Yes, ten days until I leave the dead trees I fell far from, hop on a plane and begin a new life across the country. Hello Seattle. I suppose I meant to update this thing sooner but I just didn't get to it. Other... time restraints seemed to take toll on my life. As I was saying; a whole ten days.. kindof. Clusters of emotions are running astray and I couldn't really tell you if I'm more anxious or nervous, more happy or distorted. His mother knows about me and to be honest she was a little happy, probably more relieved. Relinquished of fears that her son could have possibly been a closet homosexual or a destined to be loner til death bid them ado with the face of the planet. She, however, didn't want me to "live" with them for new fears seemed to bubble up inside her faster than a rubbling eruption of multan lava. "She could be a murderer you know! My friend's son got into one of these over-the-internet relationships with some 'british girl' and the 'girl' turned out to be a British scam artist... containing a phallis." Yeah... What a moron. The ass never spoke to the man posing to be a girl via phone/cam and got scammed for hundreds of dollars and now I'm the scam artist posing to be female? I got a bigger rack than his mom, I bet. Her old age is pretruding out of every word that trickles off of her tongue as it stains the air with its negativity. It's quite sad that she "believes" movies, films know life, among the boundaries she's been conditioned with, better than her own son would. She trusts poor forms of entertainment better than her own son's judgement.
On a different note, She did say I could visit. I suppose this "visiting" will last til I can land a job, get an apartment, and live happily on my own ... in Seattle of course. I guess that's good news. Considering my friends are being dickheads, my family shall always suck cock and well Shake isn't being a douche anymore. The closest I've come to a real best friend is my luffmuffin Cynamin. -I hope you've gotten used to the fact that I won't use realnames on here- She has helped me understand that not all people suck. Really bums you out when your "best firned" doesn't want to speak to you unless she's talking to you about something that's beneficial on her part. I.E. Using me to get a belly piercing and such. Fuck that.

I apologize for my vulgarity.
Other than that I suppose I have two close real-life buddies that I can always depend on. Epifani and AznLovuh.
Few -associates- remain, but I wouldn't even call them friends anymore. Sad, isn't it? Screw it, who cares. I'll be gone soon. I got new luffs to find. Seattle, you better be great. I'll be damned if you're not.

Til we meet again.
A teutaleur

It's been about three years since I've stepped foot into this teenage angst haven and wrote something meaningful. In fact, I didn't even think I'd return back to this online blog community until well, my dear friend reminded me of it's useful venting purposes. So I'll be off to the west coast, hopefully, some time between now and September and quickly all the anxiety I've worked so hard to put away rushes back into my mind and heart. It has been triggered by him; let's just call him Shake. We've been dating exclusively for almost two years and, well, now it's time to break the ice and tell his dear mother about my existence because of my misfortune with college. (Seattle University, I pity the fool.) Everything seemed so perfect until, SU, my new found hell, slapped me with a bill of $4,500.00 per quarter not including books, other loans, and my own expenses. I don't have that kind of money and the major reason why I only considered moving away from NJ is because I suffer from the multitudes of lower middle class foolishness also known as my parents. It's clear that I was going to move away, as far as I could; Shake just picked the place, not the reason.
So... you ask, but not really because no one in their right mind really reads these anymore, what am I going to do? Well for one Shake still has to break it to his mother or I can just show up on her doorstep and we'll see how things go from there? Not- I'm beginning to think Shake has cold feet. Has he fallen out of love with me? No. Is he close to falling out of love with me? Maybe. Does he not want to deal with the responsibility of his possible mistake? Of course. He denies his blistering cold feet but I think this time I can see through him. I suppose the best thing to do in a situation under these circumstances is to accept that... Well, Romeo isn't real and never will be and Ugh I hate Shakespeare but he's referenced everywhere. To add to my place of stay, although I'll probably remain in NJ, I fear that he will be no Cyrano and Roxanne.  I've accepted the fact that I'm not exactly the epitomy of skinny and my face isn't on the cover of a magazine sporting beautiful eyes, lavish lips and ravishing hair. I also know that I am not next to the word 'beauty' in the dictionary. He won't accept me, I know it. Shake quit trying to pull the wool.. sheep skin...? over my eyes or ... however that damn saying goes.   Sigh whatever.
My venting has been ruined by my dear mother.

A teut a leur.