Michael

My cousin killed himself yesterday. He'd turned 18 on April 13th. I found out this morning.
When we were little, we looked like twins, acted like it too. We were inseperable until we were about six and seven. He was a year and a few months older than me.
His life was hellish. He didn't really ever know his dad, his mom and Blake, the man who acted as his father and fathered his siblings, were forever breaking up and getting back together. I think they got married two or three times. His mom was an alchie and a slut and his dad had some anger issues. He was so neglected, a difficult kid to begin with, and left to fend for himself.
God... We were like siblings until I was ten and my dad moved to Texas.
And now he's gone.

I've been in this totally surreal state all day. I keep thinking that I'm going to wake up and this will all be a bad dream.
But I'm not going to wake up, and this isn't a bad dream. This is life and this is now. And now is that my cousin is dead. He's a year and a few months older than me and dead.
And he's not coming back.
Ever.
And I've cried so much today... I haven't cried this much all at once since my dad went to Texas when I was starting the sixth grade.

And the funeral means I have to see him too.
I don't know what I'm going to do.

He looked at her like she'd been slapped, then went to walk away. She herself was stunned by what she'd said and stayed standing, thinking she deserved to loose him after this. "Wait!" She found herself shouted, running down the long hallway to catch up with him, he kept walking. "Wait! I'm sorry!" She reached him, standing in front of him and grabbed him. She looked into his bright blue eyes, the ones that always caught her off guard if she wasn't careful, the ones that betrayed any emotion he was trying to hide, the ones that she knew like the back of her hand. Hell, she knew those eyes better than the back of her hand.
"I'm sorry," she said again, her eyes begining to fill with tears. "I'm so sorry. I'm crazy. I know I am. But you knew that long before you got involved in this mess. You knew I was crazy. I mean, goddamn, fucking everyone knows I'm crazy! I'm crazy and weird and I panic a lot and I yell for no reason and I can't seem to say what I want to say when I want to say it without something going completely and utterly wrong. But let me say what I want right now, because, shit, everything is completely and utterly wrong right now!" A few tears threatened to burst from her eyes, but the calm gaze he had, the understanding, the love, that was begining to come over him kept them in and kept her calm enough to say what she had to say.
"I love you. I love you. I don't know why, shit, logic completely defies the idea. You're so quiet and so calculated and so in control and then I'm so loud and expressive and passionate and way too emotional all the time. And I don't mean half of what I say when I'm angry and I apologize way too much for things I should never have said or done, but I try so hard to be good for you. I want so badly to be good to you. I don't know if I'm ever going to be perfect," she stepped closer to him and wrapped her hands in his as she said this, a few tears falling down her cheeks. "But... I'm trying. I don't know what is going on with you at any given moment. And it's weird for me, so my head jumps to conclusions that have nothing to do with fact. I'm so used to saying exactly what I think when I think it almost always and having everyone close to me know what I'm thinking and knowing the same about everyone else. I'm so used to sitting on park benches for hours talking to people. And this is probably my fault just as much as yours, if not more. But please, please, please, please can we forget I ever said half of what I just said, all the crazy paranoid bullshit that just came out of my mouth and go out and watch a movie and talk in your car and be okay?"
A small smile played on his lips and he reached down to kiss her.
"On one condition." he said, pretending to look serious.
"Anything."
"You have to give me warning next time you're going to insult me. I need to brace myself. Really ruins a guys' pride." She laughed.
"Promise."

I've caught the Apple bug.

You know that thing where someone gets an iPod/phone/whatever and they're suddenly obsessed.
Yeah.
I got that.
I downloaded 92 videos for the three podcasts I love and have spent the better part of today converting all my music to iTunes.
All 'cause I got an iPod. xD
I wish I could say that it sucked and I hated it. But I'd be lying if I did and I don't lie.

Going out with Sam today. Prom shopping tomorrow. I'm in a fairly awesome mood. I'll probably get my docking cable so I can work my iPod tomorrow.
All in all, I'm a lot happier than I've been in a while.

Why is your profile picture still the one I took of you?

Sarah collapsed into the grass, letting the feeling of the morning dew cool her sweating face. Her best friend, Leah, danced in a circle beside her. How the hell was she so damned peppy after running eight miles? Who knows.

