Two months.

…and thanksgiving.

Spending time with Will is always amazing, regardless of the situation–but Thanksgiving.

:/ If everything is so amazing, why is there so much anger for people I didn’t even have to see?

lol i cnt let go bc i h8 dos asholes n mi dey wuz rely gr8 n evrythg iz amzning

And when did my life start revolving around him? My pride and hypocritical tongue snap an angry retort but the bitterness lingers like a terrible taste in my mouth and the truth is as bright as the sun.
It’s not about the fucking boy!
Oh, but it is.
I’ve wanted to get out of the house last year before I even met him.
To run away because that’s all I do, and now I can run away to someone.

It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to be saved, hasn’t it? So sure Piccolo would scoop down and fly me away, or at least someone, I had waited. But after 10, the dream start to flicker. When I hit middle school a large part of me died.
And that night, Will, what you said. It brought it all back.
You’ll protect me. You’ll save me.
Clutching onto your hoody’s sleeve, trying my best not to cry over something we both know isn’t actually there…

I always throw myself into my passions, because when I get involved with something, I always put my entire self into it, with everything I have–but it’s never been with someone real. As much as I love Molly, I hadn’t put myself fully into it, I always held back. And I’ve always ran away. And she’s the closest who has ever gotten to me, she’s the first person that I’ve loved more then myself–she’s taught me a lot of things. She’ll always be my best friend, and honestly, if the world ended, and it was just us, I could be happy.

Two months, two months, and everything I said is killing me. All I do is spend time with you–and when I’m not with you, I’m struggling to keep up the same level of joy I have when I’m with you, and I wish you were there, to share the laughs–and the laughs never seem good enough without you, and its like…

there’s this emptiness. I can survive, sure. But there’s like something missing.

Thing is, I want to be able to function better. I don’t want to be so dependent on needing to be around you. It’s just like how you said you felt, I’m addicted to seeing and feeling you. Oh lord, I’m addicted.

I’m sick and angry and confused.

And everything is going beautifully, and we bicker and make up quickly–it isn’t like we’re utterly obsessed with one another and see each other in a perfect light, naw. We get along like…

like my parents.

It’s like I’ve known you all my life.

And I don’t want to say anymore. I don’t want to go down there. It’s been two months, why should we talk of marriage?

I hate thanksgiving.

I do. I hate it because I hate the people related to me. I won’t give them the name of family, and I won’t forgive them. I resent them. I resent their silence. As far as I’m concerned, we’re not blood related, and nothing but my mother ties me to them. And their awful silence.

Sitting there at the table, all in our false mockery of thanksgiving, I usually end up just drowning myself in whatever liquid there is around–last year it so happened to be wine. I hate them. I hate them so much I’m miserable. And I hate things that bring me misery.

I hate them. I hate the silence. And I won’t shut up about it. I fucking hate the silence that they give to me, the silent staring and the play. We just sit and play the little game, and I’m laughing my fake laugh, and smiling my hateful smile, and wishing I was anywhere but there.

Sometimes I wish they’d just die.
Usually I wish on the way there we’d get in a car accident. Maybe the impact will kill me or at least keep me far far away from them for a long while.

I feel so trapped and I just wish I could run away. And I’m tired.

Does he look like a bitch?

It’s proof to show that I bleed for this
I’d cut myself to shame
To get to know this masochist
Who’s stolen my first name

hypocrite; definition: me.
As Kaggy says, it’s just who I am. And it’s what I do. The word, it’s suddenly a verb and an action and the one thing that can describe me best of all.

I’ve come to terms with myself. Yes, I want to marry him. Yes, I want to spend the rest of my life with him.
But tomorrow will only be your two month anniversary, how do you know?
How don’t I know? I know. I know. I’ve told him things I couldn’t even admit to myself. I never hesitate, I always tell him the truth, and the whole truth, even if I know it’ll cause an argument.

My god, I know. I don’t ever want to be with anyone else.
I have become cliched.
I have become a hypocrite.
I have become everything I scoffed off.
You have said everything I wrote off needing to hear. You have said everything that I needed to hear. You have said everything I begged God to hear before that part of me died away.
Every sweet word spilling from your lips, words that I had once cringed at, and became disgusted over, have me captured.

You are my future.

This barely beating heart of hurt.

And when the hurt comes there’s an argument,
A fight to save a smile
A small attack on human tears
To dry them for a while

It’s the art of how we grieve

I wish I could be daddy’s little girl. I keep lapsing out. And my dreams are of those that could have been reality. I’ve read two different sets of text messages, had two different sets of conversations already. I was about to get up and write a blog about being daddy’s little girl, and how I crawled into his lap and cried. And he’d give me advice with out getting angry at my offenders. And his big hands stroked my head, and he was so warm. So warm like Will. And he made me feel so safe like Will.

When I get upset–is upset a word I could use, is it the correct word for the near dead emptiness to what I feel?–like the way I am now, I just simply can’t doubt. I read that people do. But I know, still, in the agony of it all, the pleading, that the way Will feels has not changed. It could, and I’m sure he’d tell me if it did.

Everything is so plain and hollow, emptiness playing a dull note of nothing. I’m preparing myself for tomorrow. For the lies, for the smiles. The easy laughter that will pour from my mouth, the deception that I’ll spew like some sort of actress on a stage of reality.

And they’ll eat it up. They’ll eat up my charade, my facades, my world of pretense. And I’ll smile, and I’ll laugh on cue, and I’ll be their little small friend.

I’ll be Miss Sunshine, Miss Happiness, Miss Mindless.
And I’ll do my gee golly best to cheer up everyone else.

Because I would never wish the echoing hollow agony upon anyone else. It’s amazing. Only three people can drive me to this point with a single word. My mother, Dennis and now Will. Eh, and I suppose Snarf did help.

But.
I simply can’t remember just how I got this way. I just remember the sweet terrible agony grasping me and tugging me into my old suicidal thoughts, my fingers itching to run across my skin, to grasp my hair and pull or to wreck my cheek. My mind begging me to grab whatever I could and plunge it into me.

But fuck it.
I worked to hard to get where I am. One tiny slip up, and what better am I then someone who cannot function? I worked through the paranoia and the agony to get where I am, and I’m not going to be apart of those people anymore. I deserve this title of normalcy. I deserve to be separated from the title of Schizo.

So drill it, so drill it
So hard I feel it
So drill it, so drill it
So hard I feel it
So drill it, so drill it
So hard I feel it

Snarf mocks me for acting like I’m happy when I’m not.
What else am I suppose to do? Walk around crying? Walk around sad? Walk around so everybody knows I’m so unhappy? Then what? What will happen then? Nothing.
Because nobody can soothe me with words. And there was a time when I cried and nobody gave a shit. Because if you’re sad, the world doesn’t care. I have spent to much energy into being who I am, I have spent a lot of practice in being happy and nobody can take that away from me! I’ll fake it until I make it. I will not wallow. I will not allow myself to falter.

And maybe that makes me weak. Weak because I can’t even allow myself to show how truly feel. But goddamn what good will it be to be sad? What good, what good?

I think I’ve pretended terribly this year. It bothers me when people ask me what’s wrong. What’s wrong? Nothing, my silly friend, I’m simply tired.

What am I without words? I am nothing. And I can’t find it in me to write like I used to. I can’t find it in me to do much now, really, when my dreams tend to be so much sweeter.

So am I really that pathetic? I let people run my life, and I always have. And I always will. And that, my dear Snarf, is what Will was referring to. I go out of my way, whether it be for the misery of my own self, to make them happy.

And in my paranoia, I figured you both were playing a game with me. I figured you enjoyed the taunting game of seeing how far we can bend Rin until she breaks.

I don’t have anything to offer now. Wait until I’m better until I can pull myself back up.

And I was so right. Will is going to destroy me, and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces of my shattered resistance. I’ll have to refix everything all over again. But I know Molly will be there to help sew each piece together when it happens.

I’m giving up.

