Cheers to this good life, and a fond farewell to the old.: August 2006

8.28.2006

I just got back from my first real class as a college student and....

WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T I GO AWAY? I feel like such a loser here. Like I'll never be a successful person in this hell-hole.

8.25.2006

I randomly awoke some moments ago and listened in a half asleep stupor to the woman talking on the radio. It was some sort of show and she was reading a letter from a girl named Amanda. Amanda's best friend is overseas on exchange and in this letter she just poured out her heart. She tried to explain the heartbreak and pain she experienced from not being able to see her best friend, but somehow I felt her words couldn't have possibly been enough, much as I felt throughout my experience.

In that moment I thought of Ariana. I snapped into an alert state of mind and began to cry without warning.

I'm not sure what I'm even getting to here, except for the heart wrenching fact that I know perfectly well that I'll never be spoken to or spoken well of by her again. I've known it for some while now. It's not news. No matter what, I'll never be forgiven for a crime I didn't even know I had committed. Whatever that crime may have been, I plead guilty as charged. She had a reason.

Even if she doesn't ever want to see me again, I just want to say goodbbye one last time.

As I look back over the near eleven years that I have known her, we swapped gossip, nail polish, secrets, and even boys. Friends had come and gone...

But she had always been there.

And it rips my soul apart to know she never will be again.

8.19.2006

I'm writting this poem book just for you,
'Cause I don't have nothin' better to do.
I could mow the grass or I could clean the kitchen,
If I did that then Mom might quit her bitchin'.
My bed still ain't made, this place is a mess,
But I'm just too lazy to clean I confess.
It's now been three weeks since the bathrooms were cleaned,
The scum in the toilet is turning dark green.
It might be a little offsensive to some,
But my life would not be the same without scum.
Mom is always pissin' and moanin',
But the sum in my bedroom just keeps right on growin'.
Under my bed there is food, clothes, and books,
But I really don't give a shit how the place looks.
My make-up is scattered all over the place,
My mirror is so dirty I can't see my face.
I wish that I knew where the windows could be,
They're so fuckin' dusty I can't even see.
The closets are totally filled to the brim,
There's not even room for my clothes to go in.
All of the clothes from last month that I wore,
Are laying in piles all over the floor.
What color's my carpet? Please do not ask.
'Cause finding that out is a three hour task.
The radio plays music that just makes me cough,
If I could find it I'd shut it right off.
When I'm here after work I feel so alone,
But when someone calls I just can't find the phone.
When company's over, poor Mom is disgraced,
Because of the mess in this God-awful place.
The mess around here would make your head spin,
I'd clean it all up if I knew where to begin.
There's more everyday for me to clean-up,
but as you can tell I have just given up.

8.17.2006

JonBenet Ramsey's killer: Tom Mark Karr.

I believe he did it... but I still think that Patsy had been involved. Comission perhaps? And god dammit, he almost got away with it.

I really wish he would have.

8.11.2006

COMEDY NIGHT

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

8.10.2006

I have a boyfriend. I'm sorry. And you know him....

His name is Jeff McCambridge.

8.08.2006

I started writing this in my own house, on my own couch about to fall asleep. Instead I'm now in his basement, writing on his computer.

I haven't recieved an e-mail which I'm sorry to say isn't bad. Not hearing from you allows me to pretend that you've forgotten about me, though I know this isn't the case. It's kind of frustrating knowing that there isn't a god damned thing I could possibly do. It makes me want to crack out my box of Lucky Strikes and smoke right through to the filter. I don't take solice in knowing that I'm probably ruining somebody's life.

Today was my only day off in a considerable amount of time. I slept in, but am tired. I relaxed, but am tense. I ate but am still hungry. It feels like my life is half-assed. I'm not sure if I even mind it.

8.05.2006

I've worked 60 hours this week alone, and I'm working atleast 7 hours tonight. Don't you dare tell me that I need to work less, Mom. I'm not even sad anymore, because I don't have to be around you. You're killing me. You're the one who said I have to work 40 hours a week or else.... And suddenly I'm every parent's dream because I am paying my way through everything right now and you say that it's not acceptable. When will I be good enough for you, Mom? Will I ever be?

And I'm up in my room, about to change into my work uniform so I can go and slave away for another handful of hours just to fail at gaining your approval, and crying.

I hate you.... You'll never truly love me either.

8.03.2006

I'm sitting in his basement you know. Sitting here, trying to watch this movie, but I knew. I knew there'd be some type of communication.

God damn it, you don't fucking know me. You don't know me. No one does. and I prefer to keep it that way. I don't want anyone, especially you to know me!

What the fuck am I supposed to do? What in the mother fucking world am I supposed to do to make this better? You don't know what it's like to understand how you feel and not be able to fix it. I CAN'T FUCKING DO IT.

This is fucking insane. I'm mother fuckin' gone.

