It's been a while.

But I've been busy. I caught up in my school work, for the most part, have been spending every spare second I have with the boy, and quit smoking. Oh, and I got my braces off. There's more, but those are the main points I guess.

In regards to school, I hate it. But it's Christmas break right now. Or "winter" break I guess. Whatever. I'm hoping it'll be easier to stay caught up next term. The real lit teacher will be back, I've missed her so much. That should make it about 32 times easier to pass her class. Seeing as her assigmnents aren't shit. If I really am taking Math 111, it shouldn't be too difficult, because I'll only have one person who I even talk to in that class; therefore, no distractions. But I don't know what any of my other classes are, so I can't plan anymore.

The boy is perfect. All I have to do is look at him and it feels like everything inside me is melting, but in a good way. He holds me so tight, and kisses me so sweetly. I don't know why, but whenever I'm snuggled up against his chest I feel like crying. I'm not sad, I just get teary eyed and sniffly. I don't understand it at all. It's never happened to me before. Maybe it's just cause he smells so good my senses lose control of themselves and...Yeah, I don't know. Ha. But anyways, he is amazing. There are little things, but they're never his fault. Just stupid things, like his truck breaking down, so he can't come see me as soon as I want. Things like that make me angrier than they should. I'm pretty sure it's just that whole subconscious "he's too good for me, I need to be with an asshole who's just using me so I'm gonna make up some bullshit to ruin the relationship" thing. The same way I've always tried to push the good boys away before. Whenever I've been with one, I've made up all these excuses, made their flaws seem bigger than they are. But with him, I'm not anywhere near as extreme. I couldn't tell you what changed, but something definately did. And I'm ok with that. I don't know what I'll do when he leaves though. January 13th is really sneaking up on me.

Quit smoking. Boy's fault. Today's 3 weeks and 2 days I believe. I've had three dreams about smoking, and haven't had nearly as many breakdowns as I would expect. The worst was a couple days ago. I was drunk, and almost cried when no one would let me have a cigarette. It was pretty pathetic, but whatever. I didn't do it, so no biggie.

Braces are off. It's been a week and a half or so? I don't remember. All I know is when they first came off, I spent at least two hours smiling in the mirror. In all honesty. Cute, huh?

I need to figure out how to block people on here, or something. And change the link. Girls are so dumb.

Why can't you just let me be the fucking loser I am? I don't want to suceed, I don't want to be rich and famous and powerful. I want to live just like everyone else. I didn't ask for this.

lksfdjghsdfg

I want to write, but there's nothing to say.

I want to cry, but apparently my tear ducts have dried out and shriveled up.

I want to go out, but not with any of my friends.

I want to figure out what the hell I'm doing with my life.

I want you. But you're busy, and I'm taking up too much of your time as is...I keep forgetting you have friends, and I keep you all to myself. I'm sorry for that, I just don't understand you.

Blah blah blah. Oh, and blah.

Stayed home sick today. No, of course I'm not sick. I'm just tired, and my head hurts, and I feel like staying home. I don't feel like going to school and listening to all the stupid stories and rumors and drama. I feel like painting. But I'm not painting. My grandma has all my brushes and most of my good colors for a project she's doing. I don't really need the bright colors, all I can picture in my head is dull. Buuut, she has my brushes, and I'm not about to finger paint.

I've seriously been watching VH1 all morning, and doing government homework. I need to go out, and the sun is peeking through the curtains...

I'm still mad at you. Dunno when that'll stop. So yeah, it's not that I'm avoiding you, I just don't want to be around you right now. For five minutes, I would like to figure out my own problems, rather than be drowned in yours.

Not that you'll know this, because you don't even know about THIS. Therefore, you probably still don't even know I'm mad at you. Which is fine I guess. It's not like it's ever gotten me anywhere, right?



I want to go to sleep. And not wake up until your life is straightened out.

Hmm.

I like your kisses.




Why can't I find your flaws? I realize it's only been three weeks or so, but you'd think, at least one or two would show up by now... All I can think of is the Navy.

But I guess that is a pretty big flaw. 4 years is a long time. I'm setting myself up for something terrible. I might as well admit it.

One year.

Go me.

Trying to convince someone not to kill themselves, and to stop cutting is tiring. Now I feel bad for all those people who were there for me. I know how they felt, when they said those things you say to people who are feeling like that.

"If you didn't die when you tried to end it, it's not your time to die."

"You've made it this far, you're strong enough to go on."

"Do you really want to hurt all those people who care about you?"

You always feel good about it after, when they tell you that you really did help. I don't remember telling anyone that, but I hope I did. If not, then that's really sucky for them, and I'd feel terrible.

The only other bad thing about it, is it's so hard to tell someone not to cut. Not to hurt themselves. When you wish soooo bad you still could. This Monday, the 19th, will be my one year mark. I'll have gone a whole fucking year without it. So why don't I feel good about that? Shouldn't I feel accomplished? Well I really, honestly don't. I don't know why. Actually, probably because I just replaced that with other things, so it's not like I really quit. I quit the action of it, but not the idea. So I kinda suck.

What do you give someone on their one year anniversary of being cut free? Scar cream?


And am I really this disappointed that I haven't talked to him today, and that he didn't call me last night, even though he said he would? Really? Patheticccc. Yes, with four c's.

I hate seeing you like that so much. Blazed outta your mind. All jittery and twitching. Eyes sunken in. But you still have that smile on your face. How can you be happy with who you are now. It tears me up inside to see you like that.

You got your license suspened because they found weed in your car? Saw that coming.

They want to send you to jail? No. No no no no. That can't happen. I don't want you to get locked up again. You'll hate it. It didn't help you before, why would it now.

But maybe it would. You'd be there longer probably. But you'd just get bitter, and angry. I know you. That's how you think. Everyone tries so hard to help you, but you're throwing it all away. I would do anything, I've told you that a million times. I want you to get better, but you won't until you give it all up. I know you can. You're selfless, except for this. I don't want to hear that someone found you dead under a bridge. That would kill me, and you know it.

Why don't I have any luck.

In the boy department. Seriously. It's getting old.

I was kinda starting to like you too. But of course. You joined the Navy, and are leaving in January. That's sooo awesome.

If you get a chance,

Go look at the sky, right now. Hurry, before it's gone. The clouds look like they're made of molten gold.

It's making me feel sick. I wish stress didn't affect my body so much. I don't even hardly understand why it does, but I hate it none the less.

I feel so unsure
As I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor
As the music dies, something in your eyes
Calls to mind a silver screen and all those sad goodbyes

I'm never gonna dance again
Cause guilty feet have got no rhythm
Though it's easy to pretend
I know you're not a fool
I should have known better than to cheat a friend
And waste the chance that I'd been given
So I'm never gonna dance again
The way I danced with you

Time can never mend
The careless whispers of a good friend
To the heart and mind
Ignorance is kind
And there's no comfort in the truth
Pain is all you'll find

I'm never gonna dance again
Cause guilty feet have got no rhythm
Though it's easy to pretend
I know you're not a fool
I should have known better than to cheat a friend
And waste the chance that I'd been givenS
o I'm never gonna dance again
The way I danced with you

Tonight the music seems so loud
I wish that we could lose the crowd
Maybe it's better this way
We'd hurt each other with the things we want to say
We could have been so good together
We could have lived this dance forever
But now who's gonna dance with me?
Please stay

I'm never gonna dance again
Cause guilty feet have got no rhythm
Though it's easy to pretend
I know you're not a fool
I should have known better than to cheat a friend
And waste the chance that I'd been given
So I'm never gonna dance again
The way I danced with you


I wish things were different.

But the only texts I get from you say "Hit me up if you know anyone who needs green."

At least you hung up my painting. It means alot.

I hate that. I hate it alot. It was stupid, and wrong, and should never have happened. To put it mildly. And now it just confuses me. One second, it seems like the feelings mutual, another, it's so far from it.

What is going on.

So much to say, but nothing to write.

Don't you hate that?

