Happy face.

That's how I feel today.

Happy.

And smiley.

And light.

Like a feather.

Ready to blow away.

My aunt came to visit.

My friend ended her dirty relationship.

I like where my relationship(?) is right now.

We're acting in English.

School's almost over.

I'm having a party.

I just feel...good.

It's strange, huh?

Welcome to the madland that is Ariana's brain.
Say hello.
Wave.
Look around.
And realise how completely confusing it is.

Why is it, that I can give everybody else I know love advice, and then have such a terrible love life of my own?

Irony much?

So there's this boy.....
And guess what?

I like him.

:O

And I think he likes me.

Or so I've been told.

By people.

A LOT of people.

(Even tho he seems angered with me at the moment)

Not the point.

So.

I like him, yes.

And.

Yes.

There's basically it.

I'm not sure if I want to go out with him.

Why?

Well.

There's this problem.

I'm afraid.

That if we went out.

We'd never break up.

Because he's so damn agreeable.

So either.

1) I don't want to be tied down to one person forever.

2) I don't like him as much as I thought

3) Some random other reason I haven't thought of.

4) I'm afraid of commitment.





Oh dear God.

I'm afraid of commitment.

Listen mister.
You're avoiding me.
I never see you.
I never talk to you.
And the few times when I have, you've barely said anything.

What'd I do?
I don't remember getting you mad.
I don't remember anything bad.
I remember having fun and laughing.
And then.
Silence.
Avoidance.

Now I think you're mad.
And I miss you.
So.
Fucking.
Much.

And I don't know where you are.
Or how to tell you.
And I want to know what I did.

I don't know how to live without you. :(

It's weird, isn't it.
In.
And out.
In.
And out.
So simple.
Yet so complicated.
Because it keeps us alive.

Sometimes, it's tempting NOT to breathe.
Just to see.

Like now, for instance.

I feel really super alone.
And I did all day.
So I stole my friend's sweater.
In an attempt to not feel so alone.

I kept the sweater over the long weekend.
And now.
I'm sitting here.
In his sweater.
That smells like he does.
And feels kind of wrong to wear.

And I feel even more alone.
While I wonder.
What's it like?
To just stop breathing.

I feel ashamed.
I think my friend's ashamed.
And it really sucks.
Like, a lot.

My two besties and I were able to get him to confess something that he didn't exactly want to tell.

He kept looking at me when he was telling us.
He looked like....
I don't know...
Like he was drowning sort of.
And sort of like he didn't want me to hear it.
Like he was ashamed of himself.

And I feel bad.
Because I would have stopped my friends.
But my brain had fallen out, I guess.
(He usually has that affect on me).
And now I feel bad.
Terrible.
I'm e-mailing him to apologise, but I still feel terrible.

Ashamed.

Science Inspired Misery (2008, science)

Oh wretched woe
Sucking my soul
Disrupting the flow
Of creative energy
And will to live
Information flows through me
Just like a sieve
Dim, lifeless classroom
Destroying our souls
Shredding our brain cells
Filling us with holes
Succumbing to silence
Weeping inside
The teacher doesn't realise
Our souls have just died

*

S-ucking our souls
C-ausing torment
I-nsides take a toll
E-verything's spinning
N-ow the outlook is bleak
C-ausing confusion and misunderstanding
E-ven English turns to Greek

*

Oh wretched woe, oh dismal day
My life, I fear, is wasting away
So little time, so much to dp
'Life's too short' still rings true
Not enough time, to conform to your rules
Not enough time, to become mindless fools
Our voices are hollow
Opinions we swallow
And slowly succumb to mind-numbing bliss
Escape from ourselves, turn into this

*

A web of lies, I do string
Of horrid sorrow, my heart does sing
A mask that covers all the lie
What dark secrets, lurk behind my eyes
Is there sorrow, is there pain
My words can all be misconstrued
A hidden message, just for you

