Drowning In A Pool Of White.

And it feels like I've been screaming your name for so long that my throat's gone numb.

And I still can't hear you reply to my strains.

---

Sorry, :( I'll come up with something better soon. <3

LOL, Sarah.

Nag Me More, Please.

The thing I love most about this blog isn't that I can actually have a place where I can TRY to express myself through my writing; not because I can show off how good *coughliecough* I can articulate; and not even that I am able to "follow" others easily because they are kept in one place (this one comes up pretty close though). I love this blog because it always makes me feel like I need to write something, no matter what time of day it is. Whether I've written once a day, or once a week, there's always that nagging in the back of my mind saying, have you blogged today yet? And it's most commonly followed up by a series of you shouldn't keep your readers hanging; and you haven't blogged in a while... why don't you blog now? and also don't you remember your "one blog a day" goal that's been posted up on FaceBook for all to see? And well, yeah. My mind does really well with those guilt trips.

But I really do feel bad when I leave my blog for a day. I don't think I posted yesterday, and I've been really meaning to post a blog since. If you've read any previous blogs, you might remember my idea for a story. WELL. I don't really know where to start, but I'll get around to it eventually. I think it would probably be in a separate blog, or have a certain title so that you know it's a story.

I've been drinking a LOT of water lately (usually I drink about 3/4 cups... I've been drinking 4/5 PUMP bottles now... that's right. Pump bottles are 750mL each bro!) and I must say... I'm constantly in need of a bathroom now. But no matter! For water is good for you. And it WILL help you keep weight off... I think? I've been snacking a lot too, as a result, just to make sure my nutrients aren't so washed out? Or energy? I don't know. :) Whatever works, huh?

I was planning on writing up a dedication for someone so special, who I hold closest to my heart, but I decided that sleep was more important, for another day ahead.

Thus, I will finish up on a happy note?

---

There was not a single time that You were not present whilst I hurt.
The way you held me, comforted me, whispered in my heart.
You were my peace, my stronghold, and my foundation.
And there was nothing in this world that could ever take You away.

How many times have I turned away?
Yet when I turn to You,
You draw me near again.

There is never a time where You don't bless my life so abundantly.
The love You pour out extends to the corners of my world.
You give me strength, joy, and knowledge that surpasses my own.
And there is nothing that will ever take me away from You.

---

:)

LOL, Sarah.

You're A Star.

If only you could tell me something that I could change; just one thing, and I would do it for you. I didn't think I'd become desperate, so desperate to change things. For so long, we let the water erode us, ever so slowly, as the months went on. We began to lack words, but we still maintained humour and laughter. Who said laughter wasn't the best medicine? It was the cure for what little that we could retain. Or well, at least from what I could retain. I'm am trying so hard, and you should know.

Maybe, I should let you pull the weight too, but I'm scared you'll hate me for not lightening the load.

But then, my fear is a burden in itself.

I'm unsure of what you ever saw in me, but I'm certain as to what I still find in you; my vision for you has not faded, not even by a minuscule dot.

I must say, I'm scared of losing you. But then, haha. Who wouldn't be?

---

If you read my first 2-3 months of blogs, and compare them to this year's blogs, you'll see a vast change. A distinguishment that involves the lack of readily able to use words to express one's within.

I'm beginning to read, is that a start? Oh, yes indeed.

LOL, Sarah.

Infestations.

"Mom?" The child watched as his mother rushed to and fro throughout the kitchen, spraying frantically at lines and lines of tiny black beads that outlined the tables. The mother paused, and wearily eyed her son.

"Yes, son?" She replied.

"Why do we have to kill all the ants?" The mother chuckled at her primitive-minded 6 year old son's question, and gestured him closer to her.

"Well, sweetie," The boy's mother pointed first at a crack in the corner, and then towards a jar of sugar, "that's because if we don't kill them, they'll steal all our food and we won't be able to eat anything anymore".

"Oh..."

His mother continued on her killing frenzy for a short moment.

"Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Can I have that ant spray? There's ants in my room, and they want my cookies".

