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Through The Eyes of A Dreamer

DrgnLadyLuna

DrgnLadyLuna

Star
Joined
Feb 23, 2009
I used to be part of Blue Moon a while ago. A year, maybe? Not even sure anymore what my old name was. BUT...the important this is that I'm back. And ready for some rps, guys. Check my want ad : )

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I won't write a whole lot tonight. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I have a little bit to do before I go off to dinner with my bf and his family.
It terrifies me. I've met very few of his family members so far, and tomorrow I meet a lot of them in a rather small amount of time. I really hope they like me.
I'll warn you now. I'm a bit of a worrier. I'm always wondering how people see me-what they think of me. If they really like me or if they're just being polite. The stuff I really shouldn't worry about, but do anyways. That's resulted in me taking zantac twice a day and nails that are always shorter than I'd like them to be-gotta LOVE those habits. I've tried breaking it, but it's not an easy thing to do. Gotta get rid of all the stress factors first. No stress, no biting...
So, back to Thanksgiving. Still horribly nervous. But excited too. Time with him is always wonderful. I've met his mom and dad already and I like them. They seem to like me too so that's definitely a plus. And I've met a grandpa and a grandma..and an uncle, if I remember correctly. But that's really it and I didn't really interact with them very much. I still tend to get shy around people I don't know.

I think I'll call it here for the night. He's coming to get me around noon-ish, and I want to shower in the morning. I'll need the hot water to help my poor nerves.
 
I'll start back at the beginning, now. That is usually the best place to start a story.

I don't remember a whole lot of things from my childhood. Bits and pieces here and there. My earliest memory is of my Granddaddy. When I was a baby, he would sit in my play pen with me, cause I hated it. We would play cards and I was one of the two people he allowed to take candy from his candy drawer. The other was my older cousin Shannon. Every morning, my granddaddy would pull the covers off of me, then sit out on the porch and sing as loud as he could until I woke up. He passed away when I was only three.

My parents divorced when I was five. I don't remember a lot of it, but that's probably for the best. My father followed the rest of his family to Kentucky a few years later, and thus began my yearly, 6 hour car ride to see him.

I have three sisters and a brother now. My dad remarried several years ago, and they had my little brother Robert and my little sister Tabitha. Melissa was born when I was three, before the divorce. And Sidney was born a few years after the divorce. Her father is someone I will probably never talk about in here. I hated him. And I still do.

School. The first school I remember was a horrible school. The class had been divided in half. One half of the students got to sit in the best part of the classroom. It was very colorful and their teacher was sweet. they had naps and snack time and all sorts of fun things. I was one of the unfortunate ones. The part of the room we were in was separate from the other by a long, ugly red drape. The lighting was dim, and the floors were wooden and bare. There was no real color to the room. Plain walls...and a teacher I can barely remember. Mom pulled me out of that school before the end of the year and I was transferred to another school. I made it through the next couple years alright. alright. I was quite and shy, but I managed to make a few friends. It was around third grade that things started to change. That's when I got my first pair of glasses. I clearly remember being called four eyes and almost bursting out in tears, until my best friend stepped in and yelled at the other girl, pulling me away from her. I was still picked on a lot, but I had been picked on before I got my glasses, so I guess things didn't change too much. In fourth grade, my mother transferred me to a catholic school. She thought I would get a better education there. I didn't. It was actually worse for me there. The kids picked on me more, and I had a hard time making friends. That school was turned into a middle school and I was transferred to another catholic school for a year. That school was even worse than the last one. The principal was an evil nun, though my first teacher was very sweet. She was a younger lady, and left halfway through the school leave to have her baby. After that things really went downhill. We had another teacher, but he stopped coming. He lived in Canada and was having a hard time getting across every day. We had an elderly lady after that, and I hated her. All we really did every day was English. There was very little math or science. Finally, she quit, and left. And the class was overjoyed. The elderly man who taught us for the rest of the year was very kind, and made sure we did a lot more than English. After that, I went back to the previous catholic school. The next three years were a nightmare for me. I had very few friends, and was quieter than I had ever been. The others picked on me on a daily basis

High school. This is where everything changed. The first year was the hardest for me. I got lost a few times, having come from a little, one floor school with a total of 100 people, including staff. After the first year, I joined beginning band and advanced to concert the year after. I changed a lot in those two years. And I thank my band director for a lot of it. If he had never encouraged me to join...who knows what I would be like right now. I met a lot of amazing people in that school, and in that room alone I grew quite a bit. I finally came out of the shell I had been hiding in for so long, trying to protect myself....afraid of what others would think of the me that had been buried deep in there. My senior year was the best. I had come quite a long way. I was still quiet, but I had become a little more outgoing. I was a little more...me.

I've been in college for two years now, and I've come even further...with a lot of help, of course. My friends are quite amazing, and my boyfriend even more so. We haven't been together very long, but I knew him for almost two years before he finally confessed to me how he felt-though I knew about it from day one. I was just waiting for him...

I think I'll end this here for today...

 
"This is the reason why I sing..."

