tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1796945462395128362024-02-07T06:50:01.019-06:00Holiday From RealSo this is what i'm up against?HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-22735937254732655532009-02-12T22:14:00.000-06:002009-02-12T22:15:28.575-06:00go here<br /><a href="http://emersonsalon.com">Seattle Emerson Hair Salon</a>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-30115173505492091942008-07-09T19:28:00.000-05:002008-07-09T19:29:38.298-05:00HAZE<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;">Living life in an awful haze,<br />I thought my cups were full.<br />As the bandages fell from my, once blinded, eyes<br />I realize my pockets had been empty for days.<br />Left insecure ---<br /><br />I had yet to completely wake up.<br /><br /><br />You stole from me all that I had;<br />I allowed you to.<br />My dreams were shredded into chaos.<br />Importance shifted to lesser ideals.<br />I danced to a tune you sang,<br />and destroyed everything I came across.<br />Left in shambles ---<br /><br />I had yet to completely wake up.<br /><br /><br /><br />From a coma-like trance I wake.<br />Weak, like a newborn, I could not rise.<br />As my thoughts became in sync,<br />and my focus filtered out your meddling<br />I learned to stand by myself.<br /><br />One step left: following this path I created,<br />without you.</span></span>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-56489703282499547772008-07-08T22:47:00.002-05:002008-07-08T23:00:47.935-05:00Diabetes<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Blurry vision.<br />Stomach aches.<br />Bruises taking abnormally long to heal.<br />Late periods.<br />Headaches.<br /><br />Web MD tells me I am diabetic or have 'pre-diabetes' (which means<br />I need to stop eating like a lard ass or I will become diabetic.) and<br />I laugh. Fuck Web MD, right? It is just a web site.<br /><br />I call my grandmother who has had diabetes, syndrome 'x' (which is<br />the worst form of diabetes apparently), and I tell her the information<br />above. She tells me to go to the doctor because diabetes runs in our family<br />and I am overweight and have a terrible diet.<br /><br />I had a job at McDonalds. The day before I plan to go to the doctor<br />I get fired because I was not 'flexible' enough for them. This would,<br />typically, make me become negative and spiral downwards into a deep<br />dark sulky hole.<br /><br />Instead I decided to get off my lazy ass and start eating right and<br />working out.<br /><br /><br />I have always had problems with motivation and keeping up<br />with eating right. I love fast food. I love soda. Now those foods<br />and soda make me feel wretched.<br /><br /><br />Two weeks and I am three pounds lighter.<br />I do not feel sick. I still have the blurry vision<br />but no stomach aches (except when I had a small<br />coke on forth of July) and no headaches.<br />I am feeling great. My attitude has improved.<br />I took a situation and make it work for me, not against me.<br /><br /><br />Wow.<br />Go me.<br /></span></span></span>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-1117398143056748032008-07-08T22:45:00.000-05:002008-07-08T22:47:11.704-05:00(finewithoutyou)<p style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">For each word that is not about you,<br />there are thirty for only you.</span></span></p> <p style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style=""></span>For each minute that I think not of you,<span style=""><br /></span>there are twenty spent highlighting your glory.</span></span></p> <p style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style=""></span>For each day I claim I am fine without you,<br /><span style=""></span>there are ten nights I realize I am not.</span></span></p> <p style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style=""> </span><br />I try to forget you.</span></span></p> <p style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></p> <span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Many symphonies I have written for you.<br />Stories with wondrous plots of me and you,<br />I have kept on these faded lines.<br />Despite all my effort, I cannot get to you.<br />There remains a roadblock.<br />What have you been waiting for?<br />I am not fine without you;<br />I always forget to forget you.</span></span>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-1085894551793400912008-07-02T20:38:00.002-05:002008-07-02T20:40:46.989-05:00FREE(Bharat picked this one out.<br />If y'all want to see more stuff it's on my myspace blog.<br />Page is public and so is my blog.<br />Myspace.com/holidayfromreal86)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />simple, it once was.<br />clean and clear,<br />free of confusion.<br />nailed to this wall of disorder.<br /><br />i want to be --<br /><br /><br />f r e e<br /><br />could you set me free?<br />you did not before.<br /><br />the clock is stretched to fit your needs.<br />let a smile from me become your duty.<br /><br /><br /><br />the good times have almost killed me.HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-24741521473351615392008-07-02T20:23:00.002-05:002008-07-02T20:31:40.093-05:00Rejuvenate<span style="font-size:100%;"> 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. </span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=""> </span>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. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=""> </span>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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=""> </span>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. