Ninth post.

Sometimes when you're searching for change, you become short-changed or over-changed, but either way the changing of whether you're short or overchanged changes regardless of what change you want to find.

"Change is always changing. Be prepared.

...but for what?"

My plate is overflowing with food that I'd rather donate to Haiti than deal with anymore. It's not that I don't like what I'm doing, it's that too much of what I'm doing are things that I'm required to do; those are the things that are dragging me down. Everyone knows that even a good book starts to suck when you're required to read it.  I'm constantly trying to balance making choreography routines for performances, learning new choreography, signing up for classes at college, applying for college, and at the same time trying to balance my high school life, my life in general, and life as an FBLA officer...I'm dying out here and the only person that can pull me out of the crossfire is me.

I've made a lot of the bullets that are being fired above my head because of my insecurity, a once almost tangible--slash that, a tangible object molded in the shape of high-caliber, armor piercing rounds. The worst part about it was I wasn't the one being shot.

Sure, a couple flew close enough to graze, but the ones that were really hit were the ones I cared about the most; I was the one making the bullets to kill off the ones I loved. I know I did that, godforbid not purposefully, mind you, and so I ran and brought the bullets with me. Brought the bullets out of production and now they're all kept inside me, to no longer hurt anyone else. I only hope that the wounds will heal... even if the scars are embedded to deep to ever forget.

I'm sorry. I know that's not enough but I can't give anymore than that. At least not for now.

I've promised myself and others a lot of things, and I'm not going to break them. I'm still changing; I feel myself changing. The ones close to me that managed to dodge the bullets know. Thank you for sticking around. Thank you for giving me another shot, no pun intended. Thank you for being there, for being beautiful, for helping me change...hopefully this time for the better.

And to that one special person out there. Tomorrow is never guaranteed, and I really can't promise anything anymore about it. I'm scared of it too. But I will say that with every day that passes, every thought that even vaguely relates to you, tomorrow feels closer and closer. And hopefully, when tomorrow gets here, it won't be for me, or for you, but it'll be for us.

Until then, get ready world:

I might be dying, but I'll go out with a bang so big, it'll make another universe.