My aunt told me I should be prepared to get a phone calling saying he was found dead somewhere. That's what she's waiting for.

How do you prepare yourself for that? All I could give to her in response is a shrug of my shoulders and an attempted eye roll. Then an abrubt subject change. But this probably won't be one of those things I can ignore until it no longer exists. How am I supposed to react to that? That's what I want to know. I know how I can act, and how I am acting, but not how everyone else would. I have power here. And that scares me. There's a very good chance if I got over all the shit he's done, and started talking to him again, for the first time in what...two years?, he'd probably pull it together. But maybe not. Maybe I'm doing what I should. Sitting here, and pretending I don't give a rats fucking ass about him, because all he did was donate some sperm and leave. He never thought about us, until it was too late. He didn't stop suckin' off those bottles until I ended up in the hospital. Who's to say he hasn't gone back. No one fucking knows anymore. What the FUCK.

I don't know what to do. Should I care if he dies? Because I do, alot. But only the people who read this will ever know.

Rumor has it-

So, apparently, his wife beat the shit out of him again, so he went and got a hotel room. Later that night, some cops found him wandering the streets incoherently, I guess he took a bunch of pills. They knew him, because he used to be a cop, so one of them took him to the hospital. The psych evaluater decided he was not a harm to himself or anyone else, so his cop buddy took him back to his hotel room. When they got there, there were three empty prescription bottles that had been filled earlier that day, and a beebee gun under the mattress.

That's my dad. What the fuck did I do.

I had something to say.

It was very important, I think.

But I don't remember what it was.

I want to talk to someone, about me. About all my stupid issues, but I'm so fucking tired of pouring all my shit onto people. It's what I used to always do. That's why I started this blog, so I wouldn't have to. I can't figure everything out on my own, I know that. But I don't like it. Why can't I just take care of myself, fix my problems. Why does it have to be so difficult.

Oh, because I'm a masochist. That's right.

I'm feeling extremly bipolar today. I've gone back and forth between fabulous and miserable since I woke up this morning, and I don't know why.

Something did happen today though, that made me feel really good. I talked to the boyfriend stealing bitch's best friend. Said "Hey what's up," etc. etc. She asked how I was and said she missed me, then asked if I was mad at her. I said I wasn't of coarse, because I wasn't. Her response - "Ok, cool. I'm really sorry about what happened though, it fuckin' pissed me off. I seriously wanted to punch her in the face because I couldn't believe she would do that to you and she knows I love you, but she did it anyways. For real, it was fucked up shit, and I can't believe either of them did it."

I don't really care if she ment it or not. If she was just saying it to make sure I didn't hate her. It doesn't bother me if it's the truth or a lie. I like that she said that, and I was suprised she did too. I didn't realize that she actually considered me enough of a friend to say that of her bestfriend. I'd hang out with her or something, but her and what's-her-face are seemingly inseperable.

I just really appreciate what she said. Alot. It makes me feel less loser-ish about still being upset over it, just because she agrees it was a bitch move.


PS-I feel like I'm fighting for nothing. I feel empty.

Bad dream.

I dreamt he broke up with her, and it just so happened she was laying on a couch that I had to keep walking by, and I almost felt sorry for her, but I was so glad they were over. Then I found him, and I didn't know what to say. Then he reached out for me, and wrapped me in his arms. He held me, and apologized for everything he said and did, and said he wished he could love me the way I deserved because he honestly never wanted me out of his life. And I cried in his arms.

He isn't the boy of my dreams. He isn't going to change. It's time to move on.

How odd.

I just did a lot of homework. At least the largest amount I've done in one afternoon, in probably over a year, maybe two. And it wasn't even because I have a huge project tomorrow. My lab report isn't due 'til Friday, and I don't know when the research for the bio project is due, and I'm ahead three chapters in the book, and I anazlyzed the quotes, and am prepared for Ryan's class tomorrow. I'm never prepared for his class.

I think I might try to cohort. The thought is really scary, but I know I can do it. I just have to convince myself it would be worth it. No-not even that. I know it would be worth it. I just don't dig change.

My brain doesn't hurt, like I would think it would. It's thirsty. I want more. I want someone to give me a paper to take notes on. I want to solve an equation.

I have that stupid high you get, when you first start something. Oh joy, I hope it stays for a little while.

Highschool.

Is extremely ridiculous. It started last Wednesday. A girl in one of my classes asked, completely sincerely, if Antarctica was cold.




I don't even have words. Totally speechless. Fuck this. Seriously. I really really hate school. I hate having to deal with the people I only pretend to like, and then there's also the people who I don't even bother pretending to like (Btw: I had a dream I beat her ass into the ground, and it felt so good). Then there's the people who offer you a cigarette, then realize they don't have enough to spare, so they ask you for one instead. Then there's the teacher who is constantly putting you down in front of the class, and it almost pisses you off, but he's told you multiple times that you have one of the best fucking personalaities in the school, and that you're brilliant, and could be anything you wanted, so you let him without getting too offended. Because he knows how you think. So you just sit there and hope he doesn't blame you completely for being worthless. Then there's the class, the one class you were excited to have back, the only class you would ever give up summer for, and only because no matter how angry or upset or determined to be miserable you were, that class always took it away. And now the teacher's gone. So now you have nothing. Your motivation for getting through each class is "Ok, I only have 4 more periods...3...2..1..." Nothing is interesting. You've been assigned to write an essay that sounds like it's for 4th graders, yet you can't even come up with anything for it. You're doing the same math as last term, but forgot all the formulas over summer. And there's hardly even any cute new boys. And if any of the new kids do smoke, they haven't figured out where you're supposed to yet, so you haven't met any one worth interest, because if they don't smoke, you probably won't hang out with them as much as someone else.

Ugh. I don't know.
I feel like crying.
This is dumb.

Alkaline Trio-Calling All Skeletons

Here it is again
Yet it stings like the first time
Seems it never ends
Double nickels on your dime
I thought we were friends
I guess it just depends who you ask
These feelings tend to leave me with a hole in my chest

Now the time has come
I just wish I could erase
All the damage done to your name
And your keepsakes
Only just begun its been fun
We were blind deaf and dumb
There's a party in my closet
Calling all skeletons

Where did you go
As the lights went black
Look whats become of me
I've grown to love your disappearing acts
Do one more, pretty please

Now the time has come
I just wish I could erase
All the damage down, all this pain
All this heartache
Its only just begun its been fun
We were fucked up and numb
There's a killer on the corner
And he's looking for love
He's looking for love
Yea he's looking for
(you my love)

Where did you go
As the lights went black
Whats become of me
I've grown to love your disappearing acts
do one more pretty please
And to tell you the truth
I lost my faith on you
(you gotta stop sneaking off on me)
And these unspoken lies
Appear at the worst times
(You gotta stop sneaking off on me)
They're hiding just beyond your eyes

I hate convincing myself.

Ya know? Trying to tell yourself how to think, but you always seem to slip up.

I cried so much after Aiden was born, I don't know why. I was crying before too, but that's because I was terrified. Her blood pressure had reached 191/109 when I left the room. My mother, who was texting me the whole time, wisely didn't tell me that it's highest point was 242 over something. I wouldn't have been able to handle that. But, no c-section. She pushed him out all on her own. And I saw it. It was disgusting, but strangely beautiful. Not something I personally would ever want to go through, but she made it look easy. There were no screams of pain, and she only voiced that she couldn't do it once, that I heard. Even thinking about it makes my eyes start to prickle again. I hated seeing her in so much pain, and, for a second, I hated that poor helpless baby for doing it to her. I quickly got over it when I saw him squeeze his way out. Then Des and I hugged and cried, I continued to cry, and cry. After he was all cleaned up and wrapped in a blanket, Grandma brought him to me, and held him out to me. I took him, and (through sobbing) said "You're giving him to me?" Her reply was something along the lines of "Haven't you been there for her with everything?" I took him, and tears fell all over that perfect little face. I was a wreck. And even after all that work, she still looked gorgeous, and I'm going to cry again.