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=""> </span>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.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=""> </span>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.<br /></span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> <span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;">"I'm just an ordinary man with nothing to lose."</span> –Lester Burnham</p>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-76976866012115709422008-06-22T16:59:00.002-05:002008-06-22T17:17:34.640-05:00PlayplaceWho thinks I am insane for having a strong fear of the tubes in a McDonald's playplace?<br />I would like everyone to put their hand's down now.<br />Thank you.<br /><br /><br /><br />I am wiping up the drink station for, probably, the twentieth time<br />in the hour and my one of my asistant managers (No, not Mr. McCrush.<br />He, sadly, did not work today.) told me to go into the playplace and<br />ask the parent in the bathing suit where the accident is.<br />I, naively, assumed that it was a soda spill or a ketchup packet<br />that was squashed with a tiny shoe and left spilling its guts on the floor.<br /><br />I was wrong.<br /><br />The woman looked away from me when she said,<br />"I am sorry but my child peed somewhere in the<br />play tubes. I would clean it up but I can not go inside of them."<br /><br />(The woman is shorter than me and carries less weight on her bones.)<br /><br /><br />I had to clean up<span style="font-weight: bold;"> PEE </span>in the<span style="font-weight: bold;"> tubes.<br /></span>The tubes I <span style="font-weight: bold;">fear</span>.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In case you are wondering, someone else works in the lobby</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">with me but she is in her sixties.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I could not have asked her to go inside the play tubes.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">If she was even twenty years younger I would have asked.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I am that much afraid of the tubes.</span><br /><br />Within five seconds of being inside the tubes I start<br />to feel like I am trapped and I know a panic attack is coming.<br />There is a strong smell of little kid feet, sweat, and piss<br />in the tubes.<br />I struggle to navigate my way through wondering how in<br />the hell I did it when I was younger.<br />My knees are on fire.<br />The panic attack hits before I find the pee.<br />A child stares at me while I try to calm down.<br />I move my hand just a millimeter forward to steady<br />myself and a wet sensation hits my palm.<br />Fuck, I just put my hand in some little kid's piss.<br />I start to gag.<br />The random child continues to stare at me, figures<br />out what just happened and cracks up laughing.<br />I, with as much politeness as I can muster at this point, ask<br />the child to please exit the tubes while I clean.<br />The child obeys and then tells the other children<br />outside of the playground from hell that "the McDonald's<br />working up there is playing in piss so we can't go up".<br /><br /><br /><br />So I guess today I <span style="font-weight: bold;">played in piss</span>.<br />I deserve way more than minimum wage.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-63792588358574807792008-06-20T16:30:00.002-05:002008-06-20T16:38:15.075-05:00McCrush<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> <span style="font-style: italic;">Oh I fall yet again for the adorable eyes of an assistant manager.<br /><br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>I have a McCrush on my assistant manager Jeff.<br />I just started working there last week.<br />Today was my fifth day of work.<br />We have worked together everyday.<br />He makes me smile.<br />I have not really smiled, honestly, in quite a few months.<br />My favorite part of the McCrush is that he is married.<br />I can just like from afar.<br />There is no worries.<br />No flirting.<br />No possibility.<br />Just a sweet fantasy.<br /><br /><br />In other news:<br /><br />I want a tattoo; needles freak me out.<br />My vision has been extremely blurry for the past four months; free clinic trip is scheduled for Thursday.<br />I am struggling to read "Rant" (Palahniuk); I have only make it through thirty pages.<br />Jon actually took me to see Sex and the City the other day; we did not fight.<br />(The great thing about being friends is there is less fighting.)<br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></div>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-24838303907346890142008-06-13T14:43:00.001-05:002008-06-13T14:44:58.842-05:00HUMAN<p class="blogSubject"><a href="http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.viewCategory&FriendID=360457707&BlogCategoryID=25"></a>I contradict.<br />I fail.<br />I speak honestly.<br />I rise above.<br /></p>I miss.<br />I cry.<br />I think clearly.<br />I move on.<br /><br />I have too much passion, at times.<br />I have too many fears, sometimes.<br />I have an unhealthy desire for justice, everyday.<br />I have a thing I carry around, everyday.<br /><br />I let some of my past get to me.<br />I dream of a greater future.<br />I worry about what is, ultimately, pointless.<br /><br />I love with blind faith,<br />or with eyes wide open.<br />I hate with blind reason,<br />or with logical fever.<br />I trust a very select few,<br />yet still feel alone.<br />I question the world,<br />yet let new people in.