All these words that we speak casually

There’s always drama before/during holidays, a sort of bad luck thing that I tend to skip away from. Last year there was two sets of drama on the same day, on Thanksgiving, and now last night, a night before thanksgiving. I just don’t like Thanksgiving–what the hell do I have to be thankful for? I suppose a lot of things, but not anything I really want to admit to or share. Plus, I really don’t like my family. Or do I? It depends on my mood and how I want to present myself. Fern I love, my cousins–well, I do, but I’m annoyed with them. Who thought I’d ever carry a grudge?

 

 

It all will fall, fall right into place.

You feel
The force of nature
We touch
And something charges

It’s something that’s overwhelming and I feel completely abandoned, though it’s something I could fix if only my mind didn’t spin tales. And all I want is to curl up and cry. And cry. And cry.

Work for it bitch. Now take off your pants and dance.

McRinny xB: I didn’t know if you wanted to do that journey alone or not.

Ckwhy425: If I get lost

Ckwhy425: YOU’LL KNOW

McRinny xB: o.o My Jew senses will tingle.

Ckwhy425: Yes

Ckwhy425: That and you’ll hear an accident on the radio

McRinny xB: XD

McRinny xB: Well…

McRinny xB: At least then you won’t have to see Twilight.

Ckwhy425: YAY

Ckwhy425: DEATH > TWILIGHT

So now I’m feeling extremely foolish for my behavior of yesterday, nearing on embarrassed. I don’t like sharing my grief usually, and I was completely out of control and out of line. I’m grateful for Snarf who helped me out, and to Tara–I just wish I was more level-headed to be thankful rather than freaking out, stuffing my face, and drinking myself to sleep. With pepsi, of course.

What more, Will might not be able to make it to the movie tonight, which sucks, because I don’t want to be surrounded by crazed fans without him. I guess I just want him to suffer with me. Cruel, no? How can it be love if I want him to suffer? I should hope him not to be able to see the movie, and be cramped in the crowed theater with us, but I’d miss him, and I’m anxious about how I’d get home. Clearly Wally will drive me, but I hate giving directions at night.

I think I need saving the most.

Shock is the first thing that filtered through me, and I hate how you went about saying it. Numb, completely numb, and disbelieving–should I even be allowed to feel those things? Considering our relationship, I feel like I shouldn’t, like it should be nothing to me, but it is something. I hate knowing that you died without knowing that I wanted to see you, that I wanted a relationship with you.

Why is it that everyone in my family dies? Do I even get to call you my family? And here I am, sitting, crying. Isn’t that pathetic? I’m so completely selfish. I cry because I didn’t get the chance to make memeoris with you, I cry because I’m bitter and angry that another person left my life. You’re suppose to be here for me to meet, you’re suppose to be my dad, you’re suppose to live forever even if we’ve never met.

I never meant to bad mouth you, I never meant to mock the idea of you, I never meant to use you as an excuse. And now you’re gone, and it’s just another thing to add to my list, and now you’re another thing for me to feel bad over.

And fuck, I’m crying so hard I think I might puke it all back up, and my head is spinning and it hurts, and I just wanna curl up and cry, and cry, and cry.

You’re just following Hitler’s orders, but I’ll be back with cake.

Okay, so having Victor, lovely mister Kitty, as a muse was a completely moronic thing to do. He’s like Mischa and Jayden combined with such animalist rage that it’s almost pee-producing frightening. I’m surprised he actually agreed to being my muse for a bit, though I’m not sure he realized he had a choice. What more, he came to school with me, and curiously, still somehow violently, explored my classrooms, mimiced my professors, and ripped apart things. Holy hell. Having him breathing down my neck while taking the road test was not a plus. He kept pointing out things I did wrong, told me to do this and then quickly barked out “Just kiddin’!”

But Victor is my good luck charm, and so I let him loose in Ellenville. If he likes me, he’ll come back. If not… well I guess he’ll spook the towns folk.

“I wish there was like a GED for college. We could take it together and rule the world.” -Molly “We could share the lols and kill things and then get dobs somewhere together. I’m going to be a massues lol spelled wrong. When I get enough money I plan to open my own spa.”

“Oh, I plan on being a guidence counselor.”

“Yay. >:f beat the children. Beat them with soap until they’re normal. Like us.”

I’ve asked Molly that if I come up for a weekend if I was allowed to stay at her house, which she said I was, as long as her parents didn’t know I was an internet friend. Which is fine. I plan on going as much as I can.

I think it would be amazing if we lived close by to each other, though I’m sure when she’s not with a client and I’m not with a student we’ll be texting each other things and mocking the kids/clients. Or she’ll tell me about her sex life in detail while I’m talking to a troubled child. I DUNNO MAN.

So midnight, on Friday–I guess, it’s gonna be actually Saturday–Wally, Tara, Will and I are seeing Twilight. I’m not so much looking forward to it. Tara had previously thought that because it was midnight that nobody would be there, but I have a feeling that it’s gonna be so packed that we might not find seats together, and there’s always the high chance that Will has to pick his sister up at 11.

I had origionally backed out of seeing it, since Tara wanted to see it opening night. So a month ago she went to preorder the tickets and found it to be sold out. Wow. A full fucking month in advance. Are these pre-teens all on crack or something? I mean, Werewolves are cool and all, and so are vampires–but I’m a Harry Potter fan, and not so much a Twilight fan. Bella has no personality, other then her deed love for Edward–but I can admit the author writes well, and has a way about alluring her readers. So that’s respectable. I just wish she made her characters have more depth to them. Eh. It’s more of a teeny romance than anything. Which is fine. But honestly, she really could have stopped after the first book.

So anyhow. I’m going to be surrounded by fangirls who obsesse over something I don’t really care for. Wally, who got talked into going, talked me into it, by promising to snap anyone’s neck who comes near me, and I, inturn, pleaded with Will to come. He finally agreed–mostly because Tara already bought the tickets.

Something… SOMETHING… bad is gonna happen that night, I just have a feeling.

I’m a kitty cat, and I dance dance dance.

I’m just a little bit caught in the middle
Life is a maze and love is a riddle
I don’t know where to go, can’t do it alone
I’ve tried and I don’t know why

Maybe it’s because we’re more like best friends, two complete immature prats, than anything that we get along the way we do and connect on a level that I’ve never dreamed of connecting on. There is no embarrassment, no topic left untouched, no secret kept hidden. It’s free for-all of just truths and laughter.

But it’s been that way from the beginning; just laughter.

Sitting in the waiting room of Nicole’s shrink, time passing by and I was suppose to be home thirty minutes ago. The room is overly bright, newly remade, and smells of turkey and gravy–we assume the Shrink isn’t coming out for Nicole because he’s devoring an entire Turkey dinner. Time clicks by and Will turns to me, “Potato” he deadpans, emphasizing the p, causing spit to splatter all over my face…

And I crack up, nearly peeing myself in the process.

It’s been a year and almost two months, and still, nothing but the amount of time we’ve spent together has changed. Since the start of our relationship it was smooth and open like this, no topic forbidden. But I wonder… Why no butterflies? Surely true love has butterflies, doesn’t it?

I’ve been bratty and pressuring him to buy me an engagment ring–just to be a brat. He won’t, since he wants to “buy you a really nice one”, which means he’d need moneys, and because he and I both know nothing would change. I still wouldn’t be allowed to sleep over.

I need a job and a place to live. I had a dream Ryan and his friend Shane, despite not knowing him–why’d I even dream of him?–, bought this shabby Ranch that had a basement, and the old couple was desperate to sell so it was pretty cheap, and they decided to leave most of their furnature in the house when they moved–so I left home and moved in with them, and got a job. I think it would be nice to live with Ryan, to be roommates. xD To bad he lives in California. He should move to New York. It’s amazin’. I’ve known him since I was 13, him 15.

I have another road test tomorrow, which I really don’t feel ready for. Blah, I don’t know how well I’ll do. I’m worried I’ll get an anxiety attack.

So this morning at 9, I got dropped off at Will’s, and at 9:30 Wally came over, which from there we drove to the bank, then the mall for L4D2, Assassins Creed 2, and Modern Warfare 2 and of course Senzu Beans at FYE. The Senzu Beans are pretty good, actually.

I don’t really like L4D2 much, but Ellis makes it all better by making me laugh a lot. Blah. Modern Warfare 2 is amazing from what I’ve seen–Homfg. I like Wally’s gamertag, it kind of makes me wish I had my own 360. Though at the same time… when would I even play? Never. I’m way to distracted to play, and I’m usually with Will anyhow.

I mainly don’t want to drop out of college because then I’d have to get a job, which means even less time with Will. And it’s awful how I center my priorities around him.

UGH.

UGH UGH UGH

I hate Hugh Jackman as Wolverine. Jesus Christ, he does a terrible job, he’s WAY to much of a pansy, and, his looks? Pfft, non-sexy. So I’m back in an X-Men kick, so we bought all four seasons of the origional X-Men cartoon. You gonna end up like Storm… in da box. Hehe. KNOWLEDGE IS POWAH.

I’m thinking of having Victor as a muse, just because he’s violent and he’ll be destructive while I’m at school. Distracting, yes, but amazingly fun to watch.. Mmmm. I was gonna have Professor X, but his mind reading would get old fast. Kurt would just poof away whenever, and I’d lose Mystique. Sure, I’m well aware that Victor may just tell me to fuck off, or slash my room apart, or whatever, but he’s completely worth it.

That’s not anxiety! That’s the urge to kill!

She’s about four, I think, shoulder length chocolaty hair and small staring dark eyes. Her name is Jayden and I nearly died–what are the chances of that? And spelt the same way too! Jayden, Jayden, Jayden. Chrissa call her Jay. Her younger brother runs through the room screaming “JAAAYYDEEEENNN” in a high pitched drawl-screech and I stare. And stare. And holy hell do I ever stare. Three devil children running about, smacking, hitting, wrestling, yelling. This Side-Quest–shut up, it’s totally a side-quest, kay? I don’t care if there’s nothing else–is turning out to be more than I bargined fer.

Maybe I should rethink having children so soon. With The Day After Tomorrow spooking me from the TV, and a hot plate of Baked Ziti in my lap, I don’t know how anyone can stand to baby-sit. Plastering a smile to my face, I hide a grimance, a wave of fear washing over me. Children scared me.

But…

So now there’s two Sam’s I can’t stand. One, I use to love like my brother. The other–well, who cares about that Sam, eh? I can’t, and I won’t understand what happened. How’d it all go down hill? Jen no longer feels anything? She’s a walking zombie? And he hasn’t been to school since, when? September? Where’s the lovable brat I grew up with? What is this talk of suicide? How does everything get so tangled and distorted? Pathetic angst, you aren’t real, you’re just a heartless git. Can’t you even see you’re ripping your family apart? Sorrow is one that I know only briefly.

It’s heart wrenching to known this, and a horrible sense of helplessness jolts. What the hell can I do but offer my home? And still. What best friend am I? I can’t even do anythin, and do I even get to call myself a best friend? With months of absenses–and yet it’s her. We’ll always be close, despite the lack of seeing each other, ’cause that’s love.

Yeah. Forced to go to church. You know. Hate.

McRinny xB: Lets go to a club.
derblauenSharpie: K, be there in 12 hours. >.>

 

My daily pill in take. I just got new batteries for my camera, and like any other normal girl I decided to start taking pictures immediatly. Just of my pills though, trying to get an artys shot. I ended up failing MISERABLY, but hey, what can I do? I’m not a photoghrapher.

I’m still anxious. All these medications, and I’m still anxious. No matter how higher the doses go, I’m still freakin’ anxious. Maybe it’s just how it’s always going to be. I spent the entire daying sleeping against Will ’cause I’ve just got so much anxiety.

So, we bought ff VII, ff VIII, ff IX, ff X, ff x-2, ff xII and Dirge, plus the guide books for 9, 10, 10-2, and 12. Which is great. We just finished CC, and KH–which I now want KH2 <3. So, we started playin’ 9, his favorite.
And I fell asleep for most of the beginning. I’ve been sleeping a lot lately. I’m just so tired. I’m not so excited about Christmas, hell, it’s not even thanksgiving yet. Will and I decided to spend Thanksgiving at his house this year, like last year, which is alright, I guess, I was kind of hoping to see Cousin Fern. She rarely comes up and I really need to catch up with her. But whatevs.

So Melissa has a… friend. Who is a booooy. He looks like a red-headed fatter version of Dennis, with a squashed face and pimples… or are they freckles? But I like him. His name is Tommy and he’s the sweetest boy I’ve come across in a long time. He cheriesh her, and it’s a shame. I hope maybe she won’t hurt him or twist him around her devilish fingers.

So Nicole is getting pretty serious about Lu. A few times a week she goes down to the city to see her. I’m hoping this one lasts, cause I really, really like Lu. And Liz got a boyfriend! At first I liked him… he’s a bit older, and he isn’t attractive but he treats her right.
He’s just an ass to Will. D:< Which means, I don’t like him anymore.

You eccentric, billionaire playboy man, you.

underneath the moon,
underneath the stars
heres a little heart for you
up above the world,
up above it all
heres a hand to hold on to

A warm lazy haze falls over me and sleepily I snuggle closer to the where the heat is being emitted from; the soft dark purple fabric. Oh lovely love, how can anyone in their right mind resist cuddling up to such warmth? How can anyone not be lulled to a lazy nap, much like a fat cat on a summer day?

