Living life in an awful haze,
I thought my cups were full.
As the bandages fell from my, once blinded, eyes
I realize my pockets had been empty for days.
Left insecure ---
I had yet to completely wake up.
You stole from me all that I had;
I allowed you to.
My dreams were shredded into chaos.
Importance shifted to lesser ideals.
I danced to a tune you sang,
and destroyed everything I came across.
Left in shambles ---
I had yet to completely wake up.
From a coma-like trance I wake.
Weak, like a newborn, I could not rise.
As my thoughts became in sync,
and my focus filtered out your meddling
I learned to stand by myself.
One step left: following this path I created,
without you.
Wednesday, July 9
Tuesday, July 8
Diabetes
Blurry vision.
Stomach aches.
Bruises taking abnormally long to heal.
Late periods.
Headaches.
Web MD tells me I am diabetic or have 'pre-diabetes' (which means
I need to stop eating like a lard ass or I will become diabetic.) and
I laugh. Fuck Web MD, right? It is just a web site.
I call my grandmother who has had diabetes, syndrome 'x' (which is
the worst form of diabetes apparently), and I tell her the information
above. She tells me to go to the doctor because diabetes runs in our family
and I am overweight and have a terrible diet.
I had a job at McDonalds. The day before I plan to go to the doctor
I get fired because I was not 'flexible' enough for them. This would,
typically, make me become negative and spiral downwards into a deep
dark sulky hole.
Instead I decided to get off my lazy ass and start eating right and
working out.
I have always had problems with motivation and keeping up
with eating right. I love fast food. I love soda. Now those foods
and soda make me feel wretched.
Two weeks and I am three pounds lighter.
I do not feel sick. I still have the blurry vision
but no stomach aches (except when I had a small
coke on forth of July) and no headaches.
I am feeling great. My attitude has improved.
I took a situation and make it work for me, not against me.
Wow.
Go me.
Stomach aches.
Bruises taking abnormally long to heal.
Late periods.
Headaches.
Web MD tells me I am diabetic or have 'pre-diabetes' (which means
I need to stop eating like a lard ass or I will become diabetic.) and
I laugh. Fuck Web MD, right? It is just a web site.
I call my grandmother who has had diabetes, syndrome 'x' (which is
the worst form of diabetes apparently), and I tell her the information
above. She tells me to go to the doctor because diabetes runs in our family
and I am overweight and have a terrible diet.
I had a job at McDonalds. The day before I plan to go to the doctor
I get fired because I was not 'flexible' enough for them. This would,
typically, make me become negative and spiral downwards into a deep
dark sulky hole.
Instead I decided to get off my lazy ass and start eating right and
working out.
I have always had problems with motivation and keeping up
with eating right. I love fast food. I love soda. Now those foods
and soda make me feel wretched.
Two weeks and I am three pounds lighter.
I do not feel sick. I still have the blurry vision
but no stomach aches (except when I had a small
coke on forth of July) and no headaches.
I am feeling great. My attitude has improved.
I took a situation and make it work for me, not against me.
Wow.
Go me.
(finewithoutyou)
For each word that is not about you,
there are thirty for only you.
For each minute that I think not of you,
there are twenty spent highlighting your glory.
For each day I claim I am fine without you,
there are ten nights I realize I am not.
I try to forget you.
Stories with wondrous plots of me and you,
I have kept on these faded lines.
Despite all my effort, I cannot get to you.
There remains a roadblock.
What have you been waiting for?
I am not fine without you;
I always forget to forget you.
Wednesday, July 2
FREE
(Bharat picked this one out.
If y'all want to see more stuff it's on my myspace blog.
Page is public and so is my blog.
Myspace.com/holidayfromreal86)
simple, it once was.
clean and clear,
free of confusion.
nailed to this wall of disorder.
i want to be --
f r e e
could you set me free?
you did not before.
the clock is stretched to fit your needs.
let a smile from me become your duty.
the good times have almost killed me.
If y'all want to see more stuff it's on my myspace blog.
Page is public and so is my blog.
Myspace.com/holidayfromreal86)
simple, it once was.
clean and clear,
free of confusion.
nailed to this wall of disorder.
i want to be --
f r e e
could you set me free?
you did not before.
the clock is stretched to fit your needs.
let a smile from me become your duty.
the good times have almost killed me.
Rejuvenate
I was watching American Beauty and Lester Burnham inspired me. Yes, the man who jacks off in the beginning of the movie in his shower inspired me.
Most people spend their whole lives talking about what he/she wants, what he/she is going to be, and what he/she wishes. I am tired of lying scissor-shaped in bed and wishing of a different life. Why can I not have this different life? I have made changes, for another, in my life. These changes took me a very lengthy amount of time to realize but I nonetheless made them.
In the movie, American Beauty, the character Lester tells the audience in the beginning that he is going to die within the coming year. He goes from living in this stale life where he is practically in a coma to being happy, confident, and looking and doing what he wants. If an older man can change his life in less than a year, why can I not? I am only nineteen. I have youth on my side. I am in this isolated, boring place and I have so much time on my side it is not even funny.
The place I want to be, if I make that my final decision, I would not even be leaving to for about, at least, four months. I have no distractions, besides working. I have no one to bring me down, only a person trying to support me. I have, again, time and a lot more to spare. Most of all, I do not have to focus on anyone else but me.
I learned, in the past two years, that I need to focus on myself. I need to make myself happy otherwise my negative edges will only sharpen and begin to deflate myself and others around me. I took some time yesterday to really ponder what would make me sparkle and shine. I have a list; I have goals; I have a plan.
I will be so much better than before. I will do what I told myself in December I would do. I have made it through the storms. I want to feel sunshine again, and I will.
"I'm just an ordinary man with nothing to lose." –Lester Burnham
Sunday, June 22
Playplace
Who thinks I am insane for having a strong fear of the tubes in a McDonald's playplace?
I would like everyone to put their hand's down now.
Thank you.
I am wiping up the drink station for, probably, the twentieth time
in the hour and my one of my asistant managers (No, not Mr. McCrush.
He, sadly, did not work today.) told me to go into the playplace and
ask the parent in the bathing suit where the accident is.
I, naively, assumed that it was a soda spill or a ketchup packet
that was squashed with a tiny shoe and left spilling its guts on the floor.
I was wrong.
The woman looked away from me when she said,
"I am sorry but my child peed somewhere in the
play tubes. I would clean it up but I can not go inside of them."
(The woman is shorter than me and carries less weight on her bones.)
I had to clean up PEE in the tubes.
The tubes I fear.
In case you are wondering, someone else works in the lobby
with me but she is in her sixties.
I could not have asked her to go inside the play tubes.
If she was even twenty years younger I would have asked.
I am that much afraid of the tubes.
Within five seconds of being inside the tubes I start
to feel like I am trapped and I know a panic attack is coming.
There is a strong smell of little kid feet, sweat, and piss
in the tubes.
I struggle to navigate my way through wondering how in
the hell I did it when I was younger.
My knees are on fire.
The panic attack hits before I find the pee.
A child stares at me while I try to calm down.
I move my hand just a millimeter forward to steady
myself and a wet sensation hits my palm.
Fuck, I just put my hand in some little kid's piss.
I start to gag.
The random child continues to stare at me, figures
out what just happened and cracks up laughing.
I, with as much politeness as I can muster at this point, ask
the child to please exit the tubes while I clean.
The child obeys and then tells the other children
outside of the playground from hell that "the McDonald's
working up there is playing in piss so we can't go up".
So I guess today I played in piss.
I deserve way more than minimum wage.
I would like everyone to put their hand's down now.
Thank you.
I am wiping up the drink station for, probably, the twentieth time
in the hour and my one of my asistant managers (No, not Mr. McCrush.
He, sadly, did not work today.) told me to go into the playplace and
ask the parent in the bathing suit where the accident is.
I, naively, assumed that it was a soda spill or a ketchup packet
that was squashed with a tiny shoe and left spilling its guts on the floor.
I was wrong.
The woman looked away from me when she said,
"I am sorry but my child peed somewhere in the
play tubes. I would clean it up but I can not go inside of them."
(The woman is shorter than me and carries less weight on her bones.)
I had to clean up PEE in the tubes.
The tubes I fear.
In case you are wondering, someone else works in the lobby
with me but she is in her sixties.
I could not have asked her to go inside the play tubes.
If she was even twenty years younger I would have asked.
I am that much afraid of the tubes.
Within five seconds of being inside the tubes I start
to feel like I am trapped and I know a panic attack is coming.
There is a strong smell of little kid feet, sweat, and piss
in the tubes.
I struggle to navigate my way through wondering how in
the hell I did it when I was younger.
My knees are on fire.
The panic attack hits before I find the pee.
A child stares at me while I try to calm down.
I move my hand just a millimeter forward to steady
myself and a wet sensation hits my palm.
Fuck, I just put my hand in some little kid's piss.
I start to gag.
The random child continues to stare at me, figures
out what just happened and cracks up laughing.
I, with as much politeness as I can muster at this point, ask
the child to please exit the tubes while I clean.
The child obeys and then tells the other children
outside of the playground from hell that "the McDonald's
working up there is playing in piss so we can't go up".
So I guess today I played in piss.
I deserve way more than minimum wage.
Friday, June 20
McCrush
Oh I fall yet again for the adorable eyes of an assistant manager.
I have a McCrush on my assistant manager Jeff.
I just started working there last week.
Today was my fifth day of work.
We have worked together everyday.
He makes me smile.
I have not really smiled, honestly, in quite a few months.
My favorite part of the McCrush is that he is married.
I can just like from afar.
There is no worries.
No flirting.
No possibility.
Just a sweet fantasy.
In other news:
I want a tattoo; needles freak me out.
My vision has been extremely blurry for the past four months; free clinic trip is scheduled for Thursday.
I am struggling to read "Rant" (Palahniuk); I have only make it through thirty pages.
Jon actually took me to see Sex and the City the other day; we did not fight.
(The great thing about being friends is there is less fighting.)
I just started working there last week.
Today was my fifth day of work.
We have worked together everyday.
He makes me smile.
I have not really smiled, honestly, in quite a few months.
My favorite part of the McCrush is that he is married.
I can just like from afar.
There is no worries.
No flirting.
No possibility.
Just a sweet fantasy.
In other news:
I want a tattoo; needles freak me out.
My vision has been extremely blurry for the past four months; free clinic trip is scheduled for Thursday.
I am struggling to read "Rant" (Palahniuk); I have only make it through thirty pages.
Jon actually took me to see Sex and the City the other day; we did not fight.
(The great thing about being friends is there is less fighting.)
Friday, June 13
HUMAN
I contradict.
I fail.
I speak honestly.
I rise above.
I cry.
I think clearly.
I move on.
I have too much passion, at times.
I have too many fears, sometimes.
I have an unhealthy desire for justice, everyday.
I have a thing I carry around, everyday.
I let some of my past get to me.
I dream of a greater future.
I worry about what is, ultimately, pointless.
I love with blind faith,
or with eyes wide open.
I hate with blind reason,
or with logical fever.
I trust a very select few,
yet still feel alone.
I question the world,
yet let new people in.
I strive to be the best I can,
but always remember I am human.
Tuesday, June 10
COME
gripping the sheets --
oh silent love,
making us all jesters --
force those legs open,
god may not come.
escape --
the lovers laugh in sync,
gasping for more skin.
let us feel new again;
our sins will not be punished.
this place,
more like a prison.
shackles left on the floor,
cause the heart rules no longer.
good means naught now;
god may not come.
oh silent love,
making us all jesters --
force those legs open,
god may not come.
escape --
the lovers laugh in sync,
gasping for more skin.
let us feel new again;
our sins will not be punished.
this place,
more like a prison.
shackles left on the floor,
cause the heart rules no longer.
good means naught now;
god may not come.
Zombie
Finally I arise back from the dead to start posting again.
I was gone.
I was sad.
I hid myself in a tiny hole and threw giant pity parties.
Oh joy.
So here's the nit grit:
I have a job that I plan on keeping this time.
Me and Jon are done for good.
I am in Illinois living with Jon and his parents until I save up money to move out.
I am a tad bit happier.
Me and my mother are getting along better.
I want two tattoos and no longer have a tongue ring.
Okaaay.
That's all I can think of right now.
I will look at y'alls blogs soon.
Sorry for being dead for a while.
=]
I was gone.
I was sad.
I hid myself in a tiny hole and threw giant pity parties.
Oh joy.
So here's the nit grit:
I have a job that I plan on keeping this time.
Me and Jon are done for good.
I am in Illinois living with Jon and his parents until I save up money to move out.
I am a tad bit happier.
Me and my mother are getting along better.
I want two tattoos and no longer have a tongue ring.
Okaaay.
That's all I can think of right now.
I will look at y'alls blogs soon.
Sorry for being dead for a while.
=]
Wednesday, March 26
Understudy
Demonic dreams distancing deliverance,
blacking out the friction and lies.
Plot re-writes lead to cement smiles.
Misspelled name calling and the heart breaks.
Creak creakk
Cccreak
Creak
Caught on fire in a thunderstorm,now who can brag?
Swirl the logic but I cannot drown.
Loss of hope did lead to distress.
I hurt myself, I will confess.
Stage is open and there’s my cue:
No understudy, tonight I’m on.
Tuesday, March 25
Awaken
weaker i once was
those sweet words stuck,
like taffy to my hungry ears.
knees breaking at the bend.
swooning for the untouchable.
always letting me down,
yet i remained disillusioned.
the alarm goes off,
hazy eyes, limb so stiff.
write it off a cold,
ignore the truth again.
this will get bigger,
and prayers seem futile,
but the awakening will come.
those sweet words stuck,
like taffy to my hungry ears.
knees breaking at the bend.
swooning for the untouchable.
always letting me down,
yet i remained disillusioned.
the alarm goes off,
hazy eyes, limb so stiff.
write it off a cold,
ignore the truth again.
this will get bigger,
and prayers seem futile,
but the awakening will come.
Tuesday, March 18
Short
bvt better than nothing right?
To keep it simple so I do not get harassed:
I finally have a damn job.
I am no longer unemployed.
Thanks Target.
(and i'm not even starting over at min. wage ... hello relief)
&& I am probably going to have a second job also.
(hello spare cash/future car)
I will update more soon.
Sorry I have been a bag of assholes.
I am just either busy or sick.
More soon.
(& i'm going to catch up on y'alls too!)
=]
ps: Thanks Chloe! I appreciate the compliment. I try to keep it real.
