jealousy.

It's a funny story, except it's not. I don't feel like explaining, talking about it, or telling you.

There are two songs that would fit my mood. Mr. Brightside and When Did Your Heart Go Missing.

Ahaha.

There's a huge part of me that wants to get angry. But an even bigger part of me that wont, because I'm afraid of the battle that'll ensue.

I'm not willing to risk it for my emotions.

However, I'm also not going to say I don't think my emotions are relevant.

Once upon a time there was a girl who wanted to put her fist through a mirror. She told everyone it was because she wanted to see what was on the other side.

Harsh.

I am completely real, most of the time. This picture? Real. I had just woken up and was expected to clean the bedroom. So I had fun with it ( and Lauren ). Makeupless and in my true form. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. I laughed for hours. I laughed.

When was the last time I laughed like that? I mean, something completely un... un something. Un covered? No. Un ashamed? Maybe. Something just... real. The word of the day is Real kiddos. Read it and weap.

I found a band I like. Meg and Dia. I suggest their song Halloween.

My sister, Jenn, and I all have a story going. It started out as Kingdom Hearts fan fiction and developed into a (we counted) 456 page story that we made up completely ourselves, using other people's names. We all have our main characters, mine is Rexxia. Jenn's is Jynx, and Lauren's is Sirix. And those characters have their "somebodies". Rexxia's is Raie, Jynx's is Jyn, and Sirix's is Iris. Basically, just chop out the x's and mix up the letters some. It's not rocket science. I don't know why I'm sharing this. I guess because when I'm saying it outloud it just sounds stupid.

Ask me to read you part of our story once, you might be surprised.

Oh. Look. It's Easter.

I am on fire. I am hot, angry, infuriated. I am red. I am furious. My anger is directed everywhere, for the time being. Now that it's Sunday morning and I'm away from the situation, no one is watching, I'm going to be as upset about this as I damn well please. I no longer have to be strong, tough, or bigger then I am. I am angry.

I more then gave my trust to a stranger. Someone I've never met, spoken to, or even given much thought to. And in under ten minutes she got further with Amanda then I have in seven months. And seeing that sentance typed out almost made me lose control again. I hate that word. Almost. It seems like such a cop-out or something. If you're going to do something, DO IT. And do it the right way. Finish the job. I don't mean that. Disreguard that statement, please. Don't ever finish that job.

Here's a bit of a disclaimer for the next part of my blog, it's got emotion. I'm not planning on mincing words. And this isn't supposed to be a cut, a stab, anything. I just need a place to write this down. It's infinately better then saying it out loud. I realize that it makes me just as bad, but I need to say it. Okay? This isn't directed at hurting you.

I gave up a lot in order to be in the place that I am. Pot was one of the biggest. I can do without pot. I gave up a few friends, and it's not because I was asked to, it's because they make me uncomfortable. I gave up sex. I gave up kissing. I gave up holding hands. And none of those things, not a single one of them, do I miss as feircely as I believe I would miss her if something were to happen.

But there are certain things a person can't take back. And there are certain things that I can't forgive. That happens to be one of them. Probably the biggest.

I thank whatever higher power is out there that it didn't escalate to cheating, and I hope to that same power that it never does. Because I could never look at a person the same after that. They lose their origonal glow. It's almost like saying I'm inadequate. "I couldn't find what I wanted in you, so I had to look elsewhere." That's never anyone's concious thought (Well, sometimes it is, but not in this case), but it's there somewhere. What else is cheating for?

There's a part of me that wants to scream at something or someone. Just scream until my throat is raw and my lips are chapped and bleeding. I want to hurt and know why I'm hurting and be able to fix it by myself. And that's how my old vices always started too. It was always a mix between that normal cry for attention and the need to be able to see where you're hurting from.

I need to find something a little more productive to do to take out my anger. I'm thinking a session at the gym will really do me good, because I'm pissed off on a whole new level. I wonder what it is inside of me that wont let this go. Because I'm just as angry now as I was last night. This is going to bother me at work, and someone is going to want to know why, and I'm going to have to tell them why. I wonder what Lauren will say. Ultimatly it doesn't matter though.

Until I get a chance to talk to that... (I had a whole slew of curses and terrible names all out and ready to hit the publish button, but, for the sake of being civil, I erased)... that person myself, I'm going to be pissed off.

And for now, my anger has diffused.

I wonder if either of these two people in this picture remember this day. I honestly remember this day as the day the breaking point of my highschool life. Cindy and I started to hang out more. Jenn and I started to hang out less. I honestly think this was the last time Jared and I ever hung out willingly. That bracelet on my wrist? Jenn's mom gave it to me for Christmas.

This picture single handedly sums up the worst few months of my life. Finding someone to truthfully understand my quirks, habits, and the things I thought to be fun. I was a writer, a reader. I liked food, I liked sunshine, I liked the rain, and I liked to work.

Over the months though, hanging out with Cindy changed me. I turned into this... weight obsessed, fashion craving person I didn't even know. Suddenly, I knew who was who and what went where. The only problem was I couldn't FIT into this lifestyle. And by fit, I mean, I'm a size 14 jean. How many charlotte rousse's do you know carry that size? Yeah. Exactly. My looks became the sole purpose of my life. I worked out obsessivly, I stopped eating the food I loved. I stopped sleeping as much and I started to hate work more then usual.

I'm not going to lie, I like a part of the person I am now. I like that I know what looks good with what. I like that I have my own personal style (however 'old lady' some people might think it is). But I don't like who I am.

That's another story, though. For another time.

I may be some sort of crazy.

There was this girl who always used to come in to work to see me every day. She stopped visiting and I found out it was because she died two weeks ago. It's sort of upsetting in a way that makes you think.

I'm not a doctor, but I think I'm depressed. It's pulling at me in a way I can't describe. Like the nagging way my brain yells at me to veer my car off to the right while I'm on a bridge. I mean, I wouldn't do it, don't get me wrong here. This isn't a cry for attention or anything. But it's the simple fact that my brain is telling me that it's okay to do it, it wont hurt for long, and no one would notice right away anyway. That's not me being suicidal, okay? So don't think that. But it's there. The nagging.

I'm sick and tired of people getting angry at me for stupid things. If you're going to waste our time being angry then just stop talking to me until you're over it. It accomplishes nothing and only serves to piss me off. The next time it happens, expect me to be the first to walk away.

On a lighter note, I've realized I can't function unless Lauren is around.

I miss kissing.

I will never be proposed to.
I will never have someone look at me, and say "Sweetheart, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
I will never be able to have exactly what I want.
I will never be able to speak my mind completely.
I will never look at anyone the same after you.
I will never be loved the way some people are.

Why is that?

This is how I feel today.

I forgot about blogger for a really long time, and now I'm back for a bit.

How long? Who knows.

That story is coming along. Slowly. But, still coming along. Maybe I'll post my W.I.Ps somewhere and leave a link here.

Who knows.

No one will read it anyway. I guess it's just to stroke my ego.