Big Yellow Taxi

Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone...

Weekends make me feel the worse kinds of homesickness. It's only been a week. So... random thoughts of the cerebrum.

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What is it about bullies (even self-denying or indirect ones) that makes them feel overly injured when one of their torments actually steps up to them? How come when the bullied soul gives exactly what the bully deserves it is deemed as something worse than what the bully dished out to begin with?! Does the bully, with his/her sociopathic tendencies, know how to play to their torment's conscience? And why, for that instance, do people feel for the bully?

Karma's a bitch. But she's also a lady if you treat her right.

I don't get it. I feel like the tortured souls never come out as winners. It's their faults that they were bullied and they're horrible people for wanting and executing a small taste of revenge.

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This song has been stuck in my head for a week now. My high school creative writing teacher (and probably one of the biggest influences of my writing) posted about the school's trees--they chopped them down! So naturally... I thought of "they took all the trees and put them in a tree museum..."

Those trees used to be our refuge... it used to be where all the buses lined up. And now they're gone!

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Force of habit. I believe that no one in my extended family cares about me. It's a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I would change my thought processes, but they seem to be true. I know that this is something that I need to overcome. But the anger won't let me. I wonder if there's an "Anger's Anonymous" group out there. Maybe I should watch "Anger Management" once again.

I know that this has shaped me for the better. My brothers and I are closer because of it. I know that my struggles with the relatives almost insures that I won't do this to my nieces and nephews. But I wished that I would feel included once in a while. I wished that the paranoia would go away.

The paranoia of people using me is what makes it difficult to make new friends. The Aunt Petunias and Uncle Vernons and cousin Dudleys of my life have influenced me more than I have ever wanted them to. 

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The road to self discover is a windy one. Sometimes I wish I could gain some of my ignorance back. 

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Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.