Love: My Bruised Notion.

I don't answer because I know you'll continue to call me everyday until I do.

I suppose you do this because you fear that I'm finally done with you.

I'm not.

But I like you to think that I am.


Sadly, we can't be above these games.
Tragically, you can't leave her for good.

And the cycle goes on...

I was sifting through this journal, as I do from time to time, and I am now realizing what a fucking huge idiot I've been all these years.
And how wrong I've been. And just how much more sorry I am.

I guess I only regret that I'll never be able to explain it because I've rationalized my behavior for so long that I hardly believed I wasn't being true to myself.

It doesn't matter anymore, and probably will never matter again, but I never knew just how much I cared about something so trivial and stupid. It meant very little to me but I treated it like it was something more than it was. Everyone probably saw this before me, and I'm sure everyone saw it differently than me. It was so juvenile to think otherwise. Now everything anyone has said makes total sense.

It's worth posting now, because at least I can look back and know that I wasn't always so blind and ignorant.

I've toyed with the thought of deleting this journal and wiping off the map forever, but I like the good memories in it too much.

I was 15 when I began writing in here. This journal has seen me through a lot. But I'm an adult now, almost 21, embarking on a much bigger journey than who I'm sleeping with or stupid poems that mean nothing other than boredom and an outlet for creativity.

LJ, I still love you. But this is a trial separation. You know, just to get my bearings again. Don't worry, I'll always be the HBIC. Just give me time, you know I always come back to you <3

I'm haunted by ghosts, left to me by my mistakes and memories. Only when I can face them can I release them. But I fear that to say goodbye is to leave my whole life as I knew it behind. I'm haunted by ghosts, and I can't let them go.

The open door is in front of me, should I only open my eyes.

I won't be your reason or your crime.

Things That Happened This Week:

1. My mother tried to kill me, by trying to crash the car with me in the passenger seat. On purpose.
2. My mother punched me in the face.
3. My mother told me I don't deserve food, so she hid it all in her room.
4. My mother told my sister lies so that she wouldn't speak to me, which worked.
5. I found out I have an allergy to my favorite food.
6. I had to leave my house.
7. I found out that my ex that I still have feelings for is getting married next year.
8. My mother has single-handedly ruined my life in a matter of days.
9. She denied me 5 of my prescriptions.
10. Oh, and I'm sick and have an exam in an hour that I haven't studied for because of all this.


People try and tell me that everything will be fine, and I'd like to believe them. It's just that with every day that goes by, I forget what "fine" is.

So, my sister hasn't spoken to me since she went to MY best friend's cookout, which she told my mother I was drinking at (which I wasn't, at least not in the way she said I was) and hasn't been home since. And of course my mother won't believe me, because what Sam the Princess says is law.

My mother told me, drunkenly, that she was thinking about a divorce. I told her I'd never, ever speak to her or dad ever again if she had the balls to do it.

It's funny how she thinks everything is everyone else's fault when really if she wasn't a bitch 90% of the time and hid in her room for days on end, maybe her "marriage" would be more of a "marriage." And her children would speak to her more.

One of these days I just want to stand up and say exactly what I think of everyone in this house, because they think everyone else is the problem and never them themselves.

I forget what it's like to do things together as a family, maybe because I never really had one.


End rant.

I'm a little buzzed from some wine from earlier, but I just wanted to say that I hope change is on the horizon because things can't keep going the way they are.

Also, it sucks having done all my debauching by the age of 15 so that now whenever I do anything that should be rebellious, it so isn't because I've been there and done that 5 years ago even though everyone is doing it all now. So whenever I tell my stories, they seem so distant and awkward because their stories are recent and mine are ancient history to me.

I love my best friend, and I'm glad she was there debauching with me some of the time :)

Annnd, I need a boy to help me remember what it's like to be bad. Very bad.

Rawr.

That's all I wanted to say.

Mid-August already? Jeez. Time has been flyin' this summer. Exactly the time I wish it wouldn't.
I go back to school this semester. I'm a little intimidated as anyone would be at a new school. Especially when I'll have a hard major.
The only thing I'm actually kind of excited about with school is hopefully meeting new people, especially of the boy kind. I had hopes of moving into school, but I guess commuting won't be terrible except for the fact that I'll still be around my family. I might go all Lizzie Borden on them. Because srsly. This family needs to chill. out.

But other than that life has been...decent. I'll be 20 in like two or three weeks. That'll be...fun. It'll be interesting to see which of my parents, or if both again, will forget this year. On my sister's birthday last week my mom said, quote, "I always make a big deal out of all you kids' birthdays." Flashback to last year where she didn't even call me when I was at school to wish me a happy birthday. Uh huh. Right mom. Suuuree.

Enough complaining. I just wanted to make sure I updated this one day this month.

There is so much drama going on in my life right now, that I either push to the back of my thoughts or boil over until I can't take it.

I need some change in my life.