To keep it simple so I do not get harassed:
I finally have a damn job.
I am no longer unemployed.
Thanks Target.
(and i'm not even starting over at min. wage ... hello relief)
&& I am probably going to have a second job also.
(hello spare cash/future car)
I will update more soon.
Sorry I have been a bag of assholes.
I am just either busy or sick.
More soon.
(& i'm going to catch up on y'alls too!)
=]
ps: Thanks Chloe! I appreciate the compliment. I try to keep it real.
Thursday, March 6
Maternal Affection
You have all heard about my 'Jonathan deserves a chance today/I must leave Jonathan for good now' dilemma. How one moment I am ranting about the new men I can find in my life. Then, how (sometimes) not even an hour later I will blither on about how astounding Jonathan is and how I cannot go on another day without him. Annoying right? My on and off-ness is dreadfully annoying. This is even getting on my own nerves now.
I am in Florida meeting his mother. On the very first day, while Jonathan is taking a nap, his mother looks at me and says, "What is with this underage girl he fucked?" A.) She is about, I don't know, almost fifty years old. B.) I do not even know if I should call her by Jeanette or Mrs. Miller. C.) Jon's father has not asked me a damn question about Jonathan's indiscretions so I have no idea what is appropriate to say. I look at her and say, "What do you want to know?"
J: Tell me everything because I know my son never talks to me, and if he does I am not sure if it is lies or not.
*now silence because I do not know where to begin*
H: I do not know where to begin.
J: Go for it.
*insert depressing story on the last -almost- three months of my life*
J: Why are you still with my son?
H: I love him and I can't just turn it off. Sometimes, I wish I could.
J: *talks about Jonathan's father*
H: I just keep thinking maybe he will change. Maybe he will love me and be good to me.
J: He has been this way, for what? Oh yes, he has been this way for t w e n t y s e v e n y e a r s ...... He is not changing. That's what I think anyway.
H: You really think that? He is not going to change?
*inserts lies from Jonathan's past*
H: Fuck.....
J: I like you. You aren't as crazy as Glenn (father) and James have said.
J: Yes, G and J tell me all this stuff that Jonathan says to them, apparently.
*insert all the things Jon, might be, saying about me*
H: What?!
J: Yes, Glenn warned me that you are leeching off of Jonathan to better yourself and after James met you he said he was not impressed.
H: You have to be shitting me!
J: No shitting here.
H: I am not crazy. Maybe crazy for loving his damn son. In fact ... (this is where I blither on about all the things I did to help Jonathan out) ..... (it is long)
*dramatic pause*
*more dramatic pauses*
Alright, so the conversations ends with another "leave my son" and I am just very confused. I do not know what to say. What can one say after that wealth of information I received. A leech? Get real! I am getting angry again just thinking about what is family, mother not included, thinks of me. Of course, I go to talk to him about it and he denies that his father and brother think anything horrible of me. Then, I think of how my family has treated him. My mother was always polite and kind to him. She treated him as if he were the best man I had chosen. My father is a different story because any man is wrong for me. Also, my sisters have never said anything bad about Jonathan. The only time my family has been rude about Jonathan was after they found out about him and that Amanda girl thing. It really hurts. I keep looking for the pros of being with Jonathan but the cons are making the search too difficult. I do not want to question why I am with someone. I want to just know the guy is right for me. I think, maybe...just maybe, I am starting to see that Jonathan might not be right for me.
If there is good in everyone, like I have always thought, then why is this man so cruel to me? Why does he constantly say hurtful things about me behind my back? Why, when I bring up what I am feel, does he blow me off? Why would he beg me to come back to him if he does not truly love me?
I do not mean to lament and go on about my love life or my relation-shit (fuck Dane Cook) but
I just had to vent before I went to bed. Please do not be harsh in comments, saying you leave one. I wanted to get my feelings off my chest before I went to bed.
I am in Florida meeting his mother. On the very first day, while Jonathan is taking a nap, his mother looks at me and says, "What is with this underage girl he fucked?" A.) She is about, I don't know, almost fifty years old. B.) I do not even know if I should call her by Jeanette or Mrs. Miller. C.) Jon's father has not asked me a damn question about Jonathan's indiscretions so I have no idea what is appropriate to say. I look at her and say, "What do you want to know?"
J: Tell me everything because I know my son never talks to me, and if he does I am not sure if it is lies or not.
*now silence because I do not know where to begin*
H: I do not know where to begin.
J: Go for it.
*insert depressing story on the last -almost- three months of my life*
J: Why are you still with my son?
H: I love him and I can't just turn it off. Sometimes, I wish I could.
J: *talks about Jonathan's father*
H: I just keep thinking maybe he will change. Maybe he will love me and be good to me.
J: He has been this way, for what? Oh yes, he has been this way for t w e n t y s e v e n y e a r s ...... He is not changing. That's what I think anyway.
H: You really think that? He is not going to change?
*inserts lies from Jonathan's past*
H: Fuck.....
J: I like you. You aren't as crazy as Glenn (father) and James have said.
J: Yes, G and J tell me all this stuff that Jonathan says to them, apparently.
*insert all the things Jon, might be, saying about me*
H: What?!
J: Yes, Glenn warned me that you are leeching off of Jonathan to better yourself and after James met you he said he was not impressed.
H: You have to be shitting me!
J: No shitting here.
H: I am not crazy. Maybe crazy for loving his damn son. In fact ... (this is where I blither on about all the things I did to help Jonathan out) ..... (it is long)
*dramatic pause*
*more dramatic pauses*
Alright, so the conversations ends with another "leave my son" and I am just very confused. I do not know what to say. What can one say after that wealth of information I received. A leech? Get real! I am getting angry again just thinking about what is family, mother not included, thinks of me. Of course, I go to talk to him about it and he denies that his father and brother think anything horrible of me. Then, I think of how my family has treated him. My mother was always polite and kind to him. She treated him as if he were the best man I had chosen. My father is a different story because any man is wrong for me. Also, my sisters have never said anything bad about Jonathan. The only time my family has been rude about Jonathan was after they found out about him and that Amanda girl thing. It really hurts. I keep looking for the pros of being with Jonathan but the cons are making the search too difficult. I do not want to question why I am with someone. I want to just know the guy is right for me. I think, maybe...just maybe, I am starting to see that Jonathan might not be right for me.
If there is good in everyone, like I have always thought, then why is this man so cruel to me? Why does he constantly say hurtful things about me behind my back? Why, when I bring up what I am feel, does he blow me off? Why would he beg me to come back to him if he does not truly love me?
I do not mean to lament and go on about my love life or my relation-shit (fuck Dane Cook) but
I just had to vent before I went to bed. Please do not be harsh in comments, saying you leave one. I wanted to get my feelings off my chest before I went to bed.
Monday, March 3
Sunshine State
Sorry I haven't updated.
I have about six pages of my story completed.
I am in Florida up until the eighth.
I had to meet Jon's mom.
We hit it off superbly.
We have a lot in common and she gave me all the dirt on Jonathan and his family.
Good to know.
(for the most part)
But I am going to soak up more of the wonderful Florida sun before I am stuck back in the freezing Illinois cold.
Next post should include the beginning of my story.
:]
I have about six pages of my story completed.
I am in Florida up until the eighth.
I had to meet Jon's mom.
We hit it off superbly.
We have a lot in common and she gave me all the dirt on Jonathan and his family.
Good to know.
(for the most part)
But I am going to soak up more of the wonderful Florida sun before I am stuck back in the freezing Illinois cold.
Next post should include the beginning of my story.
:]
Friday, February 22
Let Go, Let Flow
There is a book I love called "Lucas" by Kevin Brooks. I read it a while ago. The first page, however, has one line I will never forget.
The father tells the girl to cry herself a story.
Last night, I began to think about some of the things in my life that have affected me greatly.
Those few certain things that I cannot fully talk about with others.
I have narrowed it down to three things:
My father
My current relationship
My first job
I thought about 'crying myself a story' and the thought scared me to death.
Well, it scared me enough to make me finally go to bed.
I had finished reading "Wicked" and started reading the latest Augusten Burroughs book and figured that after looking inside my head for a little bit was enough to make me say goodnight to dear Mr. Burroughs and sleep.
(Being inside my own head for more than ten minutes is, for the most part, a terrifying journey.)
Today, I woke up and I still wanted to 'cry myself a story', so I chose work.
I would write all I could about my old job and then, let that place finally die.
No longer would I resent anyone, or myself for what happened.
I would write it all out, and then I would be done.
I figure if I can do that, then maybe (MAYBE) I could move on to the harder subjects.
Plus, I used to tell many stories about my job when I was still in school and people always told me to write a book about it. Well, here goes.
My first attempt at a book.
A difficult piece of my history will be the topic.
Bright side: Even if the book is a pile of garbage and I never want to show it to 'the world', at least all the crap that happened will be off my chest and in a papery grave.
The father tells the girl to cry herself a story.
Last night, I began to think about some of the things in my life that have affected me greatly.
Those few certain things that I cannot fully talk about with others.
I have narrowed it down to three things:
My father
My current relationship
My first job
I thought about 'crying myself a story' and the thought scared me to death.
Well, it scared me enough to make me finally go to bed.
I had finished reading "Wicked" and started reading the latest Augusten Burroughs book and figured that after looking inside my head for a little bit was enough to make me say goodnight to dear Mr. Burroughs and sleep.
(Being inside my own head for more than ten minutes is, for the most part, a terrifying journey.)
Today, I woke up and I still wanted to 'cry myself a story', so I chose work.
I would write all I could about my old job and then, let that place finally die.
No longer would I resent anyone, or myself for what happened.
I would write it all out, and then I would be done.
I figure if I can do that, then maybe (MAYBE) I could move on to the harder subjects.
Plus, I used to tell many stories about my job when I was still in school and people always told me to write a book about it. Well, here goes.
My first attempt at a book.
A difficult piece of my history will be the topic.
Bright side: Even if the book is a pile of garbage and I never want to show it to 'the world', at least all the crap that happened will be off my chest and in a papery grave.
Stronger
The feeling I get from deleting my myspace is beyond words.
Lucky for you, I have (somehow) coaxed those words out.
Ha.
I no longer sit and stare at my home page praying for a new something.
New comment.
New blog comment.
New friend request.
New picture comment.
New message.
Myspace had a sick way of making me feel lonely and friendless.
If a day went by in which I didn't receive something I would feel low.
That is pathetic.
Not only that, but why does everyone become obsessed with other people's pages.
(Hence, the new 'let's-private-my-page-so-no one-can-see-it!')
I was part of that.
I thought everyone was looking at my page.
Reading my comments.
Being nosy bastards.
I guess I only thought that because I was doing that.
Using Mozilla because it has that great function where you can blank out all of the editing someone did to their page and be able to read all of their comments.
My little sisters taught me that.
Wow.
I do feel really pathetic now.
Oh well, I broke the spell though.
Another bright side is:
I no longer am getting harassed by that stupid gapping vagina chick (see an older post).
No really.
She was taking my myspace way too seriously!
I had some headline about how no one is going to take what I worked for, or stop me, or something all "grrrrl power" like I am a Spice Girl or something.
This girl decides that it MUST be about her, right?
Because I must have NOTHING better to do than create surreptitious headlines referring to me winning Jonathan and not her.
How completely crazy is she?
Sure, I have bitched about her but why the hell would I made my whole damn profile about her?
(She has made her whole profile about me and Jonathan...it is creepy.)
This was the final thing that made me realize that I needed to get rid of my damn myspace.
It was getting out of control.
Plus +++
Myspace takes up too much time anyway.
Even now, I promised myself I would finish reading 'Wicked' finally and what did I do instead?
Sit on myspace all day and post bulletins about how I should be doing something else.
Wow.
I know.
I am embarrassed.
Now that the cycle is broken I feel better.
I can focus on other things.
I am twenty pages away from finishing 'Wicked'.
*proud*
ANNNND I do not have to postpone blog writing because I struck up a boring (yet addictive) conversation on myspace.
I wonder what Ms. Gapping Vag-Freak will post about now?
How lonely is it fighting against nothing?
:]
Lucky for you, I have (somehow) coaxed those words out.
Ha.
I no longer sit and stare at my home page praying for a new something.
New comment.
New blog comment.
New friend request.
New picture comment.
New message.
Myspace had a sick way of making me feel lonely and friendless.
If a day went by in which I didn't receive something I would feel low.
That is pathetic.
Not only that, but why does everyone become obsessed with other people's pages.
(Hence, the new 'let's-private-my-page-so-no one-can-see-it!')
I was part of that.
I thought everyone was looking at my page.
Reading my comments.
Being nosy bastards.
I guess I only thought that because I was doing that.
Using Mozilla because it has that great function where you can blank out all of the editing someone did to their page and be able to read all of their comments.
My little sisters taught me that.
Wow.
I do feel really pathetic now.
Oh well, I broke the spell though.
Another bright side is:
I no longer am getting harassed by that stupid gapping vagina chick (see an older post).
No really.
She was taking my myspace way too seriously!
I had some headline about how no one is going to take what I worked for, or stop me, or something all "grrrrl power" like I am a Spice Girl or something.
This girl decides that it MUST be about her, right?
Because I must have NOTHING better to do than create surreptitious headlines referring to me winning Jonathan and not her.
How completely crazy is she?
Sure, I have bitched about her but why the hell would I made my whole damn profile about her?
(She has made her whole profile about me and Jonathan...it is creepy.)
This was the final thing that made me realize that I needed to get rid of my damn myspace.
It was getting out of control.
Plus +++
Myspace takes up too much time anyway.
Even now, I promised myself I would finish reading 'Wicked' finally and what did I do instead?
Sit on myspace all day and post bulletins about how I should be doing something else.
Wow.
I know.
I am embarrassed.
Now that the cycle is broken I feel better.
I can focus on other things.
I am twenty pages away from finishing 'Wicked'.
*proud*
ANNNND I do not have to postpone blog writing because I struck up a boring (yet addictive) conversation on myspace.
I wonder what Ms. Gapping Vag-Freak will post about now?
How lonely is it fighting against nothing?
:]
Monday, February 18
Skittles
Maybe not everyone has seen this commercial but I must talk about it.
The latest skittles commercial is ridiculous.
Basically, there is this old guy and everything he touches turns to skittles.
The young(adult) male and female are all excited and said something to the effect of "That's awesome!"
Then, the old man says something to the effect of "Did you get to hold your newborn child? Were you able to dress yourself today? I wasn't."