*

Voices, voices still your shrieking
Even though your hearts are leaking
Run, run from what's inside
Even though you cannot hide
Breathe, breathe a shallow breath
Even though it'll cause your death
Fall, fall you hit the ground
And now you no longer can be found


Isolation (2008, really bad week)

She cries and cries
Calls out in pain
She's not even safe
In the dream domain
Pretend she's silent
That's she not there
That she's not breathing
Not gasping for air
Her eyes are closed
But tears still leak
She hides in public
So she won't seem weak
Their words are strained
Their smiles fake
She could be screaming
No notice they'd take
She feels trapped
Like a room with no door
There's no escape
Contained for evermore

Ode to Achiless- The Almost Telescope [Who Ran Away] (2007, geography)
 
Ode to Achilles
My plastic blue friend
I hoped I would keep you
Until your recycled end
You were practically useless
But nonetheless cool
Samm's bottle of sugar
Which she shared during school
To make a telescope
Was my ultimate goal
But, alas, this was failed
When you fell to the floor
So Achilles, I miss you
Achilles come back
For, Achilles, you're needed
Without you, my life doth lack

[Afterwards]
Jess, she returned you
And now you are home
And I, Ariana
Are no longer alone

Angel (2003, french)

Outcast angel
Can't find her place
Tearful angel
Run down her face
Poor little angel
Open your eyes
Tears for the angel
See the stormy skies
Bleeding angel
Blood runs so red
Depressed angel
Her eyes are dead
Cry for the angel
Draws a tear
Fallen angel
The end is near
Dishonest angel
Her smiles do fade
Placid angel
Her eyes a sad shade
Smileless angel
She's dying inside
End of the angel
Her life hath gone by

Fareie Dance (2007, poetry project)

Frolic in the moonlight
Dance upon the garden wall
With dainty movements

Tiny faces shine
Wings shimmer like broken glass
Eyes reflect the light

Innocent and pure
Silhouettes gleam like crystal
Small feet make no noise

Dance in a circle
All the dancers join their hands
Form a perfect ring

Make their own music
Voices raise in harmony
How joyous the sound

The sun still hidden
Their merry games continue
Until the light comes

Golden sun rises
A bloody stain in the sky
Their smiles vanish

They are extinguished
Like the flame of a candle
They exist no more*

A fantasy dream
A whirlwind of bright colours
Beautiful and light

Over so quickly
Finished before it started
All a whispered dream

*written in 2004 for english class

Companion to Faerie Dance (2007, boredom)

A shining orb
Magic in the sky
Tis not the only magic
Visible to the human eye
Dance in moonlight
With a light footfall
Create dainty steps
Across the garden wall
Delicate faces
To tiny to touch
Seeing is believing
Everyone knows as much

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

I guess.
I wouldn't know really.
Because I don't seem to feel anything.

I mean, there is this ripping tearing feeling that descends upon me when I'm home and closes up when I arrive at school.

But other than that, I don't think I'm real.

I tried to listen to my heart, litterally, the other day, and I couldn't.
I couldn't hear it.
I couldn't find it.
I just....couldn't.

I did, once.
A few weeks ago.

I had woken up, showered, dressed and crawled into bed.
Usually when I do this, I sleep.
Or dream.
Or read.

But I didn't.
I listened.
And I heard it for the first time.

It was strange.
I remember preschool.
It was called Growing Concern and the outside was blue.

Peter ran over my finger with a plastic car when I was pretending to be Jolie from The Hunchback of Notre Dame, it was Caitlin's turn to be Esmeralda.

They wouldn't let me on the children yard, but they let Caitlin and Mitchell even though we were only six hours apart (well, six from Caitlin, four and a half from Mitchell).

I remember, some days, when Mum was working and Laurie couldn't watch me, they'd take me into the basement and into the tunnel.
We'd go along the tunnel and come up in the whiteness of the hospital.
I'd go up to daddy's office and I'd play with the stethoscope.
And I could never find my heart.