I’ve said it before. I don’t want to make memories with anyone else but you, darling. I don’t want to love anyone else’s smile, and I don’t want to laugh with anyone else like I do with you. I can tell you anything without feeling embarrassed, I can finally be me. I don’t have any use for lies, even small white ones.

With the world of pretend playing at my fingertips, I much rather play in reality with you. Oh, darling. You know what you do to me. I wish I could pour my love into a little jar, and show you. I want to hold your hand forever, I want my fingers laced with yours always, I want to be able to smile at you for the rest of my life.

We’ve come so far in our relationship, but that’s only month-wise. I feel like I’ve always known you, I feel as though you’ll always be my best friend, whether it’s romantic or not, as long as you’re in my life nothing can be better.

RIKERS, RIKERS, RIKERS~!

You made me swear that our hearts will never die
No never, no never
‘Cause no one seems to believe that we can fly
Forget them, forget them
Oh..you told me

Long since the days I laid besides you in the fields of gold, as the lazy sun bathed us in nineteen forty’s warmth, German planes flying through the cerulean skies, big white puffy clouds creating illusions. Long since the days I felt the blades of grass brush against my chilled, wind-bitten, cheeks, long since the days we laughed–rather I laughed and you gave a ghost of a smile–long since those days  that felt so real. Now just faded memories that haunt sanity, and play with it like ice and fire. If it felt so real, was it? Or is the mind so broken that it fabricates such memories?

If you saw me now, what would you say? That I’ve succumb to peer-pressure? To my own rebellious needs? Do you think I’m a fool? That I take everything for granted? Things that you, yourself, could never have.

Echoing laughter, I follow the two into the jeep, Wally climbing into the backseat with me as we speed from campus. An entire week I skipped, to do god only knows what. Burger King, the Mall, going to Jersey. English gives me bad anxiety. That’s no excuse.

We discovered the new imported Monster, with it’s brilliant tabs. To be honest it tastes better, or maybe it only feels that way because it’s imported.

And then there’s the side-quests, bringing Nicole, her gorgeous girlfriend Lu and her two stereotypical black friends, with their stereotypical names, and every other word being; “Daaayyymmm” in a high pitched tone of voice, attitude lacing their words, to night clubs. The adventure starts at 9, and it should only take an hour there and an hour back, but I end up getting home past midnight. With Nicole screaming into her blackberry, ‘Mother-fucker’ this and ‘Mother-fucker’ that, scaring off gas-station white guy with a black girl attitude ‘DAAAYYYMMM’, I finally get strawberry milk. Yum.

“Hey Sarah,” Lu calls from the backseat.

“Yeah?” I answer, tilting my head to see her better. She throws me a pointed, but curious, look, her gaze flickering toward the clock. 11:25 glowers back in glowing red letters.

“What time do you have to be home?”

“Nine…”

“Nine… Tomorrow?”

“Nope.”

So Will and I have started playing Kingdom Hearts, the first one. He’d bought all the Final Fantasy games on Ebay, but he doesn’t wanna start playing them till he finishes Crisis Core on the PSP. He’ll probably be getting Rich’s old PS1 game system, and he already got the PS1 memory cards from Dan.

 

Blue.

Her name is Blue.
And, oh, she’s so lovely. Big brown eyes, maybe with an ochre tint, but mostly brown, like creamy chocolate.

Her name is Blue, because what other name is there to remember? Especially with fury blue glaring down into your mind, what else can you remember?
Blue. Like a cat.

She’s 5′3, because of her father, but with a round child-like face, because of her mother. There’s a way about her. The way she walks. The way she talks. The way she moves about, carrying a careless authority about her.

Defiant, but a bit idiotic, it’s true, she’s a doll. She’s tough as nails. She’ll handle what the world can offer, and withstand most emotional turmoil with grinning ease.

Blue is perfect.

Antifail pills, please.

Sitting in a pool of my ever-so annoying anxiety, angrily listening to some chit named Miley Cyrus going on about ‘and a Britney song was on…’ over and over again, those stupid pills doing nothing for the gnawing anxiety which is my life, and fuck, what I really need is anti-fail pills.

My nerves aren’t what they use to be, anymore, though I think I was just better at adapting to the switches, and now I rely on pills like some sort of… brainwashed mindless idiotic maggot. I’ve become what I preched against. So how’s that for hypocriticy? Here’s a bowl of it, so please, sit down and gobble it up like the fool that you are. My pride is burning.
Oooh.
You’ll be the death of me.
Ohhh.

I think my eyesight is getting worse. I can’t see shit anymore, and everything just blurrs and merges and twists. Driving is fun. Not really. It’s more work. Everything is just more work for me. I’m convinced, somehow, that the licence plates are all trying to spell out a secret message to me. They’re just… coded. Really well. And besides the angry urges, and the suspicion that the person behind me is following me, everything is alright.

Lets all be hypocrites.

Two years ago, in 11th grade, I stood in front of an entire class ranting and raving about the evils of pills. Two years later, I’m on four different kinds, three of which are for anxiety, one of which I take twice as day just to keep me tide over and not shaking. They sit on the top of my micowave, splattered out in a pretty design.

Back in the loop.

I’ve never liked parties, though I’ve always imagined myself apart of some grand thing, running around like the good little house-wife host. I must admit, I’m proud of myself. Not once did I cling to Will’s arm like a lost little girlfriend, but mingled with his family and mine. …Hung out with his friends.

Now why didn’t I invite any of mine? Well… I just didn’t. People=Make me anxious. More of them, nah uh. Even my own crowd, it’d be over-load for me. Plus… would they really have a good time mingle with Will’s friends/Myfamily/Hisfamily? There’s only a few I’d invite–Snarf, but she was away and she gets anxious tew, Venny but she’s into staying-at-home-playing-WOW, Kaggy, but she and I are an exclusive thing.

But fuck. So, Christina-Rich, Dan-Sam (His Sam, not Sam-Sam SAM SAM LOLOSAKFAFA) and me and Will. I guess it’s true what they say. When you’re in a couple, it’s best to be around other couples. And fuck, was that night filled with such crazy time and laughter.

From the “kiddy-table” fun, to Dan running down the hill to ride the kid-firetruck, to getting a five-foot sub in Will’s car…

D: To “being high” time in the basement. To eating fast food in the back of Rich’s car at midnight… Fuckin’ hell, I forgot what its like to have so much fun with people.

Drunken misery, sober ending, oh god.

By defination I fear people who are, by correct terms, ‘not all mentally there’. This includes the insane, the mentally retarded and the drunk. I fear drunk people perhaps the most because, well, there’s different types. And if I could blast this music any louder I would, I’d drown out my thoughts.

I can deal with being burned slightly by the cigarette of a drunk, it was an accident, and I can deal with having a bag with a hole in it. That’s fine.

But lost in New York City, taking care of our drunk guide who can’t speak correctly, is so drunk she can hardly stand–that… No. That isn’t okay.

I hate something and it’s drinking. And it’s drunk people. I. Hate. Drunk. People. So much. Why do people feel the need to escape like that? I hate Laura when she’s drunk too. I hate everyone when they’re drunk. It isn’t okay at all, and I loathe kids who drink. What’s so bad that you need to get wasted and stumble about?

I escape reality in a different light, sure, but this is different. At least I know where I am and I’m not a blithering idiot! I’ll never drink, ever. I never want to become like that.

Fuck everything.

How could anyone do something so… immature? Careless? Leaving two fucking teenagers to figure their way around New York City? Are you fucking retarded? So self centered? Irresponsible?

I’ve never felt so helpless before. Each moment was another step another ‘What do we do now?’ Another step into the heart of the city. A crowed, gay-obsessed, parade-filled city. Holding onto a laughing stumbling drunk who announced it every two seconds, who repeated the same questions over and over again, who aimlessly wandered into traffic.

“You’ve got to take your meds.”

Hysteria strikes and it’s all one can do to keep back the rush of emotion. Head spinning, walls closing in, throat tightening, the urge to scream out tears through, noise–static–fills the room. Like bees buzzing over head, a cloud of noise surrounds. Painful rage rips through, sorrow clawing at it–

It’s coming from the inside, ripping its way out. Anxiety is a bitch.

All over waiting for a text message. “You’ve got to remember to take your meds,” he says and I bow my head and nod. I remember. I take them at different times. I haven’t been serious.

And I haven’t fucked up my arm so badly before. I tore at the first thing I could find, rage, sorrow, the need to get the anxiety out of me feeling. I didn’t do it for release. I did it because I was upset, it became my escapegoat. Biting down hard, tearing at the skin, grinning twistedly.

Good you little bitch it’s what you deserve, echoing loudly in my head. Again, do it again. Nails digging down upon flesh, rip, rip, rip. Make it hurt. Make it feel. The need to feel something grew urgent. The need to be alive, to be something that under the waves of anxiety was urgent. The hate for nothing, the pain.

A large sickly yellow and disgusting blackish purple spotted black and blue is all that remains, which coveres a lot of the arm. It hurts. It’s what I get, I suppose, as punishment for not being in control. I can’t even lightly touch it without such horrible pain.

I know I should tell Kathy, and I know I shouldn’t downplay it. I downplay everything, but I’m in serious shit. I’m in the habit again, and I’m attacking seen points. Of course, they’re unnoticable with the clothing I wear.

But why am I attacking seen points?Am I subconsciously asking for help? Or is it just the first thing I notice to attack in my urgent disorder. I stumble a lot, black and blues aren’t hard to explain, and often its just assumed that I hit a wall again.

“You’ve got to take your meds,”
People only say that to fucked up people.
Am I fucked up?

744 Hopkins ST, yeah fucker.

My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone, in fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others.

It hits close to the recent rage that brews silently within, but it misses, if only just, for I haven’t wanted pain for anyone in a very long time, not since the days of childhood where I daydreamed about killing the people who called themselves my friends. No, not even do I wish Sam to feel the tiniest bit of upsetness, though I do sometimes have an urge to rub it in her face that Will’s much happier, I still, then, have no feeling to cause her any type of pain. Just an understanding that she failed.

I don’t have any desire to cause pain. Not anymore. It’s just a silent rage that fills me with the bitter taste of betrayal. Over what? The end of school? Has my twisted mind warped it so that everyone has abandoned me or am I so indifferent and cruel that I’ve been waitin for this moment? That I’ll keep up the smile, hug everyone, and at graduation I’ll say “Talk to you later” only to delete Facebook and myspace and change my number.

If only. Is that what I want, or is it my fear for being left? Leave them before they can leave me, or what? Running is what I do best, isn’t it? I give people what they want, I say the things that I’m suppose to say, I spend amounts of time with them, buy them things, comfort them–but do I feel anything?

My therapist says I do. So am I fooling myself? Do I care and this is all a defense mechinism?

I find myself turning off my phone, sinking into myself, hiding. My anxiety creeps, and without the pills I’d full out have run by now. I wanna scream “I HATE ALL YOU FUCKERS GO AWAY”, but is it true? How can I be unsure of my own feelings? How can I act so happy and so caring if I don’t actually? Do I? Or don’t I? Why do I constantly feel two different things at once?

I’m so so terribly anxious, if effects everything. Maybe I’m like my mother. Maybe I’m just bipolar. Fuck.

Who the hell?

My anxiety grabs and pulls and tugs. Ohh, she must know, she must know that it makes me sick, and that I’m sick easily. My mind swirls in a thousand different directions and fades into blankness, and I become sick in the stomach. I wanna shove it in your face.

Having a pictures with you in his boxers is weird. Calling him after he tells you he never wants to speak to you again, is weird. Having an old picture of him in his boxers laying around… is weirder.

Why do you talk to me? Why?

An echo in the world of silence

Amazing. Simply amazing.

It’s the way the words roll off your tongue in a breathless manner, power surging behind what you say and your blue orbs dancing with admiration, like you adore me. Your warm fingertips glide over my chilled arms and you tug me close.

Amazing.

Your breath is warm against my lips and my eyes flutter shut, you close the distance, brushing your lips against mine and moving past me leaving me breathless with a giddy, schoolgirl, smile.

Eight months and you keep getting more and more charming to me. You know all my favorite spots, you know all the right things to say. And you hold me so perfectally.

To each his own, so where do I fit?

I understand I don’t fit into the new American Dream. I really shouldn’t have been in this time, but I’m glad I am. In the 50s, early 60s, it would have all been alright. It’d have been expected.

Now EVERYONE is expected to go to college. Feed the machine! Keep our country, our economy, afloat! Do now, buy now, learn now! Do, do, do, must, must, must.

But what of what I want? Oh, I’m only 18, what could I possibly know? Well, for starters, I know myself, and I know what makes me happy. True, there was a drastic–drastic–change from 17 to 18, every little thing I thought would be important faded into dust. I’ve done some strange growing up, I’m learned more about myself. It’s… strange. And surely more change is on its way, I won’t deny that. But I can’t refuse what I’ve always fancied.

Housewife. Even as a child, I wanted that. I want that now. I want to get married and have children and rely on a man, there. I said it. This is what would make me very happy, this is what I want for myself. I don’t want to go to college, I don’t want an important job, I don’t want any of that.

But, of course, that takes away from the plan. Oh the great, fictious, plan I’ve created to appease my parents.
“Well, I’ll go to OCCC for two years, and transfer to Empire Online to get my Masters.” and the “Well, we have to be dating for at least five years, and living with one another for a year, before marriage is even a question…”
Oh yes, of course. And yeah, I believe marriage is a no-divorce type of thing, that’s why I’d stick to it…
But I want it now.