The commercial ends with the old man turning (by accident of course) his work phone and desk into skittles and the male and female next to him nonchalantly eating skittles.
This commercial is weird.
The first thing I said after watching it was, "Dude, he couldn't masturbate or his dick would turn into skittles!"
Yes, this is the first thing I say in response to the commercial.
Talk about mature.
I know.
Seriously though, how horrible would life be if everything you touched turned to skittles?
On the bright side, if you knew someone with this problem how awesome would it be for you to be their friend?
I would hate to have the 'rainbow' touch but if Jonathan had it....I think it'd be okay.
Wait, then....he'd never be able to be intimate with me again.
Okay, if I had a friend (in which I didn't really touch or hang out with that much) had this problem it would be awesome.
The latest skittles commercial is ridiculous.
Basically, there is this old guy and everything he touches turns to skittles.
The young(adult) male and female are all excited and said something to the effect of "That's awesome!"
Then, the old man says something to the effect of "Did you get to hold your newborn child? Were you able to dress yourself today? I wasn't."
The commercial ends with the old man turning (by accident of course) his work phone and desk into skittles and the male and female next to him nonchalantly eating skittles.
This commercial is weird.
The first thing I said after watching it was, "Dude, he couldn't masturbate or his dick would turn into skittles!"
Yes, this is the first thing I say in response to the commercial.
Talk about mature.
I know.
Seriously though, how horrible would life be if everything you touched turned to skittles?
On the bright side, if you knew someone with this problem how awesome would it be for you to be their friend?
I would hate to have the 'rainbow' touch but if Jonathan had it....I think it'd be okay.
Wait, then....he'd never be able to be intimate with me again.
Okay, if I had a friend (in which I didn't really touch or hang out with that much) had this problem it would be awesome.
Bald
I am fucking lucky that I am not bald.
Why?
Well, in the past year I have done too many things to my poor hair.
I was eighteen years old. I started off with long (like middle of my back) blond hair.
The only dying I had done to my hair was keeping the roots the same color as the rest of it.
(And the double bleaching fiasco in eight grade because I wanted to dye my hair
blue but did not realize that blue and yellow made green.....but that's a different story.)
I am now nineteen years old. My hair is barely resting on my shoulders and is a light brown color with a red tint to it and blond streaks/roots. Different yes? Very.
(This information has been collected through Jonathan, pictures, and my two close friends -- and that girl I am not friend's with anymore that thinks we still are....ew.)
Two months of being eighteen, I decide to have Jon die my hair strawberry blond. I hate it. My hair does not really look different.
First 'Heather cut' (that means I cut my own hair...).
My length is "end of bra" level.
Two more months and I am bored.
I want radical change. I pick up a box of "midnight black" hair color.
My face is pale, but it was 'radical' enough to make me happy.
A month later I cut my hair again.
It is right above where my chest pops out.
I actually wait long enough for my hair to fade. I have some blond roots. It is a dark brown.
I go black again.
Three weeks later, I want to go red.
This is the first time I let someone other than Jon or my mother dye my hair.
That girl jacks up my hair color.
I had flaming red roots and maroon hair. Her hair, which I dyed, came out great.
Five hours later I apply a little black to the roots to calm them down.
A month later I go back black.
I cut my hair again. Shoulder length.
Two weeks later, I cut my hair again. Chin level.
My face is expanding. I have yet to notice. I think it looks good. I was wrong.
I keep going shorter and shorter like for the next two weeks.
My hair is now a little past the top of my ears. I looked like a damn mom.
Around Thanksgiving, I let my close friend Rachel convince me to get extensions.
I think it is a great idea because I have finally noticed that my hair is way too short and I really have started looking like an overweight soccer mom. Not the look an eighteen year old wants to have, right? You're damn right!
Extensions are smart is your hair is not extremely thick and if you have an extra hundred or two to shell out on 'fake human hair'. Oh, and make sure you get someone to put them in who knows what they are doing. <--- That last tip helps the most. I learned the hard way. Me and my friend Rachel go to Sallys Beauty Supply store and pick up one package of extensions; we do not get hair glue or anything else. We get to my friend's house and realize that we need something to make it stick to my head because the extensions we bought cannot be "woven" in. I am pissed. I want them in my head as soon as possible. I do not care if that kid CJ at work called me a "hot mom", point was I looked like A MOM! So on the way to my house we go to Wal-mart and we buy some super glue. Yes, I did type super glue. This is how dumb I am, and how cruel my friend is for not stopping me. (Well to defend her she is not a bright girl. Seriously, I am not being mean. I told her I was thinking of going to an Adult Education School and she said, "I didn't know you wanted to be a porn star." Yes, a PORN STAR. I asked her what she was talking about and she said, "You know ADULT EDUCATION.....like ADULT VIDEOS??! Duh." Shhh, she is a nice girl and we have been friends for almost three years now.) Anyway, we get back to my house and start gluing the damn things in my head. Half of the hair in we realize that my hair is ten times thicker than the extensions. Uh oh, I have a thick top and at the bottom there is stringy hair. I looked like I was wearing a retarded hair helmet. Her brilliant idea: LETS THIN YOUR HAIR! Now I could use thinner arms, a thinner set of thighs, a thinner stomach, but my hair? That was the only place that was allowed to be thick. I agree anyway. By thinning my hair she was really saying, "Heather can I cut out chunks of your hair?" So yes, we started to just cut out chunks of my, once, beautiful hair. I was down to nothing in many many areas on my scalp. It was sad, but at the time I was 'making a sacrifice for beauty'. I should be punched more often. The result was decent. There was one spot on my head that needed an extra piece, but all in all it was passable. Problem was, using super glue on your scalp makes your head itch in a manner that only a junkie trying to kick heroin would understand. Also, I could not keep them in that long because I did not have the funds or knowledge to keep the extensions healthy. So after a month (and those extensions were getting ratty) I had to cut them out. I cried at the result. I had patches of hair. My hair was just at my ears. The top of my head, and underneath was missing massive chunks of hair. I cried for three days straight and did not leave the house for a week. I hated the way I looked. I could not look in the mirror without cursing myself. Especially because I did not know why I had extensions until the day I cut them out. I was furious at my own stupidity. I do not fully even know why I put them in my head. Lucky for me and my friend that I do not remember it because I may kick both our asses. (Liar Liar moment: I'm kicking my own ass. Lol.)
I am at January now. My hair is growing nice and is healthier than it has been in years. I decide towards the end of the month that my roots are growing in too much and I have way blond roots and nasty black hair. I felt like trailer trash. I had to fix that. A girl has to stay as cute as possible.
Why did I think I could go back blond, being dark haired, from box dye I bough at damn Wal-Mart?! More importantly, why didn't my mother stop me? I guess they thought my hair was not going to turn out as horrible as it did.
My hair was bright orange with piss blond roots.
It looked like my hair was on fire and someone had peed on my roots.
(Fortunately for me, I deleted the picture Jonathan told me to take. & he deleted his copy of the picture too!)
For the first time in my life I was so shocked that I actually could not cry. I ran downstairs and begged my mom and grammy to help me. I screamed about how I could not go out in public and I had a date the next day. They said I had to wait until the morning to get it all sorted out.
I put 'unred' in my hair and then dyed my hair a light brown-ish color that had blond streaks in it so it would mask and blend with the color that it had become. It is lovely. I think it is my second favorite hair color.
But throughout the past year I have learned that a. I love my natural hair color and b. I should thank a higher power (or whatever) that I still have hair on my head.
Why?
Well, in the past year I have done too many things to my poor hair.
I was eighteen years old. I started off with long (like middle of my back) blond hair.
The only dying I had done to my hair was keeping the roots the same color as the rest of it.
(And the double bleaching fiasco in eight grade because I wanted to dye my hair
blue but did not realize that blue and yellow made green.....but that's a different story.)
I am now nineteen years old. My hair is barely resting on my shoulders and is a light brown color with a red tint to it and blond streaks/roots. Different yes? Very.
(This information has been collected through Jonathan, pictures, and my two close friends -- and that girl I am not friend's with anymore that thinks we still are....ew.)
Two months of being eighteen, I decide to have Jon die my hair strawberry blond. I hate it. My hair does not really look different.
First 'Heather cut' (that means I cut my own hair...).
My length is "end of bra" level.
Two more months and I am bored.
I want radical change. I pick up a box of "midnight black" hair color.
My face is pale, but it was 'radical' enough to make me happy.
A month later I cut my hair again.
It is right above where my chest pops out.
I actually wait long enough for my hair to fade. I have some blond roots. It is a dark brown.
I go black again.
Three weeks later, I want to go red.
This is the first time I let someone other than Jon or my mother dye my hair.
That girl jacks up my hair color.
I had flaming red roots and maroon hair. Her hair, which I dyed, came out great.
Five hours later I apply a little black to the roots to calm them down.
A month later I go back black.
I cut my hair again. Shoulder length.
Two weeks later, I cut my hair again. Chin level.
My face is expanding. I have yet to notice. I think it looks good. I was wrong.
I keep going shorter and shorter like for the next two weeks.
My hair is now a little past the top of my ears. I looked like a damn mom.
Around Thanksgiving, I let my close friend Rachel convince me to get extensions.
I think it is a great idea because I have finally noticed that my hair is way too short and I really have started looking like an overweight soccer mom. Not the look an eighteen year old wants to have, right? You're damn right!
Extensions are smart is your hair is not extremely thick and if you have an extra hundred or two to shell out on 'fake human hair'. Oh, and make sure you get someone to put them in who knows what they are doing. <--- That last tip helps the most. I learned the hard way. Me and my friend Rachel go to Sallys Beauty Supply store and pick up one package of extensions; we do not get hair glue or anything else. We get to my friend's house and realize that we need something to make it stick to my head because the extensions we bought cannot be "woven" in. I am pissed. I want them in my head as soon as possible. I do not care if that kid CJ at work called me a "hot mom", point was I looked like A MOM! So on the way to my house we go to Wal-mart and we buy some super glue. Yes, I did type super glue. This is how dumb I am, and how cruel my friend is for not stopping me. (Well to defend her she is not a bright girl. Seriously, I am not being mean. I told her I was thinking of going to an Adult Education School and she said, "I didn't know you wanted to be a porn star." Yes, a PORN STAR. I asked her what she was talking about and she said, "You know ADULT EDUCATION.....like ADULT VIDEOS??! Duh." Shhh, she is a nice girl and we have been friends for almost three years now.) Anyway, we get back to my house and start gluing the damn things in my head. Half of the hair in we realize that my hair is ten times thicker than the extensions. Uh oh, I have a thick top and at the bottom there is stringy hair. I looked like I was wearing a retarded hair helmet. Her brilliant idea: LETS THIN YOUR HAIR! Now I could use thinner arms, a thinner set of thighs, a thinner stomach, but my hair? That was the only place that was allowed to be thick. I agree anyway. By thinning my hair she was really saying, "Heather can I cut out chunks of your hair?" So yes, we started to just cut out chunks of my, once, beautiful hair. I was down to nothing in many many areas on my scalp. It was sad, but at the time I was 'making a sacrifice for beauty'. I should be punched more often. The result was decent. There was one spot on my head that needed an extra piece, but all in all it was passable. Problem was, using super glue on your scalp makes your head itch in a manner that only a junkie trying to kick heroin would understand. Also, I could not keep them in that long because I did not have the funds or knowledge to keep the extensions healthy. So after a month (and those extensions were getting ratty) I had to cut them out. I cried at the result. I had patches of hair. My hair was just at my ears. The top of my head, and underneath was missing massive chunks of hair. I cried for three days straight and did not leave the house for a week. I hated the way I looked. I could not look in the mirror without cursing myself. Especially because I did not know why I had extensions until the day I cut them out. I was furious at my own stupidity. I do not fully even know why I put them in my head. Lucky for me and my friend that I do not remember it because I may kick both our asses. (Liar Liar moment: I'm kicking my own ass. Lol.)
I am at January now. My hair is growing nice and is healthier than it has been in years. I decide towards the end of the month that my roots are growing in too much and I have way blond roots and nasty black hair. I felt like trailer trash. I had to fix that. A girl has to stay as cute as possible.
Why did I think I could go back blond, being dark haired, from box dye I bough at damn Wal-Mart?! More importantly, why didn't my mother stop me? I guess they thought my hair was not going to turn out as horrible as it did.
My hair was bright orange with piss blond roots.
It looked like my hair was on fire and someone had peed on my roots.
(Fortunately for me, I deleted the picture Jonathan told me to take. & he deleted his copy of the picture too!)
For the first time in my life I was so shocked that I actually could not cry. I ran downstairs and begged my mom and grammy to help me. I screamed about how I could not go out in public and I had a date the next day. They said I had to wait until the morning to get it all sorted out.
I put 'unred' in my hair and then dyed my hair a light brown-ish color that had blond streaks in it so it would mask and blend with the color that it had become. It is lovely. I think it is my second favorite hair color.
But throughout the past year I have learned that a. I love my natural hair color and b. I should thank a higher power (or whatever) that I still have hair on my head.
Sunday, February 17
Confession
My dreams have always been out there, to say the least. I have my on-going fantasies of the life me and Justin Timberlake will one day share. I used to have strange dreams of this giant work house (yes, half of the building was a domicile and the other half was my old job) and me and my co-workers would go on adventures. I have had dreams about men that I should never have had any dreams of. I have had bizarre nightmares where this television alien creature from my childhood would try to kill me. Point is: my imagination is more active than the va-jay-jay, mouth, and hands of the busiest prostitute in the world.
The past week I find myself having the same dream over and over. I will not share the dream right now, unless y'all ask. I will only share what I learned from this dream.
When I wake up I try not to think of this dream but earlier I was forced to figure it out. I was listening to this song on the Wicked soundtrack and the meaning of my dream was pushed upon me. The song is called "Thank Goodness" and this is the part that helps me figure out my dream:
"And if that joy, that thrill
Doesn't thrill you like you think it will
Still -
With this perfect finale
The cheers and ballyhoo
Who
Wouldn't be happier?
So I couldn't be happier
Because happy is what happens
When all your dreams come true
Well, isn't it?"
Two weeks ago if you would have asked me if I had everything I wanted, I would have smiled and loudly exclaimed that I did. Second guessing is horrible in this situation. I participated in some actions that I am not proud of now. At the time I thought it was smart, because I thought I was going after the right thing. I destroyed another girl's heart for something I thought I wanted. She would have taken him for everything he was, is, and will never be. I keep thinking he'll be something better. I always forget how people will not change for you, they change for themselves. The girl's parents are now making her life hell because I leaked everything hoping she'd feel an ounce of what those two made me feel.