So lying there, in bed, when I heard it, it was a strange revelation.
I am real.
I lay there for nearly an hour, just listening, knowing that I was real and feeling totally comforted by it.

And now I'm not real again.

I'm slipping.
Falling.
Easy to forget.
Inconsequential.

I think I hurt my friend today.
I'm not sure though.
There's a dance tonight and I can't go.
When I told him....
I don't know...
He seemed....
Desperate?
Sad?
He was trying to figure out a way for me to go.....
He looked hurt....
And now I feel sick with guilt.
Because I wish I hadn't done that.
But I did.
And I can't take it back.

But it's not that bad.
Because in a few hours
Or a few minutes more
I won't feel it anymore.
I won't feel anything.
And I'll go back
To not existing.

    I was on the topgallant yard of a mighty ship.  The water below was murky and a large naval ship’s cannon’s blasted and shot a hole through the berth deck of my ship. I cried out. My body seemed not to be attached to me. My hands grabbed the mast as the ship swayed and rocked from side to side, the murky waters below shaking. There was a shot fired from my side and it blew up part of the naval ship’s deck. I screamed in terror and clasped my hands together. 

    My heart pounded. The enemy fired back and the mast snapped, screaming, I clutched for something to hold onto. A piece of wood fell away in my hand and I struggled to find something else to grab before I fell. I grabbed the sail, as the mast collapsed, taking me with it. I landed hard on all fours, on the deck while the mast collapsed and smashed into thousands of pieces, sending shard of wood everywhere.

   My hand had lit upon a sharper piece of the mast. I reached over to the ripped shreds of the sail; I grabbed one and dipped in the water that was pooling on the deck. I wrenched out the sharp piece of wood, placing it in my breeches pocket. My hand was bleeding profusely. I wrapped it tightly with the wet bit of sail. Panting from fright and pain, I looked around. The ship was in pieces, there were bleeding, gasping men everywhere. I cried out, still I felt unattached from this memory. I rushed to one of the only men and grabbed his sleeve.

  “Please! Stony! Where is my father?” My voice was desperate; I could tell I was crying even though I didn't feel it.

 The man, Stony, scowled down at me. “Pippa let me be! I don’t know!” He bellowed and disappeared from view. My body shook its head, wiping away tears and dive into the water below.

  Grasping onto a large piece of wood, I placed my feet in the water and kicked around, searching for my father. Not finding what I was looking for, I began to kick in the direction I knew was shore.

            Who had been hurt more, he wondered during third period math that day as Mrs Robinson continued her lecture on polynomials, Davie snored and Jake began to create the largest tower of pencils ever created.

            Whose heart had ached more when he had spoken those harsh, rash words?

            Did a billowing, swelling ache overtake her too as she stormed away from him at lunch, so many short days ago?

            Did she want to scream and scream and scream until her lungs burst and her head exploded and the world grew dark as he had?

            Or had she simply felt numb. A spreading cold that overtook her making even breathing impossible and movement a goal so unreachable, so ridiculous is was painful even thinking about it?

            Because that had set in after the original pain; after all the aching and the urge to scream and die was gone, the numbness had seeped in, taking over and controlling. After all was said and done and was no more, did she still hurt? Or was she fine?

            The answer lay with Robert Davison.

            So quickly she had jumped to him. So quickly she had seemed to forget about him, forget about the cruel words and forget everything else about him.

            He could see her now, two desks over, one desk up.

            She wasn’t paying attention either.

            She never did, he knew that from years of knowing her, and yet, she always did so well; she always knew the answer, even if she hadn’t heard the question. He watched her drum her fingers across the desk and make them dance across her textbook.

            She swayed to a silent, unheard beat for a few moments and he watched her earring, dangling, trace patterns across her neck.

            Her long dark hair swished across the desk as she pressed her forehead into the cold metal and her shoulders heaved; she had just sighed. He knew her eyes were closed. And he knew that beneath her eyelids, her eyes were green.