I don’t want my little scratch to go away. I really haven’t gotten negative responses about it other then Will and Molly–Molly checks up on me now, and Will…he has a way about him. Regardless, I love it. I love seeing it, being reminded of it. Sure, the action brings shame, terrible shame, but…. other then that, I love staring at it when I have the chance, or running my fingers over it. It’s a constant buzz, sometimes, the urge that springs up. Like a scratch you can’t itch.

There’s an addiction, the pouring relief of pain. Of that sick twisted state where it’s beautiful. God, it’s beautiful, to damage. To hate. To deserve. It was mine, and I don’t want it to go away. I know I said I was above cutting, and I am, nails don’t count! They don’t. And I know it isn’t my usual. Always the legs. Stab and burn, always. But I like this one. I like seeing my pet. My precious. My little scratch that’s all mine that I made. I want it forever. I want a permante one, one that’s an old scar to run my fingers over.

But I can’t. For Molly, for Will, for the way they worry over me. For the way he scoops me up and tells me its gonna be okay, I couldn’t, and I won’t, but I’ll dream.

So I’ll work on it. I’ll use my nails and I’ll just redo it forever. Only I won’t.

And here comes the money issues.
60 dollars a week for him.
20 for me.
Yeah, it sounds great, right?
Naw.
Gas. Food. Car problems.
And whatever else there is; Movies. Out to Eat. Video Games.
It’s a struggle, and we’ve actually had to cut back. Somedays I don’t get a pepsi for a week.
we need to save:
For Six Flags. About 234 dollars.
To Fix his car/belt: 90 dollars.
Alien: 5,000 dollars
School: D:< Who knows?
Zune: 200?
PSP: 200?
A new computer to play sims 3: over 200
Rock Band 2: 189
And my obsessions. Can’t forget those and how much I spend on them. Oh lord. Kathy says I’m Obsessive Compulsive. But she also thinks I has a Thinking Disorder and ADD.

Distractible speech, Incoherence–word salad?, Phoenemic paraphasia, Semantic paraphasia…

Pills for everything, a label for everything. Can’t I be fine…? A bit strange, but fiiiine. Oh god.

My little scratch.

So much has changed in the course of a few months. The things I swore that would never come have turned a 180 on me and now I’m sitting smack gab in the middle of it all, with my mouth open and my tongue hanging out like the little brainwashed twit I strongly swore I’d never be. ‘For the better’ my ass, I’d argue. I could manage just fine. I could manage so fine, honestly, until I actually had something to live for, right? Oh yeah.

I live in horror the moment that I have to be watched, all the time. I don’t want to live that life, I don’t want to become that sort of burden, I don’t want that kind of attention. I do want to be independent. I do. I swear.

I’m not a cutter, I’m above that. I’m above it, I’m above it, I swear I’m above it. I’m so arrogant, judging myself with others, scoffing and waving away at everyone else. Oh no, I’m better, I’m fine. I’ll preach to you, and you’ll listen to me! I’m so sane, I burn myself! You’ll never know, I stab myself! I’m so sane, so sane, listen to me you poor fucked up kids, I’ll tell you how it is, I’ll give you labels, but it’s fine, I’m okay. I’m so great I threw away a very expensive bracelet because it told me to.

They gave me medicine on Thursday. An antipsychotic  on a low dose and an antianxiety. One for night, one for morning. They’re both for the anxiety, and I’ve finally found a shrink who acts like I’m everything to him. He’s wonderful, I trust him. They just have to monitor my blood pressure levels extremely carefully, blah blah blah.

I’m so good at it. Ignoring my urges. I’m so happy, I’m so fucking happy and then bam. The urge rises, and I suddenly need it so bad. I need my little secret. Five minutes alone and I’ve ripped open the skin on my wrist with my nail. Grinning and grinning and digging and digging and I’ve got to make it pretty because it’s my little scratch. It’s been years since I’ve SERIOUSLY done any damage. I couldn’t help myself.

I’m ashamed of it, of myself. It’s getting so hard suddenly. I can hardly control myself anymore. From all urges. I almost stole a child today. I’ve been pointing out things to people that I know isn’t there. Am I losing it?

Today…

I fell in love with a name, for a boy, and it fits.

I was drowsey, in and out of sleep, thus meaning a state of mind, and I could hardly remember conversations, hardly making sense out of them. But there was a name that stuck out, a name that I see to a little boy in my head, like finally finding a missing piece to a puzzle.

But what the hell am I doing? Baby names? Am I daff? Have I completely lost it? This reaches far beyond just looking for another story, or playing a little hunt with the characters. Oh my god, I must be over my head, but I can’t let go of the name. Why is it that the need to have children is screaming the loudest in my mind? Why has it been this way since… well, since near December?

Let’s be honest, it’s been before I even had sex. It just wasn’t this… pronounced. Though I’m not about to give into this overwhelming desire. I want to have a life to support these children, and I want to be able to spoil them.

Despite my own common sense and goals for myself, I can’t come around it. I say one thing, but hell I want another very much. It’s suddenly become the most important thing in my life, and I haven’t even had them yet! It’s horrifying, it’s sickening, it’s.. it’s… It’s what I want.

I had told myself that if I were to ever have children–a child–they wouldn’t rule my life. They wouldn’t change my views, they wouldn’t make me want what I had set out for myself to change–but here I am, changed. Wanting something completely different. A life. For them. For us. For me.

We’re young. I’m new to relationships. It’ll be 8 months in a week. We shouldn’t briefly mention marriage, or what kind of house we’d like, or children… But we are. We have. Almost since the start of the relationship. Oh lord, I love that boy. And oh lord, I should stop worrying. And oh god, oh god. How strange it is for love to bump into me. How strange it is to become someone’s everything, to have them in return mean just as much.

I don’t want to think of the future. I want to think and enjoy now.

Just think about the turtles, how they bite your anxiety to cure it.

Triggered by reasons yet unknown, it starts as a small trinkle. A nervousness, lip-biting, worry. The world is closing in slowly and whispers hint, kicking up like dust overhead. Th-thump, thump, thump. The noise starts, lingering, taking its time.
Breathing becomes difficult.
They know. Who they are, it isn’t certain, but they know.
There’s a tightness around the chest, the throat. Horror splashes, jolting through the body. Horror, horror, horror. The need to bolt explodes creating a chain reaction of fear and pain.
People become faceless mobs.
The world melts. It’s a trap.
The noise bursts up and becomes loud static.
Something is trying to crawl out from the inside.
Nervousness becomes extreme.
The hands shake. The need to pull at hair becomes a necessity.
Rocking back and forth helps. But only sometimes. Mumbling, whimpering. Slurred words. Unable to think clearly.
Thoughts of self damage emerge.
The need to curl up emerges, along with either the strong need to sleep or the inability.
Nervousness becomes more and more intense. Body throbs with the worry. With the fear. With the nervousness.
Paranoia stirs.
Delusions.
Nathan next.

I can’t go a few steps without my mind finding something to get anxious over. My therapist seems to understand me better than I do myself. She pointed out that I hated close contact from other people, especially males, and I wondered how the hell she knew that, it’s only been, what, five sessions with her. And do I? I have trouble breathing, and I panic when I’m pulled into a hug.
Sometimes its okay. Good lord. I’m alright.

We’re all cursed, I think.

Call an optimist, she’s turning blue!

You’ve cast your demons out
And not to pull your halo down
Around your neck and tug you off your cloud
But I’m more than just a little curious
How you’re plannin’ to go about makin’ your amends
To the dead

Fantastic. Bleedin’ fanfuckintastic. I have so much to complain about. Mmmhmm.

Pain. So much pain. My ankles have always been slightly weak, but this is just plain pathetic. Both ankles sprained, one is constantly throbbing, and I can hardly keep a book open without my wrists giving me hell. My therapist thinks I’m brilliant, and Laura’s life just went to hell, spat her back up, and took a major shit on everything. Good lord. Watching something like that. I can’t even…

And I’m angry! At my mother, for all the wrong reasons.

Today was another really great day. Though it bothers me that THEY stole MY idea. I UNDERSTOOD quantum physics and the MWI theory WAAAAY before those jerks did. That’s MY time-travel theory, assholes.

:/ I guess its kind of sad explaining the basics of the 4 dimensions to a teacher in class–like doesn’t everyone know that? Feh, everyone I know does at least. What is so hard to understand about; ‘There is no diffirence between time and any of the three dimensions of space except that our consciousness moves along it.’…? It explains itself so plainly! Why teach us something that you do not understand?

Mmm, and all it took was for Michael to turn to me as I slammed my fist on the table in mid rant and say, solemnly, “I wish my particals could transport.” And I burst into laughter.

See, Frank’s doing his billion page research paper on the theory of Time Travel, and he spent ten hours or so searching through the web–which sounds like a stretch–and forgotten all about a worksheet. He did it, yes, but he hadn’t handed it in. I, doing Time Travel in Sci Fi, show him my packet on all the theories there are, and he says, that if Ms. Carter had given that to him in the first place, he wouldn’t have forgotten to hand in the paper, and he wouldn’t have lost the 11 points that just ruined his future life for college.

Time Travel is a bitch. And I love it.

God, I’m wondering where the luls came from. Like a pair of drunken idiots staggering aimlessly through the streets I’ve found my equal, someone who gets what I’m all about and reaches the level of sheer mockery and idiocy that one ought to mistaken us for the drugged up drunkens. Giggling, staggering, talking utter nonsense. And that’s that.

My favorite gym teacher eevvvaaah. Mr… Lawenson? Lawson? I’m not really sure, but he’s my favorite. And I wish I’d know him forever. I dunno, I guess there’s this thing about being called by my surname. ‘Ralson’. ‘Ralson, right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Ralson. Sarah.’
‘Yes, sir.’

My friendship with Ryan is patching up beautifully. Especially how he calls me Ralson as well. :’D <3 Wally makes me lul, and I’m not even minding potato boy either. And mm, yeah, I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but I laughed hard. Wow kid, seriously?

At first I wasn’t sure whether or not to be angry, but the whole thing was just so damn hilarious, that I gave up. God forbid I think of my own comfort first, huh? I’m still really unsure what I did wrong, but then again, I just have to stand there to be wrong. Eh. I’m still unsure if she was gonna cry or hit me in the face, she looked like she was gonna do both, to be honest. I had simply wanted to inform her of my sudden change of mind, and see if she wanted to change over with me, but before I could continue, she exploded in angry rage.

Holy hell. She stormed away and I turned to a stunned gym teacher and Wally. Wally snorts and says, “I was not expecting that. She’s like a dragon.” which caused me to burst into laughter. And that was that. Realization, yeah. It’s done. It’s fairly obvious she doesn’t enjoy our friendship, which for the first time in my life, I’m not at all annoyed over, and I’m very fine with.

See, I’m afraid that something bad will happen to me if I get angry at someone, but hell. This is not happening anymore. I don’t deserve any of it. It isn’t running and it isn’t abandoning, and I’m not my mother. I’m me, and I’ve got to make my own choices, and I can’t fear things that I haven’t done wrong by. She didn’t like my relationship, she thought I was an idiot, she didn’t believe in me, she got angry.

She’s a good person. She is. A good friend, too, when she isn’t like that, and I’m sure she’ll have a nice lovely life, because that’s what I want for her. I want her to be happy, to have a beautiful life filled with joy and happiness and marry her boy and raise a loving family. I have no doubt that she’ll get over this little issue of…. anger? But I’m not sticking around. I’ve got a crazy mother.

But never mind this!

TIME TRAVEL. Finally, I’ve got a group of friends to talk to about it. Yes yes yes.

McRinny xB: Does
McRinny xB: There is no diffirence between time and any of the three dimensions of space except that our consciousness moves along it
McRinny xB: that explain itself plainly?
derblauenSharpie: That’s stupid.]
derblauenSharpie: Time is definitely it’s own dimension,
McRinny xB: Of course it is, but do you underst–EXACTLY
McRinny xB: But.
McRinny xB: You understand what that says, yes?
derblauenSharpie: Because it can be manipulated independantly of our 3 dementions.
derblauenSharpie: Yeah, I do.
derblauenSharpie: o.o Why?
McRinny xB: See, I had to explain to my teacher what it meant.
McRinny xB: o_o She’s teaching us Time Travel…
derblauenSharpie: xD Wow.
McRinny xB: But she has no idea what she’s saying.
derblauenSharpie: Wowowow.
McRinny xB: And I have to explain. D:
derblauenSharpie: Time travel works thoretically, but only into the future.
McRinny xB: She didn’t even understand what the 4 dem–
derblauenSharpie: Stupid bitch.
McRinny xB: See, I have to disagree with that.
McRinny xB: I believe there are many branches off our own reality.
derblauenSharpie: !!!
McRinny xB: I don’t think we can move backwards in our own timeline, but in others.
derblauenSharpie: Oh.
derblauenSharpie: I was going to say that my ideas were the same.
derblauenSharpie: But it’s not entirely.
derblauenSharpie: Totally, a new dimension in time splits off every second.
derblauenSharpie: Also, you should read an online comic call Star Slip Crisis.
derblauenSharpie: o.o It’s about space and time and art!
McRinny xB: The many worlds interpretation.
derblauenSharpie: Indeed.
McRinny xB: o_o Or quantum safasfa.
McRinny xB: >_> Where every thought we have, plays off in another world.
derblauenSharpie: Quite. o.o
derblauenSharpie: I’m gonna go to bed.
McRinny xB: XD Okay.
McRinny xB: Night.
derblauenSharpie: I’m still exhausted from my one day of work. xD
derblauenSharpie: G’night Rin.
derblauenSharpie: -would hug you but knows you’re a jew about giving out hugs-

Blinded; scattered. Ram ram-bam. Hello.

