Hit Me Once.

In all my sixteen, almost seventeen years of existence, I've come to find out that talking face to face is one million, three billion, two fillion times better than any other type of communication out there. Trying to understand someone while not having any eye contact, or not being able to observe the way they move really makes it hard.
Things on some sides have been getting better. Slowly. The relationship between my mother and I is climbing back on track. I hope it stays that way. I'm opening my eyes to all these new things, and trying to see them as a benefit to me. But in other ways, things are starting to crawl up my neck. A wretched, cold grip is lacing it's fingers around my neck. I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to get all of this done. How to solve a few problems. How to reconnect with the people I'm losing. How to straighten up my priorities. How to exactly find this missing part of myself that I've just discovered may or may not be missing.
And then. I'm locked in that dark room again. Just for a moment. Except this time, it doesn't feel like I'm actually in the room now. I feel as though I'm staring through a cracked and dirty window. Because being at a loss for words really hurts. When you feel like you have nothing to contribute when you feel as though it's needed, it's painful to watch your words fall down like broken glass and shatter on the floor below. I'm standing there, watching this flood of emotion - and all the while I'm trying to find these things to say, and my mind wants to make my hands reach out and catch those cascading thoughts and things before they disappear into oblivion.
But I am me. And I can never save my thoughts from ultimate destruction. Once I get pushed off my thought train, there is no hope.
But there is hope. There always is for other things.

In other news, I watched the documentary Running the Sahara tonight. Amazing film. I feel like I need to do something great with my life. And I'm debating on the Army or not. But I'm not quite bold enough. But if not, running something like that would be great. Now, I don't think I could run all the way across the Sahara desert like those three men did, but I'm positive that if I set my mind to it, I could be running ultras and trail races in my adult life. I hope that, when I grow up, the people I remember running with most, will still be running too. And I hope that one day, we'll all get together, and run something together again. I pray that I'll keep my runner's spirit at heart. I think without it I'd be kind of lost.

And now I guess it's about that time. I'll try to fall into a deep, body numbing sleep, like I've been needing for the past few days. I'm going to try and dream up something again tonight. See if life has any new strange or unusual messages for me again. But I guess there's only one true way to find that out.
And staying up all night, blogging, won't help me reach that goal at all.