Last of Tears

My shattered dreams and broken heart are mending on the shelf..

I remember blogging some time ago in A Long Way Gone about the relationship between myself and my mother and how I thought it was improving.

Exactly a week ago I realized that I was wrong. To make a very long story short, I was called irresponsible, unintelligent and slutty for trying to help a friend. Very unlike myself, I broke down in the car with my friends. To help make me feel a little better, we all went out to eat, then my best friend Brandon spent the night with me, thinking it would ease the blow of the confrontation with my mother in the morning.

It didn't. She exploded. Irrationally. She threatened me with a pair of scissors, in front of Brandon. She told me she could "fucking kill me if she wanted to because I'm her child", in front of Brandon. I tossed a plastic bowl into the sink, she punched me for throwing her dishes.

About a week prior to that she made me quit my job after I refused to give her a hundred dollars gas money to be transported there, three days a week.

I feel kind of foolish for thinking that it would ever be anything different.

I wish there was a way I didn't have to be here.

The relationship between me and my grandmother is unexplainable. I sometimes make her eggs and toast in the morning. I bring her butter pecan ice cream and lemon pound cake when she asks for it. I try to look at her as a different person, as a stranger. I try to swallow my resentment. I smile. But inside I feel as though I'm betraying myself.

I wish there was a way I didn't have to be here.

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But I guess this is the summer of the lasts. After this, it'll be over. After this, I'll be done.

Nothing for me to do, but have one last cry. For the very last time, stop living a lie.

I guess I'm down, I guess I'm down, I guess I'm down, I guess I'm down..

To my last cry.

Testing mobile blogging.

Crossing Over

I was just thinking about you, wondering if you wear that same cologne. Smelled good, on you..

George. Three days ago I drafted an entire blog about the subject, but it doesn't make much sense looking back on it. I think it boils down to him being perfect, and me being much less than that. I still need time to grow, explore and wonder. I feel like I'm about to say the same shit that I said in a blog months ago, so I won't. I just wish he'd sit still for three years or so.

Happy nine months to me! I think I've just about gotten to the point where I am comfortable and confident in extending my celibacy indefinitely. Honestly, my desire for sex has little to do with the actual nature of sex, and more to do with a need for someone to appreciate my body at least as much as I do. But thinking about it, I've never been the girl to act on impulse and short-sighted wants, and I don't intend to become her. Ever. Besides, if I can consider a decision that I actually thought about and decided with sound mind and body a mistake, chances are a hormonal roll in the sack will be one, too. And like Stennett said, second place still wins a medal; it's still special, it's still memorable, it's almost as important. I want it to be with someone who knows in his heart he should've been first, not with the dude walking the track, cool with coming in second, as long as he comes in.

Once again I am in this place where I'm trying to decide what I want to do with my hair. Stay natural or press/relax it. Continue to grow it out, or get a short cut. I think it's a battle between spirituality and fashion. I really want to be true to myself and continue to grow it out naturally in hopes of wearing it that way next year. But on the other hand, I really want the fashion-forward edge of the sharp asymmetrical short cut. I know what I should do, and what's right to do, but.. I'm only 18, and sometimes the right thing is hard to do.

Considering the fact that I pretty much never went to neither GeoSci 103 nor 109, and the fact that my study time was cut in half by the CTools problem, it's pretty unacceptable that I got a B and A+, respectively, in the classes in which the final exam was 100% of my grade. God, I appreciate You for having my back, but.. please.. punish me for fucking up so I'll stop!

My mom's foster mom might come live with us for the remainder of her life. Frankly, I'm uncomfortable with it. For one thing, it would mean that my parents will be completely displaced out of their room into the living room, which is unfair to them. Secondly, and honestly, I feel like it's unfair to me. Her living with us inevitably means me taking care of her, and I don't want to do that. I could deal with the occasional visits, and grocery shopping for her, things of that nature. But having to see her all the time.. It would just be hard for me, really hard for me, and I want my summer to be a good one, I don't want to fall back into that place. It's such a deep hole to climb out of, and my ladder gets just a little shorter each time I have to use it.

Noir

I wish I could believe you, then I'd be alright. But now everything you told me really don't apply to the way I feel inside..

I've been through worse, I've gotten over worse, I've forgiven worse. But somehow I feel as though I have no reference point for this. It would be easy for me to be spiteful, nasty, cruel, and revengeful, probably even satisfying.. But I don't have it in me. It's not what I want to do, it's not who I want to be. All this time I've only wanted an explanation, an understanding, but I never expected an apology. I want to be able to say, "I forgive you" and mean it, and just go on with my life, but..

