Spying

Why the hell do I even talk to you? I don't like you. You're not my friend. We always fight. You are the most annoying self-pitying person I know. We can't hold proper conversation for very long.

Unless of course were talking about him. In that case, I have a million questions and you have a million answers and there's a few cat fights along the way, but when we talk about him I'm most attentive. I care about your feelings, but only so that you wont get mad and stop telling me about him.

And I'm pretty sure I know why I still talk to you now. Because when we talk about him, it shows me little glimpses of his life. Who he talks to, who he talks about, where he eats lunch, what he does that's annoying, what makes him laugh. Anything and everything is a precious little tidbit of fact.

NononononononononoNO. That can't be true. I don't care at all. I don't care about him anymore. That's what I told them all. That's how I feel.

He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.
He's stupid. You don't like him.

You.

Rude. Selfish. Frustrating. Annyoing. Self-centred. Melodramatic. Bossy. Stupid. Ugly. Awkward. Angry. Hypocrite. Deluded. Pitiful. Tries-to-hard. Untalented. Disgusting.

*Sigh*

Huuummmm....

See this warmth,
These flushed cheeks.
This is someone,
I haven't been in weeks.

Listen to me laugh,
And watch me play.
All thoughts of us,
Have floated away.

But I'm not sure,
If I'm completely right.
Because I have a feeling,
I'll think of you tonight.

This is all your fault.
That I still like you.
And it's not quite love,
But still I pursue.

'CAUSE I THINK YOU'RE A POO.

Green-Eyed Fool

I hate them so much. I hate them I hate them I hate them.
Even though I love them so much. My favorite couple ever.
But I hate what they have and I hate what they have too. And them. And them. And them. Because they have everything I want. They have the only thing I want. It's the only thing I want at all, more than a new computer or a three million dollar show home or EVEN clear skin.
Yes, I did just say clear skin. Shocker.

I hate them for having what I want so much and for deserving it more than me.

Nostalgia

I miss you.
I MISS you.
I miss YOU.
I MISS YOU!
I miss you...

I miss it I miss it I miss it and you and even her and them and you and you and you even more and then and there and that and THAT. I miss THAT most of all. Except for YOU. And ME. I miss US.

And when I think about everything I miss most, it all happened because of everything that you did. And I miss that day. I miss that day most of all and the feelings you gave me. And the way you made me feel like you loved me even though I knew you didn't.
And one of things I want to do most right now is run out in to the middle of the field. To that sacred holy and revered spot and look at a messy little scratch on a purple goalpost. Because I want to make sure we're still there, together.

Science Lesson

There is a greater change of a random collision if there are more molecules in a smaller space.
I think the same would apply to secret feelings.

I'm starting to think most of my feelings locked up together, which I'm sure no scientist would ever say would be a good thing. There's a very high chance of a quick and violent reaction.

I wish I could tell you. I really do. But I once took a magazine quiz that told me I'd do anything to avoid confrontation, and I agreed very quickly.

I don't want to tell you how I feel, because I think it would make you mad. And sad.

And I don't think I'm ever going to tell you.

Because it's always gone quickly, and it's perfectly normal, and it's not important.

At all.

ATTACK!

I have been assaulted.
And attacked and raped and beaten.
A complete barrage of wild emotions and pounding hearts.
A massive wave of you.

I have been destroyed in Boston Pizza.

By a flashback and a fantasy and a dream and hope come true all at once.
And a nightmare, too.
And a severe case of déja vu.

It's the last day of school. I'm about to face two months without him. I see him by his locker. Time to say goodbye, to tap him on the shoulder and give him a hug. I walk up to him. He's crouched down picking up his books in his tool-ish, sweet little way. I'm behind him now. My hand makes a twitching grabbing motion at his shoulder. I falter. I start walking again.
He hasn't noticed I was there.

Has anyone in the world ever had a seizure brought on by a camo-patterned hoodie and short mousy hair? OTHER than the fashion police?

Too many things

So so so so so many people.
So so so so so so so so so so so many secrets.

I'm trying to figure out a way of telling you, without you knowing what I'm saying.
Because then I can lie and pretend I'm a brave person.
Because that was my favorite compliment I've ever gotten.