Right.

Now.

♥♥♥

I absolutely love when I text you and tell you I'm upset and you call me at 3 in the morning without even telling me that you were busy at someone's house, just to listen to me pour my heart out to you about what hell I just went through today. I absolutely love when you tell me you miss me.


I think I absolutely love you.

Thanks for always being there, especially when my "feelings of steel" falter and weaken.

Sometimes it really bothers me that people I used to be close with aren't talking to me or I've lost touch with them.

It also bothers me that I don't know how to tell them I miss them and want to be friends again.

But bothers me further that I'm not sure that it'll matter to them if I do.


But, I'll start here.

Hey, I miss you. Friends?

Even though we've been out of high school for a while, we still seem to be in it.
Everyone I know needs a fucking attitude adjustment.

They are so stuck in high school that apparently it's still taboo to mix social circles.
It might so totally ruin yer street cred if you invite me to hang out with you and your "other" friends, that we all clearly know each other and everything. But you have to make it all weird. Because I know I act all cool about it, like it doesn't bother me at all that you purposely leave me out, but it does. And I deserve to be.
 
And zomg, if you lyke, so totally talk about how smart and pretty [you think you are] then maybe other people might so totally believe it! When really, no d00d wants to tap that and we all laugh. But you can go ahead and pretend like you've gotten laid so0o0o much and by so0o0o many dudes. We all know you haven't. I look at you, and I know you haven't. It's mean, but it's true.
But you go and call me a slut, when clearly that's all you've ever wanted to be. You want poeple to think you are wanted. When you so clearly are not.
One phone call, and I could get laid tonight. You'd need a fuckin' phonebook.

And OHWOW, you think that because you're young you can get away with everything. Reality check. You think you have it so tough now, just wait. Juuuust wait. I've got stories you'd never wish upon your biggest enemy. And I still smile because face it, life ain't that bad. So stop your whining and get the fuck over it. Because as bad as it is, it could always get worse. So stop pitying yourself and do somethin' about it.

OHONELASTTHING It's really cool that since we haven't talked in a few days, you call and ask me about ME and talk to me about how I'M doing (for once), but when it lasts like 10 minutes and you offer me priceless gems of advice such as, "It happens, don't worry about it," it makes me wonder how much you really do care.
Oh, and I loved the emphasis you put on the words, "buddy," and "pal," and "FRIEND" you made to me all the while.
And I know you're out there meeting girls, but skimping on that sensitive topic with me, so you should know that it's O.K. Go ahead and date. You are allowed to be with other people. I'll just seethe about it on the inside. But seeing you happy makes me happy. And I can't exactly be angry over who you're happy with. (As long as it's not that bitch ex of yours.) OH but it's NOT OKAY with me when you tease my best friend for dating a guy who is 6 years older. You thought our 3 year difference was a huge leap. It's really not a big deal. They like each other. It doesn't automatically make him a sleaze.

All these "you"'s refer to different people or general people. Soo.

Sometimes I feel like I'm way too old for my age.
And way too full of rage.

It's the same old story.
You call me every single day, and if I don't pick up, you call me again. And again. Until I do.
And when I do, it's the same old let down, because it's the same old conversation. You love your new life, your new friends, your new everything. The weather's great! Well, it's Florida. It's always sunny in Florida. What's not to love! I couldn't tell ya, except that my grandparents love it there.  I got a new dog! Yeah, something new to jump to your every whim now that I'm gone.
You want nothing to remind you of where you came from, as it would disturb you from your nights at the clubs, chatting up the beautiful girls you're mostly just picturing naked in your bed with her legs wrapped around you, tight. But when she leaves, you'll pick up that phone and you'll dial my number, and you'll ask me how my day was; am I happy? do I miss you? do I need you? I'll avoid it, like I do all your questions, and never give you a straight answer. Because that's just what you want. Because that's the satisfaction you need; to hear me say, I Love You, Come Back Home, so you can say, I'm Sorry, But This Is My New Life, but you'll be smiling because I finally said it. You'll be smiling because you're not so unloved as you keep saying you are. We both know I love you, and yet I'll keep pretending I don't, even when you hint. 
I wish I knew why you called, like I wish I knew how you felt. But I won't ask, for fear of the answer, for fear of the loss I'd most likely face. Hey, it's not like I know what love is, right?

I wish you knew that I don't always answer your calls because it pains me to be constantly reminded of the one that got away.


This was useless babbling, as a result of the insomnia. Lately, all I seem to do is write about him. Sigh.

I'm so sorry.


Stop fucking with me, God. Why does this awful shit always happen to me?
Why do I constantly have to overcome some barrier?
Why do I constantly have to grieve?
Why do I constantly have to hurt?
Why do you constantly test me?
Why can't I have it as easy as others?
Why do you make this life so hard?
Why do you tear me down?


I don't hate life, life just hates me.