            His eyes were also green, but not the same green. Her green changed, bluey-green, grey-green and sometimes a brilliant green. His were always green and he hated it. Hers were less constant; oh that everyone should have such eyes.

            She raised her head only to lower it to the desk again quickly. The noise was slightly enormous and she raised her head, eyes wide.

            “Is there a problem?”  She was asked.

            “No.” She shook her head. As soon as the teacher resumed droning, she turned to her friend and the two of them repressed a laugh.

            He knew this obsession was unhealthy.

            But whose fault was it that he couldn’t stop thinking about her? That everything she did was, to him, incredibly beautiful? That no matter how hard her tried he couldn’t get her out of his head? That every minute of every day, whenever he closed his eyelids, she was there, laughing at him, mocking him.

            She had mocked him before, back when they were friends, back before everything had fallen apart. But that mocking had been playful, the teasing jests of a good friend, poking fun and not meaning a word.

            The teasing behind his eyes, that was a different mocking. It was a laughing, haunting mocking that would haunt him for years to come. She was mocking him, in his mind only, for not sucking up his fear and asking her out: something he would never ever do in his right mind. The fear of rejection was so strong.

            She had rejected others. Not cruelly, but she wasn’t usually kind. She was an ice queen and treated others accordingly.

            He sighed. The terrible numbness made a knife stab into his lung with that action. Even breathing was difficult since he angered her. He fought the urge to sigh again; he already hurt enough, another knife through the chest and he might collapse here on the floor in math.

            Convenient excuse, though, and he pondered it for a moment. He could probably get out of math class and all it would take was a sigh.  

Hers…       

 

            There was nothing left; he was gone.

            Gone.

            Dead, possibly.

            Lost, even more possible.

            “If that's what you want, I'll go. You don't need my burden upon you.”

            And he was not coming back. Of that she was certain. How could he come back, after what she'd said? Those hurtful words, they would have stung, they would have burned. She regretted them now, oh how she regretted them now that he was gone and the anger had subsided. She was no longer furious. When she had first learned of the price on his head she had ranted and raved.

            “You stupid, thoughtless git! Why didn't you tell me? Why? You are so bloody irresponsible and stubborn! How could you do this? To you? To me? To us?”     

            She had yelled and cursed and made a mighty fuss. How could he be so damn reckless? So she'd said things she didn't mean and spoke words that were untrue. She couldn't take them back and he was probably dead. And even if he wasn't, he wouldn't come back.

            But there was nothing she could do now.

            She watched his back retreat and she fell to the floor, letting the tears that had welled up during the whole argument flow freely. The wind was the one who slammed the door behind him. He had left it open for her. He had always left it open.

            He was gone and she was ashamed of her hasty words. Mortified by how cruel she had been, flinging harsh words while he had just stood there, calm and collected, like he always was. That's why she loved him. He never lost control. He was always dashing and darling, charming and cavalier, but always so calm and always so collected. There was no way he was coming back; she had hurt him and it had been an entire week. A week that seemed like an eternity.

            “Fine then! Go! I hate you! I hate you! I hate! I never want to see you again! Go! Just leave! Don't come back! I don't want you here! I don't want to see you ever again! I don't want you and I won't want you in years to come and I don't know why I ever wanted you! Just leave! And don't come back!”

             Pain had registered on his face when she had screamed at him and then he had smiled sadly and left, never to return.

            How could she have been so stupid?

            How could she have been so cruel?

            She had lied.

            She wanted him.

            She had always wanted him.

            She would always want him.

            “You know, we shouldn't be together. It would upset a great many people.” He whispered, looking pained.            

            “I don't care. It doesn't matter.” She murmured, tracing the bluish veins on the back of his strong, weather-beaten hand.

            He smiled down at her knowingly. “You'll care. It'll matter someday.”

            “It won't.” She insisted.

            She wanted him here.

            She wanted to see him again.

            She loved him.

            And she wanted him back.

