This is All I've Got Right Now, Please Accept My Apologies.

A Crack in the Table

Lancelot stabs Guinevere.

She falls.

He flees.



Monstrumologist

- The heart oozes
Red stains on gloves
Once sterile

Bits of muscle and fat
Cling to his apron -

All that is left of the girl
Reduced to so much offal

A science experiment

A project

Nothing more
Nothing less
Nothing at all

- There is no pleasure
In the cut of his scalpel
There is only curiosity
At what lays beneath the pallid complexion -

He is sorry
For her loss

He is sorry

He is

Sorry

No matter the destructon he brings her
He has his Angel
To love instead

An Angel like no other
With gaping maw and dragging claws

An insatiable appetite
For misery and despair
He cannot deny that Angel
So broken
He looks well in comparison

- Another slice

Another rivulet of red

The end of a life -

Apartment Drama

Communication is something we all need in order to function in the adult world, right? I mean, I'm pretty sure that you can't just go blithely along, not communicating, and still manage to do well.

You see, the girl I was going to be living with in Newport News, has sort of completely fucked me over.

When we were getting the application filled out to the get the apartment (which we would be sharing with one other girl), I mentioned that I would like the master bedroom. Chelsea, whom I know and am slightly friends with, had originally been the one to get it. However, when she added this other girl and made it so that we would be getting a three-bedroom apartment, my mother and I decided that I should try to get it.

After all, I do not know this other girl. Sharing a bathroom with her would be weird at the least. If things got tense in the apartment, I'd have no way of avoiding her. Furthermore, I am not the easiest person to get along with. While I can be amiable and such even when I don't want to be, once I hit the breaking point, things get scary. Fast.

So I said all of this to Chelsea and Bethany (who is Chelsea's friend and the third for the apartment), and Chelsea agreed that I could have the master bedroom. I was rather surprised that she didn't want to talk about it first, but hey, I got what I wanted and I wasn't going to question it.

Well, this was about a week ago, and now apparently she wants the master bedroom back. Did she say this to me, however? Nope. She went to Krystal, and got Krystal to talk to me about it.

That was mistake number one. I will absolutely refuse to agree to anything like this without talking face to face, and sending someone else to relay the message is a great way to make me likely to refuse no matter what.

Mistake number two: she used the phrase "I deserve it more than she does". Whether or not this is true, that statement automatically pisses me off.

Now, her reasons for saying that ARE somewhat valid. Everything WOULD be in her name. She DID find the apartment complex and do all the work in getting us applications and meetings and such.

However.

I have no qualms with the first argument. It's in her name, and that's a valid reason that she should get the bigger bedroom. It's the second one that I have a problem with.

See, when I contacted her to see if she had any space for me in her current living arrangements or saw a change in them that could include me, she'd already FOUND Hidenwood and wanted to check it out. Both my parents and I approved of the complex, so I didn't see a reason to go looking for others. Chelsea took it upon herself to look at the complex where her boyfriend lives, and decided that there would be better.

Neither my parents nor I approved of this place. It was sketch. It wasn't as nice. True, it was cheaper. But it was a dangerous place to live. When I said that there was no way I would live there, she got all sorts of melodramatic and said that my parents were standing in the way of her having somewhere to live, and that if I wouldn't live there then I guess we wouldn't be able to be room mates.

That irritated me, but I also understood. She wanted the most cost-effective option, and I'm sure her boyfriend living in the complex had a large hand in her decision. So I shrugged it off and started looking for rooms for rent or something. My mother helped and tried to find cheap apartments in less sketchy parts of town, and found a few. I mentioned these to Chelsea, but she wasn't interested.

Well, not too much longer after that, she messages me back saying that she got vetoed over the sketch complex, and wanted to get a three-bedroom apartment with this other girl she had been trying to move in with. While I wasn't too sure about this other girl, having never met her before, I was willing to take her word on it and go ahead.

So now we're back to the present.

Mistake number three: she said "Well if she doesn't agree then Bethany and I will get a two-bedroom apartment without her. She needs us more than we need her."

Nah, bitch.

I DON'T need her. I can still get into a dorm, and I'm (fairly) certain my parents would help finance it. I can go back to searching for someone who needs an apartment mate, or has a room for rent. There is still a myriad of options out there for me, and if she wants to go down to a two-bedroom apartment and pay $100 more in rent all because she might not get the master bedroom, I don't care.

So yeah. This has been SUCH FUN. *sarcasm hand*

Stay tuned to find out if I manage to get anything figured out for living in Newport News.

Let's Not Be Assholes, Okay?

So let's get one thing clear.

It is never, EVER okay to joke about rape.

Rape is a serious topic, one that deserves serious discussion and serious reflection.

Making a joke about someone being raped is disgusting. Laughing at it is just as horrid.

I absolutely refuse to let people make those sorts of jokes around me. And by around me I mean: in person, on the phone, on the computer. Hell, if I see it on Facebook, I will say something to the person who posted it.

This is one of those things where I WILL judge someone for finding that sort of thing funny. Usually, I'm pretty understanding about what makes people laugh. But this is not one of those times.

You can say you hate rape, and you hate people who rape, and maybe you do. But if you still laugh or tell rape jokes, you need to sit down and analyse why in the world you would think that's funny. If it is as hateful and distasteful to you as you say it is, then you should not find rape jokes amusing on any level.

There is no joke about rape that is amusing. I've yet to meet a girl who finds them funny, it's always been men. So I ask you, men: would you find jokes about cutting off your penis funny?

No?

Well then why in the fucking world would you think jokes about violating someone in JUST AS PERSONAL AND AWFUL A WAY is funny?

This is where the term "rape culture" comes to play.

In discussing this with others today, I've been told that I "just didn't get the joke" and that I'm being judgemental. And they're right on both counts. I AM not getting the joke, because there isn't one to get. I AM being judgemental, because what does it say about your character that you can laugh at the thought of someone (even an ethereal "joke" person who doesn't exist) getting raped?

If I pointed out the atrocity that is finding rape funny, and you said, "You know what, you're right. That sort of shit isn't funny" then I'd be okay with you. But continuing to defend the notion that it isn't a terrible thing, that your humour isn't horrific, that upsets me.

Because there's a difference between dark humour and a twisted sense of humour, and finding rape or violence funny.

And you know what? If you're friends with me and you find rape jokes funny, don't tell them around me. Don't post them to where I can see them on your Facebook, if you know that I have a high chance of seeing the things you post. Don't get upset if you slip, and I point out that I have a problem with it and ask why you DON'T.

Because honestly, do you have a reason why you don't? Can you actually justify finding such a horrific act funny?

Seriously. If you want to remain friends with me, don't begin with that sort of shit, and don't continue it. Don't try to defend it.

Chuck Wendig, an amazing writer, touches on this subject as well. He links to other articles that really hit home. I'd suggest checking them out, when you get a chance.

I Don't Even Know What to Put Here, I'm so Upset

Honestly, it's like people go out of their ways to disgust me.

Today at work, there was a giant moth just outside the door. As I'm an animal person, I thought it was super cool. When I showed it to the other girls, they all thought it was gross. One even demanded we kill it. I, of course, refused. In an effort to keep one of them from acting on such violent tendencies, I moved it into a bush where it would be a bit safer.

All of this prompted a few of the girls to talk about just how much they hate insects and spiders. A few of them talked about how they pull the lighting ends off fireflies and stick them on their fingers, or make bracelets, and other horrific stuff. They've done it since childhood, and still have a great time. One girl even said that she likes to hit fireflies with a baseball bat when they light up so that she can watch them go flying and crash to the ground.