Where did it get me though? I got everything I wanted. I have him. I am far away from the people I used to work with that treated me like dirt. I am away from the place I gave my soul. I am miles from the family I have never felt a part of. I now have a family I feel like I belong to. I am going to school starting Tuesday. I am getting everything I wanted, and to top that off I have the man I scream out that I love.
I heard it took at least a month to get him to the point of asking her out. That same day that they started dating was the day I broke up with him. She thought I was the one that was going through hell. I want to ask her so badly: who really got cheated on? It was not me. I may have heard them screw each other but I was single. I may have been hurt at first. I mean the audacity on both their parts was tremendous. Then I have realized that I never went through what she had to go through. She was the one played. I was never played the way Jon played her. I made sure she knew it.
Oh it was terribly easy. She was foolish and left a trail that could connect crimes to her. She let her hatred for me sing to loudly to Jon. I was so quiet and so skillful in my deeds that it almost scared me. I would give her the shovel and the casket; she finished herself off.
It was too easy to make me happy in the end. For now I realize, he was not the prize I wanted. I loved him. I do not anymore. He is a comfort level. I enjoy his company, both decent and under the sheets. I stopped putting my faith in him. The more his parents talk to me, the more I realize that he is unchanging. He is this wretched constant. I hate him for it, yet I envy how he can stay so true to himself no matter what is thrown at him. He always puts himself first.
My heart does not ache during the day. I am kept idle with television, music, books, my cell phone, and other things man created to dull the constant dribbling of his mind. I find myself in a storm every night. I toss and turn. Nights I lay to bed alone I just cry. I know the decision I made was smart for my future, in terms of education and advancement in my life but in terms of what makes my heart light and gay? I made the wrong choice. I made a stupid and selfish choice. I wanted to rip that demon girls heart right out of her chest like she did to me, and I wanted him to feel the loss of attention like I did the day I found those msn conversations many many months ago.
I feel as if I am his Frankenstein.
[Update: I do love him. My love just weakens everyday that goes by that a change is not made. It's like fighting a dragon with a head that constantly grows back. You know that zit that you pop that is gone for a day and then reappears in another spot? This is what it feels like; I fought for a dying cause. Maybe I am wrong. I have talked to him. We actually had our first real and full conversation. Maybe it can be saved. I mean we have been through so much already. Shouldn't we be able to get through this too?]
The past week I find myself having the same dream over and over. I will not share the dream right now, unless y'all ask. I will only share what I learned from this dream.
When I wake up I try not to think of this dream but earlier I was forced to figure it out. I was listening to this song on the Wicked soundtrack and the meaning of my dream was pushed upon me. The song is called "Thank Goodness" and this is the part that helps me figure out my dream:
"And if that joy, that thrill
Doesn't thrill you like you think it will
Still -
With this perfect finale
The cheers and ballyhoo
Who
Wouldn't be happier?
So I couldn't be happier
Because happy is what happens
When all your dreams come true
Well, isn't it?"
Two weeks ago if you would have asked me if I had everything I wanted, I would have smiled and loudly exclaimed that I did. Second guessing is horrible in this situation. I participated in some actions that I am not proud of now. At the time I thought it was smart, because I thought I was going after the right thing. I destroyed another girl's heart for something I thought I wanted. She would have taken him for everything he was, is, and will never be. I keep thinking he'll be something better. I always forget how people will not change for you, they change for themselves. The girl's parents are now making her life hell because I leaked everything hoping she'd feel an ounce of what those two made me feel.
Where did it get me though? I got everything I wanted. I have him. I am far away from the people I used to work with that treated me like dirt. I am away from the place I gave my soul. I am miles from the family I have never felt a part of. I now have a family I feel like I belong to. I am going to school starting Tuesday. I am getting everything I wanted, and to top that off I have the man I scream out that I love.
I heard it took at least a month to get him to the point of asking her out. That same day that they started dating was the day I broke up with him. She thought I was the one that was going through hell. I want to ask her so badly: who really got cheated on? It was not me. I may have heard them screw each other but I was single. I may have been hurt at first. I mean the audacity on both their parts was tremendous. Then I have realized that I never went through what she had to go through. She was the one played. I was never played the way Jon played her. I made sure she knew it.
Oh it was terribly easy. She was foolish and left a trail that could connect crimes to her. She let her hatred for me sing to loudly to Jon. I was so quiet and so skillful in my deeds that it almost scared me. I would give her the shovel and the casket; she finished herself off.
It was too easy to make me happy in the end. For now I realize, he was not the prize I wanted. I loved him. I do not anymore. He is a comfort level. I enjoy his company, both decent and under the sheets. I stopped putting my faith in him. The more his parents talk to me, the more I realize that he is unchanging. He is this wretched constant. I hate him for it, yet I envy how he can stay so true to himself no matter what is thrown at him. He always puts himself first.
My heart does not ache during the day. I am kept idle with television, music, books, my cell phone, and other things man created to dull the constant dribbling of his mind. I find myself in a storm every night. I toss and turn. Nights I lay to bed alone I just cry. I know the decision I made was smart for my future, in terms of education and advancement in my life but in terms of what makes my heart light and gay? I made the wrong choice. I made a stupid and selfish choice. I wanted to rip that demon girls heart right out of her chest like she did to me, and I wanted him to feel the loss of attention like I did the day I found those msn conversations many many months ago.
I feel as if I am his Frankenstein.
[Update: I do love him. My love just weakens everyday that goes by that a change is not made. It's like fighting a dragon with a head that constantly grows back. You know that zit that you pop that is gone for a day and then reappears in another spot? This is what it feels like; I fought for a dying cause. Maybe I am wrong. I have talked to him. We actually had our first real and full conversation. Maybe it can be saved. I mean we have been through so much already. Shouldn't we be able to get through this too?]
Friday, February 15
Hide That Bunny
There is drool going down my jacket. I have two blankets wrapped around me but I am still in this half asleep half frozen awake trance. I watch Jon's father and stepmother enter the garage and start to bring our stuff into the house.
I get a few stares. I do not care. It is seven in the morning. I have been in this car for over ten hours and I do not know how to respond to the destination yet.
Grumbling and rubbing the thick layers of sleep from my eyes I get out of the car and try to help. I start to pick up my clothes and put them into the laundry bins that T (the stepmom) brought down. In the middle of it all I find the huge pink vibrator Jon had bought me, not this last Christmas but the one before it. I stuff it quickly in the pocket of a pair of sweatpants I found and continued to sort through the rest of the clothes.
I did not think T would be doing our laundry, let alone at seven in the morning.
Twenty minutes later I am in the bathroom washing my face and I hear T giggle. I go back down to the garage and notice the laundry bins are gone. After a moment, I realize that she is upstairs doing the laundry and she might have already found my pink vibrator.
(For the record, I never really use it. I do not need to. It is a beast of a toy though. There are little white beads, a pink bunny on it, and it's this crazy contraption.)
I wait til G (the dad) leaves and tell Jon. He laughs and tells me to go tell her. I have only met his folks once, and due to my accident I cannot remember meeting them. I flip him off, shove him towards the door and get back in the car pretending I am busy with something. He comes back down and hands me the toy. I quickly ram it under my seat and begin to calm down.
G comes back down and tells us where to start putting the Xbox 360 and the guitars for Rock Band and Guitar Hero. As I untangle the guitar wires, T comes down laughing very loudly.
T: "Oh children!"
(I look away)
J: "Heather didn't want to go up there and tell you."
T: "It is so cute though."
G: "What are y'all talking about?"
H: "No idea. I am so tired. I could use some sleep. Wow, such a long trip. What a long trip. I hate long trips."
T: "I bet you two kids would love to go to bed."
(T winks)
(I concentrate on my shoes)
G: "I am confused."
J: "I wish I was."
T: "G it's nothing! You don't want to know dear. *giggle* It's between me and the children."
(G walks out)
T: "Oh sweetheart look at you blush!"
(I give Jon a look that is supposed to say "WHY DID YOU PACK THAT DAMN THING ANYWAY?")
J: "Well I am going to shit."
H: "I am going to ... hide in a dark empty place."
T: "I will change the sheets."
Omgsh.
Thank gosh she didn't open the glove compartment.
She would have found the case containing the vibrator that is actually used.
Living with boyfriend and boyfriend's parents is ... too much fun.
I get a few stares. I do not care. It is seven in the morning. I have been in this car for over ten hours and I do not know how to respond to the destination yet.
Grumbling and rubbing the thick layers of sleep from my eyes I get out of the car and try to help. I start to pick up my clothes and put them into the laundry bins that T (the stepmom) brought down. In the middle of it all I find the huge pink vibrator Jon had bought me, not this last Christmas but the one before it. I stuff it quickly in the pocket of a pair of sweatpants I found and continued to sort through the rest of the clothes.
I did not think T would be doing our laundry, let alone at seven in the morning.
Twenty minutes later I am in the bathroom washing my face and I hear T giggle. I go back down to the garage and notice the laundry bins are gone. After a moment, I realize that she is upstairs doing the laundry and she might have already found my pink vibrator.
(For the record, I never really use it. I do not need to. It is a beast of a toy though. There are little white beads, a pink bunny on it, and it's this crazy contraption.)
I wait til G (the dad) leaves and tell Jon. He laughs and tells me to go tell her. I have only met his folks once, and due to my accident I cannot remember meeting them. I flip him off, shove him towards the door and get back in the car pretending I am busy with something. He comes back down and hands me the toy. I quickly ram it under my seat and begin to calm down.
G comes back down and tells us where to start putting the Xbox 360 and the guitars for Rock Band and Guitar Hero. As I untangle the guitar wires, T comes down laughing very loudly.
T: "Oh children!"
(I look away)
J: "Heather didn't want to go up there and tell you."
T: "It is so cute though."
G: "What are y'all talking about?"
H: "No idea. I am so tired. I could use some sleep. Wow, such a long trip. What a long trip. I hate long trips."
T: "I bet you two kids would love to go to bed."
(T winks)
(I concentrate on my shoes)
G: "I am confused."
J: "I wish I was."
T: "G it's nothing! You don't want to know dear. *giggle* It's between me and the children."
(G walks out)
T: "Oh sweetheart look at you blush!"
(I give Jon a look that is supposed to say "WHY DID YOU PACK THAT DAMN THING ANYWAY?")
J: "Well I am going to shit."
H: "I am going to ... hide in a dark empty place."
T: "I will change the sheets."
Omgsh.
Thank gosh she didn't open the glove compartment.
She would have found the case containing the vibrator that is actually used.
Living with boyfriend and boyfriend's parents is ... too much fun.
Wednesday, February 13
Barely Escaped Death
Let me begin with one simple statement: FUCK WYOMING! (you will find out later)
Jonathan and I worked out our problems (joy to the world, the cheating is over) and now we are doing extremely well. Better than we ever have, in fact. Guess that other girls gapping vagina (well actually he claims it was extremely tight but y'all probably didn't want to know that. too bad i'm all about the details!) helped me out. Haha, I am just trying to make light out of a very crazy situation.
Anyway, we decided to move to Illinois because that is where his family lives and we figured that his family (being less psychotic than mine) could help us both out. Now that we are here it is great. We are both enrolled in ged courses and will be getting our high school diplomas finally. I will be learning how to drive and will get his younger brothers car, and we will both go to college and have an actual career. (no more chicken and tacos bullshit. fuck fast food!)
Problem is: getting to his parent's place was hell. In all seriousness, I ALMOST DIED IN WYOMING.
Snow, ice, freezing to death, cars driving too fast = washington & oregon.
I wake up in the car on the second day of our trip and see white. That is all I can see. White roads, white land, white shit flying in front of us. I go into 'overly paranoid mode' (thanks mom for teaching me how to overly flip out whenever i want!) and grip the door handle and just stare. (yes, i know i am such a woman. how the hell is that door handle going to save me? it is beyond me, but the need is still there.) I keep quiet because Jon has not slept yet and I really didn't feel like fighting with the exhausted driver (did i want to die? no.) All of a sudden, the semi that WAS very far ahead of us starting braking. Jon goes to brake and cannot (thanks icy roads) and it becomes a: swerve into the other lane though we cannot see the oncoming traffic or lose our heads because we are in a lowered car and that semi is at a complete stop. I scream and he chooses option one. Crashing (after making a one-eighty) into the opposite side of the road I start bawling.
"Oh my god a car could hit us."
"Oh my god we are going to get trapped in a snow coffin."
"Oh my god my door won't open."
*sob repeat sob*
Why Jon didn't smack me, I don't know.
(he is sitting here right now bitching though:
"i did yell at you to calm down though!" he is so jealous he doesn't have his own blog. pssh.)
ANYWAY JONATHAN LET ME CONTINUE:
(insert a choke-hold & then a "you're an ass" and yes, this is the loving side of him....i am so not getting any tonight....)
I am crying.
Car is stuck.
Jon is stressed.
Wow.
I have never really been in a car accident before.
Well, kind of but I was definitely in a position where I could just leave at any time I wanted.
Not this time, fuck we couldn't leave if we wanted to (and with my weak bladder I WANTED TO!)
Some guy comes up to our window and tells us he'd help us but he can't. Kudos asshole, I did not want to know what you would do only what you can do.
Luckily for my sanity (which there was ... none left at this point), an old couple in a truck waves us over. We exit the car (him like a normal person, me climbing over the center console and getting out of his side) and can barely walk. It is so unbelievably windy that I am sliding back towards the car. I cannot even fully open my eyes because of this damn wind. I started thanking myself for being overweight and then realized that Jon was almost in the car and then cursed my weight for holding me back (he is the weight of my fourteen year old sister. how the hell did he not get blown away?) and making this way too difficult. Alright, so I am in the car and we are chatting with these old people. Okay, Jonathan is talking to the old folks and I am texting my best friend about how I just nearly escaped death. (i know drama never ends for me) An hour later, we are still in the damn truck smashed up against each other and I smell something disgusting. I swear someone farted. (Jon just fessed up so now the mystery is solved....i think for more blog attention he keeps talking....it's not like i don't already write about him in every damn post now he wants his own "insert jonathan's personal thoughts" too? jeeez. i don't have the patience for this.) Ten minutes later, Jon decides we should wait with the car.
THREE HOURS LATER: (yes, this event reached about FIVE HOURS!) i have peed my pants, cried, smoked, yelled, texted too many people bitching, bitched at Jon, felt embarrassed because i actually peed my pants, cursed the gods of traffic for this dilemma, and then finally all the semis in front of us start moving. Praise sweet baby Kanye (..um i'll explain the Kanye/God thing in a later post) I will be out of this fucking mess in no time.
