Oh roller coaster, you hellish feind.

So, I am terrible at this thing. I could blame a lot of different things, and I would be partly justified, but mostly, I am not motivated.

It's a catch 22 actually. When I'm happy, I'm busy and generally don't express my happiness this way. I'm doing things and expressing myself that way so I don't think to write and even if I did, how fun is it to say "I'm happy and I worked on such and such." It's just not that exciting you know? But when I'm down, depressed, or moody, I tend to write more, but then I re-read it and don't publish it because it's...well. Depressing. So there you go.

But today, I have been happy, sad, frustrated, I've mourned, I've laughed, I've cried, I've created, I've destroyed, I WON AT CHECKERS!!!!! I lost the battle of pretending my heart isn't hurting. I lied to myself, realized someone else is lying to me, I lied to someone else with a smile I pretended was real.

I am a roller coaster.

And I keep waiting for this to change. For some kind of balance to return to my life. No one really wants to be bipolar. But everyone is for at least a time, in my opinion, just that. Bipolar.

I hide it pretty well though. (you may be thinking "right. your roller coaster is in plain sight" but HA! Fooled you. You don't know the HALF of it!") There's just so much I don't, I can't say.

We've created all these outlets to say the things we need to, there's myspace, facebook, twitter, BLOGS. But I constantly catch myself wanting to say "Laura feels slightly brokenhearted" but I don't because there will be 20 posts asking "why?" and 50 texts guessing as to where this brokenness came from. And then everyone saying to each other "did you see Laura's twitter/status? You KNOW it was totally referring to what happened with so and so."

So I don't post it. It stays here inside and it builds up. I don't write songs about it either, because someone will figure out what it means. I don't write it in a journal because someone someday will find out how pathetic I really am.

So inside it stays threatening to burst out at any moment and attack some poor unsuspecting bystander. It weaves poetic lines that stay unwritten, unsung because my life is too small town, too open for me not to be embarrassed for the whole world to know what hides behind a smile and a laugh.

So I will stay vague and build my walls. Because it's safe. And it's what I can handle. And when you ask. I will not talk about it. Because it's too close, and there's too much pride here to let me.

But mostly, when I have had more sleep, I will regret this post in all it's depressing mediocrity.