I think it was Dennis who fucked me over, now that I think about it. Because when he and I stopped being so close, I fell away into a sort of depression, and I suddenly felt so alone. I didn’t have that close friend anymore. I did try, though. But then…

I just stopped trying. And I stopped trying with everyone. But let’s backtrack.

One thing, starts a snowball of things. Because I don’t express myself properly. I don’t let people in, because in truth, I get hurt. Very, very, very easily. I’m a very broken person, in reality, and maybe that’s why I try so hard to make everyone else happy, and hope for their cheerfulliness. Because. I. Don’t. Want. Them. To. Feel. The. Way. I. Do.

I do know the terrible loneliness. I do. Try being alone–completely. The last kid to be picked up at camp. At school. Sitting and waiting. Waiting at home. Waiting at the babysiters house.

Years and years of hurtful loneliness. So maybe I snapped, and maybe–maybe–there’s something wrong with me. But whatever it is, I do know I did it to myself. To choose such over reality has to be saying something. I know loneliness, I know it so well that I cannot be left alone.

At all. At anytime.

Isn’t that horrible? I cannot, literally, be alone, because I snap. Because I can’t handle it. I can’t just go to the mall by myself, I can’t be home alone by myself, I can’t do anything by myself. Somedays its so bad I have to follow people around everywhere.

I don’t become suicidal, that isn’t the problem. I’ll destroy the house, I’ll scream and cry, and I may even try and hurt myself–but never have I been suicidal. I don’t want to die, and I never will. I just…

I go crazy.

And this is another reason that I don’t do close relationships. Or rather, why I didn’t. But then there was Dennis–and he become a constant. But then, I wanted away, and he pulled in the other direction as well.

And then there was the Mall Group. But the mall was a constant stress to me–too many people. The dirstraction, however, was often brilliant. The group was nice. But I struggled being myself, as I often do. The sarcastic, somewhat cunning and manipulative person I tend to be–because it seemed much easier to be a childish person. I had finally gotten the type of attention I longed from my mother in the eyes of the people.

And I do like Billy, as I like Sarah, and Brandon, and Snarf and never Face. Okay, I sometimes liked Face–in fact, I did like Face. In a friendly, never romantic, manner. That’s how it always was–and I wanted to pretend it different. I wanted to fit in.

But Shane. I should have known then.

Anyway.

I feel bad. I feel awful. I feel awful that I get hurt by Snarf, and that I’d admit it. And I’m ashamed to let the wound grow deeper and deeper, so much that I couldn’t pretend anymore, and I started moving away.

And I’m left wondering if I’m selfish for wanting my own happiness? And that while knowing she’s suicidal, I’m not going to do a thing about it, like I’ve never done for anyone else. Molly’s sister is that way too, and Molly didn’t tell.

Will says it’s like saying you don’t care if that person kills themselves, and that Molly should’ve told. And I think to myself, am I wrong for not telling an adult? And what are my reasons for not telling? Because I’m afraid? Do I just not want to get involved? Is it too much drama for me? Or because I just don’t think she would?

I also wonder why it’s always up to me, thus making me the bad guy? Constantly. I’m always the bad guy to someone in someway. Always. I don’t go to the mall, thus it’s my fault Snarf’s depressed. I can’t be the friend she needs, thus it’s my fault she wants out of life.

And this Lynn-Doug thing is ticking me off.

This all is more then I signed up for. I failed with Dan, I was there for him so much, and then I let him go, and then…

I’m so happy, and I suppose I’m angry that I finally have things going nice for me, and then… then things are terrible, like if I’m happy, people around me just can’t deal with that.

And thus, I find new friends who are happy. Like Wally. Wally can make me laugh, and I him, and we have things in common.

So does that make me awful? I try and run away from everything else and look for happier things? Does that mean I like to give up? No. It doesn’t.

I just can’t deal with being the problem. I don’t want to go to the mall, and I don’t want to have to be reminded about being the thing that upsets her, and I don’t want have to feel like shit everytime she says something because I’m just not good enough and I’m not a good friend.

I can stick to Molly thick and thin, and stay up all night with her, helping her with her problems. And fuck, I’m loyal. And yes, I’ll be there if needed, but this…

I’m sick of being hurt over and over and over again. Either my writing isn’t like hers, or I’m too happy, or it’s a compition, or she’s angry about an energy drink, or she’s angry but don’t worry she’s not anymore, or I’m stupid in my relationship or I’m somehow spiting her by doing shit she wanted to do with her boyfriend, or I’m just toooo shizophrenic and I need help. I just… I dunno. I’ve been hurting. I mean, fuck, at least Dennis could make me pee myself with laughter. It’s like every damn thing I do is wrong.

I’m sorry if it’s selfish that I just don’t wanna go to the mall, or that I don’t want to hear the newest thing that you’re angry about dealing with me–but I could die at any minute, and I have a lot of shit that I’ve been through.

And I think it really sucks, because you’re a really fucking great person, and not many people get close to me like you have. And I will defend you to people, and I will defend your relationship to anyone who questions it, and I’ll always speak highly of you. And I really hope you have a nice happy life and relationship, and I’m sure you’ll have lovely kids, and a nice house, and your life will go great.

I just don’t know if we’ll be friends for much longer.

FUCK FUCK FUCK

JUST FUCK.

And is this what my life has become? And I’m angry, and I’m so very angry. And I’m angry at everything and everyone and just FUCK YOU. Fuck all of you, except for Molly, of course, because she’s trying to stay happy in this sick fucking dark world.

Just fuck it.

IS THIS WHAT HAS BECOME OF ME? Have I resorted back to how I used to be, just running and crying and running again?

Blasting loud music so not to hear my own choking sobs, am I really that ashamed? And I have no idea what I’m crying about. There’s just that snap, and bam. The cellphone is thrown off the loft, smashing into the TV blow, and I just scream

and scream

and

scream

and cry.

Crying so hard I’d about to puke, but feeling no saddness. Just rage.

And I laugh even harder telling myself it’s all going to fucking hell.

Then to the mirror where I wipe away the tears and practice smiling. So that nobody knows what happened.

And I’m stuck. I can’t even try to tell Molly what’s going on in my head. I just can’t. And I stumble with Will, and I just say, “I don’t know.”

I don’t know why the phone was off. I couldn’t tell him I lost myself and threw it. I don’t know why, I said.

Because it’s the truth.

I don’t know why.

There is a land called Passive Agresseva, and you are their queen.

To say I lost faith in humanity would be a bit strong, but I’ve been left wondering if I ever cared enough, or if that was just another little play to pull, something to fit in with. Though I’d rather like to think everyone is good, still. They’re just not for me. Does that make me, in itself, less human?

I’ve come to find something to detest. Simply like my strong disapproval toward the idea of altering memories, I absolutely loathe the idea of anyone talking trash of someone’s relationship, or life for that matter. I simply won’t stand for it, and I refuse to listen to it, regardless how much I think you’re funny.

Everyone deserves their happiness, and their happy life, and beautiful love, despite who they are, or what they’ve done. This is something I will never change my thoughts on. And I will defend their relationships to other people–even if I’m bloody pissed at that said person. I’ve done it countless times before. And I’ll continue to do so.

So what the hell is wrong with people that they feel the need to wish bad on someone else? I could never. Is it because I don’t care enough about them? Or because what I say is how I really feel? Or, is it because I’m afraid of bad luck? Of having my own happiness taken from me because I thought badly of someone else’s?

Shit, I’m afraid to be angry at someone, because I believe that will give me terrible luck.

However, these times, they are a-changin’. That much is clear. Everything is shifting, and I say, maybe for the better.

For the first time in my short high school life, I’ve been tugged into pointless, shallow, petty, drama. I don’t care much for it. I don’t want to get involved with it, though apparently ignoring it can cause more damage. Huh, who’d figure?

These times, how they’re changin’.

Schizophrenia was so last year, it’s a fad that’s run out and can no longer be used. It’s over, it’s done, and now I’ll wait for them to tell me the latest thing that’s wrong with me. It’s always different, every year, and they’re always sure that this one is the one!

I figure it’s all in my head anyway, so what the hell do I have to care for it? I’ll always be the way I am, and I’ve been the same since I was younger. Just different things come to play, and maybe it’s a delight to twist and tug and watch happily as everything falls, line-by-line just the way I had wanted it to.

Because this is my story book.

Perhaps it’s all a ploy to get some type of attention. From who, I wouldn’t be sure, certainly my mother would be a good guess, but I’m losing hope in that.

I’ve also lost sight of my story book. Things are moving forward, and I wish I knew what to say to Molly. And I just wish I knew what to say.

I do apologize, even if I don’t know how to mean it honestly, I wish I could. Emotionally, Physically–I like running and hiding. Maybe I never really got over hide-and-go-seek, maybe I’m just crazy in that way. Maybe I want a certain kind of desperate attention–maybe it’s my demand for help.

But either way, I’m sure we all get them–the urge to get up and hide. To run away. To leave the store and hide, to open the door while the car is in motion, to sneak away and hide somewhere in the house until found… I guess I just like running away. Dunno why. Hope I’m not like my mom, that’d suck. And I couldn’t do that to him.

And then there’s the end, and I don’t know how to get it back. So for that, I’m sorry, but honestly, I think it was your own fault. And I’m sticking to that.

I’ve lost my need to cling as much–to Molly and William, that will never let up. But… Like I said, I lost most of my faith. The idea of it all is fading. And while I like some of it, I don’t like all of it.

I can count everyone who thinks we’re going to talk after high school, and every single one of them, I know that I won’t. Oh no, I won’t. There’s a small circle of people I’ll hold on to, but the rest. No, that’s a final goodbye. I might enjoy you a lot, and we might laugh and have endless fun, but it’s all going to change.

But I won’t forget you. No, no, you’ll be here, up in my head, and I’ll honor you and make you a character. I’ll immortalize you. Because you have shaped me, and I’m grateful.

What’s there though, it’s the future–and it’s getting clearer and clearer by the day. Never before has 160 dollars looked so small. Sitting outside of the bank, in the car, with twenties in hand–I realized…

I realized it’s gonna be hard. It’s not gonna be like how TV promised, it won’t be how school promises.

Gazing upward at him, the sun setting behind the blasted OnTheRun, as the flickering gas station light’s turn on, illuminating the dark shadows–it’s so very clear, with a single word,

‘We’ve got to make it last’.

Rent. Gas. Life.

We’re going to struggle for a bit. But we’ll both smile, and you’ll always get me that pepsi, and we’ll clasp our hands and laugh.

‘Cause the times… They are a-changin’.

It was such a beautiful day as she read about Superman beating up those communists.

It was a total ‘there-and-back-again’ moment for me, and briefly I considered myself Bilbo just for the sake of the flip-flop back-and-forth, though I would never think of it as an epic tail. Oh, no, no. Yet, with Melissa, anything could be epic couldn’t it?

Saturday evening, maybe around 8-ish, Melissa decides to bring up the fact that she has a party to go to at 9, at the Middletown Lanes. Bowling, who’d figure? Well, Will agrees to drive her, and we start our journey of driving around Middletown in search of a card.

At the gas station, searching the OntheRun, she turns to me and utters one word that changes my view on her. Forever.

“Dumbledore.”

I turn, shocked, to look at her, and she smiles cheerfully. Almost knowingly. And then it hits me. She isn’t a nutcase. She’s just a dramatic 13 year old–waaay dramatic and bratty–but searching to be accepted. Almost like Frankstien’s monster. One word, and she’s gotten closer. I kind of like her now.

“He raped the Pokemon.”

And I burst into laughter. She’s been listening to our conversations, I realized. Clever, clever, girl. Will shoots us a playful glare.

“What are you laughing about? What did she tell you?”

“Just about Dumbledore getting raped.”

Will looks at her, then sets his gaze onto me. “What have you been teaching her?” He accuses with his tilted grin. “She’s 13, for god’s sake!” I open my mouth as she giggles and he slams the pump back into it’s place. “Back in the car!”

To Rite-Aid, then, we went. And to my delight, Bram was working! He was a tall, silent, guy, colorless, in a way. He was always so indifferent! I considered him mine, if only for the fact that he was always there on our candy runs. He was so blank of any emotion–he might as well have been god! In any case, he was my Bram Storkeafasfa, and I only liked him for the idea of him, and the fact that he’d never remember who I was. Now that’s a friend! A secret friend.

Yada yada yada, we got her the card, she signed it, we dropped her off–and here comes Sunday. I liked Sunday.

Except for the here and back again part. Nah uh. Driving back and forth like that… I wouldn’t have minded much, if it weren’t to Bear Mountain, toward where my door-cousin presided in. Faggots.

Liz’s friends (rich, mind you) were going out, and their 15 year old son, Doug, didn’t much want to be left alone home. So, that’s where we were going. To get him.

And what comes on the radio on our way there? Baby got Back. Yeah. So Liz blasts it, dancing in her seat, as Will gets dramatic in the backseat next to Melissa who is giggling–and for the first time in a very long time…

I feel like I’m apart of a family. A real family.

WE’RE NOT TALKING ABOUT DOUG’S BIG BEN-LIKE HOUSE. Fucking door.

So we get the kid, right? I’m glad he and Melissa instantly click. He’s tall, like Will, wearing his “goth” hoody that William has–and he’s a pretty fly guy with a neat sense of humor. That is, until he said I had the laugh of a Blood Elf. Then he was just a whore. But in the mean-time, he clicked instantly with our ways.

