captaincrunchhh

The conclusion

Wed, 02 Apr 2008 13:59:30 GMT

My halifax blogs (pt 1-5) Thank you so much for reading it and giving me your input on them. Shortly after posting that blog I got the news that my mother had past away. 7 minutes to be exact. It's taken me a while to post an update on that partially because I'm still not ready to accept the fact that my best friend is gone. To everyone who knew her she was like their mother as well, she was a best friend and someone you knew you could count on when you needed her the most. I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who was there for me when I needed them the most. I established some new and strong relationships from this. Someone better than others. I also lost some in the process. But alls well that ends well.

Generally this is a very sad thing, although it is sad it's a moment to rejoyce as well. My mother had been in pain for 19 years. And had already beaten cancer once in 2003-2004. Late 2006 she started having symptoms of what we thought was vertigo. It turns out the cancer had been rapidly spreading without notice nor warning. She took ill very quickly. Shortly after discovering what was wrong, (it took about a month to figure out it was cancer) She became paralyze and then we found out it was terminal. She suffered 11 months through it but now she's no longer suffering and that's the best thing about it. My momma finally got her peace.

So thank you everyone who's been there and will continue to be here for me. A select few of you are my rocks and I'd be lost with out you. So thank you all so much. For all the positive reinforcement I get from people I know and others I don