The blog of the highly opinionated Sgt. Octopus

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four thousand two hundred thirty-seven

Let’s not talk about how I didn’t make it to 50,000 words.

And stopped before I crossed that finish line.

four thousand two hundred thirty-seven.

Instead let us focus on the good things that happened this month:

I started writing for fun again.

I did start reading a bit more than usual.

I got five days with the one I love.

Snuggling, reading, secret kisses.

Admiring the glitter of snow while holding hands.

Coffee is making its way up my drinkable beverages list.

Never mess with Starbucks.

Tumblr has lost its appeal as a procrastination machine.

I have two weeks of school left and

a homework pile that makes NaNoWriMo

look like a spec of dust.

 


Hogwarts, Hogwarts…

Anyone else miss those days when the world seemed so simple?

Harry Potter has always represented that time for me. A time when all I wanted was my own letter to Hogwarts so I could get out of my own Dursley-ish hell. It’s been ages since I first picked upĀ Harry Potter and the Sorcerers’ Stone, it has long passed from the minds of the world, and yet I’m still here.

I’m dealing with barely having enough money to do the things I need to do, much less want to do. A harsh reality. Not knowing where to go or what to do. There’s this sense that I’m alone in the world in ways that I don’t want to be.

My parents don’t care much more than they have to, they have their own problems to deal with as they can barely take care of themselves. My friends have long been disconnect. And my boyfriend is the sweetest soul in the world and I feel bad constantly asking for his help. It’s not fair. Not fair to him. Not fair to me. Not fair to life.

But here’s the problem. No one really seems to like me. I don’t know why. Am I blinded to something that everyone else notices? I just want to know what this wall is between me and the rest of the world. This thing that keeps me isolated from the good parts of this world. The friendships.

I know I need help. And I don’t mean in a I’m in a deep depression sort of help. My mind isn’t the sort to go there. It won’t let me. It’s too afraid. But if life has taught me anything people don’t care to help you unless you have hit rock bottom…

I wrote this a few weeks ago. Things are better now.