the holidays that aren't.

Well, I actually have one point of good news: I GOT INTO KEUKA COLLEGE! Yes, I am happy. However, I know my parents are worried about finances and that makes me paranoid. I have already found a few scholarships I want to apply for and WILL apply for. Keuka is the perfect college for me: it has my major, it's small, the campus is beautiful and it is perfect distance from rochester and syracuse. Perfection? I believe so.

Everything else, when it comes to thelifeofjennigraham is not so terrific. I'm having major people issues. One person to be specific. She is the one person I know I should not butt heads with, but nevertheless we continue to do so. One thing is for sure - this will never end. There will ALWAYS be tension between us and I am doing everything within me not to explode. Maybe I should? No, I'm going to be mature. However, I don't think I have ever met someone quite this disrespectful and selfish. I hate saying all this, but it is the only way to get it off my chest.

My emotions are still on high and maybe that is why every little thing is getting to me. Thankfully, Sara moved in with us. I am feeling a bit more at ease with her nearby. She is a positive person and we have gotten along well the last two years - so why not a few more months? Yet, I still get irritated with every little thing. No one quite understands how Matt's death effects me. It has changed me and I didn't expect anything different. Some people need to realize that small things are getting to me easilier then usual and to back off with the rude comments. I'm a nice person and maybe that's my issue. I need to stand up for myself. Why is that so hard for me to do?

I have been writing a little bit and thinking of yet ANOTHER book idea. This one I am very excited about. A lot of it comes from my current situation, but as the plot progresses it will become totally different. Here's the first paragraph. Obviously, this is almost all taken from my life:

His hands were cold and his eyelids were still, yet my fingers encompassed his as if my touch would wake him. The machinery beeped from behind his cot and the IV drip seemed to keep on crawling through the tubes that melted into his skin. His lips were separated slightly and I watched them, waiting for a breath to seep through or his voice to sound once again.
I set my forehead on his hand and his skin was simply leather against my own. Still, I waited. I watched for the twitch of a finger or the pulse of blood in his veins. I waited for the nurses to run into his room once again and help him sit up straight so he could feel comfort. I wanted them to rearrange his trache so I at least knew he was still there – in some form.
The coldness of his skin grew stronger and that strength began to burn. I looked up into his face and outlined his features – his naturally tanned skin, the thin scar near his chin from falling at the office, the small goatee he had been trying to grow for weeks. It all seemed so real, but I had already become numb to the truth.
A hand lightly clenched my shoulder and I quickly sat up, setting my head onto it. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to go anywhere. I didn’t want to leave him.
“We have to go. It’s time,” she whispered. I shook my head and clenched his fingers tightly beneath my own – not willing to let go. She set her hand atop my own, fire and ice, and encompassed both of ours. Slowly, she lifted mine off of his and wrapped her fingers around my own.
“It will never be time,” I barely whimpered. Then I turned towards my mother, sunk my face into her chest and just let the tears fall.