<br /><br />I strive to be the best I can,<br />but always remember I am human.HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-33183193731819855882008-06-10T19:15:00.000-05:002008-06-10T19:17:41.694-05:00COMEgripping the sheets --<br /> oh silent love,<br />making us all jesters --<br />force those legs open,<br />god may not come.<br /><br />escape --<br />the lovers laugh in sync,<br />gasping for more skin.<br />let us feel new again;<br />our sins will not be punished.<br /><br />this place,<br />more like a prison.<br />shackles left on the floor,<br />cause the heart rules no longer.<br />good means naught now;<br />god may not come.HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-65173565962632288522008-06-10T19:07:00.002-05:002008-06-10T19:10:19.747-05:00Zombie<span style="font-family:georgia;">Finally I arise back from the dead to start posting again.<br />I was gone.<br />I was sad.<br />I hid myself in a tiny hole and threw giant pity parties.<br />Oh joy.<br /><br />So here's the nit grit:<br />I have a job that I plan on keeping this time.<br />Me and Jon are done for good.<br />I am in Illinois living with Jon and his parents until I save up money to move out.<br />I am a tad bit happier.<br />Me and my mother are getting along better.<br />I want two tattoos and no longer have a tongue ring.<br /><br /><br />Okaaay.<br />That's all I can think of right now.<br />I will look at y'alls blogs soon.<br />Sorry for being dead for a while.<br /><br />=]<br /></span>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-44050891011728707742008-03-26T22:46:00.001-05:002008-03-26T22:46:51.707-05:00Understudy<p style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Demonic dreams distancing deliverance,<br />blacking out the friction and lies.<br />Plot re-writes lead to cement smiles.<br />Misspelled name calling and the heart breaks.<br /><br /></span></p> <p style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Creak creakk<br /><span style=""></span><span style=""><br /></span> Cccreak</span></p> <p style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=""> </span>Creak</span></p> <span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;" calibri="" serif=""><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;">Caught on fire in a thunderstorm,</span><br /><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;"> now who can brag?</span><br /><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;"> Swirl the logic but I cannot drown.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;"> Loss of hope did lead to distress.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;"> I hurt myself, I will confess.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;"> Stage is open and there’s my cue:</span><br /><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;"> No understudy, tonight I’m on.</span></span></span>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-89380965649042280822008-03-25T20:58:00.001-05:002008-03-25T20:58:35.286-05:00Awaken<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times,serif;">weaker i once was<br />those sweet words stuck,<br />like taffy to my hungry ears.<br />knees breaking at the bend.<br />swooning for the untouchable.<br />always letting me down,<br />yet i remained disillusioned.<br /><br /><br />the alarm goes off,<br />hazy eyes, limb so stiff.<br />write it off a cold,<br />ignore the truth again.<br />this will get bigger,<br />and prayers seem futile,<br />but the awakening will come.</span></span></span>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-26390959120775581032008-03-18T18:45:00.002-05:002008-03-18T18:50:34.794-05:00Short<span style="font-style: italic;">bvt better than nothing right?<br /><br /><br /></span>To keep it simple so I do not get harassed:<br /><br />I finally have a damn job.<br />I am no longer unemployed.<br />Thanks Target.<br />(and i'm not even starting over at min. wage ... hello relief)<br />&& I am probably going to have a second job also.<br />(hello spare cash/future car)<br /><br /><br />I will update more soon.<br />Sorry I have been a bag of assholes.<br />I am just either busy or sick.<br />More soon.<br />(& i'm going to catch up on y'alls too!)<br />=]<br /><br /><br /><br />ps: Thanks Chloe! I appreciate the compliment. I try to keep it real.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-88670436239794582612008-03-06T00:10:00.002-06:002008-03-06T00:37:33.918-06:00Maternal Affection<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">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.<br /><br /><br />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?"<br /><br />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.<br />*now silence because I do not know where to begin*<br />H: I do not know where to begin.<br />J: Go for it.<br />*insert depressing story on the last -almost- three months of my life*<br />J: Why are you still with my son?<br />H: I love him and I can't just turn it off. Sometimes, I wish I could.<br />J: *talks about Jonathan's father*<br />H: I just keep thinking maybe he will change. Maybe he will love me and be good to me.<br />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.<br />H: You really think that? He is not going to change?<br />*inserts lies from Jonathan's past*<br />H: Fuck.....<br />J: I like you. You aren't as crazy as Glenn (father) and James have said.<br />J: Yes, G and J tell me all this stuff that Jonathan says to them, apparently.<br />*insert all the things Jon, might be, saying about me*<br />H: What?!<br />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.<br />H: You have to be shitting me!<br />J: No shitting here.