Pretty neat.

Liz then took us to see Know1ng.

All I could say to the ending was “Twice”, ’cause that already happened with the ending of Silent Hill. Hilarious. If it wasn’t for the gushing pain, I might have liked the movie better, but, alas, I’m broken, truly. After all, there’s always something tragically wrong with me, no?

Then to Outback Steakhouse we went. And goddamn do I love Clam Chowder, or what? It went swimmingly, again, except for the hideous pain–but we all know that I looove when I’m in pain, eh?

So besides getting skiddish and throwing the straws on the ground so Doug couldn’t fling water at me, everything was pretty great.

Though, something still unnerves me. The way people seem to always want to hug me when I cry. I mean, sheese, Ms. Carter can be meggy scary, but I didn’t have to be a baby, right?

Oh well. We had a heart-to-heart.

I H8 U!!1!!!q1 LOL I FKIN H8 U RIN

They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard!
They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard!
They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard!
They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard!
They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard!
They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard!
They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard!

If it wasn’t for Wally, and then later Sango, I wouldn’t have made it on Monday. I hate it when they leave me, and yet, I always want them to. Laura’s okay, so it’s no big deal. But still. And hell did Wally make me laugh hard.

My darling promised to stay till I fell asleep. It’s amazing how much my opinion of sex and love has changed. I love being so pure and new for him, untouched, and his only. What had I been thinking all those years? Violent sex with strangers? No, no… It’s better when there’s a special love shared. Every gentle touch, every soft sigh–I love knowing that he loves being the only one to be able to ever get a reaction from me, that only his fingertips have slid over my skin.

I’m his little gift. And I was waiting all my life for him. I never had the desire for a boyfriend before, never had a desire to be loved in that matter, or held. Only because I was meant for my William.

Molly says that she feels so free, so light–like she’s floating in the sky. Well, I’ve been floating for as long as I can remember. The entire world has suddenly come together under my feet, and I finally feel… apart of this world. This reality.

For hours–all night, really–we spent together lying in my bed, just talking, laughing. Clothing means nothing, and it was a delight to be so free. We haven’t had time to just lay around naked, so it was such a relief.

I love him, more then everything the world has to offer. I kills me that he actually stayed. He stayed, oh god he stayed with me. And I pretended to fall asleep, assuming I’d be okay.

But minutes passed, and he was no longer besides me. 4 in the morning, I should have been long asleep, but he had been there, just moments before. And I burst into a hysteria, calling him.

And he came for me. He came. And he saved me. Oh god, he saved me, he took me in his arms, and brought me to his car and he took me home with him.

His room is my safe haven. My place of peace and happiness. Curled up in his bed, gazing at him with half-lidded eyes, his lazy sweet grin easing me into sleep. For all of Tuesday I stayed with him–my savior. My love. My hero.

For all the sad nights of hoping and begging the unknown, finally I’ve been sent someone to save me. From everything–even myself. It’s impossible to linger in sad thoughts when he’s there, when he’s keeping me happy so easily.

I can’t help it when he kisses my fingers softly and speaks of marriage. I can’t help it when he tugs me close to him, kissing my head, and keeping me safe from the things of the dark.

Life is wonderful. Am I allowed such things?

Madness takes its toll. Please have exact change.

What then, when sorry isn’t enough? I’ve got skeltons in my closet, and I’ve only told one person–my god it’s so unlikely, and that person wasn’t Molly, and that person wasn’t William, or Snarf, or Kaggy or Venny.

A spilled my guts a long time ago. To a boy I did not love, but tried too.

D:

The things that haunt me. The places I run to in search of hiding. And because of my inability to understand, to remain, I pretend, and because of my pretending, I believe, and because I believe, life is formed, and life lives, and loves.

And those loves are lies.

And I run once again, because reality came.

I hide.

And they cry.

And I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. So, so, sorry.

‘What’s normalcy?’ they ask.

You.

Sarah, you’re fucking crazy.
You’re fucked up.
You’re weird.
You’re weird and crazy–but it’s in a fun way!
All of you.
Every single one.
People I do not know tell me.
Everyone says it.

It hurt back then, and you better believe it still hurts. Am I so different? You and I, we are so alike… then why am I so odd to you? We’re friends, all of us, for a reason, right? We’re alike.

I hear it.
Every single day. From more then one person. Repeating and repeating and repeating. Even teachers…
‘…Well, you’re different Sarah.’
It’s acknowledged.
Fuck you, Carter. You don’t know me like that.

So what am I suppose to do? Not speak? Do people think I’m just pretending? Or is it awful, because they know I’m not?

Yes, this is my fucking pity-party. But it won’t last long. ‘Cause half way through, I’ll think of you.
My friends.
And the pain you go through too.

But…can anyone really relate to me? Can you, honestly? And I’m not talking to people who actually have issues, I’m talking to you, the people who parade around, thinking I like you. Thinking we’re friends. I appreciate you, but can you really understand?

Do  you think about killing yourself? Daily? While being HAPPY? Laughing, enjoying yourself? Think of your happiest moments–and then think about your mind urging you, urging you, to end it all. Think of that person you care about, holding you close, kissing you…
And then think about having an urge to go and over-dose.

–Yes, I know you people, who tell me how you hate your life, and how it sucks. And I try and attempt to cheer you up, and tell you how great life is. But fuck you. And little miss ‘I’m Suicidal and I have therapists and I’m MISERABLE’, fuck you and your 100 reasons why you ’should live’ list. I don’t go around bitching about how my CRAZY–yeah CRAZY–head and genetics project thoughts into my mind. No. I’m your friend of all smiles and happiness, that couldn’t possibly understand. And I won’t give you the pleasure, or challenge, of knowing.

Do you have an illogical urge to run away? While in a car, just open the door, and attempt to get out while it’s in motion?
Or while you’re at the mall, or somewhere out, with friends, or that special person, do you just… slip away from everyone? Because of that horrible, horrible urge? And when people get close to you, emotionally, do you suddenly just block them out?

–I hear you people. Talking of how you ‘just left because my mom’s a frickin’ bitch’ or ‘if they keep this shit up I’m moving in with…’ bullcrap. You’re angry because your parents won’t do what you want. Fuck you. You tell me how you’re gonna run off with so-and-so or run away and never come back because you’re parents are assholes. I know people who have it worse. I know people whose parents are neglectful. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. You people are rich spoiled idiots. And yeah, I know, I shouldn’t try and compare us, but do you really have any idea of what kind of struggle it is? To not bolt whenever the impulse arises?

So maybe, I can’t relate to your stuff. And maybe I’m being cruel about this all. But do believe me when I say I want to hear your problems, and believe me when I say I want to help… Because I do. Even if I’m bitter about it right now, I still do.
And that applies twice as much for the people I actually love.
So stop with your ‘well, I didn’t want to trouble you’ stuff. Because it isn’t. If you’re hurting, then it’s a big deal, don’t disregard it ’cause I’m a nutter.

Because when it all comes down to it… You guys have it worse. This is my normalcy. I deal with this shit, every glorious day. I can cope, and I’m damn good at it. I know how to be happy.  Maybe because that’s the only thing I really want, and know how to do: is be happy.

If I’m upset, I think people would know.

My reality consists of nothing more but of everything and anything. And while I’m not bound to anything, I do have things and people I like.

Someone once asked me, ‘You hate everything that has to do with reality, don’t you?’ I was surprised. But it was true.
I hate reality. I hate that I’m not good enough for a mom to stick around. I hate that I let Dan die. I hate that I can’t say anything.
Will said to me, ‘Yes, but you hate people.’
I scoffed. ‘Hate? No. Hate is too strong of a word, and I don’t care enough for them to feel anything towards them.’

And in reality, while I deal with all that shit…
Yeah. You guys all have it fucking worse. Because, I guess, like Will once said, everyone deals with shit differently.

And my mom already ruined more then half of me, so that’s out. And no, I’m never going to let that go. It’s my sourse of pain, and I feel more real with it.

You guys… you love me for the way I am. So no, don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to be ‘normal’ in the way preppy snotty girls are.
I want to be normal in the way you guys can relate.
I feel so very alone. And when the tough gets going, I flee to a world that you say doesn’t exist, and talk to people that everyone refuses to believe is there.

So in reality… You guys are much stronger then I am. You stick it out. Go through the emotions. Act out.
And I… I shut down for a few minutes, act like nothing terrible came my way, and become happy. I leave to another world.
Or I snap and become overly vicious.

And I’m so afraid.

I’m so afraid of becoming my mother. I don’t want to be trapped inside my own head. I have been, before. For brief, terrible, moments. On my off days when I forget how to show emotions, when I become blank… When I try and talk, but all that happens is the silence… when I’m left screaming inside my own mind.

I’m afraid of running.

She did it. She and Laura were together in their twenties. Then, one day, my mom just left for half a year.
And Laura freaked out.

I don’t want that.

I feel like… I’ve been through so much. But lord I’m only 18, so what can I possibly know? I still pity myself at times, too. No, no… I know nothing of pain.

But maybe…

Can I have my happily ever after?

Can I have my William? Can I have a job, and a family? Can I live close to Molly? That’s what I want.
That’s all I’m asking for.

I want a nice sweet home nearby, maybe in the country…
I want to wake up to William every day. I want three bratty but beautiful children.
I want to have a real family, to have a place to go to on the holidays, to talk and giggle and tell stories…
I want Molly to live maybe a half hour, or less, away. I want to have Sunday mornings with her, as a ‘just us’ morning.
I want to be sipping tea or some shit in a dinning room table or kitchen, or something, laughing and telling stories with her.
I want to get an occasional visit from Snarf and Faj, and hear of their extreme happiness and good wealth, to hear Snarf tell me of her amazing adventures, or the latest place she visited, or some weird story that’s completely ‘hush hush’.
I want Kaggy to pop in randomly from Alaska, or some place around the world, bearing gifts and epic tales.
I want Vincent and Venny to visit, to laugh with.
Can’t the people I’ve learned to love have a happy ever after too? ’cause that’s what I want. And I’m wondering, is that so much to ask? Why must it be hard? Can’t I just… have it? Am I allowed?

Please?

We’re friends, and we do relate, because in our own way…
D: We’ve all been through shit. We’ve all got our pain, and our painful pasts, and things that… haunt us.

And that’s why we’re close the way we are. And so, I think, if I’m alone, then they must be alone too. And maybe, because we’re all alone, we’re together in that sense. And they like me, and how I speak…
And I like them, and how they speak.
And here is the start of the happily ever after.

So while I might through pity parties about myself…

I never forget that those closest to me, can, and do, understand.

We’re all normal, here.

Gorillas with decoder rings.

HYPOCRISY.

Maybe I lost it. That’s a very, very, possible thing. I’m also wondering why I haven’t gotten in any trouble. Maybe when people lose it, the normal rules stop applying. Maybe I just have issues. Maybe I just don’t like being pushed into it. Or maybe I’ve just snapped. Years and years of unresolved resentment and anger all exploding at once.

Too bad we were in a car at the time. Maybe they’ll understand now. Maybe they’ll get that I’m.not.kidding.

To me, I feel though as the only thing that matters, is how they feel and how they look. Laura isn’t working, mom is using her “illness” as an excuse, in my view, not to. ‘Sarah get a job, pay for the bills’.
Hey, we cut your birth control uses, but we’re gonna go to Florida.
School always comes first. My ability to drive comes before how I feel.
‘Sarah, move PAST your comfort level.’
‘Er, yeah, but I’m not feeling very comfortable about driving somewhere else, let alone the city. I don’t turn well, I go into the other lane, and I’m still not comfortable with people driving close behind me.’
So Laura talked bad about me to my mom loudly and they gave me the ‘disappointing’ look. Fuck them, this is about me, and they should pressure me into driving.

So I snapped. Mom got in the car and I’m backing out of the driveway, but she keeps telling me how to and how the ‘correct’ way is.
So I basically told her to stfu, but in a worse way, and proceeded to speed down the road, and past the stop sign.
‘Sarah, you just went through a stop sign–’
‘No I fuckin’ didn’t.’
‘…Yeah, you did…’
‘Fuck you, I’m doing it how I want.’
‘Maybe I should drive…’
‘Nope.’

Yes, I tried, multiple times, to kill us.

I’m just… consumed with this rage. This anger. I’m so… angry. And I don’t know what to do about it.

I guess it doesn’t really matter. Nobody seems alarmed that I tried to kill us. Maybe it never happened. Maybe it just doesn’t mean anything.

And then…

There’s that new desire. It’s been huanting me for a while. Oh god.

I’m not really hungry, I just need to have reservations somewhere.

I’d go off and raddle on as to why I don’t like sleepovers–sure, Kaggy and I peed ourselves laughing silly, but when it comes to the sleeping part. I don’t, she can. I’ve been having violent nightmares again anyway.

And I was going to go off about the mall, and how I don’t understand how Snarf can go by herself. Frankly, I forget why I don’t like the mall till I’m there and the anxiety kicks up and makes me want to puke. I had ruined Will’s birthday dinner last weekend, I had a panic attack and failed to eat anything.

There are other, cheerful, things that I wanted to talk about until everything went into ruin and misery. The details, scattered. My mind working on overdrive, anxiety making me sick–for a brief moment, I’d dare say that sorrow is all I understand. I’m still trying to figure out how it all happened. It’s like, she has the ability to make us all cry. And for what? Because Will wanted a private moment with his mother? She caused all this ruin because it’s his birthday and she didn’t feel like she got enough attention?

