I didn't ever believe everyone that said you'll grow apart from your high school friends once you get to college. It could never happen, my inner monologue kept repeating, we're almost all going to the same school, we'll always stay tight knit. And here I am, not even home a week, and already yearning to go back to Auburn, to go back to the people I've met there, the people who lit the spark in my soul. I adore everything about Fairhope, except who it turns me into. I feel myself retreating into my shell, into my uncomfortable state, back to everything I thought I shed behind. And maybe I did, just left all my dead skin, all my old self, here.

I'll take you over if you let me.

I'm not sure if it's anything special or particular, but I happen to be a huge Blink fan. It's bordering on obsession sometimes, to the point where I cried when I found out my ticket to see them last fall got given away (embarrassing, I know), and I have pretty much every song ever by them. They're my sad music, my happy music, my punch a wall music, you know the drill. But for some reason, listening to them today made me realize something. The people we miss, or not even miss, just feel like they're a part of our souls, regardless of how much negative energy there is between you, how little one of you may care about the other, there's no reason for them to still be inside your head, in the least bit. They're not the same person they were, and they probably weren't who you thought even then. You get exasperated when you talk to them, because they're not treating you the way you remember, the way you went over in your head all those months ago when you were sad. They're not treating you the way you remember, because they never did. Casting all your dreams, all your sketches of your dream love, your everything on them makes you dislike talking to them even more, because they'll never be who you thought they were, but they never really were that person, so it's not their fault. You cast all this responsibility on them to be what you want and need, and what they never were. Maybe that's what broke them, the final straw, what broke the "perfect relationship", the one your mother told you was the one. Maybe we shouldn't dream up who other people should be, they're not the white knight. No one is going to save you from your pissy moods, your frustrations, and if you let them try, they'll end up hating you for thrusting all your responsibilities onto them. I've been on both sides of this equations, and neither side ends up happy, or able to forget or forgive.

Also, please listen to their live album asap, you'll pee laughing.

Sidenote;

looking at pictures from now compared to a year ago, I'm a completely different person, emotionally. Well, I feel like that. My smile is so much happier, more genuine. All the pain behind it is gone. All the secrets, all the stress, the tears... gone. My life is far from perfect, but it's perfect for me. It's so weird. I felt like everything I had then was what I needed, but it made me -and everyone else involved- miserable. It's so weird looking at pictures now, and seeing how happy I really truly am... happiness radiates from the inside out.

The daylight seems to want you just as much as I want you.

Snow Patrol is one of those bands that make me feel so strongly, whether good or bad. They've made my highs higher, my lows dismal, and I've had them playing in my head in so many movie scene style moments and I just feel like my life is film. Does anyone else feel like this? Does your life play by in movie clips and montages, do you hear songs when you're riding in a train through Virginia, getting your heart broken, when your car is getting crumpled and your jaw fractured, seemingly in slow motion? When you close your eyes, do you hear a song, make up visuals in your head? I can't be the only one like this. You have to be so moved too, music has to be in your heart as well.

I have a confession;

it's really not shocking or special, or even worth posting, but I'm watching my last four loads of laundry dry, so might as well pass the time.
I'm so goddamn insecure. And yes, I realize that's worth an eye roll and and "jesus christ shut up", but really really. I hate picking profile pictures on facebook because I'm convinced they're all awkward and unattractive in some aspect. I know I'm a size two, but that doesn't stop me from shuddering whenever I look at myself in the mirror. I hate watching myself walk in shorts; I swear my legs are like jello. I eat healthy (aside from my addiction to ramen and nutella. Except not together, even I'm not that gross) always take the stairs when possible, walk 98% of the time and work out when possible, so I know I'm not a disgusting fuck. I know I'm a model, and I know people have walked up to me and told me I'm one of the most beautiful person they've seen (albeit, they're usually severely intoxicated, or trying to get in my pants),but that doesn't stop me from stressing out over my hair, my thighs or my chest. My feet are insanely wide; so much so an exboyfriend "lovingly" referred to my feet as triangles, or shovels.
This isn't just a pity party post though. Our culture's unsettling. We're programed to hate everything about ourselves, and strive to be someone else. My generation's taught no one's skinny enough, no one's cup size is large enough, your waist isn't small enough.
I am Jane's starving insides. Even looking in my own fridge and pantry; nothing but Lean Cuisines in the freezer, celery and 100 calorie packs in the fridge, Special K and Crystal Light in the pantry. Everyone's striving to starve themselves smaller, fight off the freshman fifteen with Easy Tones and anything Low Cal.
I understand that obesity is the main epidemic of our nation, and health is of the upmost concern. But that doesn't mean I don't feel for the girls wasting away, with their weights in the double digits.

summer lovin'

well goodness gracious. I've neglected this poor blog, and I really should be on my knees brandishing you with chocolates and flowers and groveling for forgiveness. Instead, I've got insomnia and a whole mess of stories. I had a romance (if you can call it that), had that prom, another prom, got a new job, graduated, and moved to Auburn.
'Scuz, wtf?!
I almost feel like an entirely new person from before. Well, not sure if new is the right word, I'm fitting into my old old old skin all over again. I'm being more spontaneous, less shy, and even getting noticed for my "charisma" (although I'm not sure if that's the right word. More like "alcohol induced giggle fits and complete lack of ability to keep my mouth shut"). Most recently -as I refuse to type four months worth of stories in one sitting- I went to Birmingham with Liz last week to see Jukebox the Ghost. I really think that night was when I made up my mind to be the old Gwen, the girl I haven't been in well over a year. I danced more than I have in years, lived without questioning, spoke and acted without thinking about how everyone around me would take my actions/words. I danced to the point of being sore days after, approached boys in bands, and hit on passing cars on the way there; but only when showing off the hunting knife I found on the floor of Miss. Richard's car.
College is in itself a whole new experience, but it feels so familiar and nonthreatening at the same time. I'm living in the suites for the summer; as luxurious as having my own bed and bathroom sounds, it's so damn lonely. I'm yearning for the fall, when I won't be able to be alone, despite how hard I try. I still have yet to make up my mind on whether or not I'll be rushing come August; I want to be in a sorority, but I never feel at ease with older sorority girls and frat boys, not the way I do when I'm with people with more interests and quirks that are similar to my own.