<br />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)<br /><br />*dramatic pause*<br /><br /><br />*more dramatic pauses*<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />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?<br /><br />I do not mean to lament and go on about my love life or my relation-shit (fuck Dane Cook) but<br />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.<br /></span>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-66676701487727294752008-03-03T10:14:00.002-06:002008-03-03T10:17:27.298-06:00Sunshine StateSorry I haven't updated.<br />I have about six pages of my story completed.<br />I am in Florida up until the eighth.<br />I had to meet Jon's mom.<br />We hit it off superbly.<br />We have a lot in common and she gave me all the dirt on Jonathan and his family.<br />Good to know.<br />(for the most part)<br />But I am going to soak up more of the wonderful Florida sun before I am stuck back in the freezing Illinois cold.<br /><br /><br />Next post should include the beginning of my story.<br />:]HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-11624820440059515482008-02-22T17:59:00.003-06:002008-02-24T01:12:51.106-06:00Let Go, Let FlowThere 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.<br /><br />The father tells the girl to cry herself a story.<br /><br /><br /><br />Last night, I began to think about some of the things in my life that have affected me greatly.<br />Those few certain things that I cannot fully talk about with others.<br />I have narrowed it down to three things:<br /><br />My father<br />My current relationship<br />My first job<br /><br />I thought about 'crying myself a story' and the thought scared me to death.<br />Well, it scared me enough to make me finally go to bed.<br />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.<br />(Being inside my own head for more than ten minutes is, for the most part, a terrifying journey.)<br /><br />Today, I woke up and I still wanted to 'cry myself a story', so I chose work.<br />I would write all I could about my old job and then, let that place finally die.<br />No longer would I resent anyone, or myself for what happened.<br />I would write it all out, and then I would be done.<br />I figure if I can do that, then maybe (MAYBE) I could move on to the harder subjects.<br /><br /><br />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.<br />My first attempt at a book.<br />A difficult piece of my history will be the topic.<br /><br /><br /><br />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.HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-79954744267249305652008-02-22T15:06:00.003-06:002008-02-22T15:18:18.738-06:00StrongerThe feeling I get from deleting my myspace is beyond words.<br />Lucky for you, I have (somehow) coaxed those words out.<br /><br />Ha.<br />I no longer sit and stare at my home page praying for a new something.<br />New comment.<br />New blog comment.<br />New friend request.<br />New picture comment.<br />New message.<br />Myspace had a sick way of making me feel lonely and friendless.<br />If a day went by in which I didn't receive something I would feel low.<br />That is pathetic.<br />Not only that, but why does everyone become obsessed with other people's pages.<br />(Hence, the new 'let's-private-my-page-so-no one-can-see-it!')<br />I was part of that.<br />I thought everyone was looking at my page.<br />Reading my comments.<br />Being nosy bastards.<br />I guess I only thought that because I was doing that.<br />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.<br />My little sisters taught me that.<br />Wow.<br />I do feel really pathetic now.<br />Oh well, I broke the spell though.<br /><br />Another bright side is:<br />I no longer am getting harassed by that stupid gapping vagina chick (see an older post).<br /><br />No really.<br />She was taking my myspace way too seriously!<br />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.<br />This girl decides that it MUST be about her, right?<br />Because I must have NOTHING better to do than create surreptitious headlines referring to me winning Jonathan and not her.<br />How completely crazy is she?<br />Sure, I have bitched about her but why the hell would I made my whole damn profile about her?<br />(She has made her whole profile about me and Jonathan...it is creepy.)<br />This was the final thing that made me realize that I needed to get rid of my damn myspace.<br />It was getting out of control.<br /><br />Plus +++<br />Myspace takes up too much time anyway.<br />Even now, I promised myself I would finish reading 'Wicked' finally and what did I do instead?<br />Sit on myspace all day and post bulletins about how I should be doing something else.<br />Wow.<br />I know.<br />I am embarrassed.<br /><br />Now that the cycle is broken I feel better.<br />I can focus on other things.<br />I am twenty pages away from finishing 'Wicked'.<br />*proud*<br />ANNNND I do not have to postpone blog writing because I struck up a boring (yet addictive) conversation on myspace.<br /><br /><br /><br />I wonder what Ms. Gapping Vag-Freak will post about now?<br />How lonely is it fighting against nothing?<br />:]HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-57885525570111898432008-02-18T21:32:00.004-06:002008-02-20T23:27:31.491-06:00Skittles<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Maybe not everyone has seen this commercial but I must talk about it.<br />The latest skittles commercial is ridiculous.<br />Basically, there is this old guy and everything he touches turns to skittles.<br />The young(adult) male and female are all excited and said something to the effect of "That's awesome!"