We go to stay at a room in a town five minutes away. Yeah too bad all the rooms are full and there are semis everywhere and I do think that the whole state of Wyoming and everyone in it lost their minds.
Two more hours later: I am in a hotel in Rock Springs stuffing my face with a chicken sandwich from Sonic and watching Psych (i cannot decide which one of those boys i like better. threeway please? i can't believe there wasn't a comment from the peanut gallery next to me......) and hoping to get some.
It was a traumatic day and I seriously thought I was going to die.
Again: FUCK WYOMING.
& i missed y'all & will be catching up on y'alls blogs again soon:]
Jonathan and I worked out our problems (joy to the world, the cheating is over) and now we are doing extremely well. Better than we ever have, in fact. Guess that other girls gapping vagina (well actually he claims it was extremely tight but y'all probably didn't want to know that. too bad i'm all about the details!) helped me out. Haha, I am just trying to make light out of a very crazy situation.
Anyway, we decided to move to Illinois because that is where his family lives and we figured that his family (being less psychotic than mine) could help us both out. Now that we are here it is great. We are both enrolled in ged courses and will be getting our high school diplomas finally. I will be learning how to drive and will get his younger brothers car, and we will both go to college and have an actual career. (no more chicken and tacos bullshit. fuck fast food!)
Problem is: getting to his parent's place was hell. In all seriousness, I ALMOST DIED IN WYOMING.
Snow, ice, freezing to death, cars driving too fast = washington & oregon.
I wake up in the car on the second day of our trip and see white. That is all I can see. White roads, white land, white shit flying in front of us. I go into 'overly paranoid mode' (thanks mom for teaching me how to overly flip out whenever i want!) and grip the door handle and just stare. (yes, i know i am such a woman. how the hell is that door handle going to save me? it is beyond me, but the need is still there.) I keep quiet because Jon has not slept yet and I really didn't feel like fighting with the exhausted driver (did i want to die? no.) All of a sudden, the semi that WAS very far ahead of us starting braking. Jon goes to brake and cannot (thanks icy roads) and it becomes a: swerve into the other lane though we cannot see the oncoming traffic or lose our heads because we are in a lowered car and that semi is at a complete stop. I scream and he chooses option one. Crashing (after making a one-eighty) into the opposite side of the road I start bawling.
"Oh my god a car could hit us."
"Oh my god we are going to get trapped in a snow coffin."
"Oh my god my door won't open."
*sob repeat sob*
Why Jon didn't smack me, I don't know.
(he is sitting here right now bitching though:
"i did yell at you to calm down though!" he is so jealous he doesn't have his own blog. pssh.)
ANYWAY JONATHAN LET ME CONTINUE:
(insert a choke-hold & then a "you're an ass" and yes, this is the loving side of him....i am so not getting any tonight....)
I am crying.
Car is stuck.
Jon is stressed.
Wow.
I have never really been in a car accident before.
Well, kind of but I was definitely in a position where I could just leave at any time I wanted.
Not this time, fuck we couldn't leave if we wanted to (and with my weak bladder I WANTED TO!)
Some guy comes up to our window and tells us he'd help us but he can't. Kudos asshole, I did not want to know what you would do only what you can do.
Luckily for my sanity (which there was ... none left at this point), an old couple in a truck waves us over. We exit the car (him like a normal person, me climbing over the center console and getting out of his side) and can barely walk. It is so unbelievably windy that I am sliding back towards the car. I cannot even fully open my eyes because of this damn wind. I started thanking myself for being overweight and then realized that Jon was almost in the car and then cursed my weight for holding me back (he is the weight of my fourteen year old sister. how the hell did he not get blown away?) and making this way too difficult. Alright, so I am in the car and we are chatting with these old people. Okay, Jonathan is talking to the old folks and I am texting my best friend about how I just nearly escaped death. (i know drama never ends for me) An hour later, we are still in the damn truck smashed up against each other and I smell something disgusting. I swear someone farted. (Jon just fessed up so now the mystery is solved....i think for more blog attention he keeps talking....it's not like i don't already write about him in every damn post now he wants his own "insert jonathan's personal thoughts" too? jeeez. i don't have the patience for this.) Ten minutes later, Jon decides we should wait with the car.
THREE HOURS LATER: (yes, this event reached about FIVE HOURS!) i have peed my pants, cried, smoked, yelled, texted too many people bitching, bitched at Jon, felt embarrassed because i actually peed my pants, cursed the gods of traffic for this dilemma, and then finally all the semis in front of us start moving. Praise sweet baby Kanye (..um i'll explain the Kanye/God thing in a later post) I will be out of this fucking mess in no time.
We go to stay at a room in a town five minutes away. Yeah too bad all the rooms are full and there are semis everywhere and I do think that the whole state of Wyoming and everyone in it lost their minds.
Two more hours later: I am in a hotel in Rock Springs stuffing my face with a chicken sandwich from Sonic and watching Psych (i cannot decide which one of those boys i like better. threeway please? i can't believe there wasn't a comment from the peanut gallery next to me......) and hoping to get some.
It was a traumatic day and I seriously thought I was going to die.
Again: FUCK WYOMING.
& i missed y'all & will be catching up on y'alls blogs again soon:]
Monday, February 4
Untitled
"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned/Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."
- William Congreve
I'll be back in a few days. I have some big things to take care of. Full update and all of that when things are settled again. Y'all do not need to worry. Things are looking up, in the most surprising manner:]
- William Congreve
I'll be back in a few days. I have some big things to take care of. Full update and all of that when things are settled again. Y'all do not need to worry. Things are looking up, in the most surprising manner:]
Sunday, February 3
Like a Bad Night Time Soap Opera
Jonathan almost died last night.
He got the shit beat out of him.
This guy tried to curb stomp him,
and was beating him with a baseball bat.
It is wrong that Jonathan had relations
with his seventeen year old daughter,
but it defiantly does not excuse her father trying to kill him.
Some kid at work watched.
This girl's father did not come alone.
He had a guy hold Bryce back.
This kid just had to watch his co-worker and friend get cruelly beat.
Jonathan was so afraid he cannot remember what the men were saying.
Bryce relayed all of it to me:
"We should shove this bat up your ass."
"We told you not to come here tonight."
"You like sticking your dick in seventeen year old girls?"
"If that kid wasn't here we would fcking kill you."
"This is not the last time you'll see us."
Two wrongs do not make a right.
I do not see why she is not being held accountable for what happened.
Just because Jonathan is older than her
does not mean that he is the only one with a functioning brain.
If we can allow these teens to drive then we should
hold them responsible for what they do with their body.
I think the logic here is stupid.
The girl knew what she was doing.
Just like I did when I was seventeen.
She took off her clothes and asked him to have sex with her.
Did he have to?
No, but the point is she knew what she was doing too.
I do not understand.
....Though I am pissed about what Jonathan did to me,
I still do not think he deserved what happened last night...
What the hell is wrong with people?
Jonathan did not do something wise but that does not mean ...
that does not mean that he should have his life taken from him...
Holy hell I am afraid.
He got the shit beat out of him.
This guy tried to curb stomp him,
and was beating him with a baseball bat.
It is wrong that Jonathan had relations
with his seventeen year old daughter,
but it defiantly does not excuse her father trying to kill him.
Some kid at work watched.
This girl's father did not come alone.
He had a guy hold Bryce back.
This kid just had to watch his co-worker and friend get cruelly beat.
Jonathan was so afraid he cannot remember what the men were saying.
Bryce relayed all of it to me:
"We should shove this bat up your ass."
"We told you not to come here tonight."
"You like sticking your dick in seventeen year old girls?"
"If that kid wasn't here we would fcking kill you."
"This is not the last time you'll see us."
Two wrongs do not make a right.
I do not see why she is not being held accountable for what happened.
Just because Jonathan is older than her
does not mean that he is the only one with a functioning brain.
If we can allow these teens to drive then we should
hold them responsible for what they do with their body.
I think the logic here is stupid.
The girl knew what she was doing.
Just like I did when I was seventeen.
She took off her clothes and asked him to have sex with her.
Did he have to?
No, but the point is she knew what she was doing too.
I do not understand.
....Though I am pissed about what Jonathan did to me,
I still do not think he deserved what happened last night...
What the hell is wrong with people?
Jonathan did not do something wise but that does not mean ...
that does not mean that he should have his life taken from him...
Holy hell I am afraid.
Monday, January 28
Parentals
Confusion.
Y'all let me come back.
I thought we were fixing everything.
Why, after a week and a half, is there now second guessing?
Using.
Is this the word you really thought depicted this properly?
It was not how I viewed it.
It is not what I was doing.
Mistakes.
We have all made them in this home.
There have been words said that should not have been.
Things have been done that should not have been acted upon.
If I am wanted out, I will leave.
This time though, if I am really getting kicked out,
I will not come back.
The cord will be cut.
I will not live like this.
Y'all let me come back.
I thought we were fixing everything.
Why, after a week and a half, is there now second guessing?
Using.
Is this the word you really thought depicted this properly?
It was not how I viewed it.
It is not what I was doing.
Mistakes.
We have all made them in this home.
There have been words said that should not have been.
Things have been done that should not have been acted upon.
If I am wanted out, I will leave.
This time though, if I am really getting kicked out,
I will not come back.
The cord will be cut.
I will not live like this.
Yo-Yo
triumph.
baggage.
joy.
rage.
this yo-yo situation is bending at the cracks.
the fall will not end in a soft landing.
every move is carefully watched.
guarantee
disappointment.
love.
regret.
another storm inside my mind.
the logic process seems forgotten.
looking around for the delete button.
undo.
redo?
shaking.
calm?
hung.
release?
baggage.
joy.
rage.
this yo-yo situation is bending at the cracks.
the fall will not end in a soft landing.
every move is carefully watched.
guarantee
disappointment.
love.
regret.
another storm inside my mind.
the logic process seems forgotten.
looking around for the delete button.
undo.
redo?
shaking.
calm?
hung.
release?
Saturday, January 26
Blast From The Past
Wow.
After a year or more of silence.
After a year of more of nothingness.
All the colors got soaked down and you entered.
It is the wrong time.
I am a new person.
Yet you still understand me completely.
We spoke as if a day had not passed.
I laughed a full laugh.
I even smiled a bit.
The flowers bloomed in my soul,
and the wishes came back to shore.
Oh boy.
Oh you, the one I have a full blue notebook of writings about.
My sixteen/barely seventeen year old self yearns.
My face brightens when my phone rings.
One hour.
Two hours.
Three hours.
Neither of us can get off the phone.
Dawn breaks and we must go.
Either tomorrow or tuesday,
depending on my new schedule,
we will meet.
I am scared.
Less scared, more excited.
I want nothing more than a nice friendship.
You call me the girl who got away.
Things are strange.
Stranger than anything my imagination could concoct.
After a year or more of silence.
After a year of more of nothingness.
All the colors got soaked down and you entered.
It is the wrong time.
I am a new person.
Yet you still understand me completely.
We spoke as if a day had not passed.
I laughed a full laugh.
I even smiled a bit.
The flowers bloomed in my soul,
and the wishes came back to shore.
Oh boy.
Oh you, the one I have a full blue notebook of writings about.
My sixteen/barely seventeen year old self yearns.
My face brightens when my phone rings.
One hour.
Two hours.
Three hours.
Neither of us can get off the phone.
Dawn breaks and we must go.
Either tomorrow or tuesday,
depending on my new schedule,
we will meet.
I am scared.
Less scared, more excited.
I want nothing more than a nice friendship.
You call me the girl who got away.
Things are strange.
Stranger than anything my imagination could concoct.
Thursday, January 24
Quick
Eeeeek.
I don't have much time but here is the gist.
GOT THE JOB!
[i will start after i get my food handlers card, again.eww.]
Decided to start communicating with kids I went to high school with.
[i got over the fear of the 'dropout' talk. no one has brought it up either.]
An old friend I miss dearly called me today.
[we have plans on saturday now.]
I think I am calling off my hot date tomorrow.
[bc it's with my ex & i should not be an idiot....]
An old (major) crush of mine contacted me today.
[said i was looking 'bomb' ... don't laugh. it's a compliment of sorts.]
&& I got a random check in the mail from my old work.
[hell yes, now my bills can be paid & i can afford my habit still.]
I am having some luck.
I like this:]
I don't have much time but here is the gist.
GOT THE JOB!
[i will start after i get my food handlers card, again.eww.]
Decided to start communicating with kids I went to high school with.
[i got over the fear of the 'dropout' talk. no one has brought it up either.]
An old friend I miss dearly called me today.
[we have plans on saturday now.]
I think I am calling off my hot date tomorrow.
[bc it's with my ex & i should not be an idiot....]
An old (major) crush of mine contacted me today.
[said i was looking 'bomb' ... don't laugh. it's a compliment of sorts.]
&& I got a random check in the mail from my old work.
[hell yes, now my bills can be paid & i can afford my habit still.]
I am having some luck.
I like this:]
Excitement
I cannot sleep, for once, due to excitement.
I have an interview at three.
I have already lost some weight from working out.
My hair is growing back nicely from the extensions chaos.
I have some hot plans for friday.
& I will NOT miss this week's episode of Ugly Betty.
(missing two in a row have almost killed me lol.)
So hopefully I will sleep soon.
I have a big day ahead of me.
:]
I have an interview at three.
I have already lost some weight from working out.
My hair is growing back nicely from the extensions chaos.
I have some hot plans for friday.
& I will NOT miss this week's episode of Ugly Betty.
(missing two in a row have almost killed me lol.)
So hopefully I will sleep soon.
I have a big day ahead of me.
:]
Monday, January 21
Planted Feet
" Used to be all of me, but it's all on the bitch now
They wanna get me stuck, they comin' into my world
It's too late I got, my wife, my bitch, my girl"
balance beam mocking.
this time there is no victory.
no award, no celebration.
there is no joy.
why are you still standing there?
foolish feelings choking.
in my head, it is caving in.
desperately attempting a turn around.
why are you still standing there?
oh empty promises.
oh glorious day i await.
i hear the drone of queen bee.
right path, right choice, right move.
i follow in a robotic trance.
tears kept inside now.
why are you still standing there?