And I was the only one completely horrified and upset. I actually had to fight back tears.

I mean, I get it. I'm weird. I like bugs and spiders and all that stuff. Other people don't, and that's fine by me. You don't have to LIKE them. You just can't TORTURE them, or KILL them just for sport, or because they're "icky".

That's one of the quickest ways to set me off. An animal is an animal. It doesn't have to be cute or cuddly to be worth treating well. If it's alive, it deserves the same amount of respect as anything else. A bug is just as important to the ecosystem as a tiger, but people think bugs are gross and ugly, so it doesn't matter if we kill it.

Ugh. Seriously. This whole thing put me in an awful mood for the rest of the day. I just keep thinking, "Well, maybe we should rip THEIR legs off and see what they think about that". Which would not be good. It could land me in jail.

One person at work understood where I was coming from. Sam, the kitchen manager, agrees that all creatures are precious. Like me, he'll pick up the spiders and moths and whatever other creatures get inside and send them back outside.

That's another thing. One of the girls who talked about ripping the abdomens off fireflies was kind of worried that I hated her. She kept saying that she was a good person, a nice person, she just didn't like bugs. But when we saw that moth, she was one of the ones saying to kill it. And later, she was like "I was just saying that because I knew you were an animal person, I was just playing around."

Like, what? You think you're a nice person, but go around TRYING to upset people? And then you're confused and hurt when they don't take to that well and tell you as much?

I don't know. Things like this make me seriously wish that most people would just disappear.

People wonder how others can be so cruel to other people - rape, murder, etc. I don't wonder at all. If we can treat other creatures so awfully, why wouldn't we treat each other that way? As long as you dehumanize your victim (when it comes to people), you're just pulling the lights off fireflies.

A Present for My Lovely Readers

I have found possibly THE BEST video on YouTube. I've already showed to... everyone I've talked to in the past two days. NOW IT'S YOUR TURN.

You can thank me later. First watch this beauty:

You're welcome.

If that was not enough hilarity for you, go to the website. It is even better than the video, and that is saying something.

And I'm Dreaming Weird Shit Again

AND Daniel's back in them. Or at least the one I had last night.

So, in this one, I was at this guy's house for some exclusive dinner party. Well, apparently the whole thing was a ruse to try to rape, murder, and marry me (though not in that order). I, of course, did not approve, and managed to escape. Don't ask me how, I don't remember.

Daniel had been invited too (I'm not sure why, but I think the evil guy wanted to rub it in his face if he had managed to succeed), and he and I ended up going to counselling together. It didn't really end up being about what happened in the crazy dude's house, though. It was more about us and our relationship and all that.

In the dream, I was trying to explain to the therapist that while I have nothing AGAINST Daniel and in fact wanted to be friends with him, I didn't have any other sort of emotional connection to him. Apparently this made the fact that he and I were holding hands and being all sorts of couple-y even during the counselling sessions a little weird.

Which I suppose makes sense. If there's no emotional connection, why WOULD I want to do any of that? I think the answer is that he and I were so comfortable with each other - the physical connection just felt natural, and NOT being that way feels UN-natural. At least, that's how I feel. No word on how dream Daniel thinks about the topic.

That's about where the dream ended, except for Daniel declaring that he would always have feelings for me and why can't people just accept that? Both the therapist and I agreed that while that may be the case, that doesn't mean that those feelings should be acted on. Not that my opinion mattered much, because I was still sitting there holding his hand.

Anyway, yeah. A little weird. Which isn't surprising, because it's me. Plus I was on meds last night because I had this monster migraine. The meds didn't really help with the migraine, but they DID put me to sleep, which has made it so that today, at least, it's not excruciating.

UPDATE:

I also had a weird golden glow whilst at the counselling session. If that means anything.

Send Me Money, Please

Good God, I would kill to run in Tough Mudder, or Iron Warrior Dash, or any other intense obstacle course race.

I bring this up, because a quasi-friend at the bowling alley (he's a league bowler, as is his son, so I see him about twice a week) is participating in Tough Mudder this June. His team is down a runner; his father-in-law can no longer run, so they have an open slot. TECHNICALLY the Tough Mudder organization does not transfer registration. Sipos (that's his last name) is going to try his utmost to convince them to make an exception.

If he can't, he has this plan to take me there anyway, and hope that they don't check IDs (which they will. They always do). It won't work at all, but it's nice of him to be so determined.

Now, I'm sure a lot of you think I'm absolutely bonkers for wanting to do an obstacle course race where electrocution is a main event and you have to sign a death waiver. My parents certainly think I am. Although my mother usually just shakes her head and blames it all on inheriting adrenaline-junkie genes from my biological father.

I have always, ALWAYS, loved obstacle courses. As a kid, I would use the playground as one and come up with ways to race around and through it. I'd make the other children participate, because what fun is a race if you don't have anyone running in it? I don't recall ever losing, probably because obstacles give me more energy instead of sucking it away, which is not something most people experience.

When I was younger, I liked to say that I would join the military just so I could run obstacle courses. It's still an intriguing idea, but the fact that that's not all you do sort of dissuades me from that course of action.

Warrior Dash has just made me more and more excited to do these things. The main problem is that they're not cheap; longer races are upwards of $100, and it's rare to find any that are less than $50.

I JUST REALLY WANT TO DO THESE, GUYS. THIS IS WHY I NEED A SUGARDADDY. HE COULD PAY FOR ALL OF THEM.

Well, Damn

My last blog post has gotten quite a bit of activity. In the vein that four people have +1'd it, and it has loads more views than my other stuff.

I guess some of you people agreed with me, or at least thought I had some sort of insight on it. I knew there'd be at least ONE +1, given that someone who visits my blog ALWAYS does it and I have no way of seeing who it is that's doing it.

Onto other news, though.

Daniel and I got into a fight. I apologized, and he did not (and has not) responded in any way. While I'm a little miffed that he'd just throw my attempts at friendship and civilized interaction away, I know that he doesn't owe me anything, even when he says he wants to be friends. So I've pretty much gotten over THAT, and don't plan on interacting with him again. If it ends up happening by chance, whatevs. If it doesn't, whatevs.

More exciting news: I'M MOVING.

Probably.

My parents and I have to hammer out the details, but I am definitely not living at home when I go to CNU this fall. I shall be living with a girl named Chelsea, in an apartment about a mile from the campus. The chance to decorate a bedroom again fills me with giddiness, and I seriously want it to be July NOW so that I can start.

You see, I plan on starting my very first storyboard. It'll be a magnificent (probably expensive) creation full of cork boards and dry erase boards. It has to be enormous, because I plan on putting several stories at once on it. There is a good chance it will take up an entire wall, and I'll look like either a serial killer or a detective when people come to visit.

I think the only thing I'm not looking forward to is leaving behind my kitten. He's 16, almost 17 years old, and I hate the thought of leaving him here and only seeing him occasionally. The longest we've been apart is two weeks, and that was pretty rough on him. I'm especially worried that due to his old age, the stress of my abandonment will end up making him sick or something.

Guys, if my cat dies while I'm away (or ever), you do not even understand how upset I will be.

All the angst that's come from this whole Daniel debacle doesn't even come close to how distraught and devastated I'd be. It doesn't even graze the surface. I would not be surprised if I ended up catatonic.