I don't know. Little idea that popped into my head while I was at the park watching all the runners.
My ex boyfriend still has this picture I took of him as his profile picture. It's my favorite picture of him. Everytime I see him update his status on Facebook I feel a twinge of love. We didn't end cuz we were bad, we ended because we were so far apart. There was no "I FUCKING HATE YOU!" to it. It was just... "I can't do this anymore." Don't get me wrong, I love Sam and I'm so happy with him. And everything with him is so simple in a way that Austin never was. But... With Austin... There was this.... I want to say it's passion, but it was more than that. It was this hunger. That's the best way to describe it. It was this hunger for him, for his body, for his mind for his soul, and it wasn't one-sided, he had it for me too...
And now he's insisting on contacting me.
All the fucking time.
I can't talk to him and not want him.
Why can't he just go away?

Because I'm too depressed to be original.

Cried in my fifth hour. That says it all. I never cry. Anyone who knows me well knows that if I'm crying it's because something is so seriously wrong. Well now it's not really one thing, it's just everything. I'm crashing.

It's funny, cuz I read Brian's thing about two seconds ago, and when I looked in the mirror this morning I decided I was going to something about body image or anorexia.
Seriously, when I was in the seventh grade, I would commonly go two or three days without eating anything more than gum and celery. I'd tell my mom I hate at Rushell/Lonika/Anne/Alissah/Tom/Whoever's house because I wasn't getting home until 7 or 8 at which point they'd already eaten.
Freshman year, I skipped more meals then I ate, at least... After everything with Mark I did. I was doing fine at the begining of my freshman year. Then... everything and I wasn't. I never ate breakfast or lunch. Ever. I couldn't hold down most food that I did eat for a couple months. God... The whole week of the trial I ate two meals that I couldn't keep down. When I found out I didn't have to testify my grandmother took me out to lunch at Olive Garden, my all time favorite restaurant, and I only ate half of my meal and had to run to the bathroom and upchuck the rest. I took it home though and tried to eat it again for dinner, and it didn't stay. I gave up for a few days after that and would munch on a very little bit of potato or something.
This took a toll on my body.
My whole body is covered with this thin fuzzy hair that I shave once a week, and my rips stick out no matter how much I weigh and I gain weight in weird places now (like the sides of my back are where all my fat is), my spine is a series of knobs that make me look like an alien and I don't know if my baby fat in my face is ever going away because of this. I can't keep up a normal diet, I don't know if the anorexia or my ridiculously fast metabolism is the reason. (Seriously, when I mean ridiculous, I mean ridiculous. I had to take weight GAIN pills until I was ten to slow it down so I could grow right, and I was technically supposed to be in a booster seat until the end of the sixth grade because I didn't weigh 90 lbs.)
My hair used to fall out ten times more than a normal person. It would come out in clumps when I was at my worst, like a cancer patient. I cut my hair really short to make it less noticable.
Once or twice I passed out. Fortunately, because I was usually in my room and both times were at home, everyone just thought I was sleeping so I didn't have to go to the hospital.

I still remembered what I saw in the mirror: this really awkward and tall looking thing with fat thighs and a stomach that was huge and I didn't even get the big boobs to go with it. My hair was too blond and my eyes were too big and my lips were always chapped and I was too pale and hair was stringy and people were always looked at me wondering how I could stand to look at myself in the mirror, silently begging me to go inside and out of their line of vision.
I don't understand how I thought this now. Looking back I was beautiful. I had these big hazel eyes that were usually brown and I was tall and thin and my hair was long and shiny and I never got split ends, I was bony but it looked okay on me, I was healthy looking until sometime in the middle of the sixth grade when I decided I wasn't pretty.
I only just started to look healthy again towards the end of last year weight wise, and skin-tone wise I'm only just now starting to not look like I'm sickly white. (Thank you sun!)
It's taken me forever to recover from three years of mistreating my body.
And I'm still not there yet.

My cell phone magically died.

So... Today... Yeah. Woke up, made coffee, read my book, fucked around on Facebook, cleaned my room, organized my closet, got rid of all the Goodwill shit that's been in my closet for forever, took a shower, got ready, tried on my prom dress, had my grandma pin it to start the getting-it-taken-in process (something about having long legs, boobs, a butt, and a tiny waist makes dress makers hate you and never make things in your size without adjustments) I did my makeup a new way and it looked fantastic, my hair looked good, my clothes were all pretty...
Then I went to look at houses with my mom and her fiance, whom I hate, my sisters (who still live with them), my grandma who is their realtor, and her fiance's mom. Well her fiance has this whole idea that four year olds are actually capable of listening for more than two seconds and that the more you yell at something the better it listens. Well needless to say after the fifth time he screamed at my four year old sister, I was ready to punch him. I wanted to scream. I was so pissed. I already hate him and that's only part of the reason. We go to the next house and it's no better. I just want to scream my head off and I can't because the kids are around. Mind you my mother letting him is NOT helping.
So we go from there to the next house, which is just as bad. I give my sisters kisses goodbye before they go and don't say a word to my mother or Ryan, though I doubt they noticed.

