AID.

[First off, let's pretend this is Friday. Secondly, I don't think people are getting the point. What they're writing is supposed to be "Things Not Heard". What some people are giving me is just a bunch of things that I hear all the time. All but one. Man.]

My neighbors are so annoying! The other night, one broke his arm by banging on a door. His little brothers locked him out and when he got in, he started beating them up. Another neighbor called the police. A lot goes on down there, like parties and music blasts. One time we were playing capture the flag, and we were yelling. They came out and yelled, "Shut up, I'm tryin' to drink!" WOW. They are just stupid. We have called the cops, like, 10 times. They need to give it yp and just get arrested! People can hear them that are six houses down.

[Including me. She's not over-exaggerating. They're horrible. And they've stolen my brother's bikes. Anyway, there you go. That's ALL OF MY FRIENDS that I can get a hold of. The challenge is on, humanity.]

Villains. Now, here comes my conflict. What if a villain isn't REALLY a villain? Yes, of course the person broke the law. "The law is the law." But does that mean he's horrible, that he did it out of evil, that he should be punished? Most of the time, I don't think it does. Some things, yes. Horrible, HORRIBLE things that you KNOW the person did, yes. But, here's an example. An old man has a big family. Local pharmacy. Needs medicine for his little granddaughter. No money. Takes it. Gets caught. No sympathy. Papers assume, people's heads judge for the wrong reasons. They all see the wrong things, and no one reveals the right. I guess that man should do his time. Fair is fair. But the way people describe that man disgusts me. The way people react, the way they treat. Another example. Someone is a suspect for murder. The person that died was the suspects friend, even though most people didn't know it. All of the clues lead to that suspect. He didn't do it. He honestly didn't do it. And then. All over the News, the radio, the public. People hear things and start saying he's the one. Everyone hates him. The local station even says that it was him. He goes to court. Gets a trial. Innocent. Eventually word dies down, but no one looks at him the same, because they can't get the thought out of their little assuming heads that he's a murderer. And he lives in misery for a while, adding to the sorrow from the death of his friend. Isn't it all bull shit. Doesn't it all suck when you're called a horrible person, when in reality, you were trying to do something good.

Picked strawberries today with my mum. Of course, it wasn't a huge thrill ride, but on our way, we blasted some sweet music and rolled the windows down completely, letting the tunes flow out and the wind flow in. If that doesn't cause pure happiness, I don't know what does.

First, you must realize that I am sorry. Second, you must understand that my computer has a virus. Thrid, it is summer. No one can write for me. Should I do the brave thing and just go around the neighborhood? Hm. Maybe someday. Things have been okay. I honestly think I'll always feel lonely, though. As if the crowd around me is only a mist, and that there is no waterfall of people around, trying to help. I've got it good. I just don't have the mind.

One moment smiling, one moment crying. Eh. I wish I could cry. Time for a bike ride? I'm thinking yes.

"If you don't understand my silence then you'll never understand my words."

Ian.

Muffin is the most amazing cat ever, if you know what I mean. I mean seriously, why wouldn't you love her? She is a freaking cat. On the bad side, I'm allergic to cats. =[ . People should make a chocolate that doesn't make you fat. Life is fun (sometimes). It makes you live your real life, if you know what I mean. With life you're not dead. Pretzels are really good, especially when you're writing while eating them. The bad part is when you're friends eat them. (Grrrrr...).

[I told him to write his opinion. He did, I guess. But that's not what I meant. Oh well. Here's your Friday not-me-post. And you wonder why I've only had girls write so far.]

Another Daydream.

The two middle-aged couple were canoeing down a small creek. They were paddling in silence, until a rock came and caused the water to splash all over the woman. She looked at her husband in shock. Then they burst out laughing together, and got into a water fight, splashing each other and smiling the entire time. When they were soaking wet, they jumped into the creek, dragged the canoe over to a random yard, and had a picnic on the side of the water. In the house beside the river, a younger couple eating lunch were observing the two. "That'll be us when we're older," he promised. "Soaking wet, laughing, smiling, and loving each other as much as we do now."

"He crossed the street and, in a matter of moments, blended completely into the night." Sometimes I think that would be amazing. Just to...not be seen. I think about how crappy it is, not being seen, but the quote above isn't like that. Just REALLY blending into the background. Almost as if you're not there at all. We all have a few moments where it seems as if thats exactly what we are. Background images. But it doesn't last forever. Someone will talk to you, others will see you. I guess once in a while, it would be nice to be completely alone. Observing, sitting by yourself in a forest, not even the ants walking over you.

I was daydreaming.

He was standing on the edge, waiting to jump. Except this isn't one of those weird things I get into. He seriously was. And I climbed out of the window, next to him, and thought to myself, "If he was actually going to do it, he would've already." I guess he heard me. Because he looked at me with pain in his eyes. And he did it. He jumped off of the edge, down to the ground, plunging to his death. "Oh, shit," was all I said. I didn't have much time to say anything else. Why? Because he was beside me again, back on the ledge of the window, laughing. And laughing. And laughing. "My life sucks right now, but that wouldn't kill me," he said, completely serious. "I know what you're thinking," the guy continued, around eighteen. "Who am I? WHAT am I?" His face became serious again, the pain flashing in his eyes one more time. And then he closed them. And that is when my mind decided to end the daydream. Sometimes I hate my mind.

No. I'm dead serious this time. I've cracked. If this isn't the explosion coming, it's a big step of hatred. I'm freaking, like, anti-social. WHY HAVE I NOT FADED INTO THEIR BACKGROUNDS. It pisses me off. It really, really pisses me off.

This is a test. Again. Another test of the enter button. If it doesn't work, let's hope another coughing and weezing fit that is keeping me home from school will distract me from tearing the wires out of this computer.