update;

Work is all sorted out. My boss fired the head waitress and gave me her job. I basically run the whole front end of the restaurant, but without the title of manager. I've redone a lot of things, cleaned up a lot. The place is getting better already. I'm making a ton more tips. I've bought new clothes. Things are good. Finances are working out. We're all moved in. I'm happy, for the most part. My job distracts me from the fact that I'm lonely here, but I'm working on that.

Today;

Today it has been seven years since the accident. The car accident. Internal bleeding, fractured spine. Bruised knee caps. Blood. Broken glass. Broken collar bones, brain injuries. Andrew. Seven years since my little brother has died. Nothing more than today reminds me that I'm alone, that I'm lonely. I miss you so much, little brother. In a month, you'd be 18. Legal, here. But would I be here? I still remember running my hands through your hair. That feeling. It'll never leave me.  I miss you, so so so so so much.

Brandon and I are almost done moving into the basement suite, which is good. It'll cut done on stress since it's less for rent. I feel accomplished; a real relationship, a shared home, we actually talk through things. We've been hanging out with his friends a lot. It's definitely a change. Even and Carlene, while my age, are in the same place. They're moving away, together, with real jobs, and real ambitions, and they've been promised to each other for two years. As well, James and Chantal, who are a year older than Brandon, but so much more mature. They're getting married in a month! Sometimes I feel like a little girl, playing adult. Sometimes I'm amazed at just how much I've grown up. I thought my parents were joking when they said that time flies by fast, but it really does.

As I'm unpacking, I'm getting rid of clothes and things I don't need, or boxing up the stuff that I don't need right now. I've also been going through and deleting old journals, old emails. It's like spring cleaning, but for my life instead of the house. It's weird to find things like sailor moon shirts, rainbow studded belts and nightmare before christmas purses, or roleplays, or passwords to neopets accounts. I mean, yeah, I've still got a soft spot for those things somewhere, but it's nowhere close to who I am anymore. I can't even recognize who I was before I moved here. It's kind of scary, kind of exciting.

I came here with big ambitions, big dreams, lots of determination and my head in the clouds. I came here for change. I got the change, but my ambitions have led me elsewhere. I've achieved a lot, but nothing that I expected. I've got real life going on. No school, no weekend house parties where I need a boot. I've pushed art and hobbies aside. It's about work, where I really do love my job, and I've worked out the financial aspect of it with my boss. I've always wanted to work in a cafe, or a diner, and the restaurant I work at is small enough to achieve that but busy enough to make a living. It's about my relationship, that seems to have a future, at least for now. I have a few friend to go to the bar with, or watch movies, or go for dinner. I've got goals that are achievable.

I'm doing good. I just need to stay positive, keep my head forward, and maybe the shadows will stay away.

I can actually say that, at this moment, I'm proud of myself. And that's a big deal for me.

Fresh start. The old entries are deleted, the friends only ban has been lifted. Any old entries kept are numberless, just for the sake of telling the difference. My keyboard is fucked right now, its in French or something. The punctuation comes out weird, so this isnt going to be grammatically correct.

I hate journaling. I always end up using it for venting, and when I go back and read it, its all negative; I hate seeing that aspect of myself. Its almost like it locks me down into the mode, that state of depression. And when Ive fought for so long and so hard to get over the depression without medical help, I dont need it. Still, youve gotta take the good with the bad. I have a new system. As soon as I name something thats troubling me, I have to decide on a solution instead of just miserably ignoring it. Whoo!

I need a new job, pronto. I love this job, I really do. I love the people, and what I do. But its no longer paying the bills, and unfortunately, thats all that really matters. I also need a social life. I feel like Im seven years old again when I say this, but I have no friends. Haha. Seriously though, theyre in Vancouver-- growing up and away. Here Ive met, uh, no one stable, and no one that doesnt do or push drugs. So. I should get on that. Except, how the fuck do you meet people. Im not outgoing. Whateves. Just, pleaaaaaaaaase, dont let me become one of those people that lets their life revolve around their boyfriend.

I also need to figure out where the hell Im going. Four months and Im moving back to Vancity, Brandon in tow. I dont know if I can get back into University, I forgot to take in my withdrawl forms so it says I failed everything with zeros. Shiiit. Everythings kind of a mess right now. Finances, future, friends. But, idunno, I kinda like it. I think I should focus on my art again. It needs work.

Oh. Three songs, ruling my life right now:
Placebo - Running Up That Hill
Paramore- Crushcrushcrush
Timbaland Ft. She Wants Revenge - Time

I'm losing faith in this world. It's always the good that struggle to survive, that lose hope and sight, that are lonely and out of touch. All my close friends are in isolation, unable to connect. I dont understand where the social skills died, I dont understand how the world can't see how amazing these people are. Is it such a blind, shallow, materialistic place that the really beautiful are punished?

A firend and I had a talk today. I think the worst feeling in the world is when someone you care about is upset, pessimistic and stubborn, and there is nothing you can do to make them feel better. He got angry, and went to play video games to calm down. I got upset, and went to lay down and think. Later, I talked him into going for coffee. He opened up a bit more, but both of us had our minds elsewhere. As soon as he dropped me off, I went to my room. Candles lit, Dry Kill Logic's "Goodnight" set on repeat, Lights off, I started painting. Three hours later I'd vented everything on my mind on to watercolour paper. I can't believe I shower him. I was so nervous, shaking. He seemed excited/flattered, but it's hard to tell through text.

I don't know. I like to think that the little things are the only thing that prevents people from giving up; holding hands, cuddling, coffee or hot chocolate on a cold day, sunsets, helium in your lungs, waking up next to someone, deep conversations, summer rain-- simple pleasures that, in that moment, make the world seem like not such a bad place. Maybe it doesn't solve anything, but it's a small joy that you just have to stop and appreciate.

Idunno. Then again, maybe there's no point. We'll never win. Maybe we really should just give up.

Have faith. Never lose faith.