"Andrea, you're so brave," he said.

I don't want to be such a downer, but...

I HATE being negative. I HATE being sad. I HATE wanting to spill my problems out to someone, because I don' t want them to feel sad too. I'm afraid of making people unhappy.

I want to be me the way I'm supposed to be.
I want to be who I am.
And I'm starting to think that I actually know who I am, but that my real problem is actually achieving that.

Andrea is happy and optimistic, she loves life and loves everyone. She has trouble being sad for too long, because she's more hopeful than anyone she's ever known. She's bubbly and fun and exciting. She's talkative and laughs all day. But she's no airhead. She's smart and philosophical and likes to think.

But I'm not Andrea, because I'm sad, and depressed and melancholy. I haven't been outside for two days. I feel like crap and I look like crap and I can't work up the energy to do anything.

I hate myself, and I'm jealous of Andrea.

Negativity

I'm not sure if I ever want to be happy ever again.
I want to just go back to the old, quiet, me.
I don't want to love like that anymore, because I don't want to believe that anything could ever be good again.
Because I believe that if I do the same thing will happen.
I think I'll revert to that version.
It's not the real-me version of Andrea, but at least that version never got hurt.
That version didn't love life, wasn't optimistic, that version was just neutral and gray.
And that version wasn't the real-me version.
But the real-me version has too much of a heart to survive in this day and age.
The real-me would have loved it and understood it, would have been happy and bubbly and excited.
This version will just sit here and pretend to laugh and be happy.
She wont understand the beauty of life like the old one did.

But I'm not sure I want to be the real-me right now.
Maybe again someday.
When I feel like forgiving life.

Don't go calling me a bitch now, thanks.
I'm allowed to be sad in heaven.

Waiting

I'm still waiting for someone to see me staring off in to space, and ask me what I'm thinking about.
But I really hope they don't because I don't know what I'd say.
It's not that it's really a secret anymore.
I could tell them I was thinking about a boy.
But now I'm starting to think my real trouble would start if they asked me how that made me feel.


This is a creature on fire with love, but it's still scary since most people think love only looks like one thing, instead of the whole world.
-StoryPeople

Honesty and Secrecy

Here's some of the secret things I'd tell people, that are completely honest, but never in a million years will I let them know. How depressing.

I'd tell him to speak up.
I'd tell him to ditch his friends.
I'd tell her to shut the fuck up.
I'd tell him... everything. I'm going to miss you.
I'd tell her exactly what gets on my nerves.
I'd tell them what he does.
I'd tell her she's the nicest person I know, and she should love that about herself.
I'd tell her exactly how optimistic she should be.
I'd tell her to suck it up.
I'd tell her to try and understand me better, please.
I'd tell them that I'm smarter than them, I just know how to have fun. And at least I have a LIFE.
I'd tell her not to be jealous.
I'd tell him my true motives.
I'd tell her, even when I'm pissed off it doesn't mean I hate her.
I'd tell him about what he does that's awesome, and what he does that's repulsive.
I'd tell him he's under appreciated.



I'd tell myself not to worry. They'll figure it out without me.

It's all I can do, and I'm sorry.

I can imagine it working out perfectly, I said.
I can't, she said
And I said, no wonder you're so stressed.
-StoryPeople

I'm going to tell you it'll be okay. And I will repeat it over and over with nice, logical, encouragement. And when I get pissed off and annoyed because of all your whining, I'm not going to tell you that I have my own problems, and that I've told you the same thing over and over again. I'm going to keep telling you it'll be okay. And I will give you all the advice I can think of, in every minute little detail, even if it only helps a tiny bit. And if I can't think of any advice, I'll just be quiet and try to comfort you, or make you laugh, or try and get you to forget about the problem. Maybe I'll do a Google search, if it's something I think might help. Or I'll give you a WikiHow article. And if after all of that, after I've done what I think will help most, and it doesn't work or makes you annoyed with me, I'm really sorry. Because I'll admit I'm not wonderful at giving advice. But it kills me inside to see anyone in the universe suffering, even if I hate them wholeheartedly. And I don't know why. I say it's my conscience, but I don't try to help because I'd feel guilty. I just can't bear the thought of anyone being sad. And if it's MY fault they're sad, then I will punish myself and grovel and apologise and feel misreable. And of course I want myself to be happy, but my suffering isn't nearly as terrible to see as someone elses.