<br />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."<br />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.<br /><br />This commercial is weird.<br />The first thing I said after watching it was, "Dude, he couldn't masturbate or his dick would turn into skittles!"<br />Yes, this is the first thing I say in response to the commercial.<br />Talk about mature.<br />I know.<br />Seriously though, how horrible would life be if everything you touched turned to skittles?<br />On the bright side, if you knew someone with this problem how awesome would it be for you to be their friend?<br /><br />I would hate to have the 'rainbow' touch but if Jonathan had it....I think it'd be okay.<br />Wait, then....he'd never be able to be intimate with me again.<br /><br />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.<br /></span>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-48067318643427275902008-02-18T17:43:00.002-06:002008-02-18T21:28:59.817-06:00Bald<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I am fucking lucky that I am not bald.<br /><br /><br />Why?<br />Well, in the past year I have done too many things to my poor hair.<br />I was eighteen years old. I started off with long (like middle of my back) blond hair.<br />The only dying I had done to my hair was keeping the roots the same color as the rest of it.<br />(And the double bleaching fiasco in eight grade because I wanted to dye my hair<br />blue but did not realize that blue and yellow made green.....but that's a different story.)<br />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.<br /><br />(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.)<br /><br />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.<br />First 'Heather cut' (that means I cut my own hair...).<br />My length is "end of bra" level.<br />Two more months and I am bored.<br />I want radical change. I pick up a box of "midnight black" hair color.<br />My face is pale, but it was 'radical' enough to make me happy.<br />A month later I cut my hair again.<br />It is right above where my chest pops out.<br />I actually wait long enough for my hair to fade. I have some blond roots. It is a dark brown.<br />I go black again.<br />Three weeks later, I want to go red.<br />This is the first time I let someone other than Jon or my mother dye my hair.<br />That girl jacks up my hair color.<br />I had flaming red roots and maroon hair. Her hair, which I dyed, came out great.<br />Five hours later I apply a little black to the roots to calm them down.<br />A month later I go back black.<br />I cut my hair again. Shoulder length.<br />Two weeks later, I cut my hair again. Chin level.<br />My face is expanding. I have yet to notice. I think it looks good. I was wrong.<br />I keep going shorter and shorter like for the next two weeks.<br />My hair is now a little past the top of my ears. I looked like a damn mom.<br />Around Thanksgiving, I let my close friend Rachel convince me to get extensions.<br />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!<br />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.)<br />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.<br />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.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My hair was bright orange with piss blond roots.<br />It looked like my hair was on fire and someone had peed on my roots.<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">(Fortunately for me, I deleted the picture Jonathan told me to take. & he deleted his copy of the picture too!)<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></span></span>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.<br />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.<br />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.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span> </span>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-37039262702585889202008-02-17T19:38:00.005-06:002008-02-18T00:08:10.047-06:00Confession<div style="text-align: left;">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.<br />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.<br /><br /><br />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:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"And if that joy, that thrill </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Doesn't thrill you like you think it will </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Still - </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">With this perfect finale </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The cheers and ballyhoo </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Who </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Wouldn't be happier? </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">So I couldn't be happier </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Because happy is what happens </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When all your dreams come true </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Well, isn't it?"<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br /><br /><br />I feel as if I am his Frankenstein.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />[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?]<br /></div>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-39858541059101137762008-02-15T14:42:00.000-06:002008-02-16T16:16:00.315-06:00Hide That Bunny<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:85%;" >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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />I did not think T would be doing our laundry, let alone at seven in the morning.