---

Ants are just so tedious to handle. One, two, three crawl around my desk, and my eyes shoot towards them immediately. My entire being shudders as the tiny black beads skilfully navigate their way through the obstacles that I would call a disorganised table. One attempts to climb a 90 degree angle up my desk light; another across my ruler, which is decorated with multicoloured foam letters of the alphabet pressed into their appropriate inserts on a strip of red foam. The third attempts to disappear under an idle make-up box that I'd never used.

Thank-you, dear little ant. You gave me a fantastic idea.

I quickly grab the make-up box, just in time before the single ant could climb up its slope. The ant pauses in its tracks, and then almost immediately scurries backwards to the direction it had come from. It was as if it was anticipating my 'surprise' attack. The other ants continue to straggle through their journey, and I eye my ruler carefully. That single ant was so unaware, so ignorant of what would soon happen to it. It crawls on casually off my ruler...

THWAMP!

My make-up box lands squarely over the little ant's body. I must say that my weapon was quite an amount larger than what I would have needed, but I continue to use it.

WHACK! BANG!

The next two ants are down, and I only see corpses remaining underneath my make up box. I pull a disgusted face, and wipe their remains into the bin. I smile, and lay back in my chair.

Then something catches my eye.

A single ant fidgets, tossing and turning as it ventures its way to the top of my money box. It pokes its head through the slit, then turns away. Smart ant, isn't it? I eye it carefully. I decide not to use my Weapon Of Massive Ant Destruction, and I draw my face closer to where the ant stands. I bring my finger up near my money box, and patiently wait until it is just the right time to...

FLICK!

The ant collides with the wall, and falls down to the ground. I am not sure if it's dead or not, but as long as I don't see it, I'm content.

---

Wouldn't you just love to kill ants with me?

LOL, Sarah.

Where is he? Where is he? Where is this beautiful guy?
- Where are you; Natalie ft. Justin Roman

A Dying Geisha.

It was cold, and it was dark. There was no place damper that I'd felt here, in this enclosed space. There was but a shred of light that flickered across the room from the narrow slit in the cool stone walls, my only source of light. A gush of wind sent chills down my spine and caused the hairs on my neck to stand on end as it engulfed the room with its mass of cold. My body shuddered, almost shutting down as I tried to lift myself from the shallow pool that I was drenched in.

I shivered as I placed my tired, aching body beside the pool, splayed awkwardly across the painfully rocky floor. I could not move another inch; I my head lolled sideways and forward just enough that I could stare into what I found was a murky, stained puddle. Sparks of light danced across the surface of the liquid, temporarily revealing its contents.

I squinted carefully into the shimmering puddle, trying to make out what seemed to be staring back at me; my reflection, almost. A car drove past, and a pool of light and warmth flooded my captive place. Suddenly, eyes so brightly yellow stared at me so contemptuously, as if set for the kill. They tried to hide behind the shadows of her forehead, and dark rims under her eyes which pleaded sleep. They were carefully framed with tangled hair drenched in a murky red liquid dripping from its ends. Her skin so ghostly white was bony and hollow; they seemed drained of any blood, any life. Her face was carefully composed, but her full, blood red lips parted slightly, and her tongue swiftly lined the edge of her teeth before disappearing into her vivid lips again, which remained parted. Vibrant red liquid slowly dripped out of her mouth, lining her chin with glowing red streaks. A single drop fell from her chin and towards me, and with a sudden splash and a disruption in the pool, she was gone.

I screamed.

---

I woke up with a start. I shivered, but I was sweating. My breath was short and laboured, and I could not contain it as I held my mouth. My head throbbed viciously, and my heart felt out of place. I pushed against my chest, and I felt my heart beat one thousand times faster than it should have. It was going to explode, and I wearily gripped the bar on the end of my bed for stability and comfort. My eyes were wet with tears, and fear enveloped my whole body. I kicked my blanket off, and I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, heart throbbing and body sweating, waiting for the pain to hopefully be over.

---

I'm scared when my heart beats 1000 times faster than normal when I hyperventilate. What a weird feeling. It's happened more often than not these past few days, and I guess you could say there was something wrong with me.