Because I'd take on the worries of the whole world if I could, if I thought it might help.

Again.

Same place. Same time.
Same boy. Same songs.

Fourth Times The Charm?

The Ignoring.
The Forgetting.
The Avoiding.
The Replacing.

1+1+1+1=4 times.

That's been four periods of agony. Of tears and choking and runny noses. Of depressing blog posts like this one. Of overplayed sad songs on my ipod. Of bitchiness and angst. Of scattered pieces and missing chunks.

I'm hoping I can keep it at four, because that's a new record per boy. It's not the kind of record I like setting.

I'm hoping I can set the good kind of record next time. A big fat zero is what I'm after. But if I'm being honest, I think I've given up hope on myself. I don't think I'm capable of a zero.

But I don't think I'm capable of even another 1.

Our Fairytale

Once upon a time...

There was a very sad little girl. She was painfully shy, and going into her first year of high school. She was terrified, and didn't have any friends in most of her classes. For the first week of school, she was in her own personal hell. But after a while, she started to look around at the faces around her. She happened to lock eyes with a boy who sat next to her in music class. She asked him his name, and from then on they talked occasionally, and things were starting to look up, the girl had even found a friend to sit with at lunch. Then one day, the friend had to go away on a long trip. So the little girl became sad again. Untill she decided to sit with an old friend of hers, who was sitting with three other people. She decided to be brave and sit down. There were two girls, and one boy. It was the boy from music class. As she was awkwardly introduced to them all, she started to get the funniest feeling in her chest, that she couldn't quite recognize. Soon, she spent every lunch with these friendly people. Her and the boy both had lockers upstairs, so they ended up taking long walks together around the school, just talking and getting to know one another. By this time, the little girl had finally figured out the strange feeling, and had identified it as love. She became completely dependent on the mysterious boy, and rumors started to fly. Then one day, the little girl did a very foolish thing. She decided that the boy loved her back. She tried over and over to tell him how she felt, but each time she couldn't quite manage the words. Eventually, she tried sending the boy an e-mail, explaining everything. She was nervous, but proud of herself for being brave. Unfortunately, the boy read the message and told a very untrustworthy friend, who told the evil witch of the school, who started laughing and saying nasty things about the little girl behind her back. The girl was crushed, and heartbroken that the boy would do such a thing to her. The boy and girl still talked, but things were never quite the same. They still had amazing times together though, laughing and joking and fooling around. The little girl decided to forgive the boy she still loved.

The two were parted for the summer holidays, and when they came back for their second year of highschool they only had one class together, and the girl had to sit with her closer friends at lunchtime, instead of him. They started to grow apart, and the girl's old heartbreak started to retun, and she missed the boy more than she could've imagined. One night, the boy tried to talk to the girl, but it was a confusing conversation and only gave the girl false hopes. She had recently figured out that the boy loved someone who wasn't her, and was trying to think of a way to give herself hope, against her better judgement. She tried to talk to the mysterious boy, but he wasn't being very conversational. The little girl was starting to despair, and had had her heart broken by this boy so many times. She cried for a long time, but her imagination helped her think up of excuses for the boy's behaviour. She tried not to, but she began to hope again, because she was too afraid of losing him.

The girl had a friend at the time, who she didn't like very much, but who she confided in and who was fairly good friends with the boy. The friend one day confessed to the girl that she might be starting to like the boy as well, and was craving love. She even said that when asked, the boy had said he might say yes if the friend asked him out. This hurt the little girl even more, but she still hoped. The girl's friend however, once said that she would feel awkward and embarassed holding the boy's hand in public. The little girl was so angry that she wanted to hit her friend for saying things like that. She didn't want the boy she loved to be used that way, and told her friend that if she truly liked him she wouldn't feel embarassed, it would be the best thing in the whole world. The friend did not understand, proving to the little girl that she was the one who truly loved the boy, even with his mysterious qualities.