He leaves Massachusetts forever, or so he says, sometime tomorrow.
And I can't get that fact off of my mind.
I already miss him.

I'll be sleeping with ghosts tonight.

So, here I am getting ready to say goodbye to you forever, ready to sever that last tie, to let go of all you meant to me as an ex-lover,

Then you tell me you don't think you're moving anymore.

When I said I hope it really sucks when you wake up and I'm not there, those words must've crept into your ear. Because first thing the next morning, when you awoke to find me missing from the bedsheets, you told me you didn't want to leave just yet...

Go ahead and buy that apartment in Chicopee, go ahead and talk about me spending the night, GO AHEAD and CONVINCE me I mean a little more than a late night rendezvous and an excuse to forget your past failures,

That won't get us anywhere closer to love.

Le sigh.

I don't know what's sweeter of you, you offering me over 200 dollars to help me get on my feet again, or the fact that you would really do it if I wanted you to.
And I don't know what hurts more, you moving across the country in 20 days or me knowing that we could never have worked even if you weren't.

When we fall asleep next to each other, I really hope it sucks when you wake up and I'm no longer there.

I was reunited with a past love last night.
It wasn't so much a reunion or a romantic movie type of moment where two people who used to care about each other see each other again and the camera spins around them as the music starts playing, as it was just two friends with nothing to talk about, sitting there trying to ignore the sexual tension.
Even though we both know we've been through more shit we ever want to go through again in the 6 months we've been apart, we felt the need to keep it to ourselves.

I left, after the awkward, I'm-not-sure-how-I-feel-about-you hug, to the hour's drive of pondering why I made the trip in the first place.

Now that that's out of my system...

For everything that we have in common, everything that we agree upon, everything that we share, we couldn't be more starkly different.

Love was never something that we shared, my fractured lover, my brooding artist, my favorite paradox.
No, love certainly wasn't there.

Here I lay, just like always.

    You used to sit across from me, brooding in your art. You would sing, strumming all your heartache, all that pain and frustration of a fractured love, into those chords dedicated to your ex-fiancee, past lovers I'll never meet, old romantic scars I will never heal. All I could do was listen, anyway. Because how dare I assume you'd sing about me, a notch in the ol' bedpost, a conquest, a silly, young girl entranced by the lure of an older man.  Because I'll forget your voice, and you'll  just forget my smile. She was never your wife, but then again I was never a part of that life.
    Yet you think you can just twist me around your finger with your pretty words, your toxic turn-ons, your sex. Your lies, your lies, your lies. Now I realize, all I am is my pale skin, my curves, my touch. My eyes, my eyes, my eyes.
    So for now, just lock the door and turn up the A/C. You're driven, I'm settling. Take me around again. This time won't you please drive faster... Roll these misty windows down to catch my breath and then go and go, and drive me home then back again...
   

            Baby, I'm your passenger.

    He called me up, all calm, cool, collected. He still had his know-it-all tone, I noticed immediately.
    "So, I was thinking about jumping on a train and heading over to Boston. I figured I'd stay in a college somewhere, find someone. But I was hoping your couch was open." Awkward silence. "I enjoyed staying there last year, hoping I could do it again?"
    "Uh, yeah. Yeah! I'm sure that'll be fine," I admit I was a little taken aback by his request. Or maybe it was his forwardness. Or maybe because the last time my couch was open we almost fell in love. You know, almost.
        He was seeing some plain-Jane with a weird name, but he was always telling me how he liked my look. Maybe he just liked looking. Hell if know, because I didn't mind a minute we spent in my bed, looking.
    "When you thinking about coming down?" I remembered he was no longer seeing Plain Jane; I reveled in that fact. It was the one thing holding us back, though it hardly did. It's been months since my last endeavor, my last doomed romance.
    "Eh, I don't know. I'm still dealing with midterms and everything here. Soon," he said, always sounding like he had more to say. "I heard you're going back to school...." Conversation drones on, like it always had. At least it's not over dinners we won't remember, pointless conversations, fruitless kisses, nights birth control wouldn't let me feel. I still got the let-down. The I-find-you-beautiful-and-interesting-but-I'm-still-going-to-leave-the-state kind of let down. My heart wasn't open anyway. Not after The Dark Month. But you didn't know about that because we didn't discuss things of that nature. That'd be too awkward, right?
    Maybe you'll come, maybe you'll sleep on the couch, and maybe we'll be in love for that week. But it'll end. It'll end because it's doomed to end no matter if you're planning to continue schooling in Massachusetts in the future. Maybe you'll settle down here someday, look for love. But we won't find it. We'll always be the kind of love between the sheets, pretending we'll keep in touch, pretending we'll find each other in the future, pretending I'm more than a pretty face and you're more than just attractive (smart, charming, funny...). We're destined to desperately search for that trace of hope, only to stretch our arms out in the dark ahead of us, but achieve nothing.

    "Yeah, you can stay here as long as you'd like..."