I feel sick and I want to curl up and forget. Most of all, I want to comfort him.

I’ll go back. It started around, what, 3? Yeah. Bill, Will and even Liz told her, ‘You won’t like it, you’ll get bored.’ Bill put it more harshly, ‘You better not bitch or complain’.

Melissa of course she said she wanted to go. Then changed her mind and went out with her mother to get her eyebrows done–at 12? Really? At 4, she calls, ‘Mom says I have to go with you guys’, which, of course, is a lie, Liz had told her not too. She then demanded that Will pick her up.

At 5, we get to Bill’s house, hop in the truck, and drive to this amazing house with over a 100 people in it for a Superbowl party, where Will’s father is betting with–ah, boxes? Will and I aren’t into football, but love the tradition of it, love the food. It’s nice, we’re enjoying ourselves, actually. Outside–lord, they’re nuts, grilling in the snow–but the food was so fucking good.

Melissa gets their uncle, Ed, wrapped around her finger, clinging to him, crying, telling him that she just wanted this or that, complaining how she can’t stand it. She tries calling her mother, but her mother tells her to suck it up.

So Bill snaps, and at 7:30/8 he’s like, ‘Fuck it, we’re going home’, and we go back into the truck, and Melissa makes Ed walk her to the car.

And in the car, she says, ‘I’m not coming next week.’
Bill replies with a scoff, ‘Fine, honey, that doesn’t bother me, I’ll find something to do.’
She gets angry. ‘I have something to do!’
‘Alright, fine.’
‘I’m never coming to see you again!’
‘…Listen, honey, don’t just start talking bullshit right now. Stick to what you mean.’
‘YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT MY BIRTHDAY!’
‘Okay, if that’s what you believe.’
And she cries and cries. ‘I hate this family, I want my old one.’ Sob. ‘BUT THEY’RE DEAD.’ Lie. ‘You don’t understand what its like to be adopted, I don’t fit in with anyone!’
Will gets angry and snaps things at her, which she acts like she doesn’t understand what he’s saying. She cries and cries and cries and goes on about how hard her life is.

And all I could think was… No. No it isn’t. She ruined Will’s time with his father, she cries about nonsense the entire ride back to Bill’s house. For what? She got what she wanted, she’s out of that house.
And she doesn’t know the meaning of a hard life.
I know a girl whose father beats her, she has to be the parent, her little brother insults her, calls her a bitch, hits her. She goes to school, swear to fucking god, smiling. People don’t know the pain she deals with. She tells me when I worry, ‘My father brought me into this world. He loves me.’
I know people who go through pure shit and they never complain, they greet each day with a grin, telling me how maybe today it’ll be better. I know this girl who was raped by her mother’s boyfriend, and she still hasn’t said shit. She still goes on, she makes her life the best she can.

We finally get home, Melissa goes to her mother and cries about how her father never wants to see her again and how everyone hates her. We wait until she’s done–she goes to her room to watch TV, and we go into Liz’s room, Will sad that she had ruined his birthday–yet again.
We’re not two minutes into the conversation when she starts knocking and banging on the door and saying how she needs to talk to her mother about something important.
Liz says, ‘Let me just finish talking to Will.’
Melissa scoffs, ‘Fine how long will it be?’ As if Liz was holding her up.
‘When I’m done…’
Melissa curses and goes back to her room, a minute goes by and she comes back,
‘Just give me the password to your laptop,’ which she had stolen from Liz’s room.
‘Just let me finish talking to Will,’
And then Melissa starts crying and yelling and finally snaps, ‘I HATE THIS FAMILY’ and Will looses it, becomes livid, and gets up. I freak out and grab him–at this point, Melissa hears him getting up, screams and races down the steps and outside just as Will reaches outside of the room. He turns and says he only wanted to tell her to go away.

We’re all downstairs by now and the neighbores call, saying that Melissa was there and claiming that Will wanted to kill her, and had been hitting her, and being a detective, he was bound by law to call the cops. So Liz goes over to get her, Melissa screams, “I’LL FUCKING STAB HIM TO DEATH” and runs out into the night.
So Liz calls the cops.
For an hour, the cops are searching the streets with search lights–and two of them finally pull up the driveway.
Apparently Melissa was just next door crying.
One cop talks to us, and the other talks to the neighbor. That cops, after ten minutes, comes in to talk to us too–he says that Melissa was giving him serious attitude–like he couldn’t believe the amount of angry sass she had toward him, like it was his fault that Will wasn’t in jail yet or something.
I was amazed that both cops agreed that she was, “well… a brat“.
And this is where I stop.
Because it got so much worse.
And I don’t want to think about it.
And it was because… Melissa wanted attention. She even says, “Well, now I’m bored,” and wanted to go up to her room and watch tv while the cops were there.
Oh lord how it got worse.

Cuntpunched in the jaw, are you serious?

English Midterm–oh lord, you were a laugh. Though it did nothing to soothe my anxiety. Does anything? Sorry, not even darlin’ Will could–actually, I think Molly would have been easily, but, ah… Laura told Will to turn my phone off and take it. ‘Cause, like Molly, I would have texted during my midterm.

Earlier that day, while Molly was taking hers, I sent her a text: ‘THE FLOOR IS MADE OF LAVA’.
She replies, “D: Please NO ITS SO UNCOMFORTABLE SITTING IN MY DESK WITH MY FEET RAISED TAKE IT BACK OH GOD”.
So I went from XD to D: and told her it was now pudding.
“THE PUDDING FEELS GOOD AGAINST MY CHARRED BONES.”
Laura thinks we’re nuts. :’D

Eh, and then, I had to wake up Will. There’s something about going into his house while he’s sleeping and crawling into bed with him. It does something to me to see him sleeping–he’s just so adorable. Still sleeping, he nuzzles closer, pulling me closer.

So I press my dead-cold feet to his legs, waking him up. Somehow, I ended up calling him a fatfuck–
Laura: D: FAT FUCK? WHY YOU CALLIN HIM A FATFUCK?
Den we drove him 2 da midterm lol

Anyway.
‘Sit with your class!’ teachers would call over the lazy murmur of all of ninth and twelfth graders.
We were like fat lazy sheep. All of us. A murmur of complains and groans kicking up like smog, the frantic annoyed teachers flocking about like scatterbrained chickens.
‘Sit with your class!’
Frowning, I looked over the sea of idle faces, and looked at Will, scrunching up my nose as he continued to criticize the school’s  way of managing us.
Grumbling, shuffling our feet like sluggish cows, rather then sheep, we meshed together, moaning the whole while.
Will tried to give me comfort, kissing the top of my head, his dark, dark blue eyes washing over me. And Snarf hugged me–and that gave me comfort too.
And then I saw Jen!
:’D And she was in my class. And together we bitched, huddled up.

And into the cafeteria we went. Honestly, I would have been more of a wreck without Jen there.
FUCKING SHEEP.

That midterm… what the fuck? I was done within the first 45-50 minutes. And boredom hit me hard.
What got me nervous was how…
o_o Other people… started raising their hand for pieces of paper… OH GOD. THAT MADE ME MORE NERVOUS. IT WAS A 200 WORD ESSAY, YOU ONLY NEED THREE FUCKING PARAGRAPHS WHY ARE YOU GETTING ANOTHER SHEET?
And I watched them…
And then I looked at my own.
So I bullshitted a front and a back. I mean, fuck, seriously. WHY?
WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY?
And then I still had an hour left. OH. MY. GOD.

So I pretended I was taking my O.W.L.S. Fuckin’ Dumbledore. TAKE THAT YOU ENGLISH FUCK.

Laura says I have a dirty mouth.

I’M OBSESSED WITH JUSTICE LEAGUE AGAIN.

And then… The Dentist. Mom bribed me with pizza…

D:< AND KAGGY IS GONNA SWEEP OVA, SON.

Barry, don’t hate what you aint.

Backtrack, rewind, skip.

If that’s okay
Then by your side I’ll stay forever
Here I am standing up

“If you were the last person on Mars, and you could have any type of person with you, who would you have…?” Mrs. Carter’s drawl cut into my thoughts and I jerked my head upward, slamming my hand down onto the desk loudly as I bounced out of my seat.

“TOM RIDDLE!” I screeched. “And we’re recreated Hogwarts!”

“Muggle,” Wall-e growled under his breath at me, turning to give me a scowl as Katie shook her head, wagging her finger from across the room.

“Sarah, he’d kill you.”

“It would be glorious!” I cried back passionately.

“I’d want a celerberity clone for all my own,” Katie decided happily and I scoffed.

“But that’s creepy!” She shrugged. “If you could make a clone of anyone else, then anyone could make a–”

“Sarah, it’d be my clone slave to do whatever I pleased with!” She huffed, grinning and I burst into cackling.

With all this said, and a trip backwards, I don’t want to be medicated. It switches back and forth, doesn’t it? I most usually just tell people, “I’ll go get medicated” after a bad episode or whatever to please them. To make them think it’d be all better. But really… I don’t want too.

Only this time I have to. I crossed a terrible line and mom says it’s time to go back to therapy. But only for anxiety medication! Because anxiety leads to paranoia, which leads to delusions. So… yeah.

On a better note, DC vs Mortal Kombat is the fucking coolest shit ever. The storyline is absolutely fan-fuckin-tastic. Though it’s Barry Allen and not Wally West, which BOTHERS the fuck outta me, but hey. I’m cool with it, I just pretend. It really gets to me that it’s Captain Marvel in there. What the fuck? He’s not important… Where’s Jonn?

But Deathstroke… mmm. New obsession, anyone? Who knew he’d be so… appealing? I like him, and he kicks ass. But Kitana can suck my balls for all I care, she just has… too many awesome moves. YEAH. JERK. Sub-Zero and the Joker cracked me up. But the Joker ALWAYS does that…yeah.

Honestly, I doubt anyone has the type of sex Will and I have. Sure, I know that people have great orgasmic sessions of throat-desytoying sex–yeah, us too, but… I doubt anyone is on crack like we are.

He started talking dirty–god, and it’s wonderful. There’s something about being called a narrow-minded piece of shit in a low growl that just gets me. Yeah, and I’m not sure how this happened, maybe it was the blankets, maybe it was because how late it was.

“Yeah, you take it Batgirl,” he growled in this HORRIBLE deep Batman-like growl. “Rararararaar! I’m BATMAN.” Kneeling as he continued, he held the blankets up around his shoulders, like wings, or a cape, and flapped them. Turning his head, in a high picted voice he cried, “Holy cupcakes Batman! What are you doing to Batgirl?!” Then, growling, he said, “Shut up, Robin! It’s your turn next, go put on your rubber spandexs that I made for you.”

Gasping for air, laughing so hard, I thought of Molly. Oh god Molly would totally join in on this. Lydia, at this point, popped her head up and Will saw her.

“CATWOMAN!” He screeched in the same Batman-growl voice. “She’s in the batcave!”

Then, grabbing the two-foot tall penguin he bought for me, he began imitating the perfect penguin sounds, making me think all the more of Molly.

Freaks. We’re all freaks.

Snarf is right.

Maybe it’s time for medication. Pride aside and my anger, she’s right. I may be fine with coping with most things… but there’s a line, and it’s been crossed. Feeling like everyone wants me to kill myself, is one of them. When logic goes away and suicide looks like the only option…

Then that’s the time I need help.

Escape.

Please.

Running is what I do best.

Elizabeth, you’re a bitch.

Anxiety.

D:

Maybe I like being medicated. So that’s why I stay away. Bitter. Red Flag. Maybe I’m just always trying to escape. So medicated. I had to be carried. Slurred words. Burning.

God, the burning.

Rip, riiip, rrrriip.

A lot of the anxiety comes from the change. New stuff. Change. I don’t like when school changes around. Art history. No more Prep. Study hall. That and Snarf wishes I’d go away forever. I know. Jayden tells me. Jayden wouldn’t lie. She hates me ’cause I’m a bad friend.

I’ve been listening. To those sweet love songs.

By the way
By your side I’ll stay
If that’s okay
Then by your side I’ll stay forever
Here I am standing up
Because I want to fall in love with you

And I smile, thinking of how beautiful it would be to bleed. How happy everything would be. I would laugh and laugh and I need it. Oh sweet glorious destruction. I want to hurt because I hate me too.

Everyone is dancing. So much dancing.

I just wish Elizabeth would just play with Nathan. Why is she doing this to me? What have I done wrong? Am I not good enough?

I don’t like eating or sleeping anymore. I dunno. My friend came back. He sits on the bed. He found the way to the basement and he watches me again with his big dead eyes. And he just waits for me to sleep.

Cause he knows.

He knows. He knows. He knows.

Or maybe he wasn’t there. I don’t remember. I just know. I know like he knows because we all know.

There’s something I can’t quite explain
I’m so in love with you
You’ll never take that away
And if i’ve said it a hundred times before
Expect a thousand more
You’ll never take that away

I don’t know why, but the words anger and confuse me. It’s like… it’s telling me to get a knife. You hear it too, don’t you? Yees. Yes everyone hears it and we’re all gonna dance.

I sure do want to go dancing. I want sunflowers. God, I’m just so anxious that I feel sick. Sick I feel so sick. It’s so loud and I wish the music would go away.

I just want to do so many horrible things but I don’t. I don’t because I’m not a cutter, I’m better then that. I like it all. But sometimes there is too much milk and I don’t like it when we go down the steps.

I want to eat so I can throw something up. Cause I’m angry and I want everything out of me.

