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 skin, 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