Goodnight.

Woah.

I actually watched her do it. I watched her have her baby, and she did amazingly. Ten times better than I would have ever expected of her. She pushed a 7.15 pound baby out of her fucking vagina, and she didn't even cry, I was the one bawling me eyes out over every single thing that happened. She is amazing. I have never been so proud of her in my life.

So I guess-

I'm just the other girl again. Sort of. Kind of. You've been dating her for six months now. But you still want me, after a year and half of being broken up, but it's ok, because I still want you too. I just didn't realize the feeling was mutual, until you told me, of coarse. But there's nothing to do about it. She's your "boo", but you "still have eyes" for me. Cool. What does that mean. It means nothing, it means you've been in a relationship for a while, and you miss being able to flirt with everyone. That's all.

I don't think I should, but I'm gonna wait. Just to see, if when you guys break up, you'll still feel the same. Because you will break up. It's going to happen. She's going to job corps. She can't smoke pot to go. Unless you give it up, you'll just make it too hard for her. But I don't want you to quit for her. You didn't quit for me.

I don't know what I'm doing. End of story.

Wtf.

Yesterday morning, my friend, who is also my ex, who is also the boy I loved and continue to love more than any other boy in the world, came over to my house around noon because I owed him a batch of brownies. His ride had to go pick someone else up, so he stayed around and hung out with me. Which doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it used to. He ate brownies, and helped my little brother put away dishes. Then April and Josh showed up, which was awesome, because I love them. They invited me to stay the night, because they alsways do. I decided I would, and then they invited him. And he said yes. I didn't know what to think of it at first, it seemed like a bad idea (logically), but a perfectly fine idea otherwise. He's fun to be around, and Josh and April both like him.



Everything was going smoothly. We were all chillin' and having a great time. Then Josh and April went to bed, we watched the Goonies. I was half asleep on the floor when I heard you say my name. I mumbled some sort of response. You said "Come lay up here with me." and patted the couch.
Whatttt theee fuck. That's all that went through my mind. That's it. I assumed I dreamt that, so I said "What?", and you said it again.

I got up and sat by your feet, I didn't know what else to do. I didn't want to be so close, but I did at the same time. I didn't want you to do anything stupid. I sat there for a long time. You kept saying I could move over and lay down with you, but my heart was racing, and I knew I couldn't do it. I knew I'd do something stupid. Or cry.

But I regret so much not doing it.

The next morning, we wrestled over a bat. A little tiny bat, that is used to hit the ferrets around. For three hours. We rolled all over each other. Everybit of it was sexual, I know you felt it too. You told me after.

Then we had to leave.

"Hey, where are we dropping you off at?"

"Uh, can you take me to Melissa's?"

Fuck. That.

I fucking hate that.

When you talk to a guy, you're getting along, everything's goin' good, they wanna hang out, then outta the blue they stop talking to you. You go to their profile to check out why.

CLICK! They have a girlfriend now. Well duhhh. Thank you. That's lovely. Good luck.

I'm sick as fuck, and I have a cigarette, and I really want it, but I'm scared it'll make my cough worse. FUCK. I haven't smoked all day. And I'm in a shitty mood.

And I'm terrrified of this coming week. She's gonna pop soon, and I'm scared. It's not even happening to me, but I'm horrified that something's going to happen, something's going to go wrong.

The writer must write what he has to say, not speak it. -Ernest Hemingway

Ahh.

All these boys on youtube, singin' me their cover songs, with their pretty eyes and beautiful voices.

There aren't any clever titles coming to me.

Another dream last night. What is that? Three, four nights in a row-not counting the past three months full of them. Everyone was at the river, lying on the rocks. He was eating a cookie, when there was one bite of it left, he handed to me. I took it because I didn't know what else to do.

What the hell?

I need to start doing cardio on my own time. Maybe I'll try to run a lap around the block tonight.

I don't want school to start. At all. And I'm going to have to ride the bus. Mornings and after. Which means no relaxing in the morning, or afternoons, always in a rush. But then I would only have to deal with them during lunch. That might be better. But still not preferred.

I'm not inspired lately. I want to paint something, but I have no idea. I try to write, but I feel like I'm pulling everything out of my ass. I started a project I was supposed to do for my friend's band months ago, but who knows if they're even still together. I want to go back to the ditch we found. The sky was amazing. So clear. When I looked at the sky last night I felt cheated. I had always thought I had such a great view from my little sidewalk, but then I learned I was wrong and now am no longer content. Hmph.

I want to run away somewhere, just for a week, before school starts. I want to go to the woods and just run. Hearing only rustling in the grasses, and skittering in the tree tops. Running and running. Feeling the mossy bark scrape softly across your arms as you brush by the trees. Your feet crunching in the dry, fallen leaves and twigs. Until you find yourself completely lost, looking up in search of the night sky only to find a canopy of branches. Your heart hammering with adrenaline, but you don't care. You're glad you're all alone, no where to be found. Somewhere you can just sit, and think, and only be interrupted by things that can't talk, can't fill your head with stupid ideas. Somewhere peaceful. Where you can ponder all the questions you've ever had, where you can decide whether or not this perfection could be made by accident, or by some unknown Creator. Where you can decide for yourself who you are.

Sometimes I feel like a spy.

At the can and bottle return at Fred Meyers, there was a little old Mexican man with a cart full of plastic ArrowHead watter bottles, and Monster energy drinks. Rythmically he put each one into the bottle return, carefully reaching his hand into the cart because there was a small swarm of bees darting in and out of the sugary cans.


A girl walked up with brown paper bags that said "RAM" on the side in red ink. She was pale, with dark hair, and maybe 20 years old. She had an Ugly Betty feel about her. Her bright colored layers, and knock-off brand Uggs that were the same color as her pants, made you want to help her. Her hair was long, to the middle of her back. She looked like she could be beautiful, but she wasn't brave enough to try.


She stood by the return with her bags, and looked around. Her mouth moved as she said something to the Old Man, and he replyed to her with few words and a shrug. She walked up to the call button, and hesitated before pressing it. The red light came on and she stepped back. One of her bags slipped, and the bottles spilled out onto the ground. She hurried to pick them all up, and turned slightly pink.


A clean shaven, yet dirty looking man on a mountain bike road up next to her. They spoke for a moment, then, for a reason I have no idea of, she gave him all but one of her bags. They exchanged a few more words, then smiles, and the girl walked off towards the bus stop, with a single bag of empty plastic water bottles. The Biker Man then spoke to the Old Man, and seemingly convinced him to hand over the rest of his bottles and cans. The Old Man shrugged again, printed of his ticket and walked in side to get his money. The Biker Man seemed rather smug to me.


He then pressed the call button a few more times. After two minutes, a blond Surfer Boy worker walked by. Biker Man spoke to him, but Surfer Boy shook his head and walked off. Then another worker came out, but he appeared to be either off work, or on a break as he headed to his car. Biker Man kinda shook his head. Old Man then walked out of the store, holding his walet and a pack of cigarettes, looks like he had enough bottles. Shortly thenafter, a worker finally came to help poor Biker Man.

Mom also came back to the car, and we went home.

I still want to know why the girl gave him all of her bags but one, and left.

Again.

Another stupid dream. Why does he always have to be in them? I hate so much to wake up and realize he really didn't just smile at me. To realize that we weren't that close, and he's not that sober. Almost every single night this summer, he's somehow been twisted into my dreams, but we're always with a group of people. And I can never get through the crowd to him. He sees me, because he smiles, or waves, or laughs, or winks, or tosses something at me. But I can never get close to him. Not close enough to touch him, or talk to him. Why?

Question?