And I very well can't take him with me, because the stress of moving him and having to keep him indoors would probably be even worse. Plus, Chelsea has a cat of her own, and Flounder hates other cats only slightly more than he hates people. He would not be happy, not one bit.

But let's get back to happy news, because this is making me sad, and that makes Twirting difficult (that's the word I made up for flirting on Twitter).

I also already have a job lined up for when I move. I'll be working full-time at Chick-fil-A, and for more than minimum wage. That is better than both my current jobs combined, and I am excited to be rolling in da moolah.

That's all I can think of right now. I've been exhausted all day and now I'm not tired but I really AM tired because it's like 1 in the morning. So I'm going to try to go to bed. Or I'll just look up how far away my apartment will be from the gym.

Your Relationship Is Impossible. I am Sorry.

Now we're going to talk about depression and relationships. Or rather, why you cannot be in a relationship (of the romantic persuasion) with someone who is depressed, suicidal, or self-harming.

First, I think it should be established that while someone who is suicidal is more than likely depressed, self-harm is not necessarily bred of depression. Some people are just so terrible at coping with strong, negative emotions that they self-harm simply because they are upset in some way. It very often is linked with depression, but is not exclusive to it.

Back to the topic at hand.

Why can't you be in a romantic relationship with someone who is depressed or self-harming? The answer is pretty simple: they're not stable enough for it. Relationships are hard enough when both people are 100% mentally and emotionally healthy. If one of them isn't, things only degenerate faster.

Let's create a fictional couple, Victor and Millicent. Victor is the "normal" one - he's happy with his life and his choices, when he's upset he recovers quickly, etc. Millicent, however, suffers from depression, and not only has suicidal thoughts but also self-harms. While in many cases you may not know the other is suffering, in this one, let's say that Victor knows about this before he gets into a relationship with her.

When they get into the relationship, Victor is head-over-heels for Millicent. He knows that she's hurting, and he wants to be there for her in every way possible. He thinks being in a relationship could help with her depression; she knows his feelings are genuine, and he'll be able to help her cope with everything she's going through.

Millicent thinks the same thing. How could she possibly stay depressed when she has Vincent? She wants to be with him, he wants to be with her, and now that she has this love in her life, she'll be happy again.

Neither of them realizes that depression is so much BIGGER than they are. It isn't something you can rationalize away. It isn't something that you can convince yourself out of. Clinical depression requires medication. Plain old depression requires therapy.

The first time Millicent regresses, let's say it isn't anything to do with Vincent. They didn't get into a fight, they're doing just dandy; but still she falls back into depression and self-harming and wishing she were dead. Because she doesn't want to worry Vincent, she puts up a façade of happiness, and maybe she's good enough at it that he doesn't notice.

Then he walks in on her self-harming. He's upset, because he feels like he should have realized something was wrong. She's upset, because she couldn't be "good enough" for him. She couldn't be "happy enough".  Now she's hurt him because of it, and that only intensifies her feelings of worthlessness and self-loathing. Vincent thinks he's failed her, and he redoubles his efforts to make her happy again.

Things improve a little. Millicent levels out again, although she occasionally returns to that dark place, though never for long. But nothing lasts forever, and they have their first real fight. Maybe it's over something stupid. Maybe it's not. It doesn't matter.

Now when she returns to depression and hurting herself, Vincent thinks it's HIS fault. He shouldn't have gotten upset with her. He should have let her have her way. If he had just been better, if he had just gotten over it, she would be fine.

Millicent feels doubly upset - not only is she hurting because of what happened with Vincent, but now she feels like maybe Vincent CAN'T help her. And part of her hates him for that, and really hates herself for not being able to love him enough to stop.

What neither of them realize is that it has nothing to do with Vincent. It has nothing to do with their relationship. Millicent has to stop because SHE wants to. She has to do it for her. Not for him. And as long as they're together while she's depressed, it's going to be a vicious cycle of anger and disappointment and hurt. It won't be fair to either of them.

This may seem... over-the-top to some of you. Like I don't understand you or your relationship with that person and hey married people get through this shit ALL THE TIME.

Here's the thing though: they don't. And even if they do, they more than likely were married before the onset of depression, so they have some semblance of normalcy to hold to in their relationship. When you enter a relationship with someone who's depressed or self-harming, there IS no normal beyond self-loathing, crushing apathy, and near-constant physical and/or mental pain.

A person with this sort of suffering simply cannot handle a relationship. Once they're better, and I mean gone to therapy, gotten medication, whatever it is that they need to come back to a plane of existence where everything isn't worldsuck, have the relationship of your lives. Until then, though, you have to back off. You can be there for them as a friend, but nothing more.

It sucks, I know. But it is so much better to wait until they're emotionally stable enough for a relationship, so that if God forbid something happens, you don't spend your life racked with guilt. Furthermore, if you're in love with this person, you shouldn't live with them or do anything else that makes it so that you're on a more intimate level. The same dangers apply.

All in all, if you get nothing else out of this post, just remember:

Even if you don't fully believe me, or think that your relationship will be different...

If you love that other person, don't take that chance.

Wait until he/she is better. It will give you a better chance at a lasting relationship.

A Little Insight

Let's talk about depression.

First, go here. If you don't know who Allie Brosh is, or have never been to Hyperbole and a Half, I understand if you stay on her blog for days. She is an amazing storyteller, and is hilarious to boot.

Welcome back. What you just read is the most accurate description of depression I've ever seen.

I suffered from depression for... a long time. I can remember being really young, maybe six or seven, and wishing that I didn't exist. That I'd never been born. That something awful would happen to me and I would die. I'd cover myself in blankets and hope that they would smother me. I'd put plastic bags around my head and try to suffocate myself. This wasn't a daily thing, or even weekly or monthly. But something would trigger an attack of self-loathing, and I'd spiral out of control.

Obviously, my will to live stopped any of my early attempts from coming even close to working.

When I got older and entered middle school... things got worse. Middle school sucks for everyone. The way they depict high school in movies... that's really middle school. It's awful and cliquey and just the absolute worst three years of your life.

Sixth grade, I held it together pretty well until around Christmastime. That's when my momma had a massive heart attack and almost died. On top of that, my stepbrother at the time decided that since we now weren't going to Disney World, he didn't want to be around us. That was the first time I ever cursed at anyone.

For the next two years, I spiralled out of control. Screaming and crying happened all the time in my house. I pretended everything was fine at school, but the second I'd get home, things devolved.

During that time, I did a lot of things that I'm not proud of. I know I said truly awful things to my parents. I self-harmed in some unusual ways, too.

Because of my reactive hypoglycaemia, I couldn't have a lot of sugar. Well, I would hoard it, then gorge on it as much as possible. I hoped that my blood sugar would spike, then plummet - which it did - to the point where I'd pass out and die - which it didn't, thank God.

Sometimes, I would slam my head against the wall until I couldn't see straight.

Other times, I would scratch or bite myself until I bled. Although, I never could bring myself to cut, though I did try multiple times with both razors and exactoknives.

Eventually, I did attempt suicide. I'm a lightweight when it comes to drugs - ibuprofen puts me to sleep, even in low doses. So, one night before bed, I took a bottle of it, of which only two pills total had been used, and downed the whole thing. Needless to say, it didn't work, but I slept for several days straight, waking up only when forced so that I could go to the bathroom and eat. My parents didn't know at the time that's what it was. They thought I was just sick.

Things got better for me the summer before tenth grade. I went on youth retreats a lot, and I went to this one called Kairos. It's a week-long event, where you bond with your small group really well by the end of it. That year was the first time I really opened up, and that small group will forever be what I consider my saving grace.