I can’t deal. I just can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t. You win, I’m sorry. I just wanted to show you, just wanted to show you what infatuation was and how it didn’t apply. If you were in my shoes, and I said to you, ‘Eh, I think FAJ is just infatuated with you and it’ll all go away soon’ after seeing him with you that one time at the mall, wouldn’t you be inclined to prove me wrong?

It wasn’t an attack against you. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. Okay, yeah. I do love Will

I do

I do

I do

And everything is ruined and everything is angry and there’s so much noise and I don’t understand why you keep saying these things to me. Why do you think you’re so replaceable. You brought up Kathy I’m not Kathy. You need to learn to love yourself and see your own worth.

I’m sorry.

And I can’t take it anymore. This pain has doubled since last night. Amazing how I said I didn’t know what sadness is. I remember why I’m antisocial. I remember that yeah, I don’t know sadness. I just know the crippling agony, of my thoughts getting fuzzy and loud, of yelling, of rocking back and forth laughing to myself as it all closes in on me.

I can’t deal I just can’t fucking deal and I can’t take it I can’t take it I can’t take it.

It’d be so much easier to turn off my phone. Why Will, why do you do this to me? Your silence and your anger and your little comments and Snarf’s anger and hurt and everything and the ajksa and the thoughts…

all the thoughts spinning at once, every way to possibly kill myself

and I know I’m going to start hurting myself again. I want to so bad, I can remember how good it feels. I deserve this. Dennis was right. Jayden was right. I deserve all of it. And I’m so happy. Thank god. I enjoy this pain. And I’ll do it. I’ll fucking do it. I want it.

I want the pain. It’s what I get. I shouldn’t have been so happy, I should have just acted, I should have known better, I shouldn’t have been so selfish. And I’ll enjoy it.

I won’t draw blood, I never have. I’ll just bite myself, and I’ll find things to stab myself with.

And I’ll be a broken mess, and nobody will know, because its like before. Between Snarf and Will, I’m almost how I used to be. I felt something to break.

Twice in one week. I just felt the snap. And I’m so broken, I can feel the crunching inside. And I’m happy and I’m hungry to hurt myself again. And I’m going away. I’m going far far away.

I’m a hypocrite. Hypo hypo hypo hypo hypo hypocrite. I say I can handle a relationship.

Mmm, haha.

I’m so broken. Do de da.

It’s so delicious. I’m so ruined and I can still laugh on cue, and I can still smile and act like everything is happy and wonderful.

Because I’m a liiiiarrr. And I’m so fucking filthy. And I deserve everything I deserve it.

So you win, Snarf. If you want to be replaced, okay, I’ll do that, just for you. I’ll do whatever you want. I’m a writer, aren’t I? Yeah. I can do that. I can. I can. And then you’ll be happy. You’ll be so happy you won’t have to deal with being upset by me anymore.

And okay Will. You win. You can do whatever you want. I can’t, Will, I’m so ruined. Keep being angry at me, keep saying those things, keep leaving me to wonder what I’ve done.

I’m going away now.

Infatuation’s cackling laugh.

I try to stay on top of you
To hold your body down
Your shaking seems to hinder
Every grasp that I had found

Moving every inch around you
To defuse your private bomb
I stretch myself surrounding
And protecting you from harm

Infatuation: A foolish, unreasoning, or extravagant passion or attraction.

Yes, I’m an obsessive person, and I leap from obsessive passion to the next, I throw my entire being into it, and I will always have a soft spot for it. This rules out infatuation. Because infatuation is always short lived, and my feelings for what I write about isn’t.
And that’s all I have to compare to infatuation when it comes to this topic. Love, infatuation, lust, desire, needing–it’s all new to me.

Snarf, I love you, but I do not think you have any room to judge or put a word to what Will feels. You’ve seen us together, what, three or four times at the most?

“When infatuated, we are thrilled, but not happy, wanting to trust, yet suspicious. There are lingering, nagging doubts about our “partner in infatuation” and their love for us. We’re miserable when they’re away, almost like we’re not complete unless we’re with them. It’s a rush and it’s intense. It’s difficult to concentrate. And most infatuation relationships have a high degree of sexual charge around them. Somehow being with them is not complete unless in ends in some type of sexual encounter.”

Will is extremely happy. I hate to talk for him, but it’s true. And he trusts me. He trusts me, as I trust him. I’ve never felt more comfortable with someone my entire life. I may be not be as happy when I’m not with him, but I’m not miserable, not in the the least. I can keep my happiness a certain level, true as it may not be as bright.
And we can go an entire day with only small pecks on the lips. We don’t have to full out make out in order to have a wonderful day. I can curl up next to him and his sister and watch Get Smart. Or hang out with his family. Or have him hang out with mine.

Some of the “symptoms” of infatuation are; feelings of panic, uncertainty, overpowering lust, feverish excitement, impatience, and/or jealously.
Panic, when I’m worried. Panic, when he’s worried. Other then that, there’s none of that.

While you’re infatuated, however, you’re ‘blind’ to your partner’s faults, weaknesses, and failings. It seems your partner is perfect in so many ways.
I do think Will is perfect. There is nothing I would change about him. Even his silence that drives me crazy, I’ve grown to adore it more and more. And his anger. I can’t help but like that too.
I am not blind to his faults. I just like them.
And Will most certainly isn’t blind to mine. He knows I don’t, ah, fucking think. But he says there’s nothing he’d change. And there’s nothing I’d change about him. Oh, and he knows my weakness–and he exploits them at times.

Infatuation makes you ‘dumb’ because you lose touch with things that are really important to you in your life, like your education, your parents and family, your friends, your career, your goals, your values, and much more.
This thing is really making me believe I’m infatuated with my writing. Eh.
Again, no, for me and Will. My education is still first, and so is his, if he’ll ever get to school. His future education is still very important to him, and we’re working on his college thing. My family and his are still important to the both of us. My friends and his friends are still important.
For Halloween I hung out with Kaggy, something we always do, and he hung out with his LOL BFF Dan.
And trust me, his career is extremely important. Sometimes he chooses getting ready for work over hanging out with me. Oh boo hoo sob for me, right? And his values are still in check. As are mine.

You aren’t there. You don’t know. Please don’t judge how he feels based on nothing you can see. I understand how much you care for me, but…
You don’t see the way he looks at me.
Or feel the way he caresses my cheek.
The way he kisses me so tenderly and gently.
Or how he refuses to let me outside of the house without something warm on or without shoes on my feet.
You don’t see the concern and wonder.
You don’t see, you don’t see.
I could list a thousand different thing. I could list all the small things he does, I could tell you all the sweet tenderly things he says, I could list all the mocking, all the amusement, all the laughter, I could list the silly fights and how easily we get over them.

You aren’t us, you have no say.

Scorched.

We ain’t got a whole lot of money…
How about a five star Happy Meal?
Every day with you is just like a party.

Drama is a word I play around with but when it hits, I falter along with it. Usually I keep my head and I keep my calm. Despite my belief in magic and petty things and alter universes, I need logic, thus my attraction to anyone logical.

At first I was puzzled and baffled, my mind unable to keep up with the words running from your mouth, the anger and distress that you were sputtering out, spilling onto me like a rushing wave. I recoiled, my mind pathetically scrambling to keep up, my thoughts speeding and crashing painfully into one another like a clumsy mess of goo.
I only understand two things, you were angry and it involved Will. I could not process just as why you were angry, all that kicked in was the sudden urgency to help soothe whatever forsaken you, all that I could understand was that my best friend was going off like a bomb of emotion and all that mattered was that you needed to be happy again.
I quickly came to assume you were angry at me.
And came more confusion. The hurt. Then the distress to make you understand how important you were.
So, confused, uncertain, I followed.
And retreated due to class, feeling extremely confused and upset.

