You. Suck.

WELL THEN.

I guess I know how things stand between us now, huh.

I don't give a shit if you talk about me all the time. I don't give a shit if people say it seems like you're obsessed with me. I don't give a shit about all the good times and the sweet things you've done. I'm tired of pulling all the weight here, and I'm tired of being ignored. I AM A PERSON. WHO HAS FEELINGS. I AM NOT AN OBJECT THAT YOU CAN PLAY WITH ONE MINUTE AND DISCARD THE NEXT. And I'm through with being treated like one, you disgusting little skinny freak. I don't CARE if I still love you inside, because even THAT isn't enough to make me not hate you for the kind of person you've turned in to. Maybe you were always like this, but I'm glad I've seen the light now, that you've deemed me WORTHY of your all mighty ass-holeness.

FUCK YOU, JL.

FUCK YOU.

The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire.

To remeber for later.

My fingertips are holding on to the cracks in our foundation, and I know that I should let go, but I can't.

I'm sorry I couldn't do it. I'd like to say I really tried, but I didn't. The whole time I sort of knew it wouldn't be that easy. I think I should still get brownie points for attempting it though, even if it was just a pathetic little stab in that direction. I'm not even sure why I tried, I mean, it was just a weird little thing my hand did, when it covered up your picture. I thought it was some sort of sign that I couldn't stand to see your photo. Well, I'm usually wrong with all this stuff anyways. Like I was wrong about you and me. Well, I may still have been right actually. Though, that's a problem I can only solve by talking to you or doing some serious hacking, and, well, I prefer the hacking. Anyways, I'm sorry I couldn't stop. Even though I don't know if you want me to or not, it would probably just be best if we could forget it all. Maybe we could be friends, who knows. All I know is that I don't want to let go of you just yet. You've sort of become a part of me, and I was never much of a masochist. Well, one could argue that I am, for doing this to myself. But I think I'd rather bear the long suffering than rip you out of my heart.

Because I'm not brave, not really, not like you said I was, not like I hope you think.

Worst Day of my Life

The day that any of you leave me will be the worst day of my life. And statistically speaking I'll live through all three days. And they will be the worst days I will ever experience. Because I would repeat any of my terrible days so far over and over for the rest of my life to stop just one of the parting days happening. Because just thinking of it now makes me cry. And once you're all gone, then there will be nothing at all left for me here that could make it bearable, except for the thought of joining you. So hopefully someday we'll all three be together after the most painful three days of my life. And that's what makes me believe in heaven. Because that's what it'll be. Even if I have to go through hell to get there.

I sort of know what you mean, Ingrid.

Rolled around on kitchen floors.
Tied my tongue in pretty bows with yours.
And now we pass and just like glass
I see through you, you see through me like I'm not there.

You could make my head swerve.
Used to know my every curve.
And now we meet on a street,
And I am blind. I can not find the heart I gave to you.

Sometimes what we think we really want we don't.
Sometimes what we think we want we really don't.
Sometimes what we think we love we don't.

And I am blind. I can not find the heart I gave to you.
And when we meet on a street,
Then I am blind. I can not find the heart I gave to you.

I Want to be SCARY.

When I get mad, when I go in to one of those terrifying fits of undiluted rage that happen sometimes, I don't WANT to keep it inside, only letting a couple remarks out. I don't WANT to be icy cold, calm and controlled.

I want to SCREAM and SWEAR and THROW THINGS and I want people to be AFRAID of making my ANGRY!
I WANT people to be TERRIFIED of me! I want to show people that, yes, I AM FURIOUS. And I want them to SUFFER. I want to actually SAY the things I know would hurt them. I want to SCREAM them at them and I DON'T WANT TO CARE if I hurt they're feelings. I want to go up to the people who've hurt me and scream in their faces how FAT, SELF-ABSORBED, STUPID, ANNOYING, MALICIOUS, or FUCKED-UP they are. And then I'll slap they're faces for good measure and march off, maybe I'll kick a few things on the way. And then maybe I'll SCREAM for a bit and run down the street and people will be AFRAID to approach me, because I'm SO violent and unpredictable when I'm in one of those moods.

But instead, sit there. I say, "I see,"and "Ah," and I politely walk off to my bedroom where I write in my blog about how angry I am. Not making any sound other than the violent tapping of a keyboard.

GAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Should It?

Should it be the worst part of my day when my best friend writes on my wall?

No, it should not.

But it is.

Because he's a cruel boy.

Stupid.

This Is Why I'm Sane.

I'm sane because you're my most available guy-friend. I'm sane because everyone around me tries to get my hopes up. I'm sane because you're always talking about me. I'm sane because you give me special treatment. I'm sane because you cuddled me that one time, and my heart exploded. I'm sane because we brush each other accidentally every day we were together. I'm sane because I was the only one you wished luck before their playing test. Because when you wished me luck you yelled it across the room for everyone to hear. And you smiled at me. I'm sane because you're eyes are so blue. And you run almost as fast as I can. Okay, so maybe I could lap you. I'm sane because you're the first boy to ever make me happy just by looking at me. Because when you smile I'm pretty sure my body's gone and floated off without me. Because you're sweet, and because you make me laugh. I'm sane because you've seen me humiliate myself over and over, and you're still my friend. I'm sane because you know my name, and that feels like the best miracle in the history of the universe.