8.02.2006

Not sure why I'm upset.

Something has gotten me bugged however. I know Rick will read this, seeing as he 'checks it everyday' but I've got to get this out. Rick, listen. If you want to remain the way you are, happy or atleast blissfully ignorant, stop reading now. I'm about to let go now.

Well, Rick's been trying to contact me and I don't know how to handle it. A lot of the times I'm really not at the computer and cannot respond to any messages. There are other times however that I am at the computer and I try to play it stealth-like. He says he loves me, but I can't hurt him. I don't want to say that I can't love him. Truth betold I don't think I'm capable of loving anyone anymore. It's almost like I've put forward so much effort in all of my relationships that my spirit is broken and my affection is meaningless.

But I'm sorry, Rick. I cannot love you. You could love me, treat me well, save me from myself, but the truth is that I could never love you. And I hate myself for that.

I feel like dying for that last remark. I don't deserve to live if I'm causing this sort of pain to anyone. I know how he feels to be brutally honest. It's not like I don't still think about Alex daily, because I do. It hurts to think about him of course. It's hurtful to think that I spent years mourning and pining for him just to be ignored and quickly forgotten. If I were to die tomorrow, my last dying wish would be for him to say goodbye to me. A heartfelt goodbye and nothing more. It's so much to ask, especially for all that I have ever put him through.

I guess that this is not only a vent for me, but it's also an informal apology. I'm sorry I was abusive and I made you cry and I hurt you. It was never my intention. Who in the right mind would maliciously go after people and hurt them?

But if I could feel affection anymore, it would be for someone that you know.... I'll explain it to you later, but take solice in the fact that I can't give or recieve human affection anymore.

Atleast I'm a loveless hull. Broken and empty.

And I'm still sorry.

8.01.2006

It's been very hot the last two days and I've been either beaten or bored. I worked yesterday and while I had the lead in sales by the end of the day, I also recieved the lowest amount of tips. I blame this on the fact that I wasn't a server yesterday, but rather a bartender that served food.

Today I woke up late with a pounding migrane and a not-so-sunny disposition. My parents had moved my bed yesterday afternoon while I was at work so the air conditioning could work it's magic and it would be clear of obstructions. Of course, every teenager at one point has hidden something under their bed. I on the other hand am not able to seeing as my bed just rests on the floor. I keep things behind the head of my bed because it's against a wall. When I walked into my trashed room yesterday I saw my humiliating defeat.... a 12 pack of condoms (unused of course), a beer can (I really haven't the SLIGHTEST idea how that got there to be honest), and a razor blade.

Out of everything, I just wish I could make up an excuse about the condoms. The beer can isn't too bad, nor is the razor seeing as I cut my own hair and I use a razor blade to do it. The condoms however... how do you explain something like that? Even if I told the complete truth about it, they wouldn't believe me. I try to think about how many hours Zavy and I passed in there by ourselves and seeing from my parents point of view only makes it worse. I'll never be left alone again with a member of the opposite sex.

So all the while today while trying to dodge my father's gaze, I've been playing around on the internet and writing random garbage (as displayed here). I went outside into the sweltering heat to water the garden for a bit of entertainment. Since it's hot outside, the blooming flowers must have been craving a bit of nourishment and I could certainly use the cool down myself. So I water the lilies and the marigolds, the ivy and the daisies. Just as I'm about to head back into the house, I see two plants about a foot and half tall each next to the porch and my heart began to sink.

One day in late March, or it could have been early April, Cinthia and I were in Tom's buying our groceries. When we get next to the Deli I saw that Jeff was working so we non-chalantly saunter over to the plant seeds and pretend to be looking for something so I could go into my spiel of how cute he really is. Soon enough we actually had taken interest in the packets of seeds and the pictures on them. Cinthia grabbed a packet of Zinia seeds and I had a packet of Baby Sunflower seeds.

As soon as Cinthia and I got home, we rushed inside to get two plastic tupperware containers for our new 'children'. We then went back outdoors and filled up the tupperware with potting soil on the hood of my Dad's car and stuck the seeds deep into the dirt. We went inside, watered them, then waited. In early May the threat of frost had passed and we went outside to plant our sprouts together. We no longer had to water them or take care of them and so eventually they were forgotten.

Seeing those stupid flowers planted right next to one another... so close that the leaves were touching made me realize how much I miss Cinthia, my best friend. Her plant had two, fully blooming flowers that rose up high above my plant. Mine still hadn't flowered, but there were also only two buds. As crazy as it sounds, it's almost like those two flowers were for us and only us. One for her and one for me. My eyes watered.

We thought her flowers were going to be pink....

I almost want to cut the flowers and dry them so I can keep them in my room and I'll remember her forever, but at the same time cutting them means they'll die and I know that in my heart my memories that we made together will never die.

I miss my sister.

Cheers to this good life, and a fond farewell to the old.