Later came anger. Much, much, later. I was going to go home, I decided, and write an angry blog.
But as I contemplated what I’d say, I realized that I had really nothing I could be angry at you for.
I was going to use FAJ at first. I was going to go on and on about how I could listen to your happy stories, yet you could not listen to mine without feeling angry or jealous–
When I realized that there was nothing wrong with that at all. I was happy to listen, I loved to hear how happy he made you, and I loved to watch you glow, and smile lazily.
And I realized that we had a good and honest friendship. And I was, despite feeling bad that I made you feel bad, happy to know you can tell me how you feel.
I could not blame you for your jealousy. You and I are different. And while people matters don’t concern me in the least, and being jealous would be like being good at math for me, I still loathe to listen about Twilight and I can’t explain myself. I’m only terribly jealous when it comes to writing.
I had absolutely nothing to complain about when it comes to you, Snarf. You are one of the very best friends I have, even if you do get upset easily. But that’s the thing, I love you for you, and I love you for how upset you get. You wouldn’t be Kelsea without being your emotional self.
And out of the people I know, you’re my older sister, you’re my family. And I cherish you, no matter how you feel about something, no matter what you will ever say. You look out for my well-being and you’ve done nothing but care about me.

That thing you said, ‘you have other friends‘.
Yes, I have other friends. But I don’t have another Snarf. I don’t. And I don’t ever need one.
I think you think you’re replaceable. Well you’re dead wrong, there will never be anyone like you. You don’t realize how brilliant you are, and I wish you would. I don’t want other friends when I’ve got you. You crack witty jokes, you’re positively kick ass, you know all the right things to say and do, you can cheer me up with a lopsided cheerful grin, you give great hugs, you’re so pretty and I adore your hair.
Your birth family all fucking suck. And I’ll say it again, you’re going to make it and they aren’t. Snarf, I’m your family too, okay? And I’ll be here for you until I’m thrown 6 feet under. I will always love you and I’ll always be here for you–even on the days we bicker over silly things, even on the days we don’t really like each other much. ‘Cause I love you, I do, I do.

Of the universe by my side.

Do I really need a reason?
Is it really such a big deal?
It just seems like the right situation
To say how I really feel.

All that happens is Happiness.
Happiness- when I’m with you.

There are only a few factors in my life that I’m sure of, things that I’ve known since almost day one.
I know for the motherfuckin’ fact that my purpose on this beautiful little planet is to keep Molly’s glow alive. To keep her smiling, regardless of who I’m with, regardless of who she’s with. It’s something I’ve sort of always known. Back when we hardly knew each other, I felt that pull, that need to protect her, to make sure everything was alright.
I might not have the ability to love her the way she loves me, but I love her with everything I’m capable of. I love her the only way I know how to.

Since I was younger, waaay back when, even as the idea of having children had no appeal to me–still really doesn’t–back when I must have been seven or so, and up, I could still see glimpses of things that made me head turn.
Maybe it’s just the writer in me, or maybe it’s something I just know, but these things I’ve seen, they’ve always stuck with me.
Like the three kids. I’m not really sure of gender but I do know that one is a girl and one is a boy–I’m not sure which kids belong to who, either if the third is a friend’s child, or what…
But I’ve seen them in my head all my life. I sort of know their personality. I don’t know their names. And I don’t really know what they look like.
But the boy, the tallest of the three, has the same hair color as Molly and dark blue eyes–sometimes. I just know… that hair, it looks like hers. I’m not sure about the eyes.

I’ve always seen myself–single parent, I had thought, now I just realize, that the scenes I’ve seen are just very limited. I don’t know if I’m gonna be married with kids, I just know I’m gonna have kids.
And I can still remember being in this pretty kitchen, the window above the sink, counters around, wood flooring and a wood table with flowers on it…
Talking on the phone to someone very close, laughing, as the kids run around, playing under the table.
I remember the girl I talked to over the phone had brown hair.
I’ve been trying to figure out who, and I think it’s Molly.

I can see us laughing and carrying on in an Italian restaurant.

I can even see us being old on a bench somewhere bitching at kids.

I don’t know if Will is going to be in my life still, but I really hope he is.
I don’t know if Molly and Doug will get together, but I sure would like them too.
And I can see thanksgiving.
I really can. Not as clear as I can with the other things, but its still nice.
I can see Doug pulling a little girl with dark hair and fair skin onto his lap, she’s probably around four, dressed in a purple and white dress with a bow and black shoes, trying to tell her about his communist lies, while I scoff and Molly smiles adoringly, Will pulling the turkey out of the oven because he’s a faggot cook and the two boys chasing each other around, ducking under tables, while pretending to sword fight with sticks. I think the boys are 8 and 7, though I’m not sure. Maybe one is 6. Maybe the other 10.
It keeps switching around.
Things keep changing.

But I do see constants.
I do see Molly with her hands on her hips glaring out a window while its raining. It’s night. And I’m leaning back lazily in the chair next to her, telling her to calm down, while she’s getting annoyed and worried. Waiting for him.
That one is the closest to our age. We can’t be past 23.

I dunno. But I do like these thoughts.

I can see a beach scene. I’m annoyed, Will’s annoyed–we don’t like beaches much, and the children are laughing and running, playing by the water, and Molly’s laughing and chasing after them.
And then she’s next to–I guess Doug?–holding hands and cuddling while Will and I try and sneak off to be dirty.
And I can see Will pouting, being sulky and silent, staring narrowly at me as if it was my fault.

And Christmas.
And the lights. The red and green flashing and dancing lights hanging outside a house with a brown roof covered with snow. And up the porch. And there’s a big tree in the living room with lights dancing, and flickering, and presents underneath in ever different color, shiny and appealing.
And there’s the loud laughter, and spoons hitting plates, and the warm murmur filling the air, and the different smells filling the house–
And Molly and I are attempting to cook and laughing as we fail terribly at it, Will growling and swatting us away from the now smoking stove, telling us he’s gonna hit us if we don’t shoo.
And Doug is trying to guess what’s in the boxes with a little boy, rattling a few things as Molly pokes her head through the doorway huffing, ‘don’t you touch that!’ and only receiving identical smiles.
And me calling her a pussy for not being able to stand up to the smiles.
And then Will pulling out the small hose to the sink, threatening to squirt us if we don’t get out of the ‘damn kitchen’ with Molly throwing her hands up and crying, ‘but we’re women!’

Word count: 0; saving draft

Break my body with the back of your hand
Doesn’t make sense from where I stand
Baby, baby why you wanna mess it up
Sooner or later I’ll find my place
Find my body better fix my face
Please don’t ask me
How I’ve been getting off
No please don’t ask me
How I’ve been getting off

I haven’t been as passionate as I could be. No, no, I’ve been actually editing my posts, shortening them, keeping things out. Because I feel awful and rotten when you tell me those things. I know you can’t help the way you feel, but what is there to compete against? You’re in love. In love. Something that I could probably only dream of understanding. When you say you get jealous, I wish I could take back all the words. Jealousy scares me, I want nothing to do with it at all.

Two days ago I was positive that my anxiety was started by Will’s silence. He had some part of it, yes, but not fully. I couldn’t even get out of bed this yesterday. I hate the helplessness, the fear strangling me, wrapping around me so all I can hear is the loud thumping of my own heart beat and panic takes control. Sleep did nothing to soothe me and I struggled not to burst into tears as I made my way to the couch. Fear exploded, and I curled up, rocking back and forth while repeating constantly that I was fine, while I did my best to reassure Molly and Will.

Secretly I think it’s because I can’t deal with arts and crafts. I need to drop that class, I just can’t handle it. We’re gonna start doing dyes next and that alone makes me feel so nervous and anxious. I’m going to puke.

I love it when you take control. I love it when you tell me I’m not allowed to talk to someone. ‘Nobody much older than you, no assholes and you’re not allowed to talk to shit heads like Frank’. I love how protective you get. I love it when Molly gets that way too–but I don’t know why you affect me more. I just wanna cuddle you.
That man from pondarosasafasf. Turns out he’s over 40.

‘i wish i was younger and could have been the one to ( realease ) your inner desires’
‘back at ponderosa  when you worked there and i came in and flirted with ya i often thought to myself  dam if i was younger i would soooo  DO her’
‘.. would you have let me ?/ if you were not in a relationship’

You told me to get rid of him–Molly wanted to curse him out. Snarf figured he liked me like that awhile ago–and I figure that I keep leading people on. With Frank. With Charlie. It’s as though I really am what Shane said all those years ago. Sometimes I just feel like such a manipulative lair.