I think it's mostly because of Travis, really. He went to my church, and in sixth grade we had been really close. Then his cousin, Alec, moved here and started attending church as well. He wasn't fond of me, and turned Travis against me. By eighth grade, they were tormenting me even during church. It hurt a lot, and contributed to my depression, especially because I had been so close with Travis.

Well, he was in my small group that fateful year, and at first, we were still at each other's throats. Then, the second day, we finally realized that we didn't have to any more. He accepted me back. I will never forget standing in the middle of the prayer maze, all of us in a giant hug, and Travis being the one holding me. They were the first people I ever told about my suicide attempts and depression, and they didn't run away.

Since then, I've gotten much better. I haven't had a relapse in over two years. I still have a hard time trusting people, and that's putting it mildly, and when I do put my trust in someone and they break it, I get worse. Especially with men.

It's really late, so I'm going to end this here. But I will post some more stuff about depression and suicide, because I think it's an important topic for people to try to understand. Sorry for the lack of funny.

The X Ambassadors are Fantasmorical

It's true.

The concert last night was phenomenal.

Krystal and I got to Norfolk with time to spare, so we went to Jimmy John's and grabbed some dinner. When we got back to Night of the Iguana, it was almost impossible to find a parking space, but finally we did. Then it was time to stand in line, because the doors opened at 5:00, and it was about 4:50.

Well now. Long story short, the doors didn't open until maybe 5:50. And in that hour time frame, it rained. And rained. And rained. Everyone in line ended up becoming pretty good friends as we huddled together. Although I'm not going to lie, I was really happy about the rain, at least until the wind kicked in and it got cold.

While we waited, some people from 96X, the radio stations hosting the concert, gave out Monster energy drinks. Not a good idea for me, in the slightest. I'm hyper enough as it is. Give me caffeine and BAM. I am gone.

When we finally got in, Krystal and I headed for the bathroom to throw away our cans and make sure our make-up hadn't run. There, every girl was telling each other that they looked fantastic, and rain really was their style, and it was all very chummy and nice.

Then, it was time to wait for the band to come onto the stage. Krystal and I stood in front of the stage, stage right. We were right by two speakers and we had no plans to ever hear again. When the band came on, the guitarist stood directly in front of us, so close I could have touched him.

They thanked everyone for being so patient in the rain, and made a few jokes about being wet. And then: it began.

Honestly, they are one of the best bands I've seen perform. The guitarist had a broken pinky, and he still played perfectly. Their keyboardist is blind. It was just... awe-inspiring.

After the concert, a couple girls we had stood behind in line and next to by the stage snagged a couple of the drumsticks the lead singer had used. I saw the ones the drummer had been using, and was tempted to climb onto the stage to grab them. Before I could, though, he came back onto the stage and was picking up his tambourine. I got his attention and asked for a drumstick. He laughed, said yes, and handed it to me. Krystal got him to grab her the last one.

The whole band signed my drumstick, and also the little sheet of paper that had their album cover on it. They were such gentlemen off stage (because on stage they were sex machines, no lie). When complimented, they sounded so sincere with their thanks.

I cannot wait until they come back to the area.

In Preparation for Tomorrow

GET USED TO ALL THESE CAPS BECAUSE THAT IS ALL YOU ARE GETTING TOMORROW, SIRS AND MADAMS.

I'm seeing the XAmabassadors tomorrow night. Originally, I thought the concert was Thursday, but I was wrong thanks to my being overexcited when Lee told me the details. So, instead of going to volleyball and jumping around a gym, I'm going to be going to some club in Norfolk and jumping around to some rad music.

It should be awesome. They played the whole EP on 96X (from whom I won the tickets), and it's ah-mazing. Like, one of the most fantastic EPs I've ever heard, and I have quite a few favourites.

Krystal's going with me, and we're going to dance and sing and have a good old time. She's also going to be my wingman, and I've been practicing my Burton Guster pick-up lines. So, have you heard about Pluto?

As to how long this concert will be: NO CLUE. Hopefully forever. More than likely not that, though. Hm. Unless I become a groupie. Is that still a life choice people make? Guess we'll find out tomorrow night.

And Back to the Not Good News

Because apparently I can't have a life that doesn't want to destroy my euphoria.

First, though, let's talk some more good news: I won tickets to see one of my new favourite bands next week! That's definitely most exciting, as I never win anything, but I did this time and it was STELLAR. I did curse on live radio though, but who cares I won.

In case you're just dying with curiosity, the band is the X Ambassadors.

Anyway. To the not good news!

I went to the Iron Man 3 premier last night. That in itself wasn't bad. It was an excellent movie and SPOILER ALERT Robert Downey Jr. was just as hot as usual.

The bad part: Daniel was there, as Patrick had invited him and Olivia before he knew that I would be in attendance as well. So yeah. Not just Daniel. Also Olivia.

When they walked in, the first thing I noticed: she was dressed... barely. Even though it was barely 50 degrees outside, she had on short shorts and a tank top. I was chilly in my jeans and a tee shirt, so I knew that she had to be freezing. She also had on a metric ton of eye shadow.

Now, I resolved not to give any snap judgements, but GOODNESS she was making it hard. I was perfectly nice though, and witty, and charming, just as usual because that's what I do.

Of course, it got really hard not to give over to the nausea when I saw them interacting and it became obvious that they have feelings for each other, or at the very least wanted to bone. When we got into the theatre, and they decided not to sit with our group, I ended up having to leave for a second and went into the bathroom to dry heave and give myself a pep talk.

Luckily, the movie was awesome enough that I could focus on that and not on the overwhelming sadness that made my stomach twist for the entire duration. Afterwards, I didn't have to talk to them again. Their car was in the opposite direction of mine, so we went out separate ways. Daniel did turn to wave, but I whipped around without acknowledging him because I just couldn't right then.

The worse news:

Today, Patrick told me that he talked to Daniel. And Daniel says that he's in love with Olivia. Figured it out like three weeks ago. That is also known as right after we stopped dating.

To my credit and unutterable relief, I did not cry. I did not vomit. I went into a sort of shock, and even though I felt nauseated again and my chest felt too tight, I didn't flip out.

There's no reason to. If he cares about her that much, that's great. It's not like I want him to be alone for the rest of his life just because he didn't want me. Even though it hurts to still have feelings for him that I know now will never, ever be reciprocated and that they're with a girl that I was pretty suspicious of before, I can move on a bit easier now.

The biggest problem I have is that he continued to say he likes me even after "figuring out" that he loves her. Why in the fuck would you say that to someone you know is trying to get over you when you, uhm, DON'T? But Daniel's known for lying to try to spare someone's feelings or to make them feel less awful, so I suppose I do know the answer.

He still claims to care about me and my feelings, but I'm shrugging that off. I don't think it's likely he thinks about me unless he's forced to. If he does, that's dandy. If he doesn't, that's dandy too. Because it doesn't MATTER either way. He's not going to be in my life and he's not important to who I am. He taught me a lesson that I needed to learn: You can't make someone care about you more than they do, and if they don't care about you enough, move on.

I think it's funny that a couple people who met Olivia last night say that she didn't seem as smart as me, or as pretty. And that I was too good for Daniel anyway. Whether the first is true: no clue. I didn't talk with her enough to get a solid reading on her intelligence. She didn't seem stupid, at the least. As to the second: well, she's not ugly. Perhaps if she had worn less make-up I could have had a clearer idea, but as it stands, she just seems... normal. For the last: of course I'm inclined to think that I AM too good for him. Whether or not that's true is another story.