I'll always remember feeling like I was no good.

I'll always remember feeling used, I'll always remember feeling discarded, and I will always remember thinking, "Maybe you deserved it. Maybe you deserved it. Maybe, you deserved it. You deserved it. Maybe." I'll always remember feeling my heart drop, I'll always remember being lied straight to my face, I'll always remember being backstabbed, and betrayed. But..

I may never understand why. I'm doing the best that I can, and I..

I hope you've changed, for your own sake. I hope I can forgive you, for mine.

One day.

But now, I'm damn too full of resentment.

Resentment by Beyonce

Ever After

I dream of lovers past and I see a girl so sad 'cause she lost the only man she loved; he went away. Well it's not too late for us to change..

When I meet him, I'll forget everyone else.

The man who sweeps away tears and producers smiles with a brush of his fingertips. The man who listens to my eyes, and not my words. He'll lock his fingers at the small of my back when we kiss.

In public he holds my hand. In private he holds my heart.

He listens, he feels, he understands. In his wake I want for nothing.

So I give him everything and forget everyone else.

I'll only whisper my secrets to him. I'll only laugh on his lap. I'll only find comfort in his eyes. I'll only long for his voice, for his smell, for his touch, for his taste..

Selfishness is love's burial ground. Lies and deceit are the gravediggers.

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You already knew the pain, the hurt. So you recreated it.

Times New Roman

I've been dying to tell you anything you want to hear, 'cause that's just who I am this week.

When you tell people the truth about themselves or their situations, for their own good, you're too overwhelming. So from now on, I will fill your head with the lies you manufacture, I'll passively condone your self-destructive behavior, and I'll disinterestedly wipe your tears away when he turns about to be the guy I already knew he was before I never laid eyes on him. I will be the most underwhelming person you've ever met. If that's what you want.

In other news, just when you thought you knew somebody.. Shame on you.

If I had to write a list of the people I'd genuinely hate to lose, it'd be so short that I wouldn't have the time. People are just becoming far too selfish for me to even care about them anymore, and it kind of hurts me. Then again, you shouldn't need other people to care when all of your love and care is spent on yourself, should you?

After demi-opening up to a couple of people regarding my recent situations and circumstances, I've been wondering if someone would ask me how things were now. Nothing.

Nothing. Fuck you. (:

For coaxing me to share, only to satisfy your own nosiness, your own need to have someone else put their pain behind the screen, between the lines.

"Experience is priceless. It's just too bad you have to pay for it with your youth."

I'm tired of friends saying they love each other when they don't. I'm tired of friends telling me they love me when they don't. I'm tired of saying I love you when I..

Know the truth.

Almost every time I see or talk to LZ, MV, BK and SJ, "I love you" [or I lubb you, I luhh you, I LOVEEE YOUUUU] is uttered in the conversation. I believe them.

And I only believe a few others.

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I want to see you.

Out the room, on the wall, every step on the staircase.. Baby let me make your day.

Compartmentalization

Love is life, and life is living.

All people lie, and all people tell half-truths, and all people sugarcoat. While most people think there is something inherently bad about lying, there isn't necessarily something inherently bad about the last two. Sometimes it's justified, sometimes it's necessary, sometimes, in fact, it's right. It doesn't make you any more honest, and thus any more right, to be dreadfully negative and rude when the situation clearly calls for half-truths and sugarcoating.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Every ounce of care in me that once lived for you, that suffered through the blows and shots that you took at the heart it lived in, every ounce, has finally died. And has been dead for a while now. I used to say hate is only a degree of love, but now I think sometimes hate is just the scar left behind when care is battered and bruised. As good as love is, hate feels better.

Can I come over?

As I was laying in my bed next to a sleeping man, staring at the 'March 25' on the calendar, I finally realized why I am incapable, despite my somewhat masculine mentality, of allowing a man to relieve my body of the tension that is rippling down my back and hardening in my thighs. Though I sometimes act like, think like, and quite often sympathize with the ideologies of a man, anatomically I am nothing like a man. To me, it's like houses. Most people don't invite just anyone into their home, because it's where you live, it's where all of your valuable possessions are stored, it's a huge part of your life. You need to get so know someone, know that they are trustworthy and honest, before they get invited into your house. Dissimilarly, though, if someone invites you into their home, there isn't as much discretion used. Normally, you go; it isn't as big of a deal. Unfortunately for me, I'm a homeowner. And this is why I haven't had a dinner guest in what could quite possibly soon turn into 8 months.

Say that you want me..