:)

This Is Why I'm Crazy

I'm crazy because I want you, and other girls think you're repulsive. I'm crazy because I think you're attractive, when people think you look weird, and scrawny. I'm crazy because I miss the way you'd ignore me. I miss the way you'd say I was stupid. I miss how you embarrassed me. I want people to stare at us walking together again. To be know as the fag's girlfriend. To be laughed at for loving you (because I'd take it gladly). I think your personality's endearing, not annoying. Or 'gay'. Or awkward. I'm crazy because I think it's great how you were in all the bands. I don't think it was tool-ish. Well, maybe a little. But I love how you loved music. I'm different because at the moment I loved you most of all, I was standing on stage. Because I love your face. When you're serious. Or concentrating. Or annoyed.

Exploring my Self

Interesting, and boring, things I have recently discovered about my Self.

I ask questions even when I already know the answer.
I act differently with every single person I know.
Club soda does not agree with me.
I prefer memories of people to their photos.
I don't want to leave school.
I think hearts look better with spikes drawn around them.
When I'm shy, it's because I'm choosing to observe the people around me.
I'm attracted more toward bright colours.
My nose points more to my left.
I'm afraid of alcohol because of my uncle.
I don't feel like a part of my mom's side of the family.
I enjoy shooting guns.
I love to dance.
I don't want anyone to see me when I'm unhappy.
I feel more confident without my contact lenses in.
My right boob is way bigger than the left.

Annndd... that seems to be all, for now. Hopefully I find out more. I've got my whole life.

My Love/Hate Relationship With School

If I told you I loved school, you would think I was some kind of sad keener with no life, right?
If I told you I hated school, you would think I was bitter and rebellious, or didn't have any friends, right?
What if I told you I loved spending time with my friends, and I liked always knowing where to go and what my place was? What if I told you I liked being secure, and not having to worry about anything more than friends and grades.
What if I told you I hated social classes? And I hated being humiliated, and I hated having to choose between my groups of friends?

Rihanna, Delta and Tegan Jonas.

I don't wanna fall asleep, 'cause I don't know if I'd get up.
And I don't wanna cause a scene, but I'm dying without your love.
Begging to hear your voice, tell me you love me too.
'Cause I'd rather just be alone, if I know that I can't have you.

-The Jonas Brothers, Can't Have You

Put your brave face on, the one you wore when you stole my heart.
Would you hold my hand, we'll jump together in to anything that could possibly happen.
'Cause we're still so young, ask me to dance in this hotel room.
And let's get out of here, and hit the airport, with nothing but a carry-on between us.

-Delta Goodrem, Brave Face

Where do you go, with your broken heart in tow.
What do you do, with the left over you.
And how do you know, when to let go.
Where does the good go? Where does the good go?

-Tegan and Sara, Where Does the Good Go?

It's a thief in the night, to come and grab you.
It can creep up inside you, and consume you.
A disease of the mind, it can control you.
It's too close for comfort.

-Rihanna, Disturbia

What is it?

It's a sickness, a drug, a medicine, a thought, a bond, a theory, a form of insanity, a personality trait, a romance, an anti-septic, a handicap, a nuisance, a tool, a facade, a pain, a disorder, a feeling, an expression, a myth, a religion, a way of life, a goal, a challenge, a fever, an advantage, a life, a death and everything.

It's, *GASP*, love.

Pre-Pre-Registration Stress

So I have been told by the third person that JL talks about me constantly. Problem is, I only fully trust one of those people, and I obviously don't want to get my hopes up. Well, I did anyways, and found myself preparing for registration tomorrow with a lot more vigor, thinking he'd be there and I'd get to see him and hopefully hear his voice for the first time in three months. Of course though, it turns out he's going he day after me, and I wont get to see him and compare schedules. Not like comparing schedules would be an enjoyable activity. The only things we could posssibly have together are Math and Lunch. Math is meh, and it'd be only one semester. And Lunch, well that's an entire other issue.

I mean like, I'd love to spend my lunches with him again, but I'm also praying I get to finally have lunch with my best friends. And if I have lunch with both him and them, then I'll just have to ditch him, which would not only force us apart, it would force me to watch from afar as he laughed and talked with his other friends. But there's not a chance that I'd ditch my best friends for him, my priorities are straight in that area, at least.

Of course, there's always the possibility I wont have lunch with either group. That's the outcome I'm most afraid of, because it'll be like this year all over again. I don't want to go through the struggle of fighting for a place to sit at the lunch table again, because the competition is fierce and the standards are quite high.

Hopefully, since my classes are so similar to those of my friends, we'll have like schedules.

JL TALKS ABOUT ME A LOT! OH EM GEE!!!!!!!!!!!

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