All in all, I hope things work out between Daniel and Olivia. They have things in their way, and it's not likely that things WILL work out, but hey. To feel secure in my goodness I must at least offer hope their way.

So yeah. That's where I'm at. I'm hurting a little, but growing more and more apathetic as the day goes on. We'll see how I'm doing when I cut out the lights, curl up with my cat and my triceratops, and try to go to sleep. Hopefully this trend will continue, and soon I won't give a damn if Daniel's having wall sex or regular sex with Olivia when they're living together.

UPDATED

Last night as I lay in bed, I didn't feel sad or upset. So that's an improvement. However, I did remember a few things that I forgot to put in here.

Though Olivia seemed nice, she does sort of seem like a bad influence. She's only 19, but talks about drinking... a lot. Now, she could have been just putting up a front because, you know, she's 19. But I don't think she was. At one point, when it was mentioned that my coworker Jamie had quit drinking, she turned to Daniel and said, "Don't ever let me quit drinking." I don't remember hearing his response to that, but it definitely threw me off-kilter.

Also, I find it kind of amusing that she displays some of the qualities he said he doesn't want. Well, I can only think of one right now and that's the make-up thing. But still. 'Tis amusing, that is.

My momma thinks he's interested in her because she's a "bad girl", what with the drinking and the less-than-appropriate-for-the-weather clothing and all the make-up. I don't know. I don't really care.

Well, I have to go mow the lawn and pick up pine cones and then treat myself to some free Chick-fil-A because I traded coupons for bowling last night. If I think of anything else, which is entirely plausible, I will return. UNTIL THEN, GOOD SIRS AND MADAMS.

It's About Time for Some Good News!

After all this depressing business with Daniel and breaking up and being sad, I know I'm ready for good news. I'm sure y'all are too.

Get ready for this:

I got into Christopher Newport University!

Now, not to sound conceited, but that's not really surprising. When you've been accepted to Virginia Tech twice, and North Carolina State, you don't really stress over being accepted at a less competitive college. CNU isn't exactly easy to get into, but I didn't worry that I wouldn't get in.

The really good news:

My momma thinks we might ACTUALLY BE ABLE TO AFFORD IT.

That is perhaps the most important and exciting thing ever, because the reason I didn't go to Virginia Tech the first time was because of money. The same goes for the second time. And with NC State.

So yeah, I'm pretty stoked. :D

Cutting Back (A Short Story)

“Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling Clementine.”

Snip.

“You are lost and gone forever...”

Snip.

“Dreadful sorry, Clementine.”

Snip.

As the song’s tune faded away from her mind, she gave a sideways glare to the door. “Dreadful sorry my ass.” Her lips curled into a sneer, and the scissors by her ear fluttered. Before she could cut herself, she grabbed another lock of hair.

Snip.

“Well, you’ll be sorry soon enough.” A giggle escaped her lips. When she looked in the mirror, her cheeks appeared rosy and her eyes had a lovely gleam. She almost looked like her old self. Just a bit more excitable, she thought.

Blonde tresses surrounded her feet, creating a golden carpet that glowed in the sunlight streaming from the window. As she added to the pile, her mind wandered through memories alternately shady and bright. He loved her. He hated her. He held out a hand for her. He snatched his hand away from hers. Nothing matched and everything fit.

“You almost done up there, Clem? You know the wedding starts soon.” Her mother’s voice floated up the stairs, dragging her back to the present.

“Yeah, Momma.”

Snip.

“I’ll meet you at the church. Don’t you ruin that dress, now.” She heard the faint sound of the front door closing, and she knew she was now alone in the house.

“Not completely alone, though.” That caused another bout of giggles, and she had to set down the scissors until the hysterics passed.

Once calm returned, she picked the rusty kitchen scissors back up and commenced her work. 

Snip.

A few strands clung to the lavender satin of her bridesmaid dress. Such a beautiful shade, so lovely on her carefully tanned skin. What a shame that he would never see her in it. Her gaze returned to the door, and her eyes slitted.

“You don’t deserve to see me in it.”

The distraction cost her. She hissed as the tip of one blade sliced her neck, and blood dotted the dress. After applying a tissue to the small cut, she sighed. Of course she stained the dress, after her mother had just told her not to. Hopefully no one would notice the tiny spots. Not when all eyes would be on her perfect sister and the perfect wedding dress and the perfect groom.

A light knocking came on the door, and faint scratching. She frowned and gestured at the door with the scissors. “Stop that! I told you that you have to stay there.”

The scratching grew louder and more desperate. In an effort to drown it out, she started humming to herself. It worked, for the most part. Her eyes drifted down to the blood dotting her dress, and she frowned again. They had grown.

“Well, that isn’t good. Momma will have my head over this.” She shook her head and returned her gaze to the mirror.

Snip.

Her work was almost done. What was left of her hair stood in disarray atop her head, a messy testament to the heartbreak within. He had left her. No one left her. There was no way she could show up at the wedding without him. Everyone would whisper about her, everyone would pity her, everyone would judge her. The comparisons with her sister would never stop. They had to stop. He had been her perfect match, she knew he was The One, and he had dared to break up with her and leave her to the wolves better known as the town of Knoxwood.

Snip.

And just like that, the long blonde hair her parents had never let her cut was gone. It sat at her feet, heaped around her chair, limp and lifeless. She brushed the lingering strands off her dress, and her fingers froze over the blood stains that had grown yet again. They now covered almost the entire bottom half of her dress. People would notice that, there was no way they could miss it now.

“Look what you made me do!” She whirled toward the door, slamming her fist against the wood. It splintered, and the scratching stopped for a moment. Then it resumed, more feverish than before, and she kicked at the door. “Stop it! Stop it!”

Her voice crescendoed, and once again the scratching ceased. Panting, she turned away. Hands clenching and unclenching on the satin of her dress, she paced from one end of the room to the other. Thoughts bounced through her mind, and she muttered under her breath. When the scratching started again, she made her decision.

“You’re gonna be so sorry.” For emphasis, she grabbed the doorknob and shook the door in its frame.

She ran down the stairs, holding up the dress so that she did not trip over it. Her bare feet slapped on the hardwood floor, and she wrenched the back door open. When she reached the shed, she strained to pick up the container of gasoline. The return to the main house took a bit longer than the flight from it, hampered as she was by the bright red jug. Gasoline splashed up the black spout, spilling onto the grass and further staining her dress.

Inside, she took a moment to search through the drawers for a set of matches. Then she headed back up the stairs, and she did not care when the gasoline poured onto her path. At the second floor, she took time to soak the hall before going into her room. There, she turned to the door that bore the signs of her abuse and still had the sound of scratching behind it.

“Are you dreadful sorry yet?”

Her grin widened as she turned the gas can upside down. The pungent odour stung her eyes, but it was worth it when she heard the scratching grow more desperate. Gasoline oozed under the door. When the container grew light enough, she spun in circles and splashed the gasoline over the walls. Those golden locks she had taken so much time to remove darkened as they were drenched. By now, her flesh and dress reeked of gasoline.

She threw the gas can aside when it emptied. As she pulled out the matches, she started singing again.

“Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling Clementine, you are lost and gone forever. Dreadful sorry, Clementine.”

She struck the match and threw it to the ground in one smooth motion.

Her lips stretched into a smile as she burned.