            And he wasn't coming back

            There was nothing left.

            “You can’t ever leave me.” She whispered. “I’ll die.”

            She watched the rain fall outside her window. Her father would have never approved of him; it's why she gave him a chance. She had had to, to defy her father and her family and everything they believed in.

            “He's going to hurt you! Don't you dare to believe otherwise! He'll leave and not come back and you'll wallow in self-pity and hate. He doesn't love you! He lies! It's his nature, filthy sea-rat. Mark my words, daughter!”

            They had been right.

            He had hurt her.

            But she had hurt him first.

            She had thrown a bowl at him, she mused, tracing a droplet of water against the pane with the tip of her finger. It had smashed right by his head and he had ducked, his beautiful face accounting for shock.

            The raindrop she had been tracing slid down the pane slowly, dramatically, taking a curving path that she had never imagined it would take. She sighed and watched it drizzle down as a mirroring droplet wound its way down her cheek.

            They had seen each other through everything. Everything and anything. And yet they were apart now, broken like the bowl.

            “Don’t you dare die on me!” He shouted. He grabbed her and he shook her and he glared, anger overwhelming his depression.

            “You. Will. Not. Die!” Then his anger switched into tears and he sobbed. “Don’t die. Please, don’t die. You can’t leave me. Not yet. Not. Yet.”

            “Not yet.” She promised, breathlessly and he smiled, eyes still wet with tears.

             After everything, everything, why did he believe her? Why did he leave so quickly? Why did he take her harsh words to heart? How could he listen to such stupid, meaningless words? How could believe it all, after she had promised everything to him? She had vowed her soul to him and he believed her rash, harsh words?

            Sighing, she scowled to herself and frowned out the window. Then she saw it.

            Something she didn’t believe was real.

            She dared to believe it was real.

            She stood up as fast as she could; knocking over the chair she had been sitting on in the process. Tears were flowing rampant down her face as she raced to the heavy oak door that had always been so difficult to open.

            It wasn’t so hard now.

            Dark hair clinging to his brow, his hat squished against the top of his head, his cloak clinging to every muscle of him and his eyes peering at her through the dim light of the candle on the mantle.

            “I don’t believe you.” He said, smiling slightly.

            She threw herself at him. He caught her.

            Everything was back.

 

~*~

His…         

 

            What do you do when the one person you love, have always loved, will always love, tells you that they hate you?

            Robert Griffin was asking himself this same rnquestion.

            How do you go on when the one person whom you have always adored makes you leave them?

            Elizabeth Daniels had been the most important thing in Robert’s life since he met her three years ago. Back was she was a rosy-cheeked sixteen-year-old and he a boy nineteen, idealistic and cocky.

            His ship had docked and like the other men of his trade, he set up a stand to barter away the various treasures he had acquired on his amazing journeys. Along with trinkets and jewels of various kinds, he sold stories. He would charm the ladies and astound the gentlemen with exciting tales of adventure on the high seas.

            She, along with a giggling gaggle of other girls, had hung around his stall, listening to his tales and admiring his trinkets from the East. He had smiled and charmed her, and her friends.

            He must have been dazzling, he recalled ruefully. Strong from days on the ship, long hair, gold earring, low voice, a face that held promise and a smirk that could only be gained from being what he was.

            At first, the beautiful governor’s daughter had been just another silly girl; one that stood around and smiled while he regaled her with accounts of his voyages. He liked toying with girls’ feelings, watching them gasp and blush crimson when he made a rude remark that would shock them to their core. He loved the feeling of being young and dashing, a heart-ache to many women in many places.

            But she grew to be more. She was delightful, with long dark red hair and teasing eyes, a sweet smile and quiet demeanour. She would laugh at his jokes and the sound would send chills down his spine.

            He didn’t realize he loved her until the day she didn’t arrive at his stall. He grew worried and agitated.

            Was she alright?  

            He asked everyone he knew if they had seen her.