I am manipulative. And I do spin the truth constantly–but never to people who matter. Never to Snarf, never to Molly or Billy or Sarah or Kaggy or to you, Will. Never ever. And I’m the biggest hypocrite there is. I really am. I get very passionate about a topic, and the way I feel about it can reverse in a matter of seconds. I say one thing, do another, and believe strongly in somethings else entirely.

Kaggy once said that’s what she was jealous of. My ability to throw myself entirely into a passion. She says that I have the ability to passionately argue against something and then turn around and argue just as passionately against what I had been defending to somebody else.

Because in the end, all that matters are my words. And even the times Will unwittingly makes me unhappy or sad, I also think, well at least I have my stories to fall back into. At least I can just leave for awhile. Because I’m a coward. I’m a coward who can’t face the ugly truths in the world, I’ll do anything to make sure everyone around me is happy, to make sure that I’m happy no matter what, even if I have to lie to myself.

Laura says I’m selfless. She says I put my friend’s feelings before my own. And yeah, I do. But usually not for the same reasons. For one, its easier, just easier to do what people want, and for second, I’m actually very very selfish. I want to be constantly surrounded by the illusion of happiness. It’s for me. All for me.
Will and I sort of got into a mini fight about it. It bothers him that I try to make everyone happy even if it’s ‘bad’.
He says I shouldn’t have to hide my emotions.
And he was also annoyed that Snarf ‘bitched’ him out about making me worry. I wondered what he wanted me to say. Sorry my friend cares about my well being? I suppose I should be annoyed at Snarf for doing that, right? Since Will is my boyfriend and all. But I’m not. Snarf can do whatever the hell she damn well pleases, she knows what she’s doing, and it’s her right to say whatever the hell she wants. And I bet she didn’t even ‘bitch’ him out, as he put it. I apologized on her behalf, I did, but I can’t help but feel that Snarf was just being the older sister I see her as. Though I do feel bad. I just want Will happy, that’s all.

Today made me happy, regardless. I was overly thrilled with how things went with Snarf today. It made me, if possible, even more giddy. I feel like I have my best friend back. I feel like I’m gonna come out of this faster then last year. Please, please, antisocialism, go away.

You’re stupid, self-centered, and moody.

Now look. I understand that at the age I am, I am not expected to get along with my mother or siblings. I think in my case there is a strange exception.

Jay.
Grow up. Get a stable job. Stop depending on your mother with the excuse that it’s hard to live on your own. Well. You have a fiance. Support her. Call me old fashioned but aren’t you supposed to support someone you propose to? You once called your ex girlfriend a parasite. The second you said that I couldn’t have thought of a more hypocritical thing to say. You don’t even like half the people you hang out with and yet you keep them around in case you need something from them. That’s all you do with me. You were a complete asshole to me and yet today you ask me if you can play my game. Then it’s of course my fault when I tell you no. I’m being a bitch. I’m being selfish. Stop using me. Stop making up excuses to win an argument. Don’t work and weed your way through so you can be right about something. Just stop. Admit you’re wrong and grow up.

Joey.
I should have told my mother to kick you out. While you were sitting there crying like a four year old because you got caught. Then come flooding in all the failures in your life. Your parents don’t like you. Things with your ex girlfriend. You put yourself out on the line for this person. Oh woe is me I just want to kill myself! No one has it easy and yet you bitch and moan to the one person who tries to help you. Yeah, I just wrote a paragraph on how he needs to grow up but at least he has fucking tried to help you. If you’re not happy with how things are, stop bitching about it and actually do something. I have the power to kick you out right now if I wanted to– oh and believe me, I do– but the thing that stops me now, and the thing that stopped me then was how my brother would resent me if I did. I guess he can get over me fucking you but he wouldn’t be able to forgive me if I gave you what you deserved. Stop being all talk. Go to Florida. Turn yourself in to the police. Get the fuck out of this house.

Mom.
I don’t hate you. You’re my mother and I love you. I just…the way you talk, how you say you hate gossiping and then all you do is talk about other people. Do you need to feel better about yourself? What’s with the drinking? Does it help you forget? I think you actually told me one time that it helps you get over how your daughter hates you. How dare you blame something like that on me. Your snotty remarks, your mocking. Little things that you do, that you keep doing, that are consistent. They hurt. How when I walk into a room you say ‘Oh. It’s Kelsea.’ Then Jay walks in and you say ‘Jaaayyy! :D’ How can you choose favorites in your children? Furthermore how can you choose a failure over the one who’s trying to get in to college that you’re forcing her to do even though you can’t pay for it. ‘You need to get scholarships and financial aid.’ Do I? Do you know how to do any of that? Are you helping me? Financial aid? There are financial aid nights that YOU can go to. You want me to go, pay for it. Mom. I don’t hate you. I hate how you act towards me. Don’t you understand? If I could get out of this house and leave you alone, I would. And then when I tell you that you get upset. You think I don’t want you around but honestly think about how much you want me around. I am absolutely not capable of leaving this house. So why are you making it hell on me? I’m not stupid. I’m not like other teenage girls. I’m intelligent and rational and I don’t understand why you can’t see that. You’ll say you know I’m smart… but you’re only going by grades. I don’t know much about the real world and I’ll struggle when I’m on my own… but I’ll make it. Whether it be to defy you, be better than Jay or just because I really need to… I will get out of this house. Somehow. I just wish that when I told you how I was feeling or how I felt when you said something to me…you wouldn’t turn it around and start crying saying that I hate you. It’s so worthless.

Kelsea.
Everyone has problems. I used to get upset when I would go to sleep at 4:30, wake up at 5:00, and then hear someone in school talking about how tired they were. All I thought about was how tired I was and how it couldn’t possibly compare. Now. Why can’t anyone understand everyone has problems. Yeah. I’m moody. I’m selfish. But I’m rational. Does anyone even try to understand how the other person is feeling? Think about yourself and then logically think about how the other person is feeling.
Joey has a lot of problems. A lot of things have gone wrong in his life and they are very sad. I would be upset too.
But he hasn’t taken any action to change or fix any of it.
Jay’s father is sick on and off which can be stressful. I honestly don’t know how he feels about taking money from my mom and dad, living in a house for no rent, not having a job and getting wasted just about every day.
Yeah.
My mother thinks that her daughter hates her and she thinks she’s a terrible mother. Maybe. At least that’s what she says. Her job has a lot of stupid, bitchy women who haven’t gotten out of highschool and she has to deal with that. She never has enough money for the things she needs so she has to ask my father. She doesn’t have enough money for the things she wants so she waits. Artificial happiness can only last so long. Really.

Ehh. Maybe I am just a stupid teenager…angsty towards everything because that’s what is expected of me. I’m just a girl fulfilling my self-fulfilling prophecy.
I guess I feel better. I still have to live here though.

You’re stupid, self-centered and moody.
I’m moody
You’re terribly dull to be with
Yes I am

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All for me

It can’t get any better. I had such a very nice time… and we spent so much time together.
But… I just don’t want to tell anyone about it. Perhaps it’s the same as how when there’s a chance for you to meet my friends I tell them that we can’t… because I want you all to me.

You told me you love me. I don’t know if you could tell or not… but I cried. I’ve never had a boyfriend who felt for me how you do. I’ve never felt how I do for you. Not even out of my driveway and I’m almost balling my eyes out. I’ve never had a boyfriend love me before.

Oh Stephen. I can’t stand not being with you. I want to lay next to you and fall asleep. I want us to be together for…forever. I just feel so strongly for you… and you’re irresistible in your glasses. I love them so much…

---

While writing that I couldn’t stop crying. But alas. Our wonderful weekend is over…and it looks like I’ll be spending thanksgiving with your family. Which I would like you to double, and maybe triple check if I’m invited and you should make sure you want me there. Kay?

That’s all for now. I feel huge.

Silence, silence, silence.