To this day, we still don't know what happened. But since this is a fairytale, we're going to say that

they lived happily ever after.

Just A Dream

Be how you were,
When I loved you without the suffering.
Be how you were,
When you brushed your fingers on me.
Be how you were,
When we lived in our own world.
Be how you were,
When I was your favorite.
Be how you were,
When you said my name more than anyone else's.
Be how you were,
When you decided to accept me at my worst.
Be how you were,
When you reached down and pulled me out of hell.
Be how you were,
When we braved the world together.
Be how you were,
When you cared.

Be like in my dream, of how you used to be, when you said you were sorry, and you'd never wanted to hurt me. When you said you'd never wanted to make me cry. When you cared if you killed me inside. Be like in the dream, where you held me and apologized, and I accepted. Be my Jamie, the one I'm still in love with, even though he's stabbing me through with holes and leaving scars on my soul. Be the one I held back, and told, "I love you, my Jamie." Be my memories and my dreams again. Make me happy.

My huge problem would be my huge imagination.

Is it just me
Did I commit a crime
I won't believe that loving you
Is just a waste of time
Or was it in my head
I'm reading into things that you never said

'Cause I still don't have the answers
To why we couldn't work it out
I wanna think it's something that i did
So I can turn it back around

But if I still believe you love me
Maybe I'll survive
So I tell myself you're coming home
Like you've done a million times
And if it's alright
I'll still be loving you
'Cause I can't break it to my heart

~~~

You haven't yet given me a reason to give up all hope. Because I'm a resourceful person, with a massive amount of imagination. So if I want to, I can make it so you still love me.

And maybe that way I'll survive.

Today, in fragments.

I cannot go to the ocean
I cannot drive the streets at night
I cannot wake up in the morning
Without you on my mind
So you're gone and I'm haunted
And I bet you are just fine
Did I make it that easy
To walk right in and out of my life?

Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I'm trying not to think about you
Can't you just let me be?
So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
I should've known you'd bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do.

-------------

Do I attract you?
Do I repulse you with my queasy smile?
Am I too dirty?
Am I too flirty?
Do I like what you like?

I could be wholesome
I could be loathsome
I guess I'm a little bit shy
Why don't you like me?
Why don't you like me without making me try?

-------------

And please don't tell me that I'm dreaming
When all I ever wanted was to dream another sunset with you
If I roll over when it's over
I'll take this Cali sunrise with me
And wake up with the fondest memories

-------------
I lay awake at night for you
And I pray

We'd cross the deepest oceans
Cargo across the sea
And if you don't believe me
Just put your hands on me
And all the constellations
Shine down for us to see
And if you don't believe me
Just put your hands on me

O.o

You have,
Thoroughly and completely,
Confused me.
I have,
No clue,
What you're thinking,
Or feeling.
I don't know,
Why you do,
The things you do.
But,
I like it,
So please,
Don't stop.

Oh no, please no.

Please god please, please for the love of all things good please don't let it happen. If none of my prayers come true but this one, I'll be perfectly happy. Just please. Please, please, please, don't let it go that way. Please. I love her.

Amen.

I live in Oakville, therefore I am happy.

I have food and water. I have a nice house, a family who adores and loves me. I get a generous allowance, and am part of a wealthy family living in a rich suburb. I get good grades, I don't have any disorders, I have friends, a fairly good body. I'm perfectly healthy, and fit. I play in a soccer league, and go shopping with my mom. I have the perfect life. Compared to starving children in Africa, I live in heaven. If I'm unhappy, I'm being an ungrateful spoiled brat, and should be thinking of the less fortunate.

But I'm SAD. And I don't think that I shouldn't be aloud to feel anything but content without being called a drama queen, or a brat, or ungrateful. Because in all those movies about people with perfect lives, they always have one tiny bit of emotion or hurt buried deep down, which, of course, instantly humanizes them.

So, why aren't I allowed to have everything, and still be sad? I don't think that's fair. I think I should still be allowed to be (lame, I know), heartbroken. I should be allowed to feel self-concious, and I should be allowed to feel like someone worth feeling sorry for.