What does it mean, when someone you've been close to for over a year, in no sexual way at all, gets drunk with you, then goes on an adventure with you? An adventure involving exploring the cemetary at 11 pm, then getting caught by some old lady who thought we were trouble, and telling her we were just paying our respects, and having her apologize, then jumping the fence. Then finding a trail that led down to a ditch, with nothing exciting except the cattails that reached over my head, and the moist grasses that whipped at my legs as I walked through them, as well as the croaking frogs and singing crickets. Then stumbling our way back up the hill, which seemed much steeper than it did on the way down. Then taking another drink, smoking a cigarette. Then walking through an apartment complex only to find an exciting little play structure. Then, me being who I am, excitedly running to the top of it, and going down the biggest slide, almost falling sideways as I land. Then rushing to the swings together, looking up the whole time because the sky is amazing and all the stars are out. Then running back to the slide, then realizing my phone is missing. Then searching everywhere we can and not finding it. Then him inviting me to play tic tac toe on the highest part of the play structure. The tic tac toe board is actually focused more on math, so I choose to be 2's, and he chooses 3's, only to find quickly after that the middle square does not have the option of being a 3. Then laughing and calling it stupid. Then running back down the stairs. Then finding those things, almost like two cans with the string in them, one on each side of the playground, and telling him to go put his ear by the other one, then laughing (because you feel so ridiculously childish and happy for no reason at all, it's like the youth is seeping from your pores) and saying hello through it, with him then responding "Sierra's a little teeeease", in a sing-song voice. Then me immediately standing up and wondering what on earth I did to have him say that.

Oh dear.

I found my phone though, I asked a stranger to call it. It glowed under the swing.

I had planned to write a really long great blog about Warped Tour today,

But then I decided to get on his Myspace, and felt sorry for him because his status is "RIP Dad".

Then I felt less bad for him, because he had a message from baby momma saying he needed to see his kid.


Blahhhhh!

Last summer.

I miss the adrenaline, the fear, the adventure, the excitment. I miss running through the streets at night as fast as we could for no reason at all. Or the time we dressed up like joggers, so we wouldn't look suspicious. I miss the midnight walks to 7-11 with pocketfuls of change for cigarettes. I miss roaming the apartment complex meeting new kids, and helping the drunk ones up the stairs. I miss lying in bed pulling my hair out because I couldn't find anyone with a bowl. I miss filling up the neighbors fountain with shampoo, and taking a ceramic bunny from one yard, and putting it across the street in someone else's yard. I miss the endless Slurpees, and knowing the 7-11 workers and talking to them every time we went in. I miss the rush of getting in someone's car that we had never met, onlyheard of, and going all over town with them. I miss crawling out of window and landing 8 feet below on the ground. I miss making sure that I was never out past five in the morning. I miss going to Freddy's everyday for lunch, and hiding our bikes in the bushes to make sure no one would steal them while we ate lunchables. I miss my heart stopping whenever a cop drove by. I miss throwing soda out over the bluff by night, and climbing up to the cave by day. I miss your mom, and how nice she always was to me, even though I never knew her very well. I miss breaking into the pool with the apartment kids. I miss being out every single night of summer, and never getting caught. I miss the days before you had a car, back when we weren't confined to a mini van, with stupid music blasting so loud you can't hear the person sitting next to you. I miss shaking in fear over the thought of all the trouble we could get into. I miss my heart racing. I miss never being bored.

I live too much in the past.

Do you want to end up like your father?

I have a number in my phone from a guy I met at the river on Friday. Problem is I don't know if he gave it to me for me, or for Josh. Actually I don't even know how I got it. Nor do I remember whether or not he was attractive. Oh well. I didn't puke and that's all that matters. Even though everyone else did. I'm so proud.

I also ate shit a few times. Once in dirt and once in gravel. It turns out I lack enough commen sense to realize that it's probably not a good idea to take a piggy back ride from someone as intoxicated as you are.

I like drinking too much.

I'm braver when I drink. And I talk to people I would normally avoid or ignore, but I'm not mean. I'm really nice. So it's not that bad.

No idea.

I always say I like the weather when it's like this, and I do. The cool fresh air, the shiny paleness of the world, the break from stiffling heat. I love it. But at the same time, it is a total good mood killer. It makes you feel dull, and numb. Which isn't always bad. But after a long period of time it can result in an unfortunate depression.

Something Hemholtz said, in Brave New World, I can't find the exact quote, but basically he said that he wanted to go somewhere cold, somewhere miserable, if he went somewhere warm and bright, he would never be able to write about the way he truely felt.

Testing, testing, 1 2 3...i just want to see if this works coming from my phone :)

I admit it.

When I got drunk at the river I liked that those guys, no matter how nasty, referred to me as "beautiful", and held my hand so I wouldn't fall in the water. I liked that they talked to me.

I liked even more that whenever they did talk to me he would come over and stand next to me. Even if it was just so he wouldn't have to explain something terrible to my mother.

It did bother me that he was all over a nasty little girl six hours after I'd fucked him.

I didn't expect the sex to be good, but I knew someone would call me out on it, and then I could take everything out on them.

I don't really even like sex that much. Except for with that one guy. Who I'm supposed to hate.

I don't hate him at all, not even a little bit. I just pretend to.

I keep having nightmares about going back to school. I don't know if I dread it so much because I'll have to see them together, or if it feels like I'll be stuck there forever. Probably both.

It makes me feel less guilty for cheating on him when I take care of him when he gets too drunk. I hope he can tell I do it because I love him.

I would have never told anybody what he was doing if I would have known she wouldn't believe it.

I feel so much sexier now that I'm tan.

I miss cutting. But I'm so close to a year.

I think there's a part of me that wants to be alone forever. Otherwise I would try to make things work.

I was recently accused of lying to everyone I care about, and fucking all the ones who don't give a shit about me, and I guess it's true. But the lying isn't intentional.

Quick question.

When did "What are you doing after the river Friday night?" go from meaning "Let's go to a movie, watch the sunset, go to the park, dance in the rain, pick blackberries, etc." to meaning "We should fuck."


I should have lived 50 years ago.

P.S.

Before I forget:

He was at the river again a couple days ago. At my spot. And he brought a girl, but not just any girl. The 15 year old he was fucking around with while we were dating. They're dating now. He brought his girlfriend, who he was fucking while I was dating him, to MY spot at the river. The spot that I showed everyone how to get to. Idiot. It's not like you're 19.

And one more thing, I have fabulous friends. Because a couple months ago, when I was asking everyone if he was fucking her, so I could know and ditch him, everyone said no. They just now told me he was. Thank you.

I'm feeling sticky.

It has been 85 degrees in my house since I woke up 4 hours ago. What is that all about.

When I went outside at 1 this morning it was still warm enough to break a sweat.

It's supposed to reach 105 today. In Oregon. Record breaking heat, which don't go well with record breaking cramps. I'm also supposed to go to the gym at three. At least it's air conditioned. And hopefully, crossing my fingers, I can go to the river after. But it's possible that won't happen. It's way too hot to stay in my house, and way too hot to be outside if you're not near water.

And my poor kitty wants out, but it's much too hot outside for her today.

My oh my.

I am sore. This gym thing is killing me, even though I've only gone twice. But the leg work out today killed.


I did not expect him to be at the river today. Awkward. I didn't find out he would be until we were almost there. And it's not like I could have them turn the car around. Oh well.

Interesting.

It is a combination of my most commonly used words in this blog.


http://www.wordle.net/

I forgot.

I forgot to mention the homeless lady I met at the river. She was probably fifty or so, mildly drunk, and would not stop talking to me. Her name was Running Bear, and she had 2 little sisters, 1 big sister, and 5 older brothers. She also used to be a stripper and would bring in $400 a night, not counting what her boss paid her. She also had nudist friend who once threw a party, and there was a couple there crying because they didn't want to take off their clothes, but they didn't get beer unless they were naked, and she didn't understand what the fuck they were scared of.

"We all come in differen' shapes and sizes and colors, some bushy some not ahahaha!"