Then I go to a BPO (broker price estimate) with my grandma. Which is in White Cloud. We get lost and drive around for about an hour before finding this place by sheer dumb luck.
It was annoying.

And at this point I pull my phone out of my pocket and realize the screen is broken and I can't see ANYTHING on it. WONDERFUL. REALLY. I was so pissed.

I just kind of hate today. I don't want tomorrow to happen. But it has to. And tomorrow means I get to see Sam. So... win? Sure win. Idk.

Gay Blog

So Brian's thing about being gay made me want to write this up. I was starting a blog anyways, and this is almost always on my mind.
My family doesn't know I'm bisexual. My grandmother has flat out said that she believes that if a person is bisexual, they're in the process of coming out as full on gay. Well, I know that's wrong.
And I'm just as attracted to women as I am to men, but I'm more likely to be in a boy-girl relationship than a girl-girl relationship. Why? Because all the girls I want to fuck are straight. I mean, honestly, I daydream about kissing my friend Pagiel all the time. I wonder exactly what it would feel like to have her soft, round lips against mine almost everytime I see her.

When I was in the eighth grade, I spent the night at my best friend, Rushell's house. I'd realized at this point that I was desperately in love and lust with her, but I hadn't told anyone else. She fell asleep before I did (which was a rarity) and I was sitting there watching her sleep. She called my name out, and I thought she might be awake, but she was just sleep talking. I didn't quite know when she said it though, so I answered "Yeah, baby?" and she said "I love you. Come lay by me." This is when I realized she was sleep talking again, but I did it anyways. And while I was lying there, this fantasy of what would happen if she was awake and I kissed her ran through my head. I leaned down and kissed her neck. She sleep smiled and curled tighter into my arms. At some point, I fell asleep, when I woke up the next morning, she was looking at me and I had her watermellon lipsmackers lipgloss on my lips. And it wasn't because I was wearing it.
I was asleep for my first ever real kiss with a girl.

Big Green Eyes

I was putting on my makeup this morning, (this sounds conceited, I'm sorry, I'm not) and I was (once again) startled by my eyes. They're huge and green, and having actual green eyes is uncommon and there just interesting looking. I love my eyes. But as I was doing this, I wondered how other eyes saw me.
I know my friends see me as a total sucker for kids and puppies and a complete softie who loves almost everyone and really nice to pretty much everyone and makes everyone laugh with my expressive and sarcastic sense of humor.
I know Sam sees me like that too, plus a little more I don't know.
And I know that people I don't know so well see me as this totally hard bitch who'll just as soon slap you as kiss you and knows all the answers in class and makes jokes to her friends that probably seem insulting due to the tone of sarcasm.
I know my mom thinks I'm this selfish bitch who only cares for herself and is out to make her life harder and get in trouble.
I know Ryan thinks the same thing.
My sisters think I'm god. That I can do anything and save them from everything.
My grandma sees... I don't know. I think she sees something similar to my friends or she wouldn't be how she is with me.

I know what so many people see in me, but I don't know what I see in myself. I mean... I'm funny and sarcastic and really expressive. I brag about my friends and siblings and boyfriend beyond the point where most people care. I'm pretty but not stunning. I'm rude sometimes but not usually. I'm brutaly honest.. I know these things. I just don't know the whole it comes out to.
Well, I have to leave and go to school now.
I hate school.

I'm really cold...

my eyes are all sleepy-like.

I'm sitting in my room with two candles lightly burning behind me on the windowsill and my pale blue blanket covering up my shivering feet while my fingers move quickly across the keyboard. I don't really know what to say.
I hate when this happens, my mind is exploding with words and creativity but I have no where to put it, nothing to do with it, nothing in which to channel it.
I'll have words in my head and no story in which to put them, I won't have a plot. So I'll write this scene for a story or a script and have nothing to do with it after that.