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />(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.)<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />T: "Oh children!"<br />(I look away)<br />J: "Heather didn't want to go up there and tell you."<br />T: "It is so cute though."<br />G: "What are y'all talking about?"<br />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."<br />T: "I bet you two kids would love to go to bed."<br />(T winks)<br />(I concentrate on my shoes)<br />G: "I am confused."<br />J: "I wish I was."<br />T: "G it's nothing! You don't want to know dear. *giggle* It's between me and the children."<br />(G walks out)<br />T: "Oh sweetheart look at you blush!"<br />(I give Jon a look that is supposed to say "WHY DID YOU PACK THAT DAMN THING ANYWAY?")<br />J: "Well I am going to shit."<br />H: "I am going to ... hide in a dark empty place."<br />T: "I will change the sheets."<br /><br /><br /><br />Omgsh.<br />Thank gosh she didn't open the glove compartment.<br />She would have found the case containing the vibrator that is actually used.<br /><br />Living with boyfriend and boyfriend's parents is ... too much fun.<br /></span></span>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-56407332036557445072008-02-13T23:45:00.000-06:002008-02-14T00:24:24.169-06:00Barely Escaped Death<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Let me begin with one simple statement: FUCK WYOMING! (you will find out later)<br /><br />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.<br />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!)<br /><br />Problem is: getting to his parent's place was hell. In all seriousness, I ALMOST DIED IN WYOMING.<br />Snow, ice, freezing to death, cars driving too fast = washington & oregon.<br />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.<br />"Oh my god a car could hit us."<br />"Oh my god we are going to get trapped in a snow coffin."<br />"Oh my god my door won't open."<br />*sob repeat sob*<br /><br />Why Jon didn't smack me, I don't know.<br /><br />(he is sitting here right now bitching though:<br />"i did yell at you to calm down though!" he is so jealous he doesn't have his own blog. pssh.)<br /><br />ANYWAY JONATHAN LET ME CONTINUE:<br />(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....)<br /><br />I am crying.<br />Car is stuck.<br />Jon is stressed.<br />Wow.<br />I have never really been in a car accident before.<br />Well, kind of but I was definitely in a position where I could just leave at any time I wanted.<br />Not this time, fuck we couldn't leave if we wanted to (and with my weak bladder I WANTED TO!)<br />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.<br />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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />It was a traumatic day and I seriously thought I was going to die.<br /><br /><br /><br />Again: FUCK WYOMING.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />& i missed y'all & will be catching up on y'alls blogs again soon:]<br /></span>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-41965682267166845352008-02-04T20:44:00.000-06:002008-02-04T20:48:54.396-06:00Untitled<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned/Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> - William Congreve<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></span><br /><br />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:]<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-179694546239512836.post-53176203699904433192008-02-03T11:54:00.000-06:002008-02-03T12:06:25.918-06:00Like a Bad Night Time Soap OperaJonathan almost died last night.<br />He got the shit beat out of him.<br />This guy tried to curb stomp him,<br />and was beating him with a baseball bat.<br /><br />It is wrong that Jonathan had relations<br />with his seventeen year old daughter,<br />but it defiantly does not excuse her father trying to kill him.<br /><br />Some kid at work watched.<br />This girl's father did not come alone.<br />He had a guy hold Bryce back.<br />This kid just had to watch his co-worker and friend get cruelly beat.<br />Jonathan was so afraid he cannot remember what the men were saying.<br />Bryce relayed all of it to me:<br /><br />"We should shove this bat up your ass."<br />"We told you not to come here tonight."<br />"You like sticking your dick in seventeen year old girls?"<br />"If that kid wasn't here we would fcking kill you."<br />"This is not the last time you'll see us."<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Two wrongs do not make a right.<br />I do not see why she is not being held accountable for what happened.<br />Just because Jonathan is older than her<br />does not mean that he is the only one with a functioning brain.<br />If we can allow these teens to drive then we should<br />hold them responsible for what they do with their body.<br />I think the logic here is stupid.<br />The girl knew what she was doing.<br />Just like I did when I was seventeen.<br />She took off her clothes and asked him to have sex with her.<br />Did he have to?<br />No, but the point is she knew what she was doing too.<br /><br /><br />I do not understand.<br />....Though I am pissed about what Jonathan did to me,<br />I still do not think he deserved what happened last night...<br />What the hell is wrong with people?<br />Jonathan did not do something wise but that does not mean ...<br />that does not mean that he should have his life taken from him...<br /><br /><br />Holy hell I am afraid.HeatherrrEloisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10862301524447640475noreply@blogger.com3