And if some of this really happened, who knows what went on in my head that would have caused it to be.

Dear, keep me in your prayers. I feel like I'm dying without You.

LOL, Sarah.

Hunger Never Sleeps.

I found something funny on Facebook. There was a fanpage called 'God', and it asked me if I was a fan of God. I'm now a fan of God. Lol. :)

I'm suffering from a cold/hayfever, and I don't know what that means, because people keep telling me that you get hayfever in spring, and you get colds during winter. Well... I don't know. My symptoms are as follows: runny/itchy nose, tired and sore eyes, headache, sweaty but getting chills, and just an overall in need of something cold on my forehead.

I survive, and I'm tempted to take 2 Zyrtecs, but apparently that's not good for you. Apparently you die. I've done it before, and I must have been resurrected, because God loves me THAT much! Haha I jokes.

---

Maybe I secretly liked it when you asked me straight up.

But my friend's right, you aren't who I thought you were.


LOL, Sarah.

Let's Reminisce, Dear.

As I fell back, I was warped into a sunny environment, embellished with pastel splashes of light green, complimented by a dusty brown and a slight tint of blue. There were one, two, three clouds in the sky, light and fluffy, steering clear of the sun that didn't burn my eyes when I'd looked into it. The sky seemed to encircle itself above me, like eagles hovering above a dead carcass. To avoid dizziness, I threw my head back down, and examined the cracked grey footpath that I tread upon. The pavement suddenly moved closer to me, as if it had wanted to observe its intricate details, but I'd realised that I was falling forward instead.

I caught myself, and I looked over to my side. You were there. Along with two other friends, of whom had so kindly decided to walk me home. I'd appreciated your thought, and care, but I'd only wanted to talk to you.

"Walk with me".

And we turned earlier than usual, while the others continued down the road to turn at the appropriate intersection. You were suddenly ahead of me, but I quickly fell in sync with your steps on your right. You somewhat preferred the left side, but I didn't mind; I had the chance to describe the street we walked upon, and the history that I had been involved in. It wasn't interesting, but I was thankful that our conversation wasn't anything awkward. We were peaceful, joyous, and enjoyed each other's company. At least I hope you did.

It was a sunny day, and very beautiful. A short silence allowed me to indulge in the scenery; residential houses that surrounded us, and the blinking shadows that the trees provided as we walked under them. I secretly always hoped that no bird would poo on me everytime we did walk under a tree. I turned my eyes towards you. You had an easy smile on your face, your head bobbing up and down so slightly as you looked onwards. Your hazel eyes, a soft brown, obviously caught a glimpse of me, and you turned your head to meet my gaze.

I could see into your eyes, just slightly; you seemed relaxed, and laid-back, but I could also see some slight confusion. I smiled at you, and turned forward again, for fear of accidentally walking into something. I could see from my peripheral vision that you were still looking at me, your expression seemed concerned. Before I could react, you set your focus forward again, and we continued to talk about everything.

And suddenly I fell back into the present again.

---

I miss the old times, sometimes. Maybe it will be easier for me to see you again. Sometime soon, huh?

LOL, Sarah.

Screenagers.

Ok, so I've just read Amy's most recent post, and she mentioned many things that God would not allow me to remember with the amount of work and lack of sleep that I've tended to in this past week. There were only 2 things I retained in my short/long term memory: "I know everything about you", and "Being cryptic like Sarah". First off, Amy, I completely agree with you. There is not one person who knows every detail of my life, my every thought, motive and action but God, which is awesome. I love how it works out like that.

I was having a conversation with a really good friend, Andrew, last night or the night before (being overworked does this to you, lol. Why am I posting at this time? -_-) About what we know about each other, and it was obvious that each of us had each other somewhat figured out to an extent. He said something interesting about me; something along the lines of - "You're not hard to figure out. You're just mysterious, and you just want someone to figure that part out".