Oh god, Will, why do you have such a hold on me? The mere mention of your name in text by Molly, after so long of silence, made my heart flutter and pang so longingly. And the beep-beep, 1 message received–I get so hopeful.

And then you do reply. You do talk to me. One message and you vanish again, and I just can’t take it. I’m in such a distress state that I doubt I could even see you if you wondered, because I’d cry. I’d cry Will, I really would. Nothing has worked.

Nothing has worked. Laughing can always cheer me up. I’m so empty and lost without you and I can’t stand it.

What the fuck? Why am I like this? Who the fuck is he to have this power?

Scattering insanity, brink and around again.

Anxiety. It’s the one thing that consumes me completely, spits me back out half way and then tugs me back in so I’m drowning in it. And it doesn’t take much for me to start loosing interest in everything and everyone around me, it doesn’t take much for run away to kick up in a loud screeching bang, it doesn’t take much for the irritability to creep up, snapping at anyone who tries to communicate with me. No, I don’t want to talk about it!

It’ll start off before 3rd, when I peek a glance into the Film Studies class and see a missing William. Disappointment , longness, yearning, emptiness, and sorrow follows quickly, but I’ve gotten better at staying cheerful.
Then, if he doesn’t respond to the texts, I start to get panicky around fourth period. Lately, I’ve been able to shove the feeling down. Around sixth I’m starting to become a wreck–Snarf’s silence adds on to it, and suddenly everything is much harder. Seventh I try and sleep it off. Eighth, now I’m full blown stuck in anxiety. I text him again. Twenty minutes–
why
Why what? Why I am worried, Will? Gee, I don’t know!
im sory

And then silence.
Silence. The dreadful painful silence that drifts, hanging over me like a heavy fog. It drives me crazy. For an hour, I’m struggling to try and find normalcy. Every little beep-beep; 1 message received, and I’m begging that its from you. I’m dying for it.
Sorrow and anger clash and for fifteen minutes I’m furious with you, and then it fades, and anxiety is only left.

yeah im fine. im not sleeping anymore im sory.
Relief washes over me, and I cling to the message, desperate for anything.
Why are you sorry? Alright, as long as you’re okay.
mkay

Mkay. I decide to leave it as that. His mkay. Nothing I have to say matters. And the anxiety crashes into sadness. And the ache returns.

Silence drives me crazy. I don’t fear him ignoring me, I don’t fear anything that involves him being angry with me. My mind takes me to the worst place possible. He’s hurt. He’s dying. He’s dead.

But the way he makes it seem like he doesn’t want to talk. It stings. And I still don’t know what’s going on.

I don’t do well with Silence.

I never have. Silence is the one thing that makes everything horrible, silence tells me something is terribly wrong, silence from anyone is the worst thing anyone can possible do to me.

Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence. The awful silence, the cold goo like silence that clings and clogs the air passages, wrapping around the throat and dragging downward. Silence like the murky water waiting so close by. The silence.

It hurts every part of me.
And it hurts more when the need for silence is implied. mkay.

I’m going to bed and I want to be left alone until I remember how to be happy.

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Can’t you see what you’ve done to my heart?

To think. I was miserable this morning. I was upset I missed your phone call, I was upset I was holding back how I felt, I was upset I was putting on a charade… but you were happy…and sick.

---

Love.

Love is when you want to be with someone always. That you would be content if you never saw anyone else but them. Someone you would make sacrifices for. Where the reason ‘it is for them’ is enough for anything. Loving someone means forgiving them for anything and doing your damned best for them whenever you can.
True love is real; it is a motivational force; it is a real emotion.

It isn’t taking a liking to someone, or being attracted to them; someone who makes you smile, someone who makes you laugh; that isn’t love.

When you find you love someone, you can’t live without them.
Life isn’t worthwhile without them in it.
Love is extreme.

---

When you defined it like that you had made me unsure if what I was feeling was love and not just infatuation. It was the fact though that you didn’t think I was lying. You could feel it in what I said and how I talked to you.

Sweetheart, you’re having some troubles. You won’t blame it on me but honey, I know it’s my fault. You’re making sacrifices. Friends you have known in high school are now upset with you and don’t want to be around you because of me. (Not like I’d be there.) It was my dumb actions that caused it; I am responsible for this.

Today I was thinking that maybe we won’t last forever. I’ve thought about before that we could be really great friends. Best friends even. But I don’t think that’s us. I love my best friends. I do. And I’d love you if you were my best friend. But sweetheart, you’re my boyfriend. I know it’s something obvious and something someone would say ‘duh’ to…but I don’t love you like them. I love you more. I did understand the other morning… and I’m sorry it took so long, but really, what is there to be upset about when I have you? Hug me and it’ll make it all go away. Talk to me and I can forget about it. You, sir, are what matters.

So I of all people know that when you’re– I mean generally speaking– upset, that’s all you can think of. But push your problems to another day, honey. You get to see me tomorrow… and I’ve been planning how I’m gonna greet you for about a week now.

I’m upset you’re upset.
I’m happy you’re mine.
I’m happy you can talk to me about it.
I’m happy that you will be alright.
Well. My equation points to happiness.
Smile for me, Stephen. I love you.

But I am married to your charms and grace
I just go crazy like the good old days
You make me want to pick up a guitar
And celebrate the myriad ways that I love you

The sky explodes, and only you know.

Well you’re not brave if you still keep the letters
and you’re not sane if you don’t want to get better
and you’re not drunk if you can stay in your lane

Love.

Molly wrote about it–it was nice. It was lovely. So I want to talk about it too. Regardless of how I am in this relationship, I do have some thoughts on it, and I believe it is way to soon to even know if I could love Will yet or not, despite my confusion.

Love; it’s a choice. A decision. It’s when you choose to spend the rest of your life with that person, even on the days when you don’t like each other–even on the days when you two don’t even love each other. Love is a commitment and a promise. It’s wanting to always be near that person…

When things become difficult, it’s sticking by, it’s not giving up, it’s understanding.

Well you’re not awake but you haven’t been sleeping
and you hate god but you don’t believe in him
and you’re not scared but you still got you’re eyes closed

It’s adoring their faults, their flaws. Being able to argue and not hold it all to heart. It’s the warmth and security.

It’s when you put them before yourself. When their happiness means the world, and makes your own happiness explode into a smile. It’s the smile that twitches upward when you see them smile, it’s the laughter that seeps out. It’s taking that person as they are, and loving them no matter what will happen to them. Through sickness. Through fights. Through life changes.

Well it’s not fixed if you love it broken
and your cell phones at the bottom of the ocean
and you’re not drunk if you can stay in your lane

I don’t know much, I don’t. But I do know that I like it best when Snarf glows, when Molly glows. I like their happiness, and I want them to have it forever and ever.

I don’t want to think about tomorrow, I don’t, I really don’t. And you say such wonderful things. About how you wish I was there always. And you’ll wait for the day that I can stay at your house always. Does that mean you’re thinking about me moving in already?

You say my body fits perfectly against yours.

What’s love, Will? What’s love? Is it my desire to make you happy? And to be the only one who can make you the happiest? Is it when you kiss my hand as you’re driving because I tell you those things?

Is it when you scoff and tell me you’re off to go buy gas with your two dollars and come back out with your hands behind your back, lean down to kiss me and shove the pepsi bottle into my arms? And then softly murmur for me to ‘go sit down‘ back in the warm car?

Is it love when I refuse and stand out in the cold with you just to lean up and kiss you softly on the cheek?

Is it love when you tell me its annoying when people bitch about their problems and you don’t have the patients for it, but then turn around and say you wouldn’t have a problem with it if I did so?

Or do we just really like each other? I think we do.

If it was love I would know, and so would you.

I won’t say I love you unless I’m positive. I won’t say I love you because it’s a very large thing for me. You’re my darling, Will, honest to god, I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else, and at this point, I really don’t want to be with anyone else ever.

I’m trying to run away, and I’m getting antisocial, but I find myself running away to you. I like how I can keep you calm, and I like how I can pull you back from your anger. You could break me in half, and instead you softly tug me to you and hold me.