My boyfriend is...not perfect, no. No one is perfect. I know I'm far from perfect. But I would have no one else.

Two years. It took him two years to finally confess that he likes me. I knew the entire time, of course. I was just waiting for him to admit it. There was always something about him that...pulled me...to him. It's a very odd feeling. I've never felt anything like this before.

He is very smart. It can be...frustrating, sometimes, playing games against him. He's a lot smarter than I am and I very rarely win. But it's always a challenge, and I like a little challenge.

He is very sweet too. I can see that soft side he tries to hide from others. It's obvious when he's playing with my puppy, or petting his elderly beagle. He's gentle with me too. I love when it's just us, and we're snuggled together on the couch. When he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close, I just...melt. I know I'm not the best looking girl, but when he holds me...the way he pays attention to me...it makes me believe that maybe I am pretty.

I am usually a very quiet person, and he is very outgoing. A friend of mine once stated that they would have never guessed that I would go out with someone like him. But the more I'm around him, the more comfortable I am. And the more...me...I am. The real me. Not the shy, hardly ever speaks me. The me who wants to get out there and do things and not be afraid to speak my mind about anything and everything. He makes me feel like I can. He gives me that little bit of confidence I need...that little bit of extra attention. With him...I'm safe...

I love him <3
 
Though things with the bf are going quite well, things here at my house are far from that.

I dread going home every single day.

My mom is never home anymore, and I am left to hold down the fort. It was kind of nice at first, having the house to myself on the weekend. But now she's gone all week. Between work and her boyfriend's house, we never get to see her. I could probably start putting on makeup and wear dresses and she wouldn't notice a thing...except how dirty the house is. Every day, I am expected to clean the house and do the dishes and do ALL the laundry and cook dinner and keep and eye on the puppy and keep my sisters from killing each other. They do absolutely nothing, and I hate it. Sidney is destructive. No matter how hard I work to keep the house clean, she can destroy it in seconds if she wants to. And I am the only one who ever really gets the blame for it. Melissa and Sidney are both old enough to do some work around here. Cause on top of all that, I have the usual college student issues to worry about. My math grade is horrible right now, but I've managed to keep PoliSci up in the 90's and I'm not sure what my Anthropology grade is but I know it's good. Finals are just two weeks away. I have one two page PoliSci essay and two one page Anthropology papers to write. On top of that, I'm doing some serious studying for Intermediate Algebra. Rewriting all my notes and doing work out of the book as well as the usual load of homework. I need to pass everything if I'm going to transfer on time.

I feel more like a mom and less like the 20 year old college student that I am. This is not MY house, and these are not my children. Every day is a fight to keep from breaking down. Every day I have to endure hateful words from a little sister. Every day, I tell myself "Just one more year of college and you can transfer. Just hang on for one more year..." And every day, I wonder if I'm really going to make it out of here before I just break down completely...
 
So. My weekend can be easily compared to a roller coaster. On Friday my cousin was admitted to a mental hospital, for reasons I don't feel like discussing here right now. It infuriates me. Spent Friday at another cousin's house and had a great time. Until another cousin came over with her son, who had a 103 fever. So when they came back several hours later, it was...4 am? And the little guy was beyond exhausted so he cried himself to sleep and woke the rest of the house up while he was at it. At the same time my grandma got sick. Like the rest of my family, she's stubborn and set in her ways. She refused to go to the hospital Friday, and finally gave in and went late Saturday. She's going to be ok-out Tuesday or Wednesday. Throw all of that on top of my normal day to day stress and worrying about my finals-especially algebra-and you get an idea of my stress level right now

I also received some very wonderful news over the weekend. The cousin's house I had stayed at on Friday...well, he got his GF a promise ring! It's GORGEOUS. A thin silver band with a sapphire stone. Very good job on the ring. I like diamonds, but they're soo....over-rated. She feels the same way too. She's good for him. She's got him motivated. He's got a job, and is going back to school in the fall. And they want to find a place of their own soon. It makes me feel....happy. I remember all the time I spent, reminding him that there's someone out there for everyone, and that he would find her one day. And he finally has.

Sunday was supposed to be my day of relief. BF was supposed to come over. I had picked out a couple movies and was even going to dip into my special popcorn stash. And get a much needed back rub. I went and bought massage oil and everything. Then, his dad decides last minute that he has to stay home. Great. Just GREAT. So, instead, I was in a house filled to the brim with crazy teenagers. What a wonderful way to de-stress..

Today was...better? I was in his arms for a while, at least. It was very nice, even though we were in a cafe surrounded by people. He put his arms around me, and that stress just melted away. He can make me feel soo much better in such a short amount of time. But sometimes I wonder if i'm being too clingy. I know he loves attention, and I crave his...badly...but it still seems like I bother him sometimes. I try to just let him be when he's playing a game or reading, and if I am around him when he does those things I try to just stay silent...watch him play a little.

I'm going to stop here, before this turns into another rambling post about him. I'm sure he's going to read this tonight, and probably tell me I'm silly for worrying about being clingy. But it's how I feel...

I <3 him..
 
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