She also had a funny poem she told me, I wish I could remember it. It was about a farmer who once had the devil knock on his door. The devil told the farmer he had to take one member of his family. The farmer offered his wife because he needed his son to work on the farm. The devil put the lady in the bag and carried her to the gates of hell. When they got here he complained about how heavy she was and she kicked him in the balls. Nine little devils came out and asked the big devil to take her back before she killed them all. He then carried her back in the sack to the farmer and told him that women were so terrible they could go to hell and back again.

Or something.

So there was this river.

The boys and I went to the river yesterday. It was such a fantastic, and somewhat creepy day, that I want to type it up.



I received a phone call that woke me up at approximately 9:04 am yesterday morning, to inform me that the boys would be picking me up in 45 minutes. After groaning and dragging myself out of bed, I took a quick shower, attempted to tame my hair (and failed), put on some makeup (stupid right, I'm going to the river), put on my swimsuit and some clothes over it because it suprisingly and disappointingly cold out yesterday morning, packed up some giant beach towels, ate breakfast, unloaded and loaded the dishwasher, and they still weren't there to pick me up. How frustrating right? It had been almost an hour, being late is one of my biggest pet peeves. I would rather be way too early then late anyday. But anyways.



They finally got to my place to pick me up a little after 10, and all four of them came running in the house to pee, find some ice, find a cooler, find a towel, etc. I told one of them where the cooler was and before he went to grab it he told me to go look in the back of my friends van. I did. Let's just say there were around 80 soda's, 6 of the Starbucks frappachinos that come in the bottles, 2 GIANT sandwiches (which tasted absolutely delicious), $40 worth of chicken strips, a case of Amps, a case of Rockstars, a thing of strawberries, a thing of blueberries, some grapes, some parfait shit, like 6 bags of chips, and more, but I forget what. It basically sucked carrying all of that. Especially because to get to the best spot at the river you have to walk through the woods and over large fallen trees. If you aren't carrying anything, the walk takes about 5-7 minutes. If you are, it takes more like ten, which doesn't seem bad, but it's unpleasant.

When we got to our spot it was empty, which was expected considering it wasn't even 11. To give you a little backround, you come out of the trees and there's this rocky little beach . When the tide comes in the water comes up and splits the beach parallel to the water, creating a little islandish area. On the other side of the river is a rope swing that goes across the water, but I'm too bad a swimmer, too much a smoker, and too little in size to fight the current, so I haven't been on it. It's basically just a little patch of perfection. Everyone who comes there cleans up after themselves, and you get the occasional homeless person who asks for your cans, but I'm not that far yet.

We got there, layed out the towels, made sure we had everything and started picking up any garbage that had been left by previous chillers and put it in the handy little "Stash the Trash" bags that were up by the path. The clouds unfortunately had not yet parted so it was still a little chilly, but warm enough at the same time. I didn't go into the water too far at first because it was too early. But I did discover a nasty little critter by my foot in the shallow water. Instinct was to run and scream like a little girl, but I fought that off and had one of the boys come catch it. It was a crawdad apparently, and I guess if you twist part of it's tail and pull you take the shitter out and can then eat them, supposedly. Everyone was too chicken too though. Not chicken enough however, to put it up next to a nipple to see what it would do. Unfortunately the boy who chose to do so ended up screaming, and when he tried to pull it off, the little guy brought up his other claw and hung on for dear life, literally, when it finally let go it was brutally murdered by a thrown rock. We all about died laughing.

After that we caught six or seven more ( I caught one all by myself!) and roasted them over a campfire, which aren't actually aloud at this river, but the cops (which I later learned are code-named "sharks" when you're at the river) never come down that far. It war pretty nasty, they sizzled quite a bit.

Once it started to get nice and toasty around 1, two of the boys left to get more ice, and me and four of the others stayed (two more of our friends had showed up). We were all relaxing on the towels under the sun when I felt something drip on my stomach. My first thought was someone decided to spit on me, but not quite. I looked up and there was a fist, squeezing the juices out of a strawberry onto my stomach. The others quickly caught on and began squishing strawberries, blueberries, and grapes in my hair and on my tummy. I have never been so sticky in my entire life. And I was mildly pissed. When I stood up I got some Rockstar thrown at me. I slowly walked into the river because it still felt cold, but I should have walked faster because someone came up behind me with a thing of ranch and empited it onto my head. Ranch is not my favorite thing to smell like, just so you know. I cleaned myself up then began plotting my revenge.

After I dried out I got a phone call from one of the boys who had left telling me that he bought a cake beacuse it had been one of their birthdays the day before. I was told to keep this a secret, and I did.

A young couple showed up at our spot a little before the boys got back with the cake. they were nice though, because that's just how it is there. Off in the woods we heard them coming back, and we could also hear them singing "Happy Birthday". We all joined in and they walked up carrying this cute little cherry cheesecake that looked rather tasty. The birthday boy decided he wanted to shove it in his face, but first said, "Hey Sierra, stand next to me while I do it." I was only a couple steps from him, but unfortunately my logic didn't click until I was right next to him. I saw the cake going straight for my face. I ducked and somehow managed to avoid it the first time, but it came back up and got me. The entire cake was on my face. As I was standing there with my mouth open in shock and horror, and my nostirls full of frosting, they came up with forks and each took a piece. Before washing my face I went and rubbed it on the birthday boy's stomach, but he's also my boyfriend so it's ok. He then claimed he felt bad, so he opened a Coke and poored it on his head. So we both got to go jump in the water, but it was fine because it finally felt good.

We found two tires in the water, and managed to create somthing really cool. But I can't give it justice in description so I'll have to try to see if anyone took a picture later.

Around 2 or 3 (I have no idea) the regulars showed up. By that I mean, the group of 3 guys who I have seen every single time I've been to that spot. The two older ones are probably in their 40's, and the other is maybe 21. They come down and drink away the afternoon basically every day. One of the older guys' names is Jeff. He introduces himself to me everytime I see him, but then again, the two times I've met him before, I didn't get there until he had drank his share. He introduced himself to me twice yesterday, because apparently he had forgotten my name. He's a nice enough guy. Although he hugged me three or so times. Once was because everyone in our group was out of cigarettes, and he offered a trade, the other time was just because he wanted one, and the last he was very drunk and wanted one. He then proceeded to tell me that I was a beautiful girl with a beautiful spirit and that whoever raised me did a damn good job and he loves them. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

April and Josh showed up randomely a little after the regulars, and Jeff wanted to feel her belly, and told her she was so amazing and so priveleged because she had the ability to carry life. April sat there trying to smile at him, but I could tell she was mildly terrified. She then went out into the water with me, up to our waists and stood there and talked a bit. She pointed out that the youngest of the regulars had been checking me out since she got there. I had noticed he had been since he arrived as well. I normally would have enjoyed the attention, in all honesty, but considering for once I'm, actually dating someone, and he was actually there with me it made me just a tad uncomfortable. Then while we were still in the water, I saw him look over at me out of the corner of my eye, and lift his beer up in my direction. "I like that pretty girl over there, I think I'm gonna get her to come home with me tonight." My eyes locked with April's and I gave her a look that only she would understand, because she replied to it saying, "Yeah, I heard that." Boyfriend then waded out into the water next to us and I made him kiss me for a second, he looked confused so I whispered to him what had just happened. He got a look that I had never seen on him before, and it made me smile just a little.

A little later, after we had gotten out of the water I decided to go try to catch some more little crawdads so I walked over away from everyone to where we found them earlier. I went about knee-deep into the water and bent over to flip over a rock. I heard someone behind me yell, "Hey!" but I didn't recognize the voice so I looked back, it was the one who "was gonna take me home". He waved and I waved back because it seemed like it would be ok to do. Then the other regular, the one who's name I never caught, shouted "Hey darlin' don't bend over like that." I replied with "Sorry" because that's all I could think of. His response was, "Oh no, it's allright, you're just gonna give me a hard on is all."

Not even shitting you. Hello , I'm 17. I'm also in a relationship. And you are what? 45?