I don’t know about marriage, and I don’t know about next year or next week or even tomorrow. But why should any of that matter? I’ll count the days as they come.

Well you’re not brave and you’re making a lane shift
you’re not lost but you’re missing your exit
and you’re not scared but you still got your eyes closed

Mid-sentence fractures.

But something happened it’s so strange this feeling
Naive notions that were childish
Simple tunes that tried to hide it
But when it comes
We all fall in love sometimes

The thought of being antisocial sounds so delicious right now. I keep giving myself excuses. I’ve gone three months without relapsing, I deserve this! It’s not like I’d be gone-gone I’d just be emotionally unavailable.

I’m not an independent person, I need someone to hold my hand. It’ll be like that I’m thinking until the rest of my life. I need someone close by all the time, so I can know what reality is the one I should be in, to have reassurance. To be by myself for a full day in public would be taboo. It’s the biggest no-no I can think of.

That doesn’t mean I don’t like my space, or that I don’t like to see the world for what it is, to be on my own without any hovering.

I wish I could say I was okay. I don’t know how to ask for help, and I don’t like talking about me, I don’t like sharing my problems, and I have no problem writing them I just don’t want to hear them being sputtered back to me. I’m fine so far. Right?

I just didn’t really know where I was for a few periods. I just kept zoning out–like I was in a dream state as everyone around me just…

For a while I didn’t believe anyone was real. It was all just so fake, everyone was pretending so they wouldn’t know.

I’m not sad, I’m not. I just don’t know what’s going on. Like I know who Snarf is, I just don’t know her, I can’t remember why she cares about me or why she’s talking to me. I don’t know why we’re close. I just know its suppose to be that way. And I know I like her company.

I got half way through a text message to Molly–telling her something was wrong, that I felt like I was lapsing out, when I deleted it, because, I figured, if I was lapsing, I wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t know.

Suddenly I was with a pretty boy who was laughing, a warm smile on his face, sitting on his bed. And for a moment I couldn’t piece together that I was with Will–like I knew, but I didn’t, and I just admired him for a moment. He just seemed so different.

Everything just seemed so different.

And the walls in the gym were breathing and the windows were dancing, and I wasn’t sure who was talking.

I keep forgetting how I’m suppose to be. I just keep forgetting where I am and who I am and why.

It would be so much easier to just leave. And I want to, so badly. I just know that I’m not allowed.

And I don’t mean to be so dark about it, and I don’t want attention to be focused on me, because I know I can’t handle it, and there is just simply nothing at all to say. There’s nothing to talk about. I do not want to talk about it. I haven’t ran away yet, and I doubt I will. I just need to get to January and I should be fine.

There’s anxiety. So much anxiety, I think it’s coming all from Molly, and then there’s worry for Snarf, even if I’m having trouble remembering her, and there’s Will, and between all this, my mom is a nutter, we have no money and we’re gonna move, and there’s college, and keeping the charade up for the not loved school friends like Sango and Lauren and whatnot.

And the three people who keep me strongly tied to reality are constantly talking to me. Molly and Will seem to easily keep me in when I falter, and Snarf looks after me when I start to slip, she just seems to know and I remind myself to not falter so much. They keep me together…

And yet I’m still slightly manic. Oh good, like my mother. My speech is awful and I bounce from topic to topic and there’s so much. Just so much.

But I’m fine, I’m fine.

Because I have enough sense to write this, and I have enough sense to keep going to classes, and I have enough sanity to not fully fade out and I haven’t ran away and I’m alright and I’m okay and everything is going to be fine, because I’m handling it.

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Lights flickering; shattering on pavement.

Fantasies made of the devil’s glare, and I won’t stop myself. Guilty may I feel, I won’t let my mind be stopped. Thoughts were made to be thought up.

Time Square.

Soft white puffs of breath dance in the twinkling twilight as chilled fingers lace together, lights shimmering all around as the world turns on normal pace yet all a blur in the background, the noise like distant static. Four smiles donning four flushed rosy faces, laughter echoing off the sleek glass buildings that reflect faceless masses of strangers.

Lights. Twinkling lights. Flashes. Patterns. All dancing in the darkening city that glows like a glow stick, warm against the December weather. Holiday music swimming and playing in the air, warm light spilling into the sidewalk from back-to-back stores and markets. Warm greetings and laughter.

“…I don’t even know how many times you Bostonian’s fell!” Playful mocking. Smiles flickering to life like candles on the couple’s faces, a blush creeping up on hers as he just grins, rolling a shoulder up into a shrug.

“We’re not from Boston,” she murmurs, still shy in manner. Brown locks falling into her face. He absentmindedly pushes them to the side, his fingers gliding across her cheek. They share a look.

“What? Sorry, couldn’t understand a word you said out of that heavy accent of yours.” The New Yorker replies with a catty grin at her best friend, causing the other to snort.

“Coffee.” The accused Bostonian throws out causing the New Yorker to grin.

“Cawfee.” She replies sending her friend into cackling. The boy beside the New Yorker smirks and draps his arm around her waist, tugging her closer.

“You’re being restarted,” he mocks huskily, and she grins back up at him, tilting her head to the side. He drags his gaze away back to the watching couple. The girl amused, the boy not so much. “She’s just being a dick and acting like she’s all from the big bad city.”

Ice skating had gone well enough. The two out-of state couple laughing and tripping over one another, cackling and exchanging soft spoken whispers and long admiring gazes. While as the New Yorkers mocked one another–until the girl shrieked and clutched onto the boy, whining about not being able to stay upright. Pervert jokes soon were shared by the four of them. Then hot chocolate came as an echo of ‘but you don’t like chocolate!’ protested from the out of state girl and New Yorker boy.

Magical, the new yorker chimed as they crossed the street. Simply magical.

Snarf.

Cheer up. Please? I may not know what’s going on, but I don’t need to. You’re allowed to have your own stuff, I just wish I knew how to help you.

I miss hanging out with you. I miss the laughing and I miss watching you tell me about your boy, and I miss the way you make me grin and I miss the fun we have and I miss hearing your stories. I miss holding your arm like you’re my older sister keeping me safe–cause that’s what you are to me, my older sister, someone I look up to and admire.

We haven’t been hanging out much. I know, it’s mostly my fault. I’ve been getting so distant with you its so horrible, I just… run away. It’s easy to run away from things, you know? I suppose you do know best. You live in a place that isn’t easy either.

I want you to know… that nobody could ever replace you. Because nobody is Kelsea. And nobody could EVER, EVER be as great as you are.

I don’t know why you don’t see it. I think you’re simply divine.

The world may be ending for me, and everyone might be on fire, and blood could be gushing from my arm–but your happiness will always be on my top list, and I will always want to hear what you need to say and have to say. You need to know that if you have something going on, it means a fuckload to me, because I want you happy. Always. I’m selfish, Kelsea. The world can go fuck itself for all I cared.

You’ve been one of my very best friends and nobody could ever replace you. Not Will. Not even God or whoever is running the show. I appreciate everything you do for me, even if it’s a simple hug in the morning.

I live on drama. I like trying to help everyone. Molly’s drama–should I not call it that? Love-triangle thing? WTFLOL-thing? might come up as one of my top things but you’re very close by.

My mother might be crazy, but so is yours.
My life might be chaotic, but when is anyone’s life normal?

Putting it frankly, I can cope will. To brag, I can cope better then you. Problems that might be a shrug off for me, will be painful and emotionally drastic for you. So your shit… it fucking matters to me. And your happiness… it means everything to me.

Snarf, you’re my best friend, and I love you. And I’m tired of being distant from everyone–I don’t mind Billy and Sarah as much, but I miss you.

Lets hang out soon?

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Skipping dinner.

Sanity is a pretty ugly word. And when slammed in the face of realizations, I know I would never last a day on my own. Tick tock tick tock sanity is lost.
I’m convinced that nobody is left sane.
Whether it’s the sudden wrathful anger, the lurking depression, the lack of reality…
We’re all nuts.

And I’m sorry there is so much drama.

