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.