I know I'm not nearly as brave or strong as starving children in Africa, I know they go through more than I do in my life every single day. I know that they want food and clean water and love. But EVERYONE wants something. Even if they just feel like a cookie, and there aren't any left. Even if they want to talk to someone after they've just spent the whole day with them. Even if they want to have an affair along with an amazing relationship. Every will always need something else. I don't think we should be accused of being ungrateful and selfish for being human.

Would you say I was selfish for wanting a boyfriend, when there's a girl out there with a boyfriend who abuses her, who wants nothing more to stay as far away as possible from him? To me, you could say, "At least you don't have an abusive boyfriend." And to her, you could say, "At least you have someone to fulfill you." I dont think that girl is ungrateful, I tihnk she's suffering, and I feel sorry for her. And I dont think I'm being ungrateful, becuase I'm heartbroken, and that is not generally considered a desirable state of being.

I will always want something.
Everyone will always want something.
And I don't blame them.

I.. Don't.. Know... Ouch.

Oh. Okay. Now I get it. It's fine really. A good thing. I just... my head hurts.
And my stomach.
And the general torso area.
To be exact, the spot just below my heart feels numb.
My head is a slow, dull ache.
My stomach has a little knot at the bottom.
It's like I'm sick, too.

I feel really small. Like a tiny little soul trapped in a body made of blunt sarcasm and a spiky disposition. My body is telling me to be mad. And sad.
Now my nose is tingling. And my eyes are starting to prickle. But I'm biting my lip because I have family members home. And I hate when people see me unhappy.

Today started out so well.
Earlier today, the boy I loved loved me back.
He thought about me as much as I thought about him.
Even my classes all went great.

But tonight, some time around who-knows-when.
The boy I loved didn't feel at all the same way.
He didn't want to talk to me.
He doesn't want to see me anymore.
The stories he told about me all the time, were just stories.
He was probably mocking me anyways.
Like everyone one else who thinks I'm stupid.
Like everyone else who thinks I'm just cheap entertainment.
And I lost a friend who could've become really close, if I wasn't in love with him.

I just wasted a year of my life.
If only it could've meant something at all.

WHY COULDN'T HE LOVE ME BACK? WHY NOT?

Crap, let the waterworks begin.

WHY DID THAT HAVE TO HAPPEN AT ALL? WHY THE FUCK WAS THAT NECESSARY?

I have no idea.

I think...

I don't know what I think.

Or feel.

Whoever you are.

I don't know who you are.
I don't know if I've met you yet, or if I'll meet you when I'm 90.
I don't know if you sit behind me in math, or if you always watch me walk past in the hallways.
I don't know if you go to O.T., or White Oaks, or if you've already dropped out of school.
I don't know if you're in university, or if you're just starting kindergarten.
I don't know if you have blond hair, brown hair, red hair, or blue hair.
I don't know if you have two eyes or three.
I don't know if you live in Oakville, or Mississauga, or if you live in Hong Kong.
I don't know if your name is Fred, or Stan, or Vladismir.
I don't know if you're a super serious catholic, or if you're an atheist.
I don't know if you're black or white.
I don't know if you love the arts, or if you're a complete science geek.
I don't know if you're homeless or if you live in a mansion.
I don't know if I've ever passed you on the street before.

I know one thing though.
And that is; you had better love me.

Lies.

People keep telling me how amazing I am. How wonderful, funny, smart, pretty and talented I am.
And I don't believe them one little bit. I'll admit my lack of self-confidence is borderline severe, but honestly, if you tell me how awesome I am, I wont believe you. I'm not even being delusional, I have my reasons. My reasons are really just one reason, which is this: normally almost immediately after I've been complimented, something is done or said or implied that completely crushes any confidence I may have built up. Normally the confidence crushing is done by the same people who tried to build it up in the first place. It's a strange world I live in. So all these people trying to make me feel good about myself, well, it's not really working. Because you're all starting to make me feel like a hideously awkward talentless freak of an airhead with no brain. I appreciate the effort, and I love how you all care, but it seems to be having the opposite effect.