Mollyburt x3: So play any good games lately?
SADISTIC BAGEL: games bore me
SADISTIC BAGEL: ever since i realized that everything is profected through a television
SADISTIC BAGEL: a metal box
SADISTIC BAGEL: it doesnt feel right
Mollyburt x3: Oh. Well, I recently started playing a really cool one.
Mollyburt x3: I lost the game, though. Sucked balls.

I r Kira LOL: D: FUCK.

SADISTIC BAGEL: i dont play that anymore
Mollyburt x3: You can’t not play it, especially if you know the rules!

SADISTIC BAGEL: sorry im just not dumb enough to waste my time with that
Mollyburt x3: But you’ll waste your time with DRUGS? >_>

…o.o Anyway.

I’m sorry there is so much drama. I think it’ll always be this way–conversing through text if not on aim.

You’re the person I’d text if I was having a bad day. You’re the first person I’d text if Will unwittingly makes me cry. You pull me back up when I am unable to do so.You’re the person I end up laughing hard with until the wee hours of morning and you’re the person I can cry too, and you’re the person I love to take care of most when your life falters. I often realize how easier it is with you so close in my life.

Snarf’s troubles worry me. But so do yours. I’m always selfish, wanting everyone to keep a level of happiness that they can’t normally have.

You worry he’s hurting himself. You worry your thoughts are awful. No, your thoughts are yours, you’re allowed to dream up whatever you wish, and you need to accept them for what they are. You have feelings for your best friend, and nothing can change this.

Fights are always bound to happen, don’t take it to heart, you weren’t doing it purposely.

He slapped himself in the face and ripped out a good portion of his hair. I see some bald spots where the rest of his hair is thick. And Lynn stopped him.

He’s losing his mind, and I know its scary. I’ve seen something sort of that too. I can remember times when I lost it like he has–maybe not damaging like he has, but…

You need to trust he’ll be alright.

And you need to know I’ll sputter out anything I can about someone I don’t know. Anything to keep you calm.

They aren’t my friends but you love them, so their well-being means a fuck of a lot to me. If you’re upset, then I want it better. I want it fixed.

It’s amazing how so many things can go on and the world still turns. Am I going to one day get married to a boy like Will, and converse with you through text while checking up on Snarf’s blogs? Probably. Because I’ll never let you guys go.

Right now everyone needs to calm down. Everyone needs to accept whats going on, and everyone needs to realize its going to be okay.

But bathe me in lies, I’m a hypocrite.

Now that’s love.

Big dick in yer mouth all day!

Why should I be so down on myself while everyone around me cares so much that they will be there the very second I faulter? Why should I be so self centered? Hm?
You know how you have lapses in reality? I have lapses where I just fall into myself and wallow. I wallow about who I am and how I’m not good enough. I think of all the better girls there are and how they can sing or look gorgeous with all that make up…and I think… he’d surely want one of them over me…
Then I snap out of it.
I think. I shouldn’t need to be told something every day to know it’s there. Knowing it’s there is surely enough. Surely! And I know it’s there, and I know he feels it for me and no one else and I can feel it… but still.

Between you and FAJ, Rin, I’m pretty sure you two are the only ones who really mean you love me. Sure my parents can say it…but both of them only say it when they seriously mess up.
The way the both of you get upset when I’m upset… it’s a sort of loyalty…a love. It’s real.

Rin, I’m not mad at you. Have you ever seriously looked at yourself? You’re just about the cutest thing in the whole goddamn world. I could never really be mad at you… I just get jealous of what you have… not so much what… but how you have. How you have every day. How he takes care of you. How he’s always there for you. He saves you, Rin. Stephen just can’t right now, but I do really envy it.

_______________________________________

I think about him with other girls. I don’t know if I do it just to make myself upset or if it’s just the fact I haven’t ever seen him with other girls. But… he’s always laying down with her. They look perfect; they absolutely fit together. He has a smile on his face and she’s fallen asleep at this point.
I don’t know if I’m thinking about what the before me was or what but I dunno. It doesn’t always make me feel bad… it’s more of a curious thing to think of.
Rin, do you remember Josh? I was so worried he would like Sarah more than me. Although Sarah is extremely bitter, I know that if you talk to her for long enough, the bitterness goes away and what’s left is an awesome sense of humor…and she’s really very attractive.
Why do you think you haven’t met Sarah yet?
I’ve thought about Stephen falling for you too, Rin. :\ Wouldn’t that be nice? It’d be an awfully cute couple…

I don’t know why I do this. I’m not trying to hurt myself or anyone or anything but I get so worried when I get upset. I think that if I’m upset then he’s upset…eventually he’ll get sick of me being upset and want someone who isn’t always upset… someone who is usually happy and doesn’t let things get to her… I never feel good enough. He’s just too goddamn awesome.

It’s late. He said he’d call tonight…I have a feeling I’ll miss the call. Not on purpose, but bahcuz this new phone sucks at ringing when Stephen calls.

I give myself very good advice
But I very seldom follow it
That explains the trouble that I’m always in

Be patient
Is very good advice
But the waiting makes me curious

Mischa says,

That I’m being rude. She says that I’m not letting you live your life, Snarf. That I’m putting way to much expectations and pressure for you to be happy. She says that Laura is doing the same thing to me, and I have to let you do your own thing, live the way you want, without flipping a shit. She says that I’m being immature, that it should be expected of me to support you, and not get nuts just because you’re upset.

She says I need to put more trust in your ability to make the right decision for yourself, that I need to let you just be. And if you get jealous or upset or sad or angry, its perfectly natural and extremely understandable.

She says that I need to live my own life, and that I have my own happiness to think about.

o_o

Paranoia.

Paranoia, guilt, fear. Running over and over again–I just feel so sick and so skittish. Like I’ve done something horribly wrong.

I’m still extremely guilty for upsetting Snarf. I feel extremely guilty that I get to see Will everyday. I feel extremely guilty for being upset that she’s upset. I don’t have the right.

I don’t know how to make anything better or right.

Therapy.

I hate talking about me. I also hate making it seem like a sob story.

I just want you to be happy, Snarf. So fucking much. And I’m going through so many emotions at once–angry and bitter and happy and upset and lacking.

And then you aren’t happy. I just want you happy. I know you can’t see your boy, but you gotta push through, you gotta try and work things out.

You gotta.

Ask him if you can visit. We’ll drive you.
D: Be happy.

Yes, but…

You’ve known FAJ a whole lot longer than I have even known Will, Snarf. It’s different. You two have been through a lot more, you two have grown as a couple, even if you two weren’t a couple. When I talk about how impossible it seems to love someone with knowing them only one month–two months?–I mean from my point of view. Especially when it takes so damn long to even allow someone in, for me. And here’s this boy I haven’t know long, but he’s becoming closer and closer to me.

It’s not fucking fair. I NEVER ever asked for this. I NEVER EVER wanted this. I didn’t go looking for it. It just smacked me across the face and held my head under water.

I don’t want to upset you. I don’t want you to be jealous. It ruins my day completely when that happens, and I admit, I force myself to lapse out, because I just can’t deal with any of it.

It isn’t fair. You love FAJ, it’s different. It’s so fucking different. It took me weeks just to get used to Will’s hands on me. I would come home and cry and cry and cry, and hate myself, and cry some more because of the memories–memories I can’t even remember–that would stir. The shame, the guilt, the feelings of worthlessness. I felt so filthy just from a simple caress.

I also wanted my first time to be on a dirty bathroom floor, my back scrapping against moldy tiles. I wanted to be hated, to be ripped apart, to be fucked so hard I cried. That was my ideal fuck. A stranger, I wanted a stranger to be my first time.

I have seven years of self worthlessness installed into me. I have a childhood of lacking mother. Of lacking family. My mom is the only thing I’ve ever wanted. Instead she chose work over me, and I was left to play with the hallow toys in the nice pretty house as a replacement for her love.

Once I love someone, I love them for always. And I’m not just saying that. I can’t just get in and out of relationships. I will always love Dennis, no matter what he does, or what I do. If I love Will, I simply will always. I still care deeply for Jamal, even if I no longer see him.