Ok, so I didn't say that, but I would have if I had nerve. After that little conversation I decided it was not my best plan to continue bending over, and crawdad's were not worth it. I walked back and one of the boys from my group yelled something to me. I couldn't hear him so I said "What?" The youngest regular was like, "He said you look good." And he had this stupid grin on his face. Really? Did he really think I'd be attracted to a dopey lookin' guy who sits at the river all day and drinks. Yeah, no. Sorry.

After that we decided it was about time to leave, this decision was established by the thunder and lightening that arrived.

And that was my fantastic river day with some mild creepiness.

Regretful truths.

If something happens to her, I don't know what I'll do. If she makes one wrong move, she could be gone. I'm really not sure I'd be able to live with that. I shouldn't have made him tell her the truth. Yes, no shit he shouldn't have done that. You don't kiss someone, when you're engaged, and when you know for a fucking fact that they don't want you to, to "prove a point". No, it doesn't work that way. But if I wouldn't have made him tell, she'd be fine. She'd be perfectly happy and content. Ignorance is bliss, though it's not ignorance she had, it was trust. She trusted him. She knew full and well what he was capeable of, but she trusted that he truely had grown up, truely changed. Even I believed it. I of all fucking people should know better than to believe a single word that rolls off his tongue. But I did, because that's what I do. Because I'm stupid and I believe that he "just wants to talk". He wants to help me. Bull. He has never helped me. Sitting there and spitting out all these things he thinks he knows about me.

"Remember, Sierra. Remember that night you cut yourself so bad? There were 157 on that arm and 198 on this arm."

Trying to prove to me you remembers everything.

Fuck you. I only had 169 the first night. One for every single day of Daniel's life I wasted. You were wrong. Yeah, there were more the night after, but I stopped counting. So don't pretend you know who I am. I am not the same stupid little girl who will still fall for you fake sincerity. You never cared. Ever. I have changed, unlike you. I have grown up, unlike you. So what if I have sex? So what if I smoke or drink or do anything at all? Don't tell me you don't do it. And either way, that is my choice. It's not like I'm being forced, every single thing I have done wrong, has been because I chose to do it. I don't need to change my friends. They do not define who I am. And neither do you. I don't want your help. And for the record, the reason I don't want your help is not because "I'm scared we're going to fall back in love with each other". Yeah right.

You can take your ability to cry on cue, and your hypocracy, and you can shove it.

If she's not ok...Ohhhhhh.

Culinary school.

That seems like it would be a logical choice, for someone who has no idea what to do with her life, and enjoys cooking. I hope. I'm tired of people asking what I want to do with my life.


Questiong of the day: How dangerous is it to date one of your best friends?
Because I'm doing that. Have been doing that. For the past nine days. And I'm worried, but at the same time extremely happy. I suppose the sweet ones aren't as terrible as I thought...

And there you have it.

I fought it for a long time now
While drowning in a river of denial
I washed up, fixed up, picked up
All my broken things
'Cause you left me
Police scene, chalk line
Tequila shots
In the dark scene of the crime
Suburban living with a feeling
That I'm giving up
Everything for you
(For you)
Oh, oh, oh
How was I supposed to know
That you were oh, oh, over me?
I think that I should go
(Go! )
Something's telling me to leave
But I won't
'Cause I'm damned if I do ya
Damned if I don't
It took a lot to take you home
One stupid call
And I end up alone
You made up, dressed up, messed up
Plans I set in stone
But you made me do it
And I don't like dancing in the alley
With a street rat night life
Can't keep living with a feeling
That I'm giving up
Everything for you
(For you)
Oh, oh, oh
How was I supposed to know
That you were oh, oh, over me?
I think that I should go
(Go! )
Something's telling me to leave
But I won't
'Cause I'm damned if I do ya
Damned if I don't
Make a fool of myself
When you hang around
When you're gone
I'm a match that's burning out
Could've been, should've done
What I said I was going to
(Said that I would do)
But I never promised you
(But I never promised you)
Promised you, promised you
Oh, oh, oh
How was I supposed to know
That you were oh, oh, over me?
I think that I should go
(Go! )
It never took a fool
To see the things that I won't
'Cause I'm damned if I do ya
Damned if I do ya
Oh, oh, oh
('Cause you left me)
How was I supposed to know
(Police scene, chalk line)
That you were oh, oh, over me?
(Tequila shots)
I think that I should go
(In the dark scene of the crime)
Something's telling me to leave
But I won't
'Cause I'm damned if I do ya
Damned if I
Damned if I do ya
Damned if I don't



And that would be "Damned if I do ya (Damned if I don't)" by All Time Low.

Yes, I did just post a blog moments ago.

I did not, however, take it at all into the direction I had hoped it would go. Which could prove a point, but maybe not.

Oddly enough I feel mildly better at the moment. I found myself caught up in other blogs and paintings I wish I had the talent to create. I have so many that are half finished. And my mood swings are a tad ridiculous.

Now, where was I going.

I'm not sure, but it as absolutely stifling in here. It has to be at least 80 degrees. And It's eleven o'clock. That doesn't work for me. This is Oregon.

I want to write a book. An autobiography. I sort of have that started in my other blog, but I'm honestly terrified to write it. "Chapter 1" was easy pie. Easy easy easy pie. But there are much harder things to write about. To remember and actually put into words. I've told the story a million times, but in a robotic way. An emotionless way. I've read the script, but put no emotion into it. I've almost never gone into detail. And if you want a book to be worth reading, detail is an absolute must. A story without detail is like a birthday cake without candles (Speaking of, I somehow managed to have my birthday this year without blowing out a single candle? How could such a horrid thing happen?).

This book will need a title. But what.

Previously thought of options (and their problems):
+Fake it 'Till You Make it. --->Works perfectly in most aspects, but no originality whatsoever.
+Because, etc. --->I don't know where this came from, but it works. And I kind of like it, but is it

Ok, so I forgot the rest. But basically if I had to choose between those two it would be the second. Even though it isn't very colorful, vibrant. But I guess my story isn't exactly a pocketful of rainbows.

It's so hard.

That's what she said, but seriously.

It is hard. It's hard to listen to all of everyones accomplishments today. It's one of those days. The day were you feel forgotten. The day were your originial plans get canceled, then someone else makes plans with you, then cancels, then you cancel on someone else because you end up in such a shitty mood that you don't even want to leave your room, but you want more than anything for someone to come pick you up and ask you how you are. It isn't that no one asks, it's that the people you want to ask, the people you want to care, don't. So then, you're miserable. Because they are the only thing running through your mind. Over and over again you replay the good nights. The time she figured out you actually read. The time you both agreed that Edward never should have left Bella, and she should have stuck with Jake. The night you called her Bella. The night you told her about your bad dreams, and your good dreams. The times you held her hand, the days you pulled her closer, when you kissed her-in public. Yeah, those were the days that she wants to forget, but would hate if she did.

What kind of a 17 year old girl gets mixed up with a 19 year old who has a baby. Really.

I hate self control. I want to give up again. But seriously. Is it worth the hospital again? Am I willing to start over at zero after not doing it for eight months? I hate therapy. I don't want to go back. One time is never just one time. Never. You'd think it would get easier, but it doesn't. Not even close.

I regret you.

But that's a lie. No matter how much I know I should regret ever speaking to you in the first place, I don't. Because I'm that kind of a person. Two days ago you told me I ruined your life. You told me never to talk to you again. You told me I knew nothing about you, and that I'm just a scared little girl who can't wrap her head around anything. You told me you were going to have my ass beat.

You told me things that made me hate you, for a day at least. I allready want to tell you I'm sorry. I want to apologize for everything I said, and for not being good enough. But I can't. Because if anyone found out I did they'd bitch at me. But they don't get it. They don't get what kind of a person I am. They don't realize how much it takes for me to hate someone. How far I have to be pushed for me to realize how terrible they are. I don't work like everyone else. I can name people similar to me, but no one like me. I'm like a fucking dog. But then again, even dogs bite back.

I just want you to get me.

I don't know what I'm trying to prove.