They wanna get me stuck, they comin' into my world
It's too late I got, my wife, my bitch, my girl"
balance beam mocking.
this time there is no victory.
no award, no celebration.
there is no joy.
why are you still standing there?
foolish feelings choking.
in my head, it is caving in.
desperately attempting a turn around.
why are you still standing there?
oh empty promises.
oh glorious day i await.
i hear the drone of queen bee.
right path, right choice, right move.
i follow in a robotic trance.
tears kept inside now.
why are you still standing there?
Sunday, January 20
Help Me Untie This
her soft gasp for air haunts me.
in the silence of the twilight,
i can hear what you told me not to.
her similar face i see in the mirror.
in the burning of high afternoon,
i quietly scream at myself to be her.
regardless of the smiles,
sometimes i have to hide.
in the corner of this new dwelling,
i cry out to a god i have no faith in.
asking him, pleading with him,
to make me forget just this situation.
even though i claim to hate you.
no matter how much i promise myself,
that you will be put into my past.
every time you call,
you know i'll answer that phone.
and for that, i am ashamed.
in the silence of the twilight,
i can hear what you told me not to.
her similar face i see in the mirror.
in the burning of high afternoon,
i quietly scream at myself to be her.
regardless of the smiles,
sometimes i have to hide.
in the corner of this new dwelling,
i cry out to a god i have no faith in.
asking him, pleading with him,
to make me forget just this situation.
even though i claim to hate you.
no matter how much i promise myself,
that you will be put into my past.
every time you call,
you know i'll answer that phone.
and for that, i am ashamed.
Saturday, January 19
Back To Reality
I have to keep this short because I have to finish my laundry, unpacking, and then get some sleep finally.
In a nutshell, the man that I thought loved me did some vile horrible things to me. I called my mother begged her to give me a second chance. I am living with my parents again. I am going back to school to get my ged, then a tech school to get a skill for a decent job, then to college to become a history (or english) teacher. I have barely any rules (except learn how to become independent) and I can even smoke. My mom is going to teach me to drive, and she is encouraging my writing (for once). I do not blame myself for what happened between me and my ex. I think we had equal shares in the 'not working out' category but everything else that happened was his fault and I know I did not deserve it. I am taking a break from men until I am happy and stable. I am not going to obsess about everything that happened in this past week and a half. I may bring it up in a later blog, if y'all insist. I will start reading y'alls again in a few days and get caught up. I am sorry, just a lot has happened.
Now I have to go because I am thirsty, need a smoke, and have some chores to finish.
In a nutshell, the man that I thought loved me did some vile horrible things to me. I called my mother begged her to give me a second chance. I am living with my parents again. I am going back to school to get my ged, then a tech school to get a skill for a decent job, then to college to become a history (or english) teacher. I have barely any rules (except learn how to become independent) and I can even smoke. My mom is going to teach me to drive, and she is encouraging my writing (for once). I do not blame myself for what happened between me and my ex. I think we had equal shares in the 'not working out' category but everything else that happened was his fault and I know I did not deserve it. I am taking a break from men until I am happy and stable. I am not going to obsess about everything that happened in this past week and a half. I may bring it up in a later blog, if y'all insist. I will start reading y'alls again in a few days and get caught up. I am sorry, just a lot has happened.
Now I have to go because I am thirsty, need a smoke, and have some chores to finish.
Thursday, January 17
Fuming
"Gored beyond all measure, nothing sensible. Everything ugly and finished" -Charles Bukowski
Why do I cnostantly feel the need to hide my emotions when those feelings are not pleasant ones. Why do I have to hide from my pain? Why do I have to lower my voice? Why can I not just be able to feel exactly what I am feeling for once? I am sick of being guilty for having vicious thoughts run around my mind. I am sick of being ashamed of my own emotions. Maybe I do not always want to smile. Maybe I do not always want to sit in a pretty manner and hold back what I really want to say. I can accept that rage, anger, and wrath are human emotions. Maybe somedays I feel like a rabid dog and I need to let it out otherwise I know that it will build and I do not want to explode one day. I do not want to do vile things outside of my mind.
Self-control they tell me. It is self-control I need. I am barely a fucking adult and maybe some of the things I have been through make me pissed off beyond sensibility. Instead of taking it out on the world I take it out on myself physically. I cut for almost six years of my life instead of just screaming. Just kicking something. Just releasing it all.
I will be the first to admit that the cutting was not healthy. I knew what I was doing was wrong but it felt so fucking good. That rush and relase of pain (even though it was only temporary) felt beyond ecstacy.
"Do you think I relish the fact that I have to act like Mary Sunshine 24/7 so I can be considered a lady? I'm the Marcia fucking Brady of the Upper East Side, and sometimes I want to kill myself. So there's your psychoanalysis, Dr. Freud." - Kathryn (Cruel Intentions)
The scars made me think of how I overcame things in my life. It made me feel as if I had an ounce of freedom. That maybe for once in my life I was able to control something. I have realized now that the cutting is not healthy. IT took a long time to realize this fact. Yes, I still want to (more than ever now). It makes me believe that I am strong and I can learn how to overcome ordeals and tradgies in my life without resorting to the fresh cold metallic grace of the razor. As you can tell it is on my mind, but I sit here letting it out instead of doing it.
Now I am ranting, but I feel better. With eyes shut tightly, I can actually sit here and express the way I feel without censoring myself. It is a better kind of freedom than cutting. It really is.
"Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!" -Sir Walter Scott
How many lies do I have to hear in such a short period of time? I have become a person who believes that the majority, the vast majority, of lies are completely unacceptable. Lies hurt. Lies ruin. Lies build. When one lie is let out other lies pour out to keep the initial lie going. What is the point? Then, one ends up hiding from and covering up so many things? How do you love a liar? What is true then? What was real? What was not?
Better question: How much pain can someone withstand before the breaking point is reach and the 'right choice', that was there the whole time of course, becomes the choice that person makes?
Why do I cnostantly feel the need to hide my emotions when those feelings are not pleasant ones. Why do I have to hide from my pain? Why do I have to lower my voice? Why can I not just be able to feel exactly what I am feeling for once? I am sick of being guilty for having vicious thoughts run around my mind. I am sick of being ashamed of my own emotions. Maybe I do not always want to smile. Maybe I do not always want to sit in a pretty manner and hold back what I really want to say. I can accept that rage, anger, and wrath are human emotions. Maybe somedays I feel like a rabid dog and I need to let it out otherwise I know that it will build and I do not want to explode one day. I do not want to do vile things outside of my mind.
Self-control they tell me. It is self-control I need. I am barely a fucking adult and maybe some of the things I have been through make me pissed off beyond sensibility. Instead of taking it out on the world I take it out on myself physically. I cut for almost six years of my life instead of just screaming. Just kicking something. Just releasing it all.
I will be the first to admit that the cutting was not healthy. I knew what I was doing was wrong but it felt so fucking good. That rush and relase of pain (even though it was only temporary) felt beyond ecstacy.
"Do you think I relish the fact that I have to act like Mary Sunshine 24/7 so I can be considered a lady? I'm the Marcia fucking Brady of the Upper East Side, and sometimes I want to kill myself. So there's your psychoanalysis, Dr. Freud." - Kathryn (Cruel Intentions)
The scars made me think of how I overcame things in my life. It made me feel as if I had an ounce of freedom. That maybe for once in my life I was able to control something. I have realized now that the cutting is not healthy. IT took a long time to realize this fact. Yes, I still want to (more than ever now). It makes me believe that I am strong and I can learn how to overcome ordeals and tradgies in my life without resorting to the fresh cold metallic grace of the razor. As you can tell it is on my mind, but I sit here letting it out instead of doing it.
Now I am ranting, but I feel better. With eyes shut tightly, I can actually sit here and express the way I feel without censoring myself. It is a better kind of freedom than cutting. It really is.
"Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!" -Sir Walter Scott
How many lies do I have to hear in such a short period of time? I have become a person who believes that the majority, the vast majority, of lies are completely unacceptable. Lies hurt. Lies ruin. Lies build. When one lie is let out other lies pour out to keep the initial lie going. What is the point? Then, one ends up hiding from and covering up so many things? How do you love a liar? What is true then? What was real? What was not?
Better question: How much pain can someone withstand before the breaking point is reach and the 'right choice', that was there the whole time of course, becomes the choice that person makes?
Wednesday, January 16
Choice
Growing up with parents who have been married for nineteen years should make you feel differently about love. They started dating when they were sixteen. Then, they married at eighteen. Now they are both in their late thirties and still together. Sounds great doesn't it? Trust me, their marriage is anything but great.
For, at least, ten years I have seen my mother cry. I have seen my father claim he is never coming back. My mother has told me about the cheating. My father has told my mother he does not love her. I have seen too much since I was, about, nine. You would think I would learn from all of this?
I do not want to be like my mother. I do not want to try to convince a man to love me back for the rest of my life. I would rather lose someone I love and hopefully find a new love later on in life. I like to think it is never too late. I always told my mother that.
Yet, here I am (in all the infinite wisdom a person of my age believes they posses) laying in the arms of the man I love that I am not with anymore because he has feelings for someone else. This girl is out for him too. She has written him a poem. Jon had enough nerve to tell me she is a 'writer' and she is, basically, better than me. Ouch, that hit a sensitive spot. Twenty minutes later, we are holding each other kissing.
It is hard to lay there next to him and listen to him snore, while holding me, wondering if he is dreaming of her. I know they talk all the time. They have even kissed once, on sunday when they worked together. They worked together again today and all day I had to sleep so my mind would not flip out. I know they are not dating. I know that much, but still. I cannot take this.
Tonight, I decided not to sleep in the same bed as him. I go into the other room and turn on my zune (eh, fuck zune) and the first song that comes on shuffle is "Because of You" by Kelly Clarkson. If that song does not hit home.....
So now i'm thinking: maybe I should move back in with my folks. Maybe I should fix some of the mistakes I made while I am still young and have time. Maybe I should just give up on him now before the wounds get any deeper. I do not know. I am so half and half on this. I am really confused, yet I am so sick of spending all day crying. Or pretending that I am really okay. I know in the future I will be okay, but right now it's shit.
For, at least, ten years I have seen my mother cry. I have seen my father claim he is never coming back. My mother has told me about the cheating. My father has told my mother he does not love her. I have seen too much since I was, about, nine. You would think I would learn from all of this?
I do not want to be like my mother. I do not want to try to convince a man to love me back for the rest of my life. I would rather lose someone I love and hopefully find a new love later on in life. I like to think it is never too late. I always told my mother that.
Yet, here I am (in all the infinite wisdom a person of my age believes they posses) laying in the arms of the man I love that I am not with anymore because he has feelings for someone else. This girl is out for him too. She has written him a poem. Jon had enough nerve to tell me she is a 'writer' and she is, basically, better than me. Ouch, that hit a sensitive spot. Twenty minutes later, we are holding each other kissing.
It is hard to lay there next to him and listen to him snore, while holding me, wondering if he is dreaming of her. I know they talk all the time. They have even kissed once, on sunday when they worked together. They worked together again today and all day I had to sleep so my mind would not flip out. I know they are not dating. I know that much, but still. I cannot take this.
Tonight, I decided not to sleep in the same bed as him. I go into the other room and turn on my zune (eh, fuck zune) and the first song that comes on shuffle is "Because of You" by Kelly Clarkson. If that song does not hit home.....
So now i'm thinking: maybe I should move back in with my folks. Maybe I should fix some of the mistakes I made while I am still young and have time. Maybe I should just give up on him now before the wounds get any deeper. I do not know. I am so half and half on this. I am really confused, yet I am so sick of spending all day crying. Or pretending that I am really okay. I know in the future I will be okay, but right now it's shit.
The song that just got stuck in my head: "Should I Stay or Should I Go" by The Clash.
Tuesday, January 15
True
moonlight illuminates your skin.
sweat and tears dripping,
from our once honest faces.
silent prays and audible moans,
fill the lonely blue room.
jigsaw puzzle pieces connect.
our bodies intertwine as one,
united for this single moment.
perfection can be perfect hell.
before i had no clue.
now all i know is you.
sweat and tears dripping,
from our once honest faces.
silent prays and audible moans,
fill the lonely blue room.
jigsaw puzzle pieces connect.
our bodies intertwine as one,
united for this single moment.
perfection can be perfect hell.
before i had no clue.
now all i know is you.
Sunday, January 13
Wait & See
I think it is when I have the most to say that I cannot say it. My pen just lays limp in my hand. I roughhouse my journal a bit in sheer frustration. The keyboard will seem foreign. My fingers will hit random keys but it will mean nothing. All it really becomes is a bunch of letters pushing and shoving their way around the screen. One fighting with another to mean more, but they all mean nothing.
I have so much to say, yet I do not even know where to start. I do not even know if I want to recognize that it is real, that this is really occurring. Almost like an imaginary friend, if I can believe hard enough I can feel like I have an actual real breathing living friend.
As tough as everything seems to me right now, I know life is still going on. This is where I think of the song "Without You" from Rent. The gist of the song is that this girl's life goes on even without the man she loves, but though everything is still going on as life does, she is dying without him.. In less than a month I will be nineteen. I know I have time ahead of me, being optimistic. Will I honestly die from this? No, most likely not. I just wish it did not feel like I was losing my everything. My, oh shit this will be cliche but it is how I feel, reason for living.
I wish I had been a better girlfriend. I wish I could have communicated with him. I wish I would have made him the most important thing in my life. I did not. I made nothing important. I did not really communicate with anyone except my closest friend Alisha. I hid in my anger because I am comfortable with anger. I always want to hurt myself before another person can hurt me. This typically becomes me pushing the person to destroy me when said person never really wanted to hurt me at all. I can be pretty goddamn persuasive when I want to be.
It is now monday. Everything happened early (like around four am) friday morning. I have barely had anything to eat, yet I have smoked two and a half packs of cigarettes, a new record. I have cried so hard I was choking. Starting last night, I am weak. I cannot stand up on my own. I need assistance to go to the bathroom, otherwise I end up falling and having to crawl the rest of the way. I drank too much friday morning (around seven am) that I puked six times, another new record.
The only bright side is: me and Jon have been talking. I stopped being completely angry after I puked. I realized that it was due to our problems that she was able to come into the picture. He just wanted someone to talk to. Now, she likes him. I dumped him because he was afraid he was starting to harvest feelings for her.
