i am scared, sue me.

expectation is such a sad word.it has always been a ball and chain firmly bound around my ankles; a burden i've been dragging around my entire life. i mean sure,loads of medals adorned cute little sarah's neck during her pre-school, and grade school days but one must understand that things change and i certainly am not exempt to that; i never believed in permanence in the first place. the outpour of commendations and citations which i enjoyed during those days slowed down to trickle...to almost a virtual halt in high-school -i mean sure,there were the occassional interschool championships won and those awards praising my literary works but people expect so much more of me it's almost sickening. expectation obliges you to be something that you are not, something you CAN'T be. it makes me feel like i'm being shoved into a box or a cocoon against my will, forced and controlled environment where i could be put into exhibit and be watched closely, being waited upon to metamorphose gloriously into something i'm not.

what did i ever do to deserve such high expectations??why do people flash leery grins when they see me do something which is generally bad like smoking or engaing myself in alcohol binge? YES I AM HUMAN,SUE ME! in fact i've been living it up with my friends the past few months which explains why my journal hasn't been updated while it was my resolve to have daily entries. and no, i am not just the girl next door with the sparkling smile who greets you good morning on your way to school. sue me. and no, sir, i am not a saint; i have spent nights in sleazy hotels and engaged in wild chonkeepornstar sessions -a lot of times.sue me. had enough? no? don't worry,there's more; i have engaged in random misdemeanor; i drink and drive and i count two instances wherein i crashed my car because i was an irresponsible little fucker,driving under the influence. i smoked marijuana for a while too. sue me. in fact, sir, sue me for being human.miss favila, you flunked accounting!

the sad thing about this drivel is that shadows of all these false steps would someday come back and haunt me. and i fear that when they do, i will be looked down upon ; and i will hit myself over and over agian for not being transparent; for making him see a visage that i want him to see while hiding my ugly self in the process. am i alone?i wish i could take flight and make the sun punctuate the day in wonderful splendor; i wish i could paint the sky's canvass to be beautiful again. i wish i could find my little space in the former paradise that had grew tired of me. i wish i could find my purpose.

i have this theory that these little blackouts i constatly have are my brain's insidious way of telling me to get a life, which is something i'd take seriously if only drinking wasn't so damn fun. so fuck you brain!!!