            Where was she?

            He searched all over the docks.

            What if she had been hurt?

            He closed his stand to go and look for her.

            Who was the last person to see her?

            He ran frantically through the throngs of people.

            When had she ever been late before?

            He had searched the entire pier.

            Why was she simply gone?

            He asked strangers, everyone.

            How long has she been gone?

            And then he found her.

            Laughing over something her friend had said and fondling a necklace.

            He had touched her shoulder.

            She had turned around.

            He had whispered a greeting.

            Her face had lit up.

            He lied about needing to speak to someone and bumping into her.

            She didn’t seem to care.

            He smiled at that.

            She asked for another story.

            He complied.

            She followed him, walking and talking.

            He lied about how he felt about her when she asked.

            But she knew.

            She always knew.

            Robert sighed and shoved his hands into his breeches pockets sadly. He had been gone for a week now, and who could blame him? She had shouted like he had never heard her shout before and why? Because he was an idiot.

            He had returned home from a small ‘business’ job and was practically running home to see her when he saw the poster. It had his name, PIRATE and the price on his head listed and that was all. He had a choice. Tell Elizabeth, or tell the boys.

            He told the boys. He had to, they were his crew. They were his friends, through thick and thin. As much as he loved Elizabeth there was no way he could abandon his mates. He ran and he warned them and told them to leave and come back for him in a week’s time.

            They would be returning tonight.

            He had come back to Elizabeth and she had already known. She had read the poster; she had seen it, touched it and barely believed it. He had rushed in and she had thrown a torrent of words at him that had barely made sense.

            He had stayed quiet, thinking about how gorgeous she was when she was angry; her cheeks flushed, her eyes brightened and she seemed to glow all the way to the roots of her red hair. Instead of grabbing her and kissing her like her should have, he stayed silent and let her rage.

            Then she threw the bowl and it shattered, raining glass down upon the floor like a hailstorm. And she told him to leave. And he left. He left but didn’t close the door. In the back of his mind he wanted her to run after him, chase him and admit she was sorry.

            He was sorry.

           He wanted to apologise for being what he was, but he couldn’t change himself for her. No matter how much he tried. It would just be too damn hard! He wanted to do whatever her could to make it better, but he wasn’t sure how.

            He thought over their parting words. Her screaming that she hated him.

            He began to run. He ran and he ran and he ran until he could run no more. But that didn’t matter because he was here. He was here, where he was supposed to be.

            He banged on the door and she wrenched it open, the soft candlelight making a red halo about her head.

            “I don’t believe you.” He mumbled, smirking.

            She threw herself into his arms and he held her close, adoring the scent that he held dear. He swung her around.

            And there were no more words.

Shhh!
I needed to post them somewhere.....just cos.
So the next like....eight entires and are random stories.
:P
Leave me alone
XD

Love.

It seems a little stupid from where I sit.
Don't get me wrong here, I'm a fairly normal (albeit fairly insane) teenager.
Some of my favourite songs deal with love. I adore fairy tales and they all contain love.
Movies, well, I'm not a big fan of romantic movies (on the whole I find them humourous and predictable) but I don't detest the idea.

It's just the alarming overdose of the idea of 'true love' and the insane expectation for us to find one person and 'just know'.

From my insanely cynical position here, at my computer, love just doesn't seem all that great.
Think about all the songs you know about love. Aren't most of them depressing, heartbreak ballads? Or break-up, angst-filled bass-powered anthems? The only few good love songs that aren't about heartbreak are about unrequieted love. Well, my songs are, but then again, I favour the colour black and I love depressing and gothic movies.

Why does everyone want something that seems so depressing? Don't you dare hit the comment button thinking to inform me that "it's the greatest thing" and etcetera and all that rubbish that cynical people on television are told before they fall in love.

Look, I believe in love. I believe that we all will find someone and hell, I've had crushes before, but hear me out.