She stood outside, letting the cool wind hit her face and the tobacco run through her lungs. She knew it was bad, she knew she should quit, but she didn't. She wouldn't. She'd been smoking since she was 12, there was no point in stopping ten years later. Besides, she reasoned, leaning against the brick wall of the cafe she worked in, it's how I meet people. It was true, when she was 16, standing outside of her favorite dive bar she'd met her best friend. When she was 20, smoking outside the subway, she'd met her boss. It's where she'd met all her best friends, anyone she'd ever dated... It was while smoking on the street outside of wherever she was, was going into, or had just been.

I have a problem.

So I went to the mall today, I ended up getting three swimsuit bottoms (a string, a tie, and boyshorts), a black bikini top, two bracelets, and a makeup bag. Oh, and let's not forget the magazines I walked out of Barnes and Nobles with. It occured to me, when I saw Sam's brothers fiance, Brittany, working in Macy's (where I stole two bottoms and the top from) that it's probably wrong to be doing this. Does it stop me? No. I still took them. I took the magazines after that, too.
And I feel bad, but I reason it with, "I'm fucking broke, we live paycheck to paycheck with so little room for spending money, but if I ask for it, I'll get it. Every single time. And then I feel worse than I do now."
Right? Maybe.
I don't know.

I think it should be Wednesday already. Come Wednesday, I won't have time to think. My sisters are coming over for the day and I'm going to see Sam. I'm thinking Wednesday might bring Third, but who knows?
I want Third and I want it bad. Hell, I just want Sam badly. I don't know what it is about that boy, but emotionally and physically and spirtually, I crave him. I want every single part of him.
How did I not notice him for two years? This confuses me.

Scene? I don't know. Popped into my head.

(Scene: the front porch of a large country mansion, a redheaded girl sits on the steps smiling at the sunset.)
(Blond girl walks out and stands next to the readhead)
Blond: I thought I might find you out here. (Sits down)
Redhead: Yeah, well, I haven't reached the point of self-loathing where I'm going to listen to them say what a failure I am.
Blond: (Looks at Redhead seriously) You're not a failure, Becca.
Becca/Redhead: (Throws head back in laughter) Oh, really? That's rich, Shell. I'm an art major, and have been, for, what? Six years? I barely graduated high school, I can barely pay rent on my waitressing salary. Really, I sound like such a winner. I'm 27 years old and living like a 19 year old from some dirt poor family. Look around, Shelly! I come from a family of millionares! Anything less than perfection is failure.
(Silent)
Becca: I'm going for a drive. (Steps off the porch and leaves stage left. The sounds of a car starting and pulling away.)
Shelly/Blond: Yeah... But... You have me. (Pulls knees up to face and stares at the sunset)

Easter Sunday

The highlight of my Easter was Driving out to Twin Lake, Michigan.
I also got stuck at a family lunch in which my mother talked about her wedding. Her motherfucking wedding to this douche bag, redneck, army man who treats my sisters and me like shit. And my mother is ten years his senior. I just generally hate him.
It was... well it sucked.
But I did get a new camera. I was playing with it in the car on the way to Twin Lake. I took about a zillion pictures.
I don't know, I'm slightly really depressed over seeing my mom and all, and it's making my whole brain mush.

But on the plus side... Last night was amazing. I had this double date with one of my friends and his girlfriend who I'd never met. I didn't really like her, but it was fun cuz Sam was his friend too. We watched Wall-E and some comedy that was really funny, and Sam drove me home. Which is where the great part starts.
We were sitting in the car and I reached up and kissed him, a usual after-date thing. And after a while he pulls away and I'm like "What's up?" and we started talking. For almost an hour, we just sat there and cuddled and talked, and it was so... amazing.

friends?

I have friends, I have quite a few. But it's spring break, most of my friends are going on fun and exciting adventures.
So I feel completely alone.
And, sadly, Sam is probably about a zillion times more social than I am considering that I'm completely content to sit at home all day with my sisters and do nothing in particular.

Seriously, it's the first day of spring break. I sat home with my grandmother and my sisters came over to visit. We went to McDonald's, cleaned, played in the yard, and I watched the entire first season of Gossip Girl in two days.
Am I really that pathetic?
Tomorrow I'm going on a date with my boyfriend and our friend Trevor and his girlfriend. I don't even like Trevor. I mean, I don't like him at all. I tolerate him because he's autistic and my boyfriend and Hannah's friend. But I cannot stand him. I hate being around him for more than twenty minutes and I'm pretty sure that Sam will be the only thing to keep me sane. I haven't even met his girlfriend for more than five seconds. Apparently she never eats, but she's got these curves like whoa. I don't understand it. Anyways...