I was a stunned mullet when I read that; I was also laughing to myself. It was so true, what he said was exactly what I thought of myself. There was no exception to anything. I wanted someone to figure me out, to completely understand me, having gone through what I've yet to go through etc. But isn't that just of the life that all young screenagers have these days, anyway? Someone to understand, someone to listen, someone to rah rah rah, and do all these soppy love stuffs. It's ironic that I'm writing this on Valentine's day, haha. Anyway, back to my original points (of which I do not remember anyway). I think that was just a rant, and in response to Amy's blog. Links on the side, kiddoes.

Oh yes, second thing that Amy mentioned that I mentally highlighted with a yellow highlighter (lol, I was going to say this in one of my speeches... I always chicken out. Like, I'm planning to do public speaking, and start off with "My name's Sarah, but you can call me anytime ;D" But yeah, I think I'll chicken out on that one too. Anyway...) about the way that I write; how I'm cryptic etc.

It's not that bad, is it? :P I mean, I suppose my blog isn't so much for people to be all like "wow, nice day you had", but it's moreso personal to me. It relates to all sorts of pasttimes, whether fun, awkward, stressing, or just plain stupid. If you've read any other posts before this year's posts, as well as the starting ones, you see an increase in the number of short stories/exerpts that I'd created as part of my blog as you progress through the lengthy entries (sorry, I can't help myself). Well yeah anyway, it makes me sound mysterious, and that's the way I like it. :) And besides, this blog isn't my life story, it's parts of my life in the styles of stories, short scenes, etc.

I'm fully sleepy.

---

I let out a short yelp of joy, as I threw my head and arms back, stretching my aching shoulders as a result of leaning in such a crouched posture for hours on end. I smiled; I giggled to myself as I awarded myself rest after my accomplishments. There was no more that I'd needed to do... at least not for tonight. I stared at the white light that threatened to blind me, and leave me seeing blue/black dots wherever I set my eyes. For a while I'd attempted to claim my victory in a staring contest, though shortly realising that lights don't have eyes, and that was the stupid thing to do; that is, having a staring contest with a light. The ceiling that the light was suspended upon was a pasty white, fairly stainless, and bordered with intricately detailed carvings that outlined the dining room. The walls were brightly coloured with my favourite colours, orange and green. I suppose this was one of the reasons why I loved working here. The surrounding green carefully complimented the single wall of orange, although you could hardly call it a wall; it would be more accurately called an opening from the hallway. The colours in the room were odd, but they allowed me to be at ease, as I finished stretching myself out, and leaned forward to examine my finished products.

They were small, and very plain, laying peacefully flat on my unused manila folder. They refulsed to look at me; given that they only had one expression, and they never ceased to be happy, or at least fake joy. As I observed my creation, I could feel the love resonate through the stitches and fabric, piercing its way through to my heart. I loved my finished work. The sewing was perhaps poorer than I'd intended, but the obvious hard work and love that were put into it allowed me to acknowledge that love overpowers skill (yes, keep telling yourself that, Sarah), and that things are simply better when they're not perfect. I smiled, as I continued to examine the figures laying on the folder. I hazily closed my eyes, and I exhaled with relief. I was happy.

---

I will sleep now, doodes.

NIGHT ALL <3!

LOL, Sarah.

Two People Made One Paragraph.

I never really had to be choosy about anything. What was bliss was not being ignorant, but instead acknowledging what I have, and reaping its benefits. What was just so joyful was expressing who I was, through every action followed through by every thought, without caring what others thought of me. Whatever I did was not of matter to them.

But it is as simple as this, by one I am torn, by another I am outright stupid.

I'm finding it harder and harder to conceal myself, compose my face, to hide myself from you. The mess that I was, that I am still; I find it so scary to even reveal a fraction of it.

I would hide myself forever, just so that you didn't have to see me.

And you, I find myself losing control of my words, and I'm sorry. My actions have been poor choices, and now you have to suffer.

LOL, Sarah.

4 messages, 4 people.

I'm not my own, I'm yours now. Take over me.

It's good to know that we can be honest with each other, despite our knowledge of each other.

I wish you wouldn't run away from a vital conversation we never had.

I hope to not go on the internet aside from work purposes.

I pray for the lost, suffering and hurting from the fires. You, God, are the God who heals. You are the God who gives and takes away, and yet provides with abundance and blessing. You are God.