Here is the ironic part (because I saw our demise coming. duh, we never talked and I was always angry.) We made love for the first time friday night/saturday morning. He came into the room, and just sat on the ground while smoking. I tried to ignore him and continue watching Garden State. Crawling into bed, he ask if he can hold me. I struggle at first, but I see tears in his eyes, so I relent. Our faces are too close for comfort. We have never been this close without kissing. I try to pull away because I am confused, and then he grabs my face and kisses me. Surges went through my body I had not felt from him for a long time. We are heavily kissing now. Our breathes have quicken. I feel a tear slide down his cheek. I burst into tears. "Why is this happening? Why? We are not together." He looks at me. "I was sitting at the computer trying to look at porn. Every face was not their own. I saw your face. I heard your voice telling me this is wrong. So I went back to bed. I tried to lay there. My mind told me to stay in bed. My penis wanted me to touch it. My heart told me to go into the other room. Now here I am." He starts wiping my tears. I push him off of me. I wanted a clean break. I knew it would be hard, but I knew this would make it harder. I know he did too. He was now unabashedly bawling his eyes out.
We are sitting up right now, staring at each other. My brain was screaming at me, telling me to make him leave. My heart wanted him in this room, hence why I always leave the door cracked open. It happens.
In nineteen months, I have never had sex like that. We were crying, and kissing, and touching each other in ways we had never before. It felt so beautiful and unreal that I would have to look past him to realize we where still in this place. It felt honest, safe, and right. I felt connected to him. He kissed my scars, my cuts, my insecurities.
Afterwards, we talked for three hours. We were both truthful and open. I knew I would wait to see if things could get better, after that happened. I finally got a real taste of what our relationship could be like.
This is what is going on with me. Why I haven't been writing. It took me fifteen minutes to get from the bed in the other room to the computer in Jon's room. I guess I know that this is wrong. That I should not involve myself in physical activity with a man I am not dating. That if he can harvest feelings for another woman I should not give him another chance. It is so much easier to evaluate a situation when you are not in it. It is easy for me to tell Alisha that I will not talk to him when he gets home. Well, then he comes home and goes into my room and we talk for hours. Maybe this time I will not write myself off before he does. In the end, I know I will learn something from this. I will grow as a person, and will have a valuable lesson to help me for the rest of my life. Be it that we get back together and can have a better relationship or we do not and I now know how to treat the future men in my life. Regardless, I am less angry than I have ever been in my life. I am just confused, and ready to be vulnerable and ready for whatever is thrown at me. Not shooting something down before it shoots me.
I have so much to say, yet I do not even know where to start. I do not even know if I want to recognize that it is real, that this is really occurring. Almost like an imaginary friend, if I can believe hard enough I can feel like I have an actual real breathing living friend.
As tough as everything seems to me right now, I know life is still going on. This is where I think of the song "Without You" from Rent. The gist of the song is that this girl's life goes on even without the man she loves, but though everything is still going on as life does, she is dying without him.. In less than a month I will be nineteen. I know I have time ahead of me, being optimistic. Will I honestly die from this? No, most likely not. I just wish it did not feel like I was losing my everything. My, oh shit this will be cliche but it is how I feel, reason for living.
I wish I had been a better girlfriend. I wish I could have communicated with him. I wish I would have made him the most important thing in my life. I did not. I made nothing important. I did not really communicate with anyone except my closest friend Alisha. I hid in my anger because I am comfortable with anger. I always want to hurt myself before another person can hurt me. This typically becomes me pushing the person to destroy me when said person never really wanted to hurt me at all. I can be pretty goddamn persuasive when I want to be.
It is now monday. Everything happened early (like around four am) friday morning. I have barely had anything to eat, yet I have smoked two and a half packs of cigarettes, a new record. I have cried so hard I was choking. Starting last night, I am weak. I cannot stand up on my own. I need assistance to go to the bathroom, otherwise I end up falling and having to crawl the rest of the way. I drank too much friday morning (around seven am) that I puked six times, another new record.
The only bright side is: me and Jon have been talking. I stopped being completely angry after I puked. I realized that it was due to our problems that she was able to come into the picture. He just wanted someone to talk to. Now, she likes him. I dumped him because he was afraid he was starting to harvest feelings for her.
Here is the ironic part (because I saw our demise coming. duh, we never talked and I was always angry.) We made love for the first time friday night/saturday morning. He came into the room, and just sat on the ground while smoking. I tried to ignore him and continue watching Garden State. Crawling into bed, he ask if he can hold me. I struggle at first, but I see tears in his eyes, so I relent. Our faces are too close for comfort. We have never been this close without kissing. I try to pull away because I am confused, and then he grabs my face and kisses me. Surges went through my body I had not felt from him for a long time. We are heavily kissing now. Our breathes have quicken. I feel a tear slide down his cheek. I burst into tears. "Why is this happening? Why? We are not together." He looks at me. "I was sitting at the computer trying to look at porn. Every face was not their own. I saw your face. I heard your voice telling me this is wrong. So I went back to bed. I tried to lay there. My mind told me to stay in bed. My penis wanted me to touch it. My heart told me to go into the other room. Now here I am." He starts wiping my tears. I push him off of me. I wanted a clean break. I knew it would be hard, but I knew this would make it harder. I know he did too. He was now unabashedly bawling his eyes out.
We are sitting up right now, staring at each other. My brain was screaming at me, telling me to make him leave. My heart wanted him in this room, hence why I always leave the door cracked open. It happens.
In nineteen months, I have never had sex like that. We were crying, and kissing, and touching each other in ways we had never before. It felt so beautiful and unreal that I would have to look past him to realize we where still in this place. It felt honest, safe, and right. I felt connected to him. He kissed my scars, my cuts, my insecurities.
Afterwards, we talked for three hours. We were both truthful and open. I knew I would wait to see if things could get better, after that happened. I finally got a real taste of what our relationship could be like.
This is what is going on with me. Why I haven't been writing. It took me fifteen minutes to get from the bed in the other room to the computer in Jon's room. I guess I know that this is wrong. That I should not involve myself in physical activity with a man I am not dating. That if he can harvest feelings for another woman I should not give him another chance. It is so much easier to evaluate a situation when you are not in it. It is easy for me to tell Alisha that I will not talk to him when he gets home. Well, then he comes home and goes into my room and we talk for hours. Maybe this time I will not write myself off before he does. In the end, I know I will learn something from this. I will grow as a person, and will have a valuable lesson to help me for the rest of my life. Be it that we get back together and can have a better relationship or we do not and I now know how to treat the future men in my life. Regardless, I am less angry than I have ever been in my life. I am just confused, and ready to be vulnerable and ready for whatever is thrown at me. Not shooting something down before it shoots me.
Friday, January 11
Leave
every memory laughs at me.
i try to pull the covers up.
this is not something i want to know,
but you keep talking and spilling.
and i know this is real.
the sort of speech you think about
all night long in your head.
the one you are too afraid to start,
but once you've started you can't stop.
your heart is in it.
your mind is in it.
and someone else is wanted in it,
so now it's time for me to take my leave.
i try to pull the covers up.
this is not something i want to know,
but you keep talking and spilling.
and i know this is real.
the sort of speech you think about
all night long in your head.
the one you are too afraid to start,
but once you've started you can't stop.
your heart is in it.
your mind is in it.
and someone else is wanted in it,
so now it's time for me to take my leave.
Wednesday, January 9
Fights & Fantasies
The sound of his fingers hitting small keys like a Neanderthal woke me up again from the half-asleep world I was in. My foot knocks over a bottle of Jack Daniel's and Jon growls at me. I try to close my eyes and have one of those Justin Timberlake fantasies that used to block out the sound of my mother and father fighting. (Yes, me and Justin go back a long way.)
(look i know i am really bad with photoshop, paint and all that and that is a picture of me from junior prom when i was sixteen. lol.)
No dice. He left his phone on vibrate so every three seconds (I wish I were using a hyperbole to liven up this story. i'm not. within a month he has sent over two-thousand text, and none of those to me.) I would hear his phone go off. I have yet to sleep. It is noon. I have already done everything I can think of doing to put me asleep, including taking a brisk jog thinking that with my chunky body the jog would make me pass out when I got home. Apparently, the Gods of Sleep are quite ticked off with me.
(this guy in the red got eternal sleep from the Gods. are you serious?)
(look i know i am really bad with photoshop, paint and all that and that is a picture of me from junior prom when i was sixteen. lol.)No dice. He left his phone on vibrate so every three seconds (I wish I were using a hyperbole to liven up this story. i'm not. within a month he has sent over two-thousand text, and none of those to me.) I would hear his phone go off. I have yet to sleep. It is noon. I have already done everything I can think of doing to put me asleep, including taking a brisk jog thinking that with my chunky body the jog would make me pass out when I got home. Apparently, the Gods of Sleep are quite ticked off with me.
(this guy in the red got eternal sleep from the Gods. are you serious?) I can feel every bone in my body tense up and become sore. He lounges on the bed, just drinking a soda and texting. (Iam reminded of those slumber parties I would go to that were so boring that I would have been able to sleep if I wasn't on the floor.) I am so furious I actually fall asleep for an hour. This is the first time an extreme bit of anger has actually helped me.
I wake up as he is getting ready to go to work. Our fight from ten o'clock in the morning still ringing in my ears. "Stop being so selfish. All you do is think about yourself! I am the one who works! I AM! I NEED MY SLEEP!" I had to stifle back a laugh the whole time. He was the on who kept himself up. I knew me saying that would not help so I just sat there. Staring out into space, repeating in my head think Paris Hilton ---- I have no common sense ----- I don't know what you're saying. All I do is walk around in a pathetic excuse for clothing and say dumb shit like 'That's hot'.
Maybe he knew what I was doing because he looked at me and said something about not being blond anymore and how I need to be mature. Then, he left to. Silence, ah, felt so good. I moved up to the bed, turn on "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley (because when I am feeling down that is my tune, back off!), and enter my head.
(imagine that each piece of confetti is a different topic in my mind. i know, that's a lot going on.)
I wake up as he is getting ready to go to work. Our fight from ten o'clock in the morning still ringing in my ears. "Stop being so selfish. All you do is think about yourself! I am the one who works! I AM! I NEED MY SLEEP!" I had to stifle back a laugh the whole time. He was the on who kept himself up. I knew me saying that would not help so I just sat there. Staring out into space, repeating in my head think Paris Hilton ---- I have no common sense ----- I don't know what you're saying. All I do is walk around in a pathetic excuse for clothing and say dumb shit like 'That's hot'.
Maybe he knew what I was doing because he looked at me and said something about not being blond anymore and how I need to be mature. Then, he left to. Silence, ah, felt so good. I moved up to the bed, turn on "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley (because when I am feeling down that is my tune, back off!), and enter my head.
(imagine that each piece of confetti is a different topic in my mind. i know, that's a lot going on.) In confetti world, I have one foot in the 'fantasies' section and one foot in the 'employment' section. Half of me is praying that I will be able to get a job. (A friend of mine is trying to help me get a job at another store in the company I used to work for. I could get it but, supposidly, I offened the area manager one time. So the store manager can hire me, but until the A.M. goes along with this, she will get shit and that store can't afford to get shit from any more higher ups.) The other half of me is thinking about sex. Sex has been on my mind recently. I get embarassed to talk about 'it' but I figured if I can have 'it' then I should be able to talk about 'it'.
As it is obvious from the story above I am having some problems with my boyfriend. We were having some problems I guess in the summer, they died down, and once I lost my job we starting having more problems. He is always saying how since he is the only one making money now my opinion does not count. I counter with the fact that when I made money I did not make 'enough' for my opinion to count. Then, it is just school-yard name calling and I end up taking an hour walk around the neighborhood (normally with me now calling my closest friend Alisha crying and asking why can't my boyfriend chill out?! why?!) and smoke more than the average amount of cigarettes.
It is clear that my mind is going in bad girl mode. My eyes linger on men more in public. I answer text from guys now, whereas before I did not want Jon to think anything so I would not really have guy friends. Now, I am heavily texting a guy who has a known thing for me (the one helping me get a job now) and I do not feel guilty about it. I keep having fantasies too. I always had my few private Jt&Me dreams. This was nothing new, hello twelve years old on. My fantasies have drastically escalated though. The problem is I, seriously, have at least one fantasy every night now, and they are about guys I know. It is not about a dream man that I will even see in person, let alone feel the warmth of. I can feel myself distancing myself away from him, not that it is hard. I joked with Alisha that I could have a secret life and he would not know. I made it sound funny, but it kills me to know the truth.
I gave him everything. I helped him through a lot. I always put him first above everything. I treated him the way you are supposed to treat someone you 'love'. I never got that in return. I want to just move on. I have other places I could stay. I have options, but I just keep hoping that the guy I decided to move in with will come home one, not the guy that is with me now.
As it is obvious from the story above I am having some problems with my boyfriend. We were having some problems I guess in the summer, they died down, and once I lost my job we starting having more problems. He is always saying how since he is the only one making money now my opinion does not count. I counter with the fact that when I made money I did not make 'enough' for my opinion to count. Then, it is just school-yard name calling and I end up taking an hour walk around the neighborhood (normally with me now calling my closest friend Alisha crying and asking why can't my boyfriend chill out?! why?!) and smoke more than the average amount of cigarettes.
It is clear that my mind is going in bad girl mode. My eyes linger on men more in public. I answer text from guys now, whereas before I did not want Jon to think anything so I would not really have guy friends. Now, I am heavily texting a guy who has a known thing for me (the one helping me get a job now) and I do not feel guilty about it. I keep having fantasies too. I always had my few private Jt&Me dreams. This was nothing new, hello twelve years old on. My fantasies have drastically escalated though. The problem is I, seriously, have at least one fantasy every night now, and they are about guys I know. It is not about a dream man that I will even see in person, let alone feel the warmth of. I can feel myself distancing myself away from him, not that it is hard. I joked with Alisha that I could have a secret life and he would not know. I made it sound funny, but it kills me to know the truth.
I gave him everything. I helped him through a lot. I always put him first above everything. I treated him the way you are supposed to treat someone you 'love'. I never got that in return. I want to just move on. I have other places I could stay. I have options, but I just keep hoping that the guy I decided to move in with will come home one, not the guy that is with me now.
Blue
a shiver up her back,
smoke carelessly pushed,
between cracked silent lips.
pale arms dangle over the bed.
empty eyes gaze out into
the fantasy in this nowhere place.
all this speech about nothing,
she feels a shade of dark blue.
this is more than she wanted him to know.
smoke carelessly pushed,
between cracked silent lips.
pale arms dangle over the bed.
empty eyes gaze out into
the fantasy in this nowhere place.
all this speech about nothing,
she feels a shade of dark blue.
this is more than she wanted him to know.