I Wish I Were a Vulcan

Today, I unfriended Daniel on Facebook.

Not because I don't want to be friends with him or anything, because I do, I still do, but because I really just need to take a step back and not talk to him for a while.

I doubt he'll even notice, unless he reads this post (which I'm not even sure he still reads my blog at all, so...). I doubt he'll care, even if he does notice.

This is just something I needed to do, because seeing that green dot on Facebook made it far too easy for me to talk to him. Sure, having him in my phone makes it easy too, but I'm pretty good about ignoring the urge to text him by convincing myself that I don't have the minutes.

My momma says that this is a good thing, a step forward. She also says that Daniel was being mean to me, and knew it. I'm still not sure that's the case, because I think he's pretty oblivious to how things he says hurts people, but it's not like I hid how upset and hurt I was. So I don't know.

I just don't know.

Hopefully I'll be over him soon. It's not like he's going to text me or message me, and that should help, as I don't plan on texting or messaging him. Until I'm sure I'm ready, I won't be going over to Patrick's on Tuesdays either, because seeing him wouldn't be a good idea either.

I will be okay. I will be.

Ignoring Me = Not Cool

Everyone hates being ignored, right? I know I'm not the only one, because some of the people on my Twitter feed are teenage girls and they're much better at passive-aggressive tweeting than I ever could be, and a main theme is hating being ignored. Also tanning.

Anyway.

To bring y'all up to speed, Daniel and I started talking again late last week. It turns out that there had been some miscommunication; I was NOT in a grey area. He has placed me into the friendzone (although he tried to deny calling it that, but what else would it be if not the friendzone), but (for some reason unfathomable to me) he still likes me. In fact, he got pretty peeved when I told him he didn't. Which is understandable.

So yeah, we talked, and things were back to normal(ish). I texted him about random stuff, we would chat for a bit, and then go our merry ways. It was pretty comfortable and normal and I felt all right. It's not like I deluded myself into thinking he'd want me back - because he won't - but I at least felt like he wanted to be friends again. And that it was feasible, even though I still had (and have) feelings for him.

Now, though, he's ignoring me. We spoke a bit yesterday about a video game that had a really awesome pick-up line in it (I had seen it on Facebook, sent it to him, and he told me about the game), and halfway through the conversation he just stopped answering.

It bothered me, but didn't ruin my whole evening like it would've last week. So, that's a plus. I still went to volleyball and had a great time. Although a huge guy tackled me and almost threw out my jaw and shoulder on accident. That was kind of fun though, not going to lie.

When I got home, I sent Daniel a message, asking why he just stopped in the middle of our conversation. But, as he'd not seen the messages I had sent him the day before, I figured he wouldn't see these, making it pointless, and I said as much. As predicted, he didn't answer.

This time I know he saw them, though. That little creeper thing in the chats tells you when someone sees the message, and it's kind of bad because it turns you into this paranoid schizo who's flipping out because WHY IS HE IGNORING ME and WHAT IF HE'S DEAD and all sorts of weird thoughts.

Basically, if someone's going to ignore me, they should probably tell me that they're doing so, because then I can just be like, "Oh, okay, well, that's fine by me" because it would be if I knew that's what they were doing. It's the not being sure that I hate.

And of course, I can't message him either on Facebook or text asking him to tell me, because if he's not I'll just look crazy, and if he is he'll just get mad. Might get mad either way. *shrug* I just don't know.

Well, it's time for work. Hopefully it'll be super busy like it was Monday because then I'll just not stress over this (HA yeah right). I'm also going to be working on a story for this competition thingy, so, that might help. At least a little bit.

UPDATED

While I was at work, I kept thinking, "Hm, I wonder if he'll see this post and get mad about me talking about him so much on my blog, and if he'll text me being all, "I'm not ignoring you, this is why we would never work out" and I'd just start sobbing because guys, I'm like forever insecure about him being with his friend Olivia.

I can't remember if I mentioned that in the last post, but I'll mention it here because I'm just in a bad place what with certain female problems and lack of chocolate and I want to go for a run but it's DAYLIGHT and I haven't run in forever and it'll make my uterus hurt and I'll be huffing and puffing and I just might die.

So yeah.

When he first told me about Olivia (and he's going to be LIVING with her soon, her and another mutual friend of theirs who is also female), it wasn't anything. I didn't care. After all, I have plenty of male friends that I see all the time and hang out with, and they didn't make HIM uncomfortable. Plus, when I'm in a relationship, I tend to be pretty secure.

Now, though... he talks about her all the time, and from what I can tell from what he's told me, they talk all the time and he doesn't ignore HER and it's just like I know they're friends and all but he's the one who says he doesn't like talking to people all that much but he seems to talk to her way more often than he ever did me.

Of course, I don't know any of that for sure, so I could just be paranoid.

But what if I'm NOT? What if he DOES like her? I get no say in the matter, because, you know, I'm not his girlfriend any longer but guys I JUST CAN'T DEAL WITH THAT.

Sigh. I feel ridiculous, being as worried as I am about this. Which is why I haven't said anything to him about it yet. If I thought it were anything more than paranoia and insecurity on my end, I probably would. Hell, I'm perilously close to doing it anyway. And who knows, he might see this and message me like "Wtf is wrong with you, why do you think I like Olivia?" Again, commence the sobbing.

I really just need to write. Too bad I have to go mow the grass instead.

I'm Pretty Bipolar Right Now

This breakup just isn't going well for me.

Some of you may have expected more posts, but I really didn't want to subject y'all to the changeable nature of my emotions right now. My mood and outlook change hourly, if not minutely. Sometimes, I'm okay. In fact, I'd say that most of the time, I'm okay. That's thanks to being a busy person, and not having TIME to think about anything.

But any time I'm alone or not actively working on something or what I'm working on doesn't take real thought, I'm not okay.

At all.

And while y'all haven't had to deal with that, Daniel has. Because as we've discussed before, I really have very little self-control. He's seen me go from okay (last Friday) to sad (Monday) to angry and sad (Tuesday) to sad and resigned (today). I'm lucky he's so laid back, because a normal guy would probably tell me to shut up and leave him alone.

To summarize: I thought I was okay last week. I was doing great, and I was happy 99% of the time, and I could talk to him without feeling upset. He sent me a picture of a puppy, and I told him about finding the rings I thought I had lost. I sent him a pick-up line that had amused me. Things were normal.

Then, on Monday, I found out he wasn't going to be at Patrick's on Tuesday. I had been really looking forward to seeing him and proving to myself that I was okay. Of course, I learned that I wasn't okay. The fact that he wasn't going to be there made me so upset that it really is ridiculous.

Because I'd had some questions for him, and by the end of the day after dwelling on how he wouldn't be there, I had even more. So I typed them up and sent them to him. I knew he'd probably just get mad.

Tuesday, we talked somewhat normally, because I started a conversation with him. And as I'm rather stupid and curious, I mentioned that he probably hadn't read what I sent him yet. He had. I was right. He was angry. Angry that I'd basically send him an email with the questions instead of asking him in person.

Now, I can see why he'd be upset by that, but I mentioned in the document that I'd wanted to ask them in person. And who knew when the next chance to see him would be.

All in all, we got things boiled down to this: I'm pretty much in the beginning stages of being in love with him. And he likes me, but he doesn't like me. I'm in this grey area where I could fall either way for him. There is nothing I can do to get him to make up his mind, even though I'm in agony waiting.