I really really don't. Yes, it is mostly the day-after-break-up-miserablness that's the cause of this I'm sure, but still. I don't know what I'm doing, or why I'm doing it.

Ok, I'm doing nothing, that's what I'm doing. I spent an hour and a half scraping paint off the deck and my hand ached for another hour after from holding the scraper thing so tight. I got $20 for it. Which is totally helping me trying to quit smoking. Which it seems like I basically gave up on. I was good yesterday. Until, of coarse, he finally decided to text me back.

This is only like the third time anyone's ever broke up with me. Unless you count the times when I was too chicken to dump them so I just turned into a bitch, but I don't. Why wouldn't he be attracted to be anymore. We may have only dated for like three weeks, but we've been basically together for months. What changed? The more he talked to me the more he felt it slipping. He's hardly talked to me at all in the past week. How does that work. Really. Seriously.

I want ice cream. And brownies. And everything terrible for me. And I want to dye my hair pink because I know he would hate it. I want to go sit in front of his house with some other guy, just to see if he feels anything. I want to change his Myspace password and fuck his whole account up. No, I don't. I don't want him to hate me. I want him to text me. I want him to ask me how I am. Ask me anything. I don't even care. I had to hear is bullshit about feeling guilty last night, if he really feels that terrible about it, he would ask me if I was doing ok. I don't want what he said to be bullshit, but I have no idea what to believe. I'm not texting him first. I don't want to be her. That pathetic obsessive depressed ex-girlfriend. I just really wanted us to work. I wanted him to care.

I don't get it. Before we happened, he said he was gonna be alone forever. We got together finally, and he said he always knew it would happen. Now we're this. We're right back where we started.

I need a cigarette, a friend, and vacation.

It's 3 AM I Must Be Lonely, And Upset.

Well not quite. Almost.
Ok, it's 2 AM.

I would just like to say that I appreciate you lying to me about why you wanted to end it. It really makes me feel great. Sorry you aren't attracted to me anymore. And sorry I don't live close enough. I'm even more sorry that she lives closer, and she's as big of a stoner as you. I'm sorry you got back into it, I tried to help you. And for a little while it was really working. You were a great person. But now you're just a jackass again. I mean seriously.

Yeah I'm upset, yeah you hurt me. Sorry if you didn't want to, but it's pretty much inevitable. You know how much I care about you. You know how much I did for you, but you threw me away again.

I guess it's my fault. Everyone told me how big of a jerk you were, and how you'd just break my heart. I had to try and convince them that you changed, you were a better person. And you were. Before we started dating you were sweeter to me than after. You told me things then you don't tell me now.

Then you gave up on staying clean and outta trouble.

I don't want to miss you all summer. And I don't want to wish you'll ask me for it when you need it. But you probably will, and I'll probably give in.

I'm not a city girl.

So, there was this birthday party, of this two year old who is the daughter of my aunt and uncle's friend, who I had never met. Anyways. It was sort of downtown, and I again realized I do not belong in the city. Yes, the night lights are beautiful, and the people are unique. However, it makes me feel just a teeny bit claustrophobic. I like back yards, and front yards for that matter. I don't like the noise of cars, and I have a fear of crossing streets. I do not at all find the brushing of your shoulder's against a random strangers invigorating or at all pleasant. It's awkaward. Crowds are no where near my favorite place to be, and whether or not I have terrible allergies, I would much rather spend my day at a quiet park with swings and grass, then the waterfront with drug dealers and the smell of dog shit.

It is partially because I'm extremely paranoid. I stand between the skyscrapers, and cross my fingers hoping to God they won't fall and crush us all. I'm scared of strangers, and I don't trust the food. Sure, the people who paint themselves gold and stand impossibly still are interesting, and I like the garbage can drumming, but it's not my kind of lifestyle. I don't necessarily want to live all up in the mountains, and hermit myself away, but I don't want to be squished. I don't want to see needles scattered across the sidewalk. And I'm not into the club scene.

I like horses. I like barns. I like the smell of the outside, and walking barefoot in the mud. I don't like worms or spiders, and I scream when I see bees, but there is nothing better then being outside in a thunder storm, or feeling the heat of summer rain.

A Million Things.

I have a million bazillion things running through my mind right now. I could write about my dissapointing weekend, but I don't want to. Sure, some of my friends did get caught drinking by my mom. Sure, he brought his girlfriend. Sure, we got yelled and cursed at and called ghetto by a bunch of trashy people for drawing a penis in the road with chalk. Sure, I did finally break down and cry in front of them. Sure, I pocket-called my friend while I was sobbing pathetically and freaked her out.

But that's really all there is to it.

Today, today was something. Today was one of those days, where it doesn't feel like you. It feels like you were supposed to be acting as someone else in a movie, or a show, but you forgot to memorize the script, and were too embarrassed to admit it, so you just went out there anyways. I get that feeling alot, but more so today. It had something to do with the color of the sky, and the bilboard I saw.

On the way home from her ultrasound I was in the backseat smoking a cigarette. We were out a stoplight, and I looked out the window. Up against the bright blue sky was a bilboard advertising the lung cancer treatment at some hospital. A Killers song was on in the backround, and the music just fit. This sounds dumb now that I think about it, but I suppose you had to be there.

Other than that, what's new? I'm getting over it. I really need to. I really want to. I'm tired of it, of everything. The pictures she put up of them together didn't seem to bother me today. Maybe because all I could think of was how he ended up with such a nasty girl. Which I feel bad for saying, but it's true. She just doesn't look like she tries. I guess if he's happy with that then whatever. He could just do better for himself.

I figured it out. I don't want him back. I want the old him back. His brain's so fried from drugs, that even after a month sober, he still isn't who he used to be. He isn't what I want anymore. He's so much more defiant. Rebellious. He doesn't seem to respect many people anymore. I miss who he used to be. But that boy is never coming back. So I'm done.

Now I'm stuck chasing after the other boy. The one who tells me he's destined to be alone, but can't seem to keep away from me. He'll cause trouble. But hey, I'm still in high school. I'm aloud to be reckless. I want to find someone to love and be loved by. It's time for an adventure.

My Cat Ate My Homework.

Maybe if I were to rub kitty treats all over my attempted paragraphs and papers, then one of my cat's may attack it, and destroy it. That would be lovely, and keep me from having to lie.

Basically, I'm re-writing scene 10 of the play A Streetcar Named Desire for my American Drama class. We were given many different options of assigments to do, and that is the one I chose.

For those who don't know, it's the seen where Stanley rapes Blanche. And for those of you who don't don't know, Stanley is married to Blanche's younger sister Stella, who is actually giving birth to his child during this scene. And for those of you who don't don't don't know, this play is where the famous "STELLLLAAAAAA!" came from. For those who still need more information, I highly suggest reading the play. Anyways.

I chose this scene to re-write, because it didn't go at all the way I wanted it to. I was shocked when I read it, because I really expected Blanche to be doing the raping (or attempting), not Stanley. I don't like him giving me more reasons not to like him, when I really want to. Blanche is a terrible terrible character. That's not how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be Blanche, dancing around the room trashed. Stanley would then come home from the hospital, SOBER, and Blanche would throw herself at him. Stanley would then call her a whore and such. However, I can't decide if I want the scene to end by her vomitting all over herself, or by her stripping off her clothes, screaming at Stanley when he won't succumb, then proceeding to accuse him of rape, orrrr maybe a doctor will come running through the door to tell Stanley his child has been born. I really can't decide. The second choice will show her true colors better then the others. I feel like I would find some smug satisfaction in picturing all the alcohol and stomach acids pour out of her mouth and all over her dress. Ohh, and perhaps she should lose consiousness and fall right into the vile puddle.

