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February 2020
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Boycott SONY



    broken  echo $newRAM;
    added Thu March 27 2003 at 11:10 PM
    When I was done talking, I just needed to get away from everything. I had just found out that some of my supposed "friends" had actually been lying to me and stabbing me in the back the entire time. So I grabbed a cd player and set out on my rollerblades. As I left, I fully intended to keep skating until the morning came, or until I had nowhere left to go. The cold night beat against me, driving me back to where I came from. But I kept going. As I listened to the angry music, I cried out in my mind, wondering what was going to become of me. All of a sudden, all my friendships were thrown into question, as I wondered if everybody was lying to me. Who was on my side? Who was left? What did I have in the world?

    I made it half way to Orem... not very far in reality, considering I've skated to Orem several times. As I slowly crawled up the hill, the fear and the hate and the cold wind and the light snow all intensified. And then the music stopped. And I stopped. And I cried. And I was broken.

    As I coasted back down that hill I had previously been battling, I cried, and I prayed, and I wallowed in the depths of despair. Slowly, I went home, and slowly, my breaking turned into submission. And slowly, I started to forgive the world, and slowly, I started to see with new eyes.

    Am I still as humble as I was last night? Not hardly. But at least now, I can see a little clearer. Am I any happier today? Maybe a little, but at least now, I can feel like happiness might come back.


    19  echo $newRAM;
    added Thu March 27 2003 at 11:38 PM

    19 years. 19 years.

    She would've turned 19 today (yesterday now, but today was less than an hour ago). And so I celebrated her birthday. Needless to say, thoughts of her didn't help my state of mind last night, but today, thoughts of her were sweet memories.

    I called my mom last night and arranged for two roses to be delivered: one to her mother, one to her sister. One for each birthday she's missed.

    Today, I bought flowers. 17 flowers... the cheap kind, 50 cents apiece (except the one daisy, but that was because Erin loves daisies so much). Not because she wasn't worth a lot of money, but she would've been happier knowing that I was staying within my budget.

    I wrote 16 notes. Each note was individual, some of them saying thank you, some of them saying sorry. the 17th flower I gave to a girl on the bus. The flowers caught her attention. She asked if they were for a girl. I told her it was for a birthday, and I gave her one as I stepped off the bus. Hopefully it made her day a little brigther.

    That was the point of all 19... She would've liked to know that 19 different people got a little bit of joy. Okay, maybe only 18 people got a bit of joy: one of the notes was an apology sent partially to let some people know that I didn't appreciate their games (I honestly was apologizing for my ill will toward them, but I also knew that they wouldn't want to hear about it).

    19. 19 flowers.

    Happy Birthday, Carrie. We love you, we miss you.