...You're still the good-for-nothing I don't know

Hi, and welcome back to your daily dose of teen angst!



I wish I had happier, non-boy or -friend related problems to relay here, but it's for those kind of problems I require a blog. I mean, small problems like a C on a math test would have me upset for maybe an hour or two until I got home and vented to my mom. Boy and friend problems are difficult, you see, because only selected few hear the problems, and they get annoyed from it. Sure, I tell my mom roughly about boys, and a lot to all my friends, but there are some things I just can't say in so many words without feeling bothersome.

In addition, like with the math test scenario, that situation can be remedied by studying and working harder in class. I can't study people quite right. And working harder on people is a tricky process, because people are all so different. I must analyze as I go, and often my plans are shot to heck. So this here blog is my lame attempt to sort out these problems.



And though I wish I could report some happier news here, I use writing and blogging as a release. Happiness I keep and use and get high off; depression, remorse, fear, confusion, that I need released.



Now, on to today's lengthy post.




Chelsie is seriously ignoring me this time. Sure, in mid July, we got to hang while her boyfriend was at work. I told her everything eating me about Sam, and I realized how much I missed girl time with her, since I'm always ditched for her BF (that's boyfriend, in case you don't know). I've gotten used to it, but something really urked me off when I went to the beach earlier this month: I got word via the internet

a) Sam was single

b) Jack, the closest thing I have to an Ex, was dating one girl who went to Chelsie's tiny school.



Now, apparently for a good part of the year that girl tortured Chelsie.



When I texted Chelsie my information, she informed she already knew about Jack and her "friend." Because she and her Beau were going to double date with them.



I admitted to her I felt betrayed. She didn't apologise. She just asked what else could she do but accept.



I was more than a bit miffed. For you see, in my analytical mind, this was a sign of the Chelsapocalypse; I've felt for years Chels was kind of mocking me for never having a boyfriend.



And this was the clincher: Despite the fact that FOR MONTHS she hated this girl and was tormented by her, she was ready and willing to go on a double date with her and my "ex," for the simple fact this other girl had a boyfriend.



I thought myself crazy. I admit it, that's a bit of internalizing thar.



But it's true. Even Jack agrees; I've been talking to him lately about everything: highschool, the Olympics, and even Sam, but that's a topic we'll get back to.



See, ever since seventh grade when Chels made her first boyfriend with Shane, a meek little rocker boy from our tiny middle school, she tried to convince me I needed a mate too.

So she tried in vein to be matchmaker to me and my best male friend, but I just didn't want that.

She really hasn't tried setting me up with a guy again.

After all this time that you still owe...

Hare Krishna.

I totally fell in love with the show Skins today, from Across Ye Olde Ponde. My dad recorded episodes off BBC. I only saw the first two with him today, though, and I can't get enough. I want to go look more up online, since the show's pretty much over in Grand Britain for now, but my dad said don't expect them to be. I don't wan't to look them up though. I told him "Don't underestimate the internet" and I'm sure there are episodes somewhere, but I think it's more of a Daddy-n-me activity then a show, like Lost used to be. I'm okay though.

Seriously though, you should be questioning my motives behind fangirling over British telly. This is something my LJ or Facebook can handle.

But what unnerved me the most is how Tony, the lothario and title character of the first episode, was almost a fictionalized Sam: Sam from across the pond.

They have the same hair, stong jaw, and cheeky smile. The only difference physically is in the eye area: Sam's eye brows are far less menacing, and his eyes far bigger and darker, and, at one point anyway, happier. But the air Tony gives off: his swaggered walk, his quip at the French professor, singing at an all-girl's school, dancing, grinding with a girl: every once was almost as if an observer had apmlified Sam and cast a negative, honest light on him.

My fear in his return was justified, as you can tell; the situation has not gotten better on the surface, but in truth, every moment makes it worse. I've wasted so much time on him, and yet, now I feel finally the truth: it was all a wash out. I told myself even a month ago that I wouldn't be holding on to him unless I believed something worthwhile would come from this. And nothing has or even will; all my silly dreams from next year are shattered, replaced with that horrid fear that I will have to stomach the next few dances not only going stag, but with him there with ANOTHER GIRL. That's my bigger secret fear; my dreams will soon become the reality of someone else, someone on my home territory. I can only now picture the nightmare that would be fall dance: I come, outfitted in the green dress I bought from the small trading store down the boardwalk in June with the dreams he'd one day see me in it; only I'd notice him first, linked in the arms of a blonde princess, and I'd try and muster some sincere politeness when he walked over and greeted me. Yes, I know I wouldn't like him anymore at this point, but it would crush me, and I'd flee to the bathroom, and hide there for as long as I could to avoid him. Sure, he's probably be hidden in the center of the dance circle, grinding with his girl, out of sight, but he's now have landed back in my thoughts, and, face it, there'd be no escaping him. He'd made his presance known, and I'd have to deal with the reality of it: My dream incarnate was not mine, it had become someone else's memory, and my nightmare.

