You Can Take My Breath Away

Chapter One- Somebody's Me

"You, Do YOU remember ME like i remember you..?"

Chapter one ( be aware of the diary entry numbers, * very important*)

Diary Entry #67 (the present)

  I screamed once again waking myself up from my slumber, as i do every morning. But as you probably know, it was no surprise to my parents or little brother, i always do this, almost every morning. The funny thing is, this only started after i came out of the hospital, but you also know that.

 So, let's start with something you may not know, or remember at least, my birthday is in 3 days. Yes 3!! Finally i will be 18!  "A las the sky has cleared and all thou see is the glowing sun brightening the glooming, sulking day" quote by me of course :)

  Anyways being 18 really doesn't make a difference to me. Let's see, i will be able to smoke, which doesn't really help me in the least bit because i don't have any earge to smoke,  i can legally drive, which means i will have to get my license renewed to say i am of age, which is really just a pain in my butt, and i am also legally an adult, big woop! i have practically been an adult since i was 13 years old.

18 in 3 days,somebody pinch me!! (sarcasm) >:O

"You will always be in my life, even if i'm not in your life.."

Ps: been stuck inside my head all freakin morning!! ^

  I looked at the finished product of my so called "childish habbit,"  and sighed. My journal/diary  entries were almost the same every day. Well, except my lyrics of course, those are always different. I thoughtfully looked out my window as i often did when i think about my lyrics. I believe them to be lyrics, but they really are just stanzas to poems that i come up with, but there much to pretty just to be read without music. Truly,the lyrics needed music so the lines could flow, but i guess it doesn't matter either way because often my "lyrics" don't at all make sense.

    I always have only one or two lines to put on paper, never a whole song. I try to rack my brain for any signifigent  ideas popping out that will help me to finish my creations, but it always feels wrong to me. To think about what to write i mean, not to just write, to let the words flow from my pen or pencil. So therefore i vote not to "think" about what comes from the ink, i just do.

  As i stare outside at the clear blue sky the sun suddenly hits my eyes, "dawn" i think quietly and  blink  rapidly  while at the same time dropping my pen on the floor from off of my bed, where i was laying writing in my diary. I shield my eyes from the blinding rays of the raging sun and again continue to watch the sky, as it now becomes brighter, and bluer with each passing second. It was beautiful, but not the most beatiful thing i have ever seen before, which i don't even know what that is, but this i seem to just know isn't the most beautiful thing i will ever see.

  After the sun finally stopped creeping higher i look at my alarm clock and saw tha it was currently 5:30 am and i had absolutely nothing else to do except wait for the click of the clock to count up to 8, when i could finally get up without being shunned by my family. You see, im somebody you would call an "insomniac."  I don't sleep all that much,and usually am awake by 5, or earlier every morning.  But the thing is, i never set any alarm, never have and never will. There's no need to, i'm awake anyways.

  My parents call me owl sometimes because i'm a "nocturnal creature" they laugh. I'm usually not perplexed in any way when they joke about me, but this always seems to get under my skin. It isn't exactly what i would call fun, every night not being able to fall asleep, and when i finaly do, being shorlty after  startled awake by my blood curdeling screams.