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.

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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.

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I will sleep now, doodes.

NIGHT ALL <3!

LOL, Sarah.