Why do we want to fall in love? Love is great, but why do we all have this massive urge to find someone and be able to call them "The One".
In ye olden days, love wasn't glorified.

After many years of research (haha, no, I just found a book of fairy tales that has been in the family for generations) I have found and read the original fairy tales children were told. Not the cheery, happy, everything-is-always-going-to-be-just-awesome-because-that's-what-life-is-like Disney versions, but the original versions.

Now let's look at the love in these tales.

Rapunzel.

Dad loves the soon-to-be-mum soooo much, he steals rapunzel lettuce out of the next-door garden.
He gets caught and promises the neighbour (characteristically a witch) their first born child. Wife agrees. They give the baby away to the witch the second it's born. That's parental love for you.
"Hmmm child.....lettuce.....child.....lettuce..... everlasting bundle of joy.....miniscule bundle of leaves.....child......lettuce....."

The witch names the child Rapunzel and locks her away in a tower for her entire life. When Rapunzel is seventeen, she falls in love with a Prince who happens to find her. He climbs up her hair (which is, of course, long enough to extend all the way down the tower and of course, is strong enough to support a fully grown Medieval prince). They love each other for a bit (what goes on during those meetings is vague, but we all get the gist).
One day, our lovely Witch, who shows up once a day to feed our tragic heroine, realises someone else has been there.

So what does she do? She cuts off Rapunzel's hair and has the trees carry her to a far away country.

The Prince arrives, planning to bust Rapunzel out, and the Witch lowers Rapunzel's hair. He climbs, is probably surprised that there is now an ugly old bat holding onto Rapunzel's hair and freaks out.

The Witch shoves him out of the tower and he lands in thorn bushes that she has magically placed around the tower. The fall doesn't kill him (of course not, a tower so massive no ladder can reach the top and the only way to climb up is some chick's hair and the fall doesn't kill him) but the thorns prick out his eyes and he goes blind.

Rapunzel and her lover spend the duration of their lives in abject misery until they finally meet up ten years later. She's insane from years in a circular room and he has no eyes.

Cheers! Happy ending!

The Little Mermaid.

Girl is a mermaid.
Boy is a human.
Girl sees Boy.
Girl stalks Boy.
Girl sells her voice so she can live on land with Boy.
Nice. Nice.
Girl arrives on land.
Boy and Girl hit it off.
But alas!
A twist!

Boy thinks that Girl chooses not to talk to him, I guess he thinks she's a cold-hearted bitch or whatever and he marries someone else.
Girl, obviously, spazzes and summons the Seawitch who stole her voice for help.
Seawitch tells girl that she must kill Boy and New Wife by removing their hearts before Girl can regain her voice and return to sea.
Girl goes along with it.
She gets into the cabin (yeah, romantic honeymoon....a boat...) and she cuts out New Wife's heart.
She, of course, is too in love to cut out Boy's heart, so she cuts out her own.

Laalalaala cheery.

So I just don't get it.
Let's all fall in love.

In real life, "true love" has been lame too.

My parents it's all "he loved me twenty years ago" and fighting.

My best friend and her boyfriend who, apparantly, are getting married (according to him) have so much drama....

But I don't get it.

Maybe the stress makes it better, maybe the end justifies the means.

I wouldn't know.
I've never had a relationship.
Aha!
You say.
Embitterment of a non-existant love life manifests into this.
Maybe.
Or maybe I'm just cynical.

I think my mother is having her midlife crisis.
Or menopause.
I'm not sure which.

I'm also not sure if I should feel bad for her, or just be more worried than usual.

Seriously though.

It's getting annoying.

She doesn't like where she's sitting in the theatre so she says "Rick trade seats with me"
He says no.
She begins rambling and bitching about how "twenty years ago" he would have.

Pffftt.
No he wouldn't.

She also keeps saying stuff like "he loved me twenty years ago"
"Twenty years ago he would have cleaned up from dinner"

Someone feeling their age, their mother?
Or is divorce in the air, after years of awkward anger and denial?