blahh..pathos, blah blah angst, blah misanthropy..BLAH!

Recently, I've been on a strict advil and abundance of coffee diet. I'm scared to admit that my visits to the chiropractor aren't working. I feel unhealthy in every aspect of my life. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally. Yet, procrastination is my right-hand-man. The way I feel is a neverending enigma...If God were any less merciful, my retributions would be painstakingly abundant, and inhumane. Although I have been with my friends quite a bit lately, I've been rather anti-social, in a sense that my loquacious side is at a steady decline, and unveiling my emotions to even the closest of friends has become foreign to me. My blog is no pedestal to my burdens, so don't get your hopes up. I've come to the conclusion that my asperity towards the entire concept of dating is due to the way my family exhibits relationships. My sister has been in a relationship with a charming young boy named Scott Seiler for over a year and a half. I guess while working at Chili's, it's inevitable to carry on a friendship with the mexican cooks there. When push comes to shove, some friendships turn into relationships, and I don't doubt for a second that my sister is satiated with a significant other, Jose. She is at the lowest rank concerning my respect, and I want to gag every time I hear her whispering sweet nothings through our bedroom vents -- to Jose, while they're on the phone. I'm already terrified of the consequences of premarital sex, and heaven forbid she would end up giving birth to Jose's baby, as apposed to Scott's. My mother is on a desperate delve to find the man of her dreams, but so desperate that she'll settle for whatever greets her at the door. It's disappointing. No one really understands why I feel so capsized when my mom acts this way, and to be honest with you, It's just as unclear to me. My dad and stepmom do not exactly perform what would be known as a "loving environment" either..Then again, who am I to deem such a proposal? That is not my home. I feel like I'm drowning in a tumult of confusingly imbued guise. I've been told that it's completely habitual as a sophomore in highschool. That's unbelievable. No one should have to feel the way I feel. I have no right to complain about schoolwork and the responsibility that accompanies it, because a majority of students in highschool encounter the same trials, but there's only so much I can take before it's overwhelming..And that place where the rubber meets the road is kept in the background, but it never ceases to eat away at me. I sit in the audience and watch. Friendships have fallen apart, and I'm caught redhanded as the patron. Today a friend of mine told me she cried in the dark room of her photo class for a majority of third period, because she wishes for nothing more than for God to accept her into heaven promptly. I wish she would have taken me seriously when I told her I've felt that way for months. I'm looked down upon as un underclassman..as a fifteen year old girl...And I hate that more than anything. I've been battling for a time too long with a double-edged sword...A battle that's all in my mind. But would it be too much to ask for a five minute break?
I'm tired.

I am the demi-god of hypocrisy.
I am senseless in my own three-fold utopia.
I am the master of disguise.
I am the exceedingly rusted tinman.
I am God's instrument of deceit, yet His mercy overflows.
I am the Queen of the world of Black and White.
I direct a symphonic orchestra, but our songs only resonate throughout my fatigued mind.
I am the stigma that never goes away.
I sit at the right hand of the Almighty, but I never recognize my own ungratefulness.
None of this matters.