The two more assignments that need done are two similar paragraphs. We just finished reading Brave New World in class. I am supposed to write one paragraph stating the similarities between drug use today and drug use in the book, along with what I believe Huxley was trying to warn us about. The other, is basically the same, only instead of the topic being drugs, I get to choose anything. Some people chose materialism, others chose sex. I don't want to do either of those, because everyone chose them. They are without a doubt, the easiest topics. I tried entertainment, but really didn't get anywhere. The one I was really thinking about, was basically-We will be working for the values of the government, instead of the government working for our values. Which I like, but I cannot seem to come up with anything about today. I suppose that statement could be the warning. Huxley could have believed that to be truth. It still isn't working though.

I don't want to go to school tomorrow. I'm scared I'll throw up tonight anyways because apparently my lab partner puked after school today. I have an irrational fear of throwing up. Therefore, when anyone near or around me even complains about their stomach not feeling good, I instantly feel nauseaus. I also don't eat if they actually puke. I don't go to restaurants either, because I could get food poisening. We once ordered chinese from a take out restaurant. There were like ten of us. I didn't see it, but I heard my cousin say, "Grosssss, he just puked."while we were all eating. I walked as calmly as possible to the bathroom. I still had food in my mouth, but I spit it out. I remembered my aunt once telling me she got food poisening from this particular take out place. My hands were shaking, I broke out in a cold sweat, and spent ten minutes in the bathroom trying not to throw up. All I could envision was ten people with food poisening from that damned restaurant, puking all over each other. When I realized that no one had really made a fuss over the barf, from what I could here, I dared to leave the bathroom and risk vomitting on the floor in front of everybody.

It turns out he gagged on an orange skin. No one had food poisening.

I need some culture.

I would like to go to Europe today. Or perhaps Africa. I feel like indulging in the unfamiliar. I'm getting rather tired of the fact that the weather is muggy. It's Oregon. Since when is "humidity" part of the forecast? It shouldn't be. It doesn't help that my hair is very frizzy today, and I have really made no attempt to make myself look good. Not that I need too because I'm home alone for the time being. Had I made an effort to look especially delicious, I would have been annoyed at the wasted good-looking-ness.
Where did delicious come from?

I threw S. a suprise birthday party last night. Unfortunately he somehow knew about it. While we were all hiding behind the couch waiting for him to come through the front door, someone came in the house through a window and was hiding. After we had spent a good five minutes trying to figure out if it was S. or a psychotic killer, I took the sidedoor, went around the house, climbed through the window, and at last, found him hiding in the shower. So, obviously, I turned on the faucet. Sadly the shower part wasn't on, but just the bath part, so only his shoes got wet. After that we had strawberry short cake, and I recived a nice shot on the ass from the realistic looking air soft gun. I have a nice welt.

A. is coming over tonight to "babysit" me. It's not exactly babysitting, but more my mother not wanting me home alone all night. I'm not sure if she's more concerned about someone breaking in, or me having a party. Probably the latter.

I feel like a real blogger today for some reason. But now I'm going outside to smoke my racist cigarettes. So far I have been told two things that are making Marbs look more and more racist. But I haven't been able to get my usual Camel Wides lately because I can no longer be picky about what I smoke considering the continuously raising tax. Before we know it you'll have to pay twenty dollars for a pack.

My birthday's in seventeen days. I'm not as excited as I feel like I should be. Oh well.

Weekend Warriors

Well, the song was true. Our song was true. "This can't last forever". For some reason I didn't believe it, or realize it. I thought our weekend adventures would always be the same. Oh, how wrong I was. Three weeks in a row, I've been by myself on a Friday night. Simply because I am not willing to forgive your best friend for grabbing his girlfriend by the hair and spitting in her face. I said he wasn't going to be at my house anymore. Now, I'm alone. Because everyone else seems to accept his apology and be over it. I'm not. He's eighteen years old. He needs to learn to grow up, and think about what he says and does before he acts. You're my best friend. You have been for a year now. But lately everything's changing. It's not just what he did. It's that girl you say you're in love with. I don't hate her. I've never even met her. However, the stories I've heard don't encourage me to be fond of her. You speak of her as if she's an angel directly sent from heaven. She isn't, but she sure thinks she is.
I asked you if we would ever all hang out together, the whole group, and her. I also asked whether or not you would act differently.
"Probably, but I'd just be more mature."
I asked who you really were.
"I like who I am when I'm with her."
If the real you is who you are when you're with her, then you've been lying to all your bestfriends.
You said she "keeps you in check". She doesn't like you hanging out with other girls. She won't date you until you're both graduated. What's gonna happen when you graduate? She's going to college. What are you doing?

"My grandparents, and everyone at school like her. You're the only one who has a problem. Figures."
"I'm sorry if you think I'm drifting. But I'm not going to pass up a great relationship because my friends want to go egg houses and smoke pot."

Before you and her were all lovey-dovey, you were doing both of those things.
Where was she when you told me you couldn't even listen to a song without crying because it made you think of her.
Where was she at your mom's funeral. Everyone who cared about you was there.
She made you a card, how sweet.
All your best friends tried to be there for you at the funeral. But you didn't sit with us, or your brothers or your sisters. You distanced yourself from everyone else.
You need to cope. And I want to help you, but you won't let anyone.
I love you. But everything's going down hill.

It's still not clicking.

Nope, I still can't believe it. My best friend who is barely 19 years of age, is five and a half months along. I'm not sure why it won't go through my head. Most likely because she's also my most immature friend, and least responsible, but I still love her to death. It's just extremely hard for me to picture her as a mother. Cooing and cuddling a little baby boy.
Perhaps I'm bitter, or jealous. Yes, bitterly jealous. Most people see her as having nothing right now. I, however, see her as having everything in the world. She has a boyfriend who puts up with her, and at times can be rather sweet, and a tiny little boy in her big belly. Pregnancy is without a doubt one of my biggest fears, if not the biggest. The thought have vomitting every day, and pushing a large object out of your jayjay does not at all sound appealing to me. Neither does being up every two hours of the night after he's born, or changing diapers and wiping spit up off your shirt all day. The thought of being completely and utterly responsible for a life other than your own is the most horrifying thought.
But then the jealousy hits. At the first ultrasound, it was not the tiny little peanut on the screen that brought me to tears, it was the look on her face. I had never seen her look happier in all my years of knowing her. Her smile lit up the dim room, and you could feel her excitement in the air. She has never been truely happy in her entire life, and we both used to dream of our futures. She got hers, and I'm still waiting. Of coarse, I am a little over two years younger then her, and I don't want to have a baby in me. But the thought of having something that's all my own, that will love me no matter what (until the teenage years of coarse) is the most appealing idea. To have something to care for.
But I will have plenty of caring to do come September. Little Aiden is going to tire his mommy and daddy out. She asked me to be his God-mother, and that is all I could ask for. The advantage to not being a parent, is I get to spoil him all I want, and buy him the loud squwaking toys. THEN I send him home to the parents, who get to thouroughly enjoy all the beeps and buzzers. I fully intend on being the best God-mother ever to that little baby, and I can't wait.

The Outside Looking In.

Have you ever been in one of those rooms, the rooms they interview you in, the rooms that have that mirror on the wall, the mirror that is actually a one-way-window. I have. I usually feel like I'm in the room, being interviewed, but lately, I'm on the other side. I'm watching the people come through, and hearing what they have to say, but they can't hear me or see me. I'm invisable to them. They don't know who I am, what I look like, or whether or not I like long walks on the beach. They don't care that I'm listening, but they don't care enough to listen. The world has gone deaf and blind to me. I feel very small. Too small to be of an importance to anyone for anything more than a child's toy. That's what I am, a doll. A little useless doll. You can make me do whatever you want me to do, but I won't be your favorite forever. If you break me, there's super glue, although I won't look as appealing after.

What if,

What if all phones had invisable, indestructable, untouchable tiny little wires attatching each one to the other? Itty bitty little wires, that stretched out of your phone into everyone else's. From the sky, if they were visable, it would be a spider-web of connectivity. Everyone would have everyone, and no one would be alone. Unless of coarse, you traveled under a bridge or between some mountains. During those times, your connection momentarily snaps, but that wire comes back together again once your clear of anything for it to snag on.