If he's here next Tuesday, I probably won't be. I'll be playing volleyball, because I can't stand this. If I can, I'm going to try to not see him or talk to him until he figures out what I am to him and how he feels about me.

I really am grateful that he's been so understanding and nice about all this. Because I know I haven't been the picture of sane. But I think that's okay, because I'm pretty much a huge mess.

I want to tell him about the interesting or cool things that happen to me.

I want to hear about the interesting or cool things that happen to him.

I just want him, really. Even if he's boring that day.

Two More Poems

Really, the only reason I'm posting these is so that I can show them to my teacher tomorrow. She wants us to be putting our work "out there" and that includes on personal blogs. So. Yeah. Here are two more really depressing poems about how I'm all alone now and not dealing with it well. Actually, I wasn't. I'm doing better, as long as I'm not at work with nothing to do but think about it, or laying in bed trying to sleep.



Osculation

Broken,
....Desperate,
...............Begging with fiery kisses
...............For some sort of Redemption

Hands grasping at flesh,
......Violent as lips collide,
Holding on with strength
......That belies fragility.


This is the end.
This is -
Pulling away for the final time.


NO -
Pulling away
Just to reunite with yet another
.............................................Burning kiss.
......................It sears the skin.
......................Caresses that leave
.............................................A third-degree burn.


Wanting to hurt - 
Wanting to love - 

Wanting -

This is the end.

Siren's Song

Crippled

By nausea. By disbelief.


By pain so ethereal
.....................It almost does not feel
..............Like pain.

It is tightness.
It is gasping.
It is dull.
It is sharp.

.............................It consumes
................................Devours
................................Obliterates

A slow destruction

That eats away at calm

.............................................Leaving behind desperation
..................................................................Confusion
..................................................................Sadness
..................................................................Outrage





I do not

......................Want

............................................To





Drown

In Case You're Really Dense

My last post, Single, is because, well, I'm single now.

Daniel and I broke up. In all honesty, he broke up with me.







I am very sad.
I feel hollow inside.




I wish I didn't. I wish I were stronger. Capable of just shrugging this off and saying, "Oh well, your loss." But it's not just his loss. It's mine. Daniel is a great guy. He cares about others, and wants to help others. However, he knows that he can't give me what I want.

What I wanted was for him to, you know, make me feel special. Talk to me. Want to see me more often. But that's not who he is. Daniel doesn't want or need to see/talk to people more often than once a week or on occasion. Me... I'm okay with not seeing him that often, but I needed him to talk to me, even just to say hi or ask about my day. Nothing complicated.

He just isn't that person, and he can't make himself be that person. It's a good thing we broke up, before I got even more involved with him, before I came close to saying the "L" word. Because I think I would have, eventually. In another three months, possibly.

For right now, though, I can't really see the logic behind this. All I can see is that he's gone, that he doesn't think I'm worth trying for; and that's not fair to him. It's not that. It has nothing to do with me. It has to do with him, and what he wants and is capable of giving. Now I just have to convince myself of that.

Because it's not that he doesn't like me. He did. He still does. He wants to be with me, but he knows he can't. He isn't ready to be my boyfriend, and he wishes he had known that before, to save all this heartache. Although I wouldn't call it heartache. Heart absence, really.

Daniel, if you read this... don't worry about me being sad or hollow or anything. I really do understand why you had to break up with me. You did the right thing, the noble thing.

That's what makes this so hard, though. That I couldn't hold onto a decent guy. That I couldn't convince him to change his mind.

I don't know when I'll be able to see him again. I don't know if I ever will. That's why, last night, I told Daniel goodbye. Because I can't see him for a while. If I do, I'll probably cry again, or end up kissing him again, and that is not conducive to moving on.

I lost a good one, guys.

I lost.

Single

Nothing -
..........Unwanted, unloved, unworthy
.......Left to shrivel
.......On the street.
........................................................Kisses desperate
...................................................................Burning
........................................................Trying to salvage what is left
..............................................When there is
Nothing -
..........Dust on the floor
.......Left to be swept up
.......By who only knows.
.......................................................Who cares?
...................................................................No one could sweep
..............................................................And no one would
...............................................Care.

Nothing -
...........No soul, no worth, no love



Nothing -

Crisis

Corin has unblocked me from Facebook. I... I don't know what I'm feeling or thinking.

How did I find this out, you ask?

Well, I was editing my short story last night (the one I posted, which was very obviously about Corin), and I wanted to make sure the dialogue fit. So I went through my archived messages on Facebook (as you apparently can't DELETE any conversations), and found the one from way back when Corin and I were friends and all that.

Upon clicking it, I realized... his name was no longer in black. It was blue. And there was an actual picture next to his name. This meant I could click on it, go to his Facebook page, and send him a friend request if I so desired.

Do I so desire? There was a point when I was willing to pass the olive branch and be his friend again, but then he blocked me and all that. Now... I don't know. I wouldn't be a jerk to him if I saw him somewhere and had to interact with him. But do I want to try to be friends with him?

I've been reading our conversation, from the beginning. I'm seeing little things that I really should have picked up on at the time, but as they say, hindsight is 20/20. However, for the most part... I'm just thinking that he really was very funny and clever. I can see why I enjoyed talking to him.

He would start the chat first, not every time, but often enough that I never felt like I was the one always trying to get him to talk to me. He asked me questions to keep the conversation going. Daniel doesn't even do that. Half the time I'm just rambling to him and hoping he'll say something back.

True, seeing all the hearts Corin would send and the calling me "love" and such is a little gross now. I didn't have a problem with it then, because (at first) I thought it was in fun and (later) thought it was kind of sweet. If someone talked to me like that now... well, I would be very wary.

Looking through this conversation, I've really been thinking. DID Corin start talking to me with this intention to get me to like him and convince me he reciprocated, or did it come about later? I don't know. He seemed to really enjoy talking to me - he gave me his number, convinced me to join Google+, gave me keys to his Minecraft - so I don't know what to really think anyway.

I don't know. I really should stop reading through the conversation, because it's giving me half a mind to message him and try to figure this stuff out. That probably wouldn't be the best idea. At best, it would give me peace of mind. At worst, it will stir up old feelings and I'll end up hurt again. And with Daniel in the picture, there's no reason for me to need peace of mind (I can distract myself pretty easily with him) and the chance of a return to previous states of hurt and/or infatuation could really be a problem.

All in all, I just want to know why the hell Corin went through the trouble of going to his settings, going to his account, going to the blocking section, and deleting my name from the list. That seems... strange, to me. Why would he do that? Seriously? He hasn't sent me a friend request or anything, so I can't see what the point was.

Anyway. I really wish that I didn't have to wait until Tuesday to see Daniel, because I'm feeling very fragile right now, and I could use some attention that I know is sincere. Alas, it is not meant to be. Sigh. I'm going to go sing and pick up pine cones now.

Mer.

I am terrified.

Why am I terrified, you ask?

Well, let me tell you.

I am in a relationship, a pretty serious one if I’m interpreting things correctly. All signs indicate that Daniel and I will be together for a good long while. Probably not forever (I refuse to start thinking in forever terms), but at least for the rest of the year. If not longer. We’ve agreed that there’s very little we can see that would break us up. That doesn’t mean that there ISN’T something that could, but still.

So, why does this terrify me?

Because it means that I have some serious emotions building up inside me; emotions that could rip me apart in the right conditions. And there’s this tiny, nagging thought in the back of my head: what if it’s all pretend?