And here comes the chant. I’m so superier ’cause I’m not suicidal. Nah nah nah. I’ve never ever tried, and I never ever will. I’m the better Ralson. All of you, all of you, you’re all suicidal. Dan did it, Alan gave up and gave in, Mike is in the army–suicidal bastard and mommy wants to.

So I win.

And here I am complaining. God I sound so annoying. Do it again, do it again, stick it in so it hurts and fuck me so I cry. Make me bleed. I dunno why I’m complaing. I have nothing to complain about. I have a good home and yet I parade around like I’m awful. Awful.

Wish it was warm out so I could have a sunflower. I want a feild of sunflowers.

Big Red Cup filled with all my everything.

A brief bout with a razorblade cut me
I freaked out, thinking people didn’t love me
I watched closely as the you I knew forgot me
In letting go, I am so proud of what I’ve done

At times like these I’d rather vomit up all my feeling into a little cup and then play hide and go seek with a pair of you-know-whats and the lack of reality, just to feel like metal cooling the skin and the much needed release. When it comes to being fucked up, I still have my little fucking superiority complex, like the little high class facade brat mommy made me think I should be. With a condescending tilt to my head, I scoff. I may hurt myself, but I am SO above then those cutters. I’ve got so much class!

A voice is there to dare me…

I think, maybe just this once. See, when I get all fucked over in the head, oh no, hah! I don’t think people don’t love me anymore–maybe just my mother, but bitterly I laugh. I laugh and laugh and continue my silent defience of making any noise, sitting all alone in my bed, grinning twistedly, glaring at the wall. I won’t make a noise, I’ll take this in silence. When agony and sorrow is suddenly all I know, wave after wave hitting into me, I’ll take it and wait.

Liars leave a guilty trail
And I’ve lied for  fucking years
That must be why I’m sitting in this space
Disregarding I’ve created monsters
On both of my sides
So I wipe the blood from both their eyes
From all four of their eyes

But last night action needed to be done. Sitting there, imaging Tom Riddle–ah, of course, good old fucked up Tom Riddle who knows what it’s like to feel what I do better then anyone, and the things he’d say, I know today is the day that I’ll do it. Normally in all my pain, I don’t reach out. I hate people knowing, I don’t want to be near anyone.

Bitterly, I know I’m reaching out to keep myself above cutters. I seek distraction. I turn to the only one who has the power to make me forget. I go to my Molly. I ask her to make it better–she tells me Tom Riddle is feeling the same.

I laugh. I laugh and cry and the pain breaks over me and the silence flees and I’m left feeling ruined–I beg reality to flee, but my determination to be better then those other fucked up people takes me and I’m close to cutting my hair off. And there is so much noise and the room spins and spins and spins and I’m left sobbing, shaking so hard it hurts. I know what caused this, I know what’s going on and why it was triggered. But I won’t say it. And if anyone takes a guess, I hope they won’t say it to me, because I’ll never acknowlegde the red flag. I’ll never.

I know it must’ve started at that dinner. With Will, his dad, mom and sister.
He coughs, a piece of chicken going down the wrong tube and she flashes her dark cold devil eyes at him.
“I hope you choke on it,” she spits out and Will just ignores her while I frown.
“No, I don’t want him to die!” I cut in, leaning closer to him. She smiles sweetly at him.
“Then you guys can be together forever and ever.” She answers and I blink at her, confused.
“How? He’d be dead…”
“Yeah, you too. How would you like it? Do you want to drown?” The words left me numb. “Or would you like a bullet in the brain?”

Do I want to drown? Do I want to be dragged down to the depths of hell? Such a thing it is to kill myself. Am I doomed to such a thing? Will looses it, hissing angry and terrible things at her, bringing me closer, but…

I just feel so numb. So empty. So gone. I think of Daniel, and we go back to the car. I attempt to burst into tears, but his voice soothes and distracts me, only a few tears leave me.

This mess I’d made of someone’s dream
Now you see what I’ve done
When the weight of all the world’s gone wrong

The anxiety makes me sick, and I’ve refused to eat. I just can’t, I feel so guilty and awful. I’m sorry Snarf, I can’t communicate well and I’ve let you down again. And I just can’t sleep, and the anxiety makes me sicker–I’m sorry. I wanted to go during the week, to the mall, when there was more time. I mean, I just want to do something real terrible to myself to make up for it for you. But Jayden says you must hate me now ’cause I’m always letting you down. He says I should cut away the sins. Cut, cut, cut–how glorious it would be. He’s right and I just know it, ’cause… well. I get more anxious when people don’t reply to texts. The silence just makes me nuts. It’s okay, Snarf. I know I’m a bad friend and I’ll leave you alone. You deserve better.

And everything is so loud, and I know I’d enjoy it. Oh I’d enjoy it so much, I’d smile and laugh, and it’d all go rriiiip. Riiiip. Rippp. And the relief would flood me. And everything would be silent.

A strange thought crossed me this morning. If anything ever happened to Will–like death, I’d be a wreck. And I would need Molly’s constant attention. I realized I could probably make it back out. But if something were to happen to Molly… I don’t know. I don’t think I’d ever be okay. I’d be lost and I’d stop. I’d just end too. She’s got something that nobody has. She’s got a piece of my soul. And she is like my heart beat. I wouldn’t survive.

My anxiety and sickness just keeps worsening. Why won’t Elizabeth know Nathan? Snarf had said something like it was because of Will and I just don’t understand how the fuck that could be. The idea of it makes me confused and angry. Elizabeth didn’t change because I met her, or Kaggy, or Molly… why would she change because I know Will? That’s like Molly changing because I know Will. That’s silly. And Elizabeth hasn’t changed–she’s the same dumb fuck I’ve always known. It’s just around Nathan.

They.

Don’t.

Known.

Each other.

Kaggy says I can’t push people into a relationship, Venny says they probably got into a fight.

FUCK EVERYTHING.

JUST FUCK IT.

D COLON OPENCARROT

Snarf said somethin’ to me today. Well, she says things to me EVERYDAY, but, ah. I guess I was trying to feel not so alone in this–but, hey, I’ve always been extreme haven’t I? I’m almost one-tracked minded, especially when it comes to my latest passion. It’s just never been someone that is seen by everyone else–and nobody seems to even REMEMBER how much I care about Molly, who is neck to neck with Will.

I throw myself fully into it–and it makes me feel awful that nobody takes my writing seriously, like they do Will, or ever complained about how that’s all I did–Except for Laura. Or if I rather hang out with Nathan all day instead of going to the mall–nobody said to me, ‘Now you have Nathan, it’s like he’s your whole world’. Billy once angrily yelled at me for putting writing in front of my friends, but, then, he got over it too. What really pisses me off was when nobody EVER said anything about Molly. Nope, just Will. Just real Will.

I guess I kind of wanted a pat on the back. Like a ‘hey, good job, you FEEL something, and this time we KNOW the person is real!’ Maybe I’m just bitter at everyone else for being so normal, for so long. I guess I’ll always be alone in that.

If I love, I love passionately with everything I have almost to an obsessive point, foolish as it may be. And there only a few that I do love–I can count them on my hands. I guess I didn’t want to be the only one who suffered, maybe it’s separation anxiety, maybe it’s abandonment issues–

OH AND DON’T GET ME WRONG, SNARF! You love passionately too. You love beautifully. You love without pride getting in the way. I know sometimes you misunderstand me when I write, and I’m gonna make it clear that I’m not comparing us in any shape or form, nor am I trying to make one better then the other. Though, you could easily win. You can feels things that I probably can’t even dream of feeling. You’ve always embraced the idea of love, while I scoffed it off until I could no longer deny it. And still, I’ve got so much pride that I won’t allow myself to feel or even think things.

What this is about, is what you said. About if you spent everyday with FAJ, your relationship would burn out. No. No, I don’t think it would. Not in the least. Isn’t that how marriages are? Being together everyday? I think you and FAJ, no—I know you and FAJ are going to make it. And you can spend everyday with him, and your relationship would not burn out.

Like, I love Kaggy. I love her to death. She is my blood, my family. In a way, you know? We can spend a full week together, just laughing and pissing ourselves–but no more then a week. After, fuck, like… 4 or 5 days, we’ll start to get sick of each other. She and I, we couldn’t hang out everyday forever, that would ruin our relationship, our friendship.

But with Molly. Shit, I could spend the rest of my life trapped in jail with her somewhere, and everyday we’d find something new to laugh our asses off with. I can’t go a day without talking to Molly. Our relationship hasn’t, and will never, burn out.

And I hope I didn’t offend you, ’cause that seems to be happening a lot. I say something, and you take it the wrong way. You  think I’m attacking you, or you think I’m spiting you, but I’m not. I just wish you could see the positive. I want to show you that I don’t think relationships burn out so easily when you meet the right person. I mean, look at my parents. Since they were 14!

I wish you could see how pretty you are. Like how your eyes flash when your mood changes, or how your hair makes you look like a pretty soft doll, and that grin you have–it’s so adorable, almost like a kitten getting into a box, type of grin, you know? I wish you were another person looking at yourself, so you could laugh to the witty things you come up with, and so you could admire.

Ahh, someday, Snarf. Someday. I just hope you aren’t angry at me for puking this all up into a blog.

Wendys is suicidal food, says Batman.

SkankinSnarf: Could you go a day without eating?
o_o I have, a few times.

When I was revolting.

‘No wendys.
‘
Me: D:< THEN I WON’T EAT.

re·volt·ing  Pronunciation[ri-vohl-ting]  –adjective  1.disgusting; repulsive: a revolting sight.

Sometimes I hate it when it gets noisy. Although it’s rare for me when it’s silent, and I’ll admit it’s slightly unnerving, there’s an amount of noise that I can, and cannot tolerate.

I really liked that braclet too. It only fit my wrist, just barely, made for a child. A native American child. I got it a few years ago, and let it sit in silence.

Until I wanted to wear it. And I miss it terribly, but it got so loud. On friday, it had become a broken record. Maybe I was half crazy with my emotions, maybe I’m supersitious, maybe I’m just idiotic. I’ve always assumed if I got rid of the new thing, everything would go back the way it was.

Maybe it was the images burned into my brain. I don’t often get choked up in class, and I usually can keep myself from losing it.
But watching rape wasn’t something I accounted for. Especially in such a place.

And I could still see it, him pinning her down. I can still hear the screaming. It shouldn’t affect me so bad, but it does. I can still remember the things he made me do. I feel sick at the thought. At the memory of the movie.

And like a broken record I heard it. Over and over and over again.

I guess I want to say I’m sorry. I don’t know to who I am, but I just know I am. I guess I’m sorry for me. Two years, and it’s like none of that matters. It’s all gone. I guess I should have tried hard enough, but for the time being, it was so glorious. I enjoyed what I did. Enjoyed the pain, the relief it brought, how easy it was. God, I’m sick.

While the car ride was silent, it was noisy. You know? The constant broken chipped record repeating and repeating and I couldn’t hear anything else, and it was just echoing and echoing. The braclet told me too! I had to do it! It told me, it really did, it told me to do it and it wouldn’t stop until I did!

Will wouldn’t talk to me unless I did. It knew, and I knew. He doesn’t realize, but it’s true. Yes, it was my fault that I couldn’t realize, yes he wasn’t angry–but if I hadn’t thrown it across the parking lot, later on we still wouldn’t have spoken!

It was 5. We hadn’t spoken to each other since I got to his house, around 3. I thought he was angry, and he thought I was angry. But I was half crazy with rape thoughts. With the noise. If it wasn’t for Molly, and her random inputs, I might have gone worse.

It was two days since I had eaten and I plain out refused. Thursday I had an anxiety attack that destroyed me for a while. I was ill. It was one of those bad ones, you know? Shaking, trouble breathing–god. Oh well.

So there we were, silent, untouching, in riteaid. The plastic lights blaring down in a humming wave of searing lies, the shelves stacked up with towering fake boxes and actors pretending to need  their medication.

Trembling and nerotic with lies, I grasped his arm, holding it to me.
And he smacked me over the back of my head and drove back to Pizza Hut, out in the dark and cold, looking for the bracelet despite my pleas to let it be.

I had desperatly tried to make him understand.

And then, yesterday… Oh the dizzy spells. I hate those too. I’m not sure why, but I get this feeling of falling foward, and then its all rocking, and there is a sort of weird panicy feeling in my chest.

Nobody has ever taken care of me before. It’s nice. I’ve never been carried to a couch. Or carried up the steps.

“No, no, no, I’m fine!” I cried back, my voice slurred and strangled, a wave after wave of dizziness spilling over me as I clenched my eyes tight, thrown over his shoulder as he marched up the steps.

Scoffing, he dropped me and with a surprised “Oh!” I staggered to my feet. He raised his eyebrows. “Alright, then walk to my room.”

Huffing in reply, I straighten myself out, gave him a haughty look and attempted to saunter away only to sway and collapse as the hall violently shifted. Gathering what little dignaty I had left, I crawled, badly into the room, the floor rocking like a boat under me.

And still today, oh how the world likes to rip aggressively from under me. How everything rocks and shakes. Laura and my mom keep asking me these weird questions, looking at me oddly, holding me close and wondering if, ‘it’s okay?’. I hate it when they do that to me. I get so confused.

So Dumbledore and I are fighting again. No surprise there, though, right? HC shit. I wonder when Nathan will come in on it. Things with Elizabeth and Nathan got worse. They don’t know each other anymore. So I’m trying to get them to be friends, but fuck, it’s tough, since Elizabeth doesn’t hang around Abraxas’ crowd anymore. And Julius has forgotten his infatuation. She tortured him anyway.

