so the main news of the day is the fact that i'm now trying to finally write my novel. yes, i am ninteen years old. stop looking at me like i couldn't possibly write a novel. i know i can, it's just getting the ball rolling that's the problem.

it's not that i don't have enough characters running about in my head to overpopulate a small underdeveloped nation, it's that i don't know where to begin telling their stories, what point of view to take, what spin to put to the events of their imaginary lives.

i know the houses that they live in, the colors of their hair, all multicoloured rainbow hues on some, drab and unassuming on others.

i know their deepest fears and most hidden of secrets.

and i sit at my keyboard and crank out page after page that ultimately meets its fate in the delete key.

something isn't coming together in my brain.

random interruptory thought alert: the singing on Converge - Farewell Note To This City sounds more than a bit like billy corgan of the smashing pumpkins. odd.

my mark came back yesterday, which was a godsend. i was starting to get bad again.

while out with tiffany on saturday night, we were driving down court avenue when my heart stopped.

ryan, jayson, and mikey g. were turning the corner off court and onto fourth. at least, i'm fairly certain it was them.

i couldn't breathe. my whole body was shaking, and i freaked out. which gave tiff much in the way of sadistic amusement. it was horrible, this extreme physical reaction from the mere sight of people who i had once loved and been loved by in return.

i try as hard as i can not to react that way when i see any of them. but i can't control my own body. the sight of one of their cars makes me get that knot in my stomach, tightening until i can no longer breathe.