He's having a party this weekend for the pretentious Catholic society he joined, and I'm willing to lay money on the table the pictures will show up on my facebook homepage, along with the notice of his next relationship Sunday morning. Thus, another nail hammered into my coffin.

My gravest curiosity is whether he does decide to dismount his high horse and talk to me or not, and if he does, will that change how I'm feeling now?

I've never felt this before.
This isn't that newness of love, this is a special despair, special sort of hate and disdain I've never felt for him before, and a special disillusionment for myself.
It burns, and there's no love beneath it like before.

I left him at the beach the first week of the month. On that balcony, gazing out at the hills and houses and lights and sounds, with the glow of the pool below me, I think I nailed his coffin.

Yet why am I not happy about it?

More tomorrow. So tired.

I Don't Care About My Guilty Pleasure for You

Sam's home.

I want him to go away again.

Edit:

Fuck you, Sam. Fuck you.

No "Hi"? No?

Blow it up your ass Sam.

Babylon

So the hospital was not nearly as bad as I expected. It did put a few things in perspective for me.
Being on bedrest for about 24-hours, however, has helped my posture. I hate feeling as slumped as I did. I also stayed, but a freak planning error, in the pediatric oncology ward: the children's cancer unit. It was so odd, but the view was so beautiful. I feel so blessed now; my faith in God feels a bit restored, it really does.

My recovery is going super. I got home yesterday afternoon after following a bickering couple on the way from the Hospital. It was like watching Jerry Springer, I swear.

My brother, however, stole my post-Hospital attention; he cut himself today at work and had to be taken by ambulance to a different hospital because he bumped his head twice after fainting at the sight of his own blood. I've so been tooling on him.
I kinda like his new girlfriend. He said while I watched him play Portal "I don't need your approval. You need my approval for your boyfriends. It's a double standard." As funny as that was, I gotta say, this kid is so bad with girlfriends. This girl is cute though. I like her.

My cousin came over and helped me recover as we reveled in all things silly. I laughed so hard yesterday and today, probably too hard for my poor kidney.
I tooled on her Senior pictures. She looks ridokulously stoned in a few of them. Smiley face.

I so want to see A Dark Knight again. Joker nurse yay.


I painted Marie and Annie journals for their birthday. Two months late, but God, those things were WORK. I'll post pictures maybe if I feel like it.


Ugh, and Sam comes home in two days. I kind of want him to come back so I can find closure for him being such a cold jerk before he left; part of me wants him back, just because I haven't spoken to him for so long, and I miss his silly antics that perked up the doldrums of summer.

However, a greater part of me, considers now that he's single and met a ton of girls at church camp a few weeks ago and it's going to be painful to see which one he picks over me; that part of me wishes he was gone for good.

I don't know how I feel anymore. Part of me wonders if he's still real. He's turning into the first guy I liked, the one I saw so infrequently I questioned his existance to the point I pondered if he was imaginary. Hell, that's been all three guys I've had crushes on. The only confirmation of the first guy's existance was his myspace. The second one I wondered was an angel, for real. But Sam feels to be fading fast; I just don't think he's human any more.
No one can be this perfect, yet this cruel.

Learning "Please forgive me" by David Gray on piano. Need to finish summer reading, dammit.

Oh well; ♥

Look how they shine for you

A lame attempt at pointing out my personal flaws:

obviously you know all your good qualities. so what say i enlighten you to some of your not so good ones.
While you are an intellectual, you're socially and emotionally immature.
Your brand of comedy only appeals to a select few.
You're smart to the point where it's annoying.
You have a shyness and possibly a fear of intimacy about you that's gonna prevent you from having a serious boyfriend or getting a guy that you're interested in for a long time. (Guys pick up on that)
You can argue with me, but i'm not by any means the only person who thinks these things. :)

It's fun to finally know how far under "the closest thing to an ex you have"'s skin you got.

Besides, I'm not annoyingly intelligent; I'm intimidating.

I'll dave the Sam drama for later.

Kidney biopsy tomorrow D: I'm kinda nervous, but Mimsy and Johanna are coming :3

But I have to get up before 6 AM. That's the worst.
And Sam's away, so I can't text him while I'm there.
I woulod have loved that.