can remember.
-Ryan Clark, heard about him and his music through Emily, met at sophomore orientation, befriended because he's the nicest guy I know.
-Kasey Lee, met on the way up to Toledo, befriended at Cedar Point, but even with her, the memory's slipping, I can't remember how she went from an awkward acquaintance to probably one of my closest friends who can make me laugh no matter how bad of a mood I'm in.
-Thomas O'Connor, met through middle school youth group, thought he was the biggest prick ever, realized he was a decent guy on the pope trip, we both love Say Anything and he's pretty damn funny.
-Kayla Dean, the bus, basically adopted as my apprentice. We go through the same phases at the same times. When I was an angsty eighth-grader, she was an angsty sixth-grader. When I was a stupid freshman, she was a stupid seventh-grader. I'm a hyper sophomore, and she's a hyper eighth-grader.
-Sierra and Allison, the English class I'm currently in. I let them copy off my homework, help them cheat on tests, do their projects for them. They don't think I'm the craziest human being ever.

The descriptions get quieter and quieter as I realize I don't know most of these people. Or worse, we were once better friends than we are now. That's what scares me more than anything.

No, that's not true. What scares me more than anything is I can't remember how I became friends with Skylar Childress, Stacey Padilla, Laura Dalton, Emily Boling, Cassie and Taylor, Megan Gerlach, the list goes on.

Then I realize a trend in these people. All of them I met in middle school. That's when I realize I can no longer remember middle school. Okay I do. I remember rejecting pop-culture. I remember being hated. I remember a kickball to the face. I remember a fist fight between Slade McGuire and Kate Brownell in which Kate kicked his ass. I remember my first C. I remember my first D. I remember my first day of public middle school. I remember an obsession with Lord of the Rings. I remember every crush I ever had. I remember singing the cookie song on the bus. I remember my first failed class. I remember feeling isolated, but I always feel isolated. I remember Ben, but even I often forget that we "dated" or whatever you want to call it. I remember Fall Out Boy, Hot Topic, black eyeliner, and refusing to be labeled as an "emo". I remember suicide threats. I remember jealousy. I remember singing John Cougar Mellancamp's "Hurt So Good". I remember being sunburnt. I remember my last day in eighth grade.

I remember the things. I don't remember the people.

I've finally forgotten it. I always did say I wanted to forget who I was back then. Now I'm realizing though middle school Rhiannon was annoyingly stupid, she was still a part of me and my history. With everything I forget, I'm losing myself.

Then my mind turns to Rhiannon from August to November of 2007. That stupid, slutty, hypocritical bitch. That liar and that fake. That thing that makes me ashamed to even think I could have ever been so retarded. Really that's not fair. She was split into two. Probably the closest I've ever been to actually having a mental condition. One side was Rhiannon the way she's always been, awkward, angry, and giggly. The other side was this fake, lying whore that was born out of a need to stop living in somebody else's shadow.

Do I really want to forget her?

What's worse is I've already forgetting the normal Rhiannon of that time. I remember moments, but I've forgotten myself, except for her. That stupid blonde bitch. I make jokes that I'm a redheaded whore, but redhead Rhiannon hasn't ever done anything nearly as awful as blonde Rhiannon did. Hell, redhead Rhiannon actually had the balls to stand up for herself in a way that blonde Rhiannon never could. That's not fair, after her parents found out about a couple things that were going on, the freshman version of myself ended somethings, but only after they had already gotten to the point where there isn't a day that goes by where I don't want to travel back in time to the day of freshman orientation and just slap her in the face.

I hate her.

But she's a part of me.

I can't go back in time. It's all been done. I'd like to think I'm a better person for it, but I'm not. I'm still awkward Rhiannon who doesn't understand volume control and says all the wrong things at all the wrong moments. I guess I'm okay with that now. I can deal with it. I don't feel this need to be somebody other than who I am. Because of it, I'm less jealous, less angry, less miserable, and less likely to do something stupid for a guy. It's not that I'm a better person. I'm just more okay with who I am. Some of us are born to be cool. Some people will go through their entire lives happy. I know it helps some people to believe that the kids who are cool now will be miserable later in life. I know I've done it before. But what kind of thing is that to wish upon a person? It's petty.

Because at the end of the day, it doesn't matter how many or how little friends you have, how good or bad your grades are, how cool your clothes are whether they be from Hot Topic or Abercrombie, how much you do or don't conform to society, or whether you have a boyfriend or girlfriend. The only thing that matters is whether you are okay with who you are. We forget that the things around us do not define us as individuals. I am not Rhiannon McHugh who wears scarves and hangs out with Nichole Fiore, Emily Boling, Skylar Childress, and Helen Rose. I'm Rhiannon who is.

I am.