LOL, Sarah.

It's Way Too Late To Blog On A School Night.

It's a competition between me and you, boy. It's survival of the fittest: the last one standing after torturous arguments and mockery is the winner of our little game.

I smirked, just as you'd lifted your head in awe of what I'd said. Your mouth hung open, and words struggled to follow your shallow, tired breathing. You weren't quick enough to make a comeback. However, instead of finding words to rebut me, you struck your palm onto your chest, as if you had taken an invincible blow from me; a bullet at landed straight into your heart, and you struggled to keep the blood from splurting out. A pained expression enveloped your face, and I laughed. You looked so clumsy, your legs were splayed out in an awkward position, and you held yourself up by the palm of your hand, whilst holding your heart in the other.

I win.

I plomped myself down where I was; my back was turned away from you. I was smug; I laughed into my knees as I carefully curled myself into a balanced ball, hugging my legs into my body for warmth. Suddenly, I was overwhelmingly tired. My victory hadn't been without its consequences. The unyielding thoughts that I'd continued to conjure up to fight against you, and the long, torturous verbal battle between us had me mentally drained. Not to mention, I think my voice was also dying. I relaxed for a moment, and I closed my eyes. I let my mind relax, and wander into a wonderland that wasn't quite what I'd expected.

Smack. You had kneed me in the head, and knocked me out of my being Alice in Wonderland dream. I lurched forward as I took the hit, losing balance of my perfect little ball. I hurriedly unwrapped my arms around my body, but I wasn't fast enough to support my fall, and I landed heavily in a messed heap on the ground. I groaned slightly at the pain, but I quickly exchanged my surprised expression to a composed, but obviously annoyed face, and I turned to glare at you.

Your eyes were widened, and I'd heard you gasp slightly. Your hands were up in the air you'd been caught red-handed; and that, you were. Immediately you rushed towards me to help me, but I'd already gotten myself up when you'd reached me. You gave me your hand, but I pushed it away, still glaring at you. You insisted that it was an accident, and your face showed concern, and even innocence. It was something I did not understand, for I was convinced that you'd attempted to hurt me on purpose, and I persued my point, regardless of truth.

Liar! I'd attempted to return the favour by aiming for your stomach, but you swiftly caught my fist and pulled it to the side. I couldn't escape from your iron grip, and I stared at you in an annoyed mood for a while. You stared back, saying over the words 'it was an accident'. I frowned at you, and, upon noticing that you'd relaxed your grip on my hand, I went for the gut again. But you held steadfast to my fist. Once more, you repeated your line, slowly and sternly, as if you were disciplining a child. For a short while, we glared at each other.

Soon enough, you let go of my fist, and I walked away, with the tragedy of defeat in my mind.

Why did you get my weakness for?

---

I used to lack one, and only had time for another. Now, I have the other.. but my heart burns for what I used to have. But I keep telling myself, maybe it's better that it's this way. Maybe we can be so much more as friends.

---

I really should sleep. So tired!

LOL, Sarah.

Talk To Me.

When you spoke, you spoke with such zeal, such passion with easy, fluent language. It astounded me the wisdom behind your words; I could never understand how you could speak in such a confident, wise manner. I watched as you spoke words into others' hearts, always encouraging and in every way your words were beneficial to them. And when you listened, my goodness, when you listened, your eyes focused so intently on everything you were told. Every single bit of information, whether significant or not, you absorbed eagerly, catching every movement, every detail in your conversation. You assured that not one breath be missed as you gave your undivided attention to listen to the other.

Whenever I watched you speak with someone; when you spoke life, spoke faith, spoke love into others' hearts, I could not help but feel inferior to you. I felt so little, and it's truly a humbling experience to even stand next to you. You were wise beyond what I could ever understand, and I could barely measure up to it.

And I was scared to even try to speak a conversation in such a nature with you, the way you did with them.

---

It's funny, how we don't deserve the ones we love, but the ones we do deserve aren't good enough for us.

And that's just how God rolls.

LOL, Sarah.

PS. Been busy, busy, busy.