Yes, I see Will everyday. But that doesn’t mean I know who he is everyday. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel filthy. That doesn’t mean I don’t cry four times a week. I always said I never wanted to be in a relationship. But I never really gave one of the biggest reasons as to why.

I’m broken. I’ve lost so fucking much that all I can do is try and be happy. It doesn’t take much to send me hurtling back into hell, but I pretend everything is okay, because that is all I have left, Kelsea. It’s all I have left. I have myself.

My mother broke me a long time ago. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the ability to love anyone the way you do FAJ, or the way Molly loves me. Yes, I do love Molly loads–the most I can. But it can never be enough, because I can’t.

My level of happiness is so high, you say. And its because I don’t have anything left anymore. And that’s why I avoided close relationships.

I’m angry at love because it ruined me for a very long time. I’m angry at love because I don’t understand it. I’m angry at it because I can’t stand the idea of being cliched. I know. I just can’t.

I hate admitting how Will helps keep me tied into reality. I have to come out of it for him–just like how I stick around for Molly.

I don’t like pleasure so much–sexual wise. I still rather have it hurt me.

If anyone should be jealous, it should be me. You get your family, and they’re all alive. You have your father. You get attention. You can fall in love without worry. You have your mind. You know who everyone is everyday. And you probably will never kill yourself.

Not saying that I will… but I think its awful that lying next to Will I still have that little noise in the background. Wouldn’t it be so easy if I could just…?

And here comes my anger toward Venny. No, I don’t like fucking Star Wars because Will likes Star Wars. How dare she think my opinions change just because the person I’m dating likes something certain? I’m not going to like everything he does if I didn’t before.

But yes. I am happy. I am. I can be happy while my life is a total mess. I’m allowed. My mom is crazy, we have to sell the house, we have no money at all, I’m having trouble staying in reality lately–everything is dandy.

And I’m not being sarcastic. The only thing that matters is that everyone is happy and we’re all alive. Despite everything I tend to say, I think its possible to stay 100% happy. I have a boy who takes care of me, I have my mom kind of, I have my best friends and I’ve got my Molly.

I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to be happy, no matter what. I can’t wallow, what is there to wallow about? I refuse to stay sad about things I cannot control. I don’t have to. Snarf, I know your boy is busy, and I know it’s difficult. But don’t let yourself fall to darkness. Believe me when I say I’ll kidnap you and leave you stranded where he lives. I’ll fucking find his place and then you’ll have to be around him when he’s busy.

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Her son is gay. D:

It’s amusing. I suppose all schools are like mine–where politics run the main topic of conversation. Half the kids are angry that Obama won, and the other half are angry that they other half isn’t accepting. Fights have been breaking out today–and I was only in school for four periods.

Cat fights in the halls.

“EXCUSE ME?!”
And one friend, loud and angry, will start screaming about Obama’s plans to change our country and the other one will shout back, and they’re fight.

I’ve been hearing, “SARAH CAN FINALLY GO BACK TO FUCKING ALASKA!”

And now most Republican-siders argue, “McCain would have won if there was a different VP!”

All I have to do is turn to one of my right-siding friends and say, very calmly, ‘We’re doomed’. And they’ll go off on a rant.

‘WE DON’T HAVE TO WORK GUYS FREE HEALTH CARE THANKS OBAMA!’ in a sarcastic tone, scoffing.

Socialist.

It’s like having a black straight Dumbledore running the country.

Filthy fuck.

Mollyburt x3: You’re filthy. ;D
I r Kira LOL: D: -Turned on.-
Mollyburt x3: D:< This is why you’re filthy.

Take away my control, and I’m melting–soaked, damp, whimpering. I like almost cruel words. I like when you grab my hair and force yourself deeper into my mouth, regardless if I gag or not. You know better then to ask if I’m alright, because I’m so fucking wet, I’m only more turned on when you fuck my face, forcing me way down, forcing yourself into my mouth with each thrust, my head slammed against the wall, my fingers clawing at the bed and the wall, at your pelvis bone. Your fingers tighten around my hair and I moan helplessly.

But I can make you cum this way. And I drink it down like the filthy little hungry whore that I am. In fact, I’m the only one to make you cum just by blowing you. But I don’t want the satisfaction. I don’t want the control. I want to be your filth.

You narrow minded fool.

Your voice so low, like a growl. I almost whimper at your tones. Your eyes dark, spilling and dragging me in. Becoming a mere fly in your elegantly spun webs, I squirm. You’ll eat me alive. Eat me alive, burn me to death–devour me.

Abuse me with your witty words. Sear my flesh with your warm fingertips. Mark me. Push me. I’m yours. I want it. I want it. Hurt me, hurt me! Hurt me so good. Call me your filthy whore and slam me down.

Your mother turns her back on us and you shove me over, pretending to fuck me from behind, and I clutch onto the counter, trying to shove back a moan.

I want to be your filthy fuck. I want to be so fucking controlled. Blindfolded. Handcuffed. Put me on a leash. Make me bleed and make me taste my own blood in your mouth.

Some of the things I want…
Oh I’m awful.
Dominate me.

Sliding glass; cackling lullaby.

It’s remarkable. Seemingly, no matter how close we get, we suddenly get closer. I’ve always written off soul mates, but Molly, you really are mine. I probably couldn’t get anywhere without you backing me up, helping me with advice nobody else seems to know how to offer. You know me inside out and you’re miles and miles away. We have a special connection. And all this time, when I suddenly felt like something was off, I had forgotten for a while that we were so synced, I had assumed something was wrong with Will.

No, it was you.

There are best friends, like Snarf and Venny and Billy–and then there’s you. My soul mate. The person who knows me better then myself. Who know when I’m feeling off even if I say nothing.

I tell you my secrets I can’t even tell my diary. I tell you all my truths.

There is nobody I’d ever love more then you. I’d love them differently, yes, but never like you. Because you’re my Molly. And now that you know about Will, I have someone to cry to when I get girly about things.

And for you, that boy.

D: NOW I’M DISTRACTED.

o_o

fuk lol

hi molly

It’s for you Blow-me-o.

Eating Out.

I want to see it. Mm, god, I wanna see it. Gwen finds out, yet again, that another boyfriend of hers is gay. Oh lawd. I’m gonna lol.

“I couldn’t be any more positive if I were gang raped in a repository bin at the needle exchange.“

“My titties didn’t occur to you? Look at them! They occur to every man I meet!“

“When he’s around, my heart beats like a trailer park husband.”
“That is so gay. And I mean all three definitions.“

“Eat it, little gay boy!“

Jamie Peterson: Fag, you’re it!
Tiffani: I turned him gay, but I can turn him back.
Jamie Peterson: No fag-backs.

Caleb: What the hell are you making?
Kyle: Sausages. Big. Fat. Sausages.

It’s too much.

I feel bad saying it. I feel bad asking when I know it won’t happen. I feel bad that it’s actually the only thing I want for my birthday.
I just want you there for it.

I don’t want you to tell me that if that’s what I want then alright…I like surprises…I don’t like asking for surprises… if you can’t make it, you can’t make it. I want my birthday on my birthday.
I want you to sweep me off my feet and take me away. I’ll be 17…is that important for anything? Age didn’t matter to begin with. I want you to take me away to somewhere where we can be completely alone. I want to lay with you, be with you, sleep with you. I want to kiss you and hold you. I don’t need jewelery…I need you. (I feel like Rin has said that)

I don’t like how if I ask for something for my birthday I get it and it’s no surprise…I really do like surprises… just…when they work out…and if I like it… it depends on the surprise, you know? I don’t want someone to surprise me and then be upset if I don’t like it. That sorta thing.

I love you honey…and I’m sorry for being this way with my birthday…you try having your birthday by a holiday.

My birthday sucks every year, babydoll. Perhaps I’d see you the week after…I know it’s still a while away…but. I dunno. I feel like it’s closer than it should be.

…I dunno. I figured I should tell you.

Now you’re becoming everything

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