I love and hate dating a really inexperienced guy. On the one hand, he has a soul (as a person not because he's inexperienced), so he wants to move slow. Which I respect, because he's a good guy and he actually cares about this kind of stuff. On the other hand I want some serious hardcore action. Kisses are amazing. I want the kisses to lead somewhere. They don't have to go all the way. I'm a virgin, I'm not ready to loose that this early in a relationship. But I mean, I want some third base action and I want it soon. I can't really just go up to him and be like "You, me, this couch/bed/car/whatever right now." Because he's not ready and I need to respect that, but it just suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks.
Completely unfair.
He cannot be all argumentative and frustrating and cute and funny and sweet and infuriating and just make me want him so badly and then not let me go anywhere with it.
There has got to be some kind of law against this.

Ha, I'm turning into the female version of the sexist male pigs I hate. Oh, gotta love that! My hormones are deffinately raging and I'm totally ready for him to take advantage of that. THAT'S WHAT BEING A TEENAGER IS ABOUT!!!

Gossip Girl

Spring break began today as the bell rang at 2:15 and we all ran out of our fifth hours like bats out of hell (which with the all-black uniform is actually fairly accurate) and I hopped on a bus home to induldge in some of my favorite Upper East Side drama on Gossip Girl. (I borrowed season 1 from the library.) And as I'm watching Gossip Girl, there's this episode right after Serena returns to New York, it's the fourth in the show, where they're just so best-friendy.
And as this unfolds on my computer screen and I watch, absorbed in their drama, mayhem, beauty, and lavish clothing, I realize....
I'm without a best friend. I have been for a while. Even when I still spoke to Lucy (my previous best friend who was dumped for... well... various reasons. Some of the top including: total selfishness, snobbiness, and feelings of total superiority. She's actually a lot like Blair from the show.) we hadn't been best friends since September. The week after my birthday when my mom kicked me out I stayed with her and her family for two weeks. Everything she said was wrong, and I realized then that she didn't understand me in the least bit. I don't think she ever knew who I actually was. She had this idea of me in her head, kind of like a stranger would, of this you-that-you-pretend-to-be. She believed my too-cool-for-school, nothing affects me, I have no feelings, I'm a cold-hearted bitch act. She accepted it as who I was and was determined to change it instead of seeing that I act like that because I'm miserable, and I hate my family but I still love them so much, and I cry inside pretty constantly, and that I'm already sweet, and caring, and compassionate, and full of love that's just looking for a home. She had been that home.
A year ago today, she called me, sobbing, because she'd overheard her parents talking about getting a divorce. They'd been having problems and they were just discussing it as a possibility. I calmed her down, I reassured her, I said all the right things and they were all true things. By the time we hung up, two hours later, she was laughing.
She'd never once, in our whole friendship, done that for me. Mind you, I cried a lot in our friendship. She came in at a kind of crucial time. Hell, she even caused some of that crying.
After I'd been dumped by my ex, Jose, (who she was good friends with, there was a bit of a foursome going with us, Ruddy, Lucy, Jose, and me. We were always together. Two sets of besties connected by me and Jose's relationship.) she forced us together, even though all I wanted to do was curl up a corner and cry my eyes out while watching chick flicks and complaining about everything that was wrong with him. She made us hang out, like we had been before, because it was convinient for her. Jose went along with it because he still wanted me and he'd made a mistake and wanted to get back together. I went along with it because it was that or go home.
Millions of things like that happened. She was a terrible friend.

But she was my best friend.
And I could tell her everything, even if I didn't like what she said. I could always walk into a room, go up to her, and know I'd have her full attention. If I called to make plans, I'd know I'd be pushed ahead of or dragged along with whatever she'd already had planned.
And I don't have that.
I've never not had that. Not since first grade when everyone was your best friend.
I feel like a part of me is missing because of that. Like somethings... Gone.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I have friends, I have a dozen damn good friends who I can always count on. It's just.... not a BEST friend, not like that.
And I miss it.
I want it back.
I want to stay up late giggling about clothes and hair and shoes and boys.
I want that so bad it hurts.