Tuesday, January 8
Mean Girls Part Two
The Heather Show was running pretty well. I had learned how to act at home, at school, for friends, for 'friends', and for boyfriends. It was all going so smoothly. I was always being invited places. My phone would always be ringing. I was, almost, proud of what I had built. Almost.
My sixteenth summer I had to get a job. When I first started there I did not want to have to pretend to be a mean girl there too. I just wanted to make some money so I could go out with all my wonderful and horrible friends. I felt like I was back in fifth grade. When I was not being flat-out ignored I was being picked on. I did not wear make-up or do anything cute with my hair or uniform. I was at work. What did I care? It was fast food, not the fucking prom. After three months of being tortured, I decided that I would be plastic there too. I found the Queen Bee and her drones and started my show. Finding the weak links and picking them apart for the pleasure of others. I was praised.
I started to become tired. There was a point in my life when I was working almost thirty-five hours a week, a member of the debate team, an avid reader/writer, girlfriend to boys, dirty laundry gather, in two A.P classes, and trying to cover up my filth from my mother. I started to do speed. I had to stay awake. There was not enough hours in the day. Let alone the fact that my manager "saw something in me" and was overworking me at work. All I did was work for other people. I barely had time to read or write at that point in my life. (The only two things I loved to do for myself.)
Everything started getting worse when I dropped out of school, moved in with my boyfriend and started working almost sixty hours a week. I had one day off a week, and worked very long shifts. It was hard to keep the mean girls happy. I was trying to make a living so me and my boyfriend could have a decent life, and I was trying to backstab and manipulate whenever I got a free second at work. Soon enough, I was so angry about my life that I was not pretending anymore. I really did hate the 'friends' I pretended to be friends with because of how easy it was to use them. I started to really hate the mean girls for having even more than me. I hated them for being so evil and not having to try. I hated them for not having to work so hard to make a living. I hated my boss for wanting me to work so hard and never thanking me for anything. I hated my boyfriend for not trying to fix any of this mess, and I hated myself for doing all of this.
Now I was talking trash about everyone. I was an unstoppable bitch. I was always yelling and screaming and breaking something. I hated my life and wanted everyone to feel the hatred I was feeling.
Strange thing is, I was never plastic with my boyfriend. I was myself 100% of the time. I could do or say no wrong around him. My obsessions did not bother him. My infatuation with Justin Timberlake did not bother him. Everything about me was okay, was good, he loved.
He helped me change. After my accident, I asked Jon what the last seven months pertained. He said I stopped pretending to be someone I was not. I said, "People finally accept me?!" He said, "No, you really became an evil bitch." It hurt but I found out that it really was the truth. My goal was to change that.
The ironic part is though now one of my closest friends was one of the people I talked the most about. She accepted my apology and it felt so great to get it all off of my chest. I am done being a mean girl. I didn't get hit by a bus. I didn't have to be a part of some Math Club, or anything from the movie. Instead, I am a victim of a minor concussion and have some memory loss and realized that I was a shitty person and I did not ever want to feel that low ever again.
Now I am me. I am Heather. I still have many layers to me, but they are layers that are real. I am happy now. The happiest I have been in a long time.
My sixteenth summer I had to get a job. When I first started there I did not want to have to pretend to be a mean girl there too. I just wanted to make some money so I could go out with all my wonderful and horrible friends. I felt like I was back in fifth grade. When I was not being flat-out ignored I was being picked on. I did not wear make-up or do anything cute with my hair or uniform. I was at work. What did I care? It was fast food, not the fucking prom. After three months of being tortured, I decided that I would be plastic there too. I found the Queen Bee and her drones and started my show. Finding the weak links and picking them apart for the pleasure of others. I was praised.
I started to become tired. There was a point in my life when I was working almost thirty-five hours a week, a member of the debate team, an avid reader/writer, girlfriend to boys, dirty laundry gather, in two A.P classes, and trying to cover up my filth from my mother. I started to do speed. I had to stay awake. There was not enough hours in the day. Let alone the fact that my manager "saw something in me" and was overworking me at work. All I did was work for other people. I barely had time to read or write at that point in my life. (The only two things I loved to do for myself.)
Everything started getting worse when I dropped out of school, moved in with my boyfriend and started working almost sixty hours a week. I had one day off a week, and worked very long shifts. It was hard to keep the mean girls happy. I was trying to make a living so me and my boyfriend could have a decent life, and I was trying to backstab and manipulate whenever I got a free second at work. Soon enough, I was so angry about my life that I was not pretending anymore. I really did hate the 'friends' I pretended to be friends with because of how easy it was to use them. I started to really hate the mean girls for having even more than me. I hated them for being so evil and not having to try. I hated them for not having to work so hard to make a living. I hated my boss for wanting me to work so hard and never thanking me for anything. I hated my boyfriend for not trying to fix any of this mess, and I hated myself for doing all of this.
Now I was talking trash about everyone. I was an unstoppable bitch. I was always yelling and screaming and breaking something. I hated my life and wanted everyone to feel the hatred I was feeling.
Strange thing is, I was never plastic with my boyfriend. I was myself 100% of the time. I could do or say no wrong around him. My obsessions did not bother him. My infatuation with Justin Timberlake did not bother him. Everything about me was okay, was good, he loved.
He helped me change. After my accident, I asked Jon what the last seven months pertained. He said I stopped pretending to be someone I was not. I said, "People finally accept me?!" He said, "No, you really became an evil bitch." It hurt but I found out that it really was the truth. My goal was to change that.
The ironic part is though now one of my closest friends was one of the people I talked the most about. She accepted my apology and it felt so great to get it all off of my chest. I am done being a mean girl. I didn't get hit by a bus. I didn't have to be a part of some Math Club, or anything from the movie. Instead, I am a victim of a minor concussion and have some memory loss and realized that I was a shitty person and I did not ever want to feel that low ever again.
Now I am me. I am Heather. I still have many layers to me, but they are layers that are real. I am happy now. The happiest I have been in a long time.
Mean Girls Part One
"Hey, buddy, you're not pretending anymore! You're plastic! Cold, shiny, hard plastic!"
[from mean girls]
[from mean girls]
Books, for the longest time, were my friends. I grew up a chubby girl and elementary school was no treat for me. I did not really have a friend until seventh grade. Before that I only had bullies and my books. I would read and imagine being pretty and funny and charming and having boys go bananas over me. I wanted to be glamorous and have so many friends I could not even remember all of their names. In seventh grade, I was in the honors composition and the honors reading class. I shared these two classes with the John Griffin Queen Bee. J was amazingly evil, cunning, smart, and beautiful. She was so perfect and evil that you desperately wanted to, if not be like her, be her number one friend.
To be in with them you have to be able to offer them something they could not have without you. I could not offer much. I wanted popularity though and since there was no Glinda ready to sing and dance and make me over I had to do it myself. I started raising my hand less in class. I started wearing my long hair down instead of in a librarian bun. I started to pick up some of my dads humor.
I never really noticed until I was thirteen that my father is like a one-man show. When he is out and about he is a strong and powerful beast of man you would not want to fuck with. He calls kids "buddy", "chief", "pal" and other condescending names like that. When he is with his friends he is a goofy ball. He is the center of everything. He is funny and likable. When he is at home or at work he is the head hauncho. He is always making rules. He keeps things in order. He has so many layers.
I decide to start the Heather show. Within two weeks, she called my house. Within one month, I was her new go-to girl. Within two months, boys starting talking to me for more than the answers to the homework. I felt on top of the world.
Soon enough I realized I could get people to really open up to me. I have heard the phrase "I have never been able to talk about this with anyone else before" and other examples of it many times. I figured out my keepable quality (because let's get real, it is hard to always have to be making people laugh. you also have to keep working on new material. it is tiring!) was getting dirt on people the Queen J did not like.
To be in with them you have to be able to offer them something they could not have without you. I could not offer much. I wanted popularity though and since there was no Glinda ready to sing and dance and make me over I had to do it myself. I started raising my hand less in class. I started wearing my long hair down instead of in a librarian bun. I started to pick up some of my dads humor.
I never really noticed until I was thirteen that my father is like a one-man show. When he is out and about he is a strong and powerful beast of man you would not want to fuck with. He calls kids "buddy", "chief", "pal" and other condescending names like that. When he is with his friends he is a goofy ball. He is the center of everything. He is funny and likable. When he is at home or at work he is the head hauncho. He is always making rules. He keeps things in order. He has so many layers.
I decide to start the Heather show. Within two weeks, she called my house. Within one month, I was her new go-to girl. Within two months, boys starting talking to me for more than the answers to the homework. I felt on top of the world.
Soon enough I realized I could get people to really open up to me. I have heard the phrase "I have never been able to talk about this with anyone else before" and other examples of it many times. I figured out my keepable quality (because let's get real, it is hard to always have to be making people laugh. you also have to keep working on new material. it is tiring!) was getting dirt on people the Queen J did not like.
This would end up being the worst thing I learned about myself.
From about fourteen one, I lead this double life. One moment I was talking to the 'losers' trying to get something juicy out of them. The next moment I was sucking up to the Queen (whoever it would be at the time being) and spreading around people's lives to everyone with a hungry ear.[because of the length I am going to post the rest of this tomorrow, unless y'all don't care. lol.]
Monday, January 7
Wishing For a Wink
My night from three o'clock on:
Tired boyfriend stifles yawn.
I. wide awake, fake a yawn.
Then the lights go out.
He is pulling up the covers.
I stub out my smoke and lay down next to him.
Kisskisssgoodnightiloveyoukisskiss.
Ten minutes pass.
Time is going so slowly.....
just going on.
and on.
when does it move faster?
tick ------- tock.
is it morning yet?
It was only four o'clock.
Jon snored next to me.
I am jealous.
Simply jealous.
Him just sleeping there.
Sprawled out as far as his bony ass can.
Why does his body radiate so much damn heat?!
Hello six o'clock.
I get up.
He is making me sweat.
Sticky and sullen, it's computer time.
Internetbloodshoteysbrightscreen.
Myspace = boring.
Listening to music is fun if I can sing.
He is asleep, fuck that idea.
Don't feel like writing.
Damn shit.
Surfing.
Surfing.
Lindsay Lohan.
Whore.
Britney Spears.
Psycho.
Rubbish. I keep seeing rubbish.
I decide to take a shower.
Hot water. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.
Instant vacation.
Hum a little tune.
Stay in there forever.
Not forever.
Only making it last an hour.
Eight-thirty. He is dead asleep.
I want to wake him up.
Selfish.
How can he sleep?
@)#(*$)(#*%)!*)@(*#)(@*#
(that is the typed sound of frustration)
I go to the other room.
Dirtgrosswhydidheleavethisroomsonasty?
Cleaning like that bald genie.
Not fun.
Especially when I stumble across old work hat.
Blubbertearspansycryingcryingboohoo.
STOP!
I start to clean again.
BIGGIANTSPIDERSCUTTLESBYOHSHIT!
Screaming I run out of the room.
Well, it is now ten o'clock.
When can I wake him up?
When?
When?
When?
I decide to write about my long night.
Then, i'll wake him up.
Tired boyfriend stifles yawn.
I. wide awake, fake a yawn.
Then the lights go out.
He is pulling up the covers.
I stub out my smoke and lay down next to him.
Kisskisssgoodnightiloveyoukisskiss.
Ten minutes pass.
Time is going so slowly.....
just going on.
and on.
when does it move faster?
tick ------- tock.
is it morning yet?
It was only four o'clock.
Jon snored next to me.
I am jealous.
Simply jealous.
Him just sleeping there.
Sprawled out as far as his bony ass can.
Why does his body radiate so much damn heat?!
Hello six o'clock.
I get up.
He is making me sweat.
Sticky and sullen, it's computer time.
Internetbloodshoteysbrightscreen.
Myspace = boring.
Listening to music is fun if I can sing.
He is asleep, fuck that idea.
Don't feel like writing.
Damn shit.
Surfing.
Surfing.
Lindsay Lohan.
Whore.
Britney Spears.
Psycho.
Rubbish. I keep seeing rubbish.
I decide to take a shower.
Hot water. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.
Instant vacation.
Hum a little tune.
Stay in there forever.
Not forever.
Only making it last an hour.
Eight-thirty. He is dead asleep.
I want to wake him up.
Selfish.
How can he sleep?
@)#(*$)(#*%)!*)@(*#)(@*#
(that is the typed sound of frustration)
I go to the other room.
Dirtgrosswhydidheleavethisroomsonasty?
Cleaning like that bald genie.
Not fun.
Especially when I stumble across old work hat.
Blubbertearspansycryingcryingboohoo.
STOP!
I start to clean again.
BIGGIANTSPIDERSCUTTLESBYOHSHIT!
Screaming I run out of the room.
Well, it is now ten o'clock.
When can I wake him up?
When?
When?
When?
I decide to write about my long night.
Then, i'll wake him up.
Saturday, January 5
Still Alive!
Still have a little something in my throat but after sleeping more than I did last year combined I am feeling much better. [I think my throat could still be scratchy because I am dumb and still smoke (less than what I normally smoke) while I am sick.] Anyway, I did do some writing while I was have alive. I also watched me some Rent for the first time. OH, I loved it! I already know the words to most of the songs [this could be the other reason why my throat still hurts; i never give it a break.] and those songs are already the most played songs on my Zune. Plus, I have decided that while I am doing a bunch of nothing that I would learn something. I have decided to learn ASL [American Sign Language]. I can already sign a few things including the phrase "Please help me! Where is the brown cow? Where you the brown cow?" Spiffy, I know. Well before I get off and contniue to catch up on season 2 of Ugly Betty [I am now deeply in love with this show.] I will leave y'all one of the poems I wrote.
BLUE
a shiver up her back,
smoke carelessly pushed,
between cracked silent lips.
pale arms dangle over the bed.
empty eyes gaze out into
the fantasy in this nowhere place.
all this speech about nothing,
she feels a shade of dark blue.
this is more than she wanted him to know.
BLUE
a shiver up her back,
smoke carelessly pushed,
between cracked silent lips.
pale arms dangle over the bed.
empty eyes gaze out into
the fantasy in this nowhere place.
all this speech about nothing,
she feels a shade of dark blue.
this is more than she wanted him to know.
Thursday, January 3
CoughGrossEeek
I will be offline for a few days. I have been really wretched for about a week now. I need to get some more allergy medicine. I probably also should have drank less on New Years. Eh, but you live and learn.
But I shall return once I am feeling a bit better.
But I shall return once I am feeling a bit better.
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