What if, like Corin, he’s just been pretending this whole time? He’s just been leading me on to see if he could get me to like him? This is all just some elaborate prank?

You see, that tiny, nagging thought in the back of my head keeps saying, “He might be leading you on. He might be trying to get you to fall for him, and then he’s going to hurt you. He’s going to make you pay for what you did to Josh.”

It’s not that I think Daniel’s capable of that. Well, I suppose I do if I’m thinking about it at all, but when I analyze the fear with my logical side, I know that he isn’t. He would never do that to me, or to anyone else, for that matter. Daniel isn’t cruel.

But still, that tiny, nagging thought in the back of my head continues to pop up at random times. Then I start to wonder, “What if it’s true? What then? How can I keep from getting hurt again?”

Those of you that have read through my Corin posts know that I was highly affected by that whole debacle. Corin hurt me, and badly. And we weren’t even dating!

So, I’ve come to the conclusion that there ISN’T a way to keep from getting hurt. I can’t turn off my feelings for Daniel, nor do I want to. If, at the end of the month, or year, or whenever, he turns to me and says, “Oh, I just wanted to let you know that this whole thing was a lie,” I will be greatly devastated.

Again, RATIONALLY there isn’t even a chance of this happening. I know that. It’s my insecurities that don’t realize it. I think that I will forever be doubting if he, or whatever guy I’m with at the time, truly likes me. I had enough trust issues BEFORE Corin ripped me to shreds, and since then... well, let’s just say that things aren’t pretty deep inside.

I guess what I’m saying is: I’m scared. I’m scared of being hurt, and I’m scared of caring about someone enough so that they can hurt me. But I think EVERYONE is scared of that, to some degree. At least, I hope so. I’d really like to be considered normal, for once.

Sticky.

I'm becoming gooier, and I'm not sure how I feel about it.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Well, those of you who actually read my posts, anyway. In the spirit of the holiday, I thought I'd post. Sorry I haven't in such a long time, but there really hasn't been anything to talk about lately. My weeks are pretty much exactly the same all the time.

However, back to what I said in my first sentence.

Having a boyfriend is a bit... different this time around. Perhaps because I actually have real feelings for him this time.

As you all know by now, I'm not the biggest fan of romance or anything. Unlike most girls, I don't swoon over romance novels or think kissing in the rain is super cute. It's just wet. When a guy says something vaguely sweet or romantic, I make a face and gag a little.

Or, at least, I used to.

Now... well, I still cringe at the sweeter things Daniel may happen to say to me (although he usually apologizes in advance, so it's okay), but I certainly get more giddy about it than anything else. Unless he's being intentionally gross (with OMG I LUV U BABY I LUV YOU 5EVER XOXO), I find myself... I don't know, liking the nice things he says.

Is this a big deal? Maybe not. But while I like the things he says, I'm not sure that I like that I like them. You know? For most of my life, I've been skeptical of romance and all things gushy. I still am. But it was a matter of pride for me that I could sit back and say, "Oh, yes, if a guy ever said that to me I would laugh in his face."

Now... depending on what was said, I might not.

I mean, if he came up to me tomorrow and declared undying love for me and proposed or something, I would definitely laugh in his face. But that's extreme, and deserves such a reaction.

For something a bit more normal, I just might blush.

Yeah, you read that right. I might blush.

Shut up.

So, This is My Life Right Now

Sigh. I want to write, but I can't seem to find any inspiration. None of my stories are speaking to me. They're just chilling in the corner, eating cheese puffs and expecting me to come up with some brilliant idea to get them excited again. As if.

So, instead, I'm going to write a blog post! Yay!

Life is going kind of wonderfully. I'm taking five classes this semester, and even though I switched my major literally last week, I still get my associate's degree on time. What classes am I taking, you ask? Let me tell you.

I'm in creative writing, creative thinking, psychology, some computer class, and U.S. history. So far, they're all rather boring. Yes, even creative writing. The computer class and my history class are both online, and I did NOT expect there to be as much work as there is. I'm not too fond of it. We all know that I much prefer classes where I do nothing and get rewarded.

Oh, and I'm applying to CNU. It's going to be awesome if I can go there; I already know a few people there, as Kyle goes there and I've met his friends and they like me. Plus, the campus is kind of awesome. And it's only like half an hour away from my house, which is nice because I can come home for family dinners and such if I want.

And, you know, I've got a boyfriend. This is the first one I've had in two years, and I'm not entirely sure that I remember how to be a girlfriend. Thus far, I figure that I'm just going to stick with being the same way as before, just with kissing and holding hands and such. Which I'm thoroughly enjoying.

In other news, I've entered the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest again this year. They started accepting submissions on the fourteenth, and we'll find out if we made it through the second round on the thirteenth of February. As before, I'm wildly nervous about it. Nothing's more frightening than shoving your baby out for others to judge.

Even though I've got even less time than before, I shall try to keep y'all updated on things. My poor YouTube channel has fallen to the wayside, because I haven't read any books to do reviews on. Maybe, while I'm waiting for my stories to figure out what they want, I can read instead...

I Have a Boyfriend.

Kthxbai

You're Going to Get Tired of This

So, I went to my first official class of the semester. In case you were wondering, which I'm sure you were, it was creative writing. It's going to be so ridiculously easy, based on the syllabus. The teacher means well, and I hope I learn something new, but I'm keeping my expectations low.

Our first assignments are:

1) Bring in a book on writing, of your choice. DONE. I have Stephen King's On Writing so I don't have to go searching like my classmates.

2) Write a poem using the word you presented to the class. DONE. I picked "fantasmorical", a word I made up my senior year of high school. We could either pick a made-up word, a new word we recently learned, or a word we've always disliked. And I just finished the poem for mine, so... I WIN.

3) Write a poem inspired by something from the book on writing of your choice. IN PROGRESS. And by that I mean that I'm too lazy to go flipping through my book yet, so I'm going to wait until either tomorrow or Sunday and do it then.

Apparently we're going to be writing four poems total, two short memoirs, one short story, and some other stuff that I don't care about and will probably procrastinate on. For the short story, when the time comes, if I can't seem to figure it out, I'll just use the one I have on here. Yay, laziness!

So, would you like to read my new poem? OF COURSE YOU WOULD. Now you see why I said you're going to get tired of this. I've put up more poems recently than you can shake a stick at (that phrase makes no sense, but that's why I like it), and I'm sure some of you are getting quite annoyed. Oh well. That isn't my problem.

Eden's Downfall

The first kiss -
..........A punch to the brain -
...................A lightning strike on an empty field -

............Catching shooting stars
............On our lips
............Until they plump, delirious.

With practice, it settles.
The heartbeat slows -
..........Punch turns to caress -
...................Lightning turns to rain -

............And we now catch butterflies,
............Let them dance on our tongues,
............Until we swallow them, orgasmic.

.....................................................................................Bruises form, the product
.....................................................................................Of sharp canines on soft flesh -
.........................................................................................................The feeling one of
..........................................................................................................Pain -
..........................................................................................................Pleasure -
................................................................................................. A rush so -
..................................................................................................Fantasmorical -
..................................................................................................The pupils dilate,
..................................................................................................And a gasp springs free
..................................................................................................To tickle the lips.

One breathes fire,
The other water,
In a constant struggle
To destroy each other.
..........One seeks to turn the other
..........Into curling steam.
..........One seeks to turn the other
..........Into drenched ash.
Neither wins.
Neither loses.
......................................Forever entwined,

.........................................................................Sealed by a kiss.