No, Elizabeth is still good with Eileen, but Eileen’s good friends with Alphy now, so. So that’s Elizabeth’s crowd. I’m flustered about it, but I can’t do much. Nathans got to get it together, and Abraxas keeps changing on me. Aristocrat prick. Goddamn him and his crowd jumping, and if Elizabeth wasn’t such a forgetful cunt she’d know this shit.

She’s gotten cold and distant, though, as of late. I think HC and her are gonna keep playin’ that dance of facades and masks. Shame, I was hoping for a bond. Though I won’t lie, stabbing herself in the hand with a knife was brilliant. It got Abraxas and Theo to leave her alone–which, wasn’t what I wanted, but, eh. Got to choose battles, huh?

I wish Nathan and her would just make up and fix everyone else’s memories. They need to be friends again. She was so happy being apart of the elite group of government haters. Now what? She’s a social outcast?

Oh, and a tad crazy. And not in a fun way. In a ‘I HAVE ANGER ISSUES’ way. Speaking of anger issues, or as Melssia says ANGER MANAGERMERASfaf LOL, Laura and my mom think I have them. Oh, surprise surprise, I always have SOMETHING.

But back to Elizabeth. There isn’t much I’m willing to do now, she’s a bit jaded and angry. But I do think I like her autosuggestion telopathy. The whole ‘hallucinations’ thing has always been my cup of tea, and weeding images into other people’s thoughts is brilliant. If it wasn’t for HC, though…

Here’s to you. Stop telling me things in my ear.

FLDoo (12:03:07 AM): …molly from school??
Mollyburt x3 (12:03:12 AM): No.
Mollyburt x3 (12:03:15 AM): >_> Wait..
Mollyburt x3 (12:03:20 AM): What school?
Mollyburt x3 (12:03:31 AM): What’s my last name?
FLDoo (12:03:38 AM): north shore
Mollyburt x3 (12:03:51 AM): D:< What’s my last name?
FLDoo (12:04:00 AM): i dunno your last name but molly is in my american sign language class
Mollyburt x3 (12:04:27 AM): YEAH YOU SHOULD TOTALLY GRAB MY ASS WHEN YOU SEE ME NEXT TIME.
FLDoo (12:04:53 AM): wait are you serious
Mollyburt x3 (12:04:56 AM): Also fondle my tits.
Mollyburt x3 (12:05:00 AM): Yes I’m dead serious.
FLDoo (12:05:39 AM): how can i believe you
Mollyburt x3 (12:05:49 AM): Only one way to find out, right?
FLDoo (12:05:55 AM): ask??
Mollyburt x3 (12:05:55 AM): Just do it.
Mollyburt x3 (12:05:58 AM): No
Mollyburt x3 (12:06:04 AM): I don’t like a man who asks questions.
Mollyburt x3 (12:06:09 AM): I like assertive dominant men
FLDoo (12:06:19 AM): but i thought you thought i was a creep when i told you that women belong in a cage
Mollyburt x3 (12:06:33 AM): I was kidding around. DUH. LOL Wanna hear a joke?
Mollyburt x3 (12:06:36 AM): Women’s rights.
FLDoo (12:06:39 AM): sure
Mollyburt x3 (12:06:41 AM): LOL

Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce GO

SkankinSnarf: I freakin hate it when someone comes up behind me with a whistling tea kettle. I know how you feel Rin.

It was a real oh shit moment, you know? The kind where your breath catches in your throat, where you can feel your heart literally stopping in place. The feeling you get when you hop in the bus and you suddenly realize you’ve forgotten that essay that was due.

I was sitting in Taco Bell, just having finished my first taco, eyeing the rather nice ass of dark-haired stripper kneeling on the bed, her large white high heels calling out to me as the tattoo on her butt remained unreadable but interesting on Will’s dad’s cellphone–when it hit me like a cold splash of water to the face.

I forgot to celebrate Tom’s birthday! Nine days after the fact, it had just hit me then. Every New Years I bake him a cake, and slap up the ‘70′ candle or however the fuck old he’d be, make everyone over sing. And every year starts off great.

No wonder shit went down right away. How can we have a good year if Tom Riddle is pissed at me? And right away Nathan and Elizabeth start.

Fuckin’ Fable 2. Though I have to say, despite the nightmares, Left 4 Dead is WAAAY better. Oh my god.

I’ve come to the startling realization that I miss the Bastard, meaning the cash register, of course. He might’ve been a real asshole jerk to me, mocking me and playing prank, but he was reliable… kind of. And I miss him. We had our moments, and he used to please me sometimes by ringing up $19.43. Mm. I miss talking to him.

Right now my main issue is to get the medicine cabinet to stop talking to me. I’m not sure if the pill bottles are being sarcastic to me or not, but everytime I walk into the kitchen, they start up from their hiding spot. And when I take two, they tell me to take more.

One will knock me out. Two will make me drowsy for a day or so.
But I want to take more. That’s why I’m not trusting myself to go near them anymore, not while they keep urging me on.
I’m pretty sure its sarcasm anyway.

There was a time, I remember, where the nurse’s office was an awful place, cold and cruel, the walls gooey and threatening to claw at you, the beds old torture tables with pillows on them, broken and bent and rusted as the death curtain hung around them, and the bitter old woman sitting there.

I’m not sure how my entire life got turned around, but I suppose it’s art’s fault. ‘Cause when the anxiety gets to bad, I flee, and suddenly… it’s become my safe haven–with it’s soft heavenly glow lights, and it’s warm comforting buzz… I lay there in the deep green gushed beds, listening to the the security radio and their bouts, the soft murmur of complaints streaming from kids that often visit.

It’s really nice to wake up and know who I am, to know who everyone is. It was our, Snarf and I’s–or is it me?–, first gym class, really, since I’ve gotten back on track, and it’s nice to be able to talk to her, and know who she is.

And while everything may be dandy for me, the world just keeps falling apart. Well, at least I feel more now, huh? At least I’m back.

Oh Quantum Immortality, how you slay me.

We can live like Jack and Sally if we want
Where you can always find me
We’ll have Halloween on Christmas

Jack and Sally had always been, and forever shall be, once secretly, my favorite couple. Even through my anti-love days, they had always played a role in my head. I wanted that. I wanted a crazy relationship–feh! It’d be more then a relationship, I would never belittle myself with something called a boyfriend, it had to be so much more–it had to be one. And I wanted that stream of togetherness, the entire world as one person when we were together, to be the dance at the tip of sanity, where reality played in the background. I wanted Halloween on Christmas, I wanted to break free.

I had unwittingly found what I’ve been searching for. And while my main reason for existance seemed to fit all together when I slammed myself into Molly’s life, laughing and pissing myself as I went, I tripped over someone else along the way and tumbled down a hill I didn’t think I could find. It became something I forgot I needed.

When I found Molly, I felt a sense of ease, you know? Like I was put here to watch after her, make sure she’s happy. And then I stumbled into Will.

Laura tells me not to make him my entire world. My pride fuels up and I scoff, sticking my nose up, when something dark inside of me stirs. I had unwittingly made him my world when I glanced at him, I had doomed myself. I remember the horrible sense of dread I felt when he first drove me home–I remember sitting in the car, one foot out, my fingers clutching the handle, my eyes flickering in his direction. I laughed nervously. Please don’t let me go. Please take me home with you.

School days revolved around the end of 3, the end of 4, sometimes the end of 5th, and 7th period, along with 9th which was spent outside with you, where I’d stammer and try and make small talk.

Snarf once mention she knew how passionate I was about time with Will–I hadn’t realized I was until she said so. I don’t mean to be, but it’s just… I’ve never met anyone before where I needed to be near them every second. It’s as though I’m racing against a clock, like I may never see him again. It’s unhealthy, I hear people say, and it must be if it hurts so goddamn much when I spend a moment away.

I almost hate myself for what I’ve become–I loathe the realization that something is missing when I’m by myself, that when I’m not with him and I laugh to something funny I have to keep myself from looking around to see if he found it funny because he’s not there. Everything I argued against has happened to me.

Since the beginning, I had followed him wherever he went in his house. He soon started saying I’m like a little puppy dog–and I noticed that half the time, I don’t even realize I’m following him. It’s gotten to the point where we do everything together–even go to the bathroom.

Frankie told me that I was like Bella and I became devestated at the notion.

There’s a place I tend to go to when I become sad. I can’t explain why, but it’s always been my secret hiding place. The bathroom. I lean against the wall, bring my knees to me, and sit there–preferably in the dark. I also have to be near the door–of course, I’ve been hit in the face a few times.

And that’s how Will discovered yet another one of my secrets. And just like how Nathan used to, he sat down next to me, and glanced down. He asked if I was hungry, I said no, not anymore. Then I told him I felt sad–I’m always beating him up. He tells me that he deserves it because he eggs me on. And then he said,

“Sarah, we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together. What do I care of scratches and punches?”

Sometimes I have trouble believing he really wants to marry me, but then I note–I really want to live with him for the rest of my life as well, so what’s so odd about it?

What I can’t get over is how… I just seem to feel like I’ve known him all my life. That I’ve kissed him before I knew him. What I can’t seem to wrap my mind around is how well he seems to just know me. And what bothers me is the constant need to be around him.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always held my own hand whenever I sat down. My fingers would just lace together, it was a habit that was near impossible to break. Then came Will. And suddenly I didn’t need to hold my hand, it felt fine.

I believe in reincarnation. And things are swaying in that direction, and I’ve admitted to things I never really wanted too.

My reasons for being massively in love with Tom Riddle. It wasn’t the fictional Harry Potter’s Tom Riddle, but the Tom Riddle version that I made up in my head, the one Nathan and Vincent both come from. The Tom Riddle who only has Tom Riddle’s name, Hogwarts, the time period and nothing more. The Tom Riddle that Jayden broke off of and turn colder.

That boy. That boy that had lived inside my head since I was younger. The one that used to be Sirus. Maybe I’m just delusional, maybe I’m trying to connect things that aren’t there.

Maybe everything that has happened inside my stories are happening now and I’m too proud to admit to any of it. I’m watching scenes replay before me. And all my habits, and all my secrets, and the things I’ve hidden from even Molly…

Oh and sweet Molly.
I had been thinking about it a whole lot more, and I couldn’t lie to myself. While Will may make the world fade and reality play, I’d always need my Molly. I’m a whole lot more unstable without her. And while Will can make me laugh and make everything wonderful, he can also make me angry or sad, and Molly’s always a breath away to make me forget my unhappiness. She’s always a breath away to heal whatever damage has made me stumble.

And while hurting over something–maybe Dennis, or just an anxiety attack, it isn’t Will who comes to mind first, it’s Molly, and I go searching for her, because she knows how to make it all better just by popping up and going, ‘o.o’ on aim or in messages, and relief trickles followed by her knowing, almost motherly, ‘Are you okay?’ and out spills whatever bothers me.
And then ‘ ‘_’ wat’
I wouldn’t be well off without Molly. I think I’d be a lot more broken up and ruined.

And my lovely Molly, love Doug, love him with everything. You and I have a special love, you know, different then romantic love, or family love. You and I… we’re just faggots. We have fag love. So love him, love him more then the world, it’d make me happy if you did. It’d make me happy if he realizes it and returns it.

D:< But I’m tellin’ you right now, he better beware, because whatever involves you, involves me, and I’ll be lurking in the shadows. Doug isn’t allowed to hurt you. And I wouldn’t attack him ever, because that would upset you, but he’ll become aware of my warth. And he’ll know and fear it.

And Snarf, you warm me with your happiness. And your love. And your FAJ. I don’t have much to say, you’ve been doin’ better from what I can see, but I’m biast, and to me everyone is happy. FOREVER. -STARES AT EVERYONE EVER.- o_o;
But you, you are my sister, my best friend, and I love you. And while I may go on and on about bizarre things dealing with Will, and my faggot love for Molly, I will never have anyone like you in my life. You’re my family, and I’ll remind you of this for always.
I remember when we had creative writing, and you’d tell me of this game–FUCK I LOST–and FAJ and Kami and Jason and vent–is it called vent?–and the video games… I knew. There was something about FAJ. And when you told me he won the game–SHIT AGAIN–and you respected him, you were sad, and you wouldn’t admit it, and I wanted to beat him up because he tricked you.
BUT NOW I WANNA BE ALL, “HA HA YOU GUYS LOVE EACH OTHER YOU BOTH FUCKIN’ FAIL FOREVER”. But that wouldn’t be nice and I think he’d be angry you told me such activities.
But, yeah. I could totally take him in a fight. I COULD TAKE HIM ALL THE WAY TO THE HOSPITAL SO HE COULD PAY MY BILLS. -Sobs violently.-
You, Snarf, you’re an amazing friend. You’ve dealt with more then I’d ever ask of you to handle. My crazy rages, Jayden coming out to be a bitch, mortal kombat in the computer lab over an essay, me telling you to go kill yoursefl… Jesus Christ. And not to forget my lost in interest with reality and being out of it for a few months.
And still, you take my hand, and lead me down the halls like the protective older sister, and pat my head, and make me feel happy. I always want to hear your stories, I always want to know the joy you feel, and I always want to be there for you.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it until you get it through your head.

D:< YOU’RE NOT FAT, OKAY? You’re lovely. You’ve got this kickass attitude, you’re spunky, you’re so outgoing, you’ve got this ease about you, you’re mega cool, you’re so very beautiful, and your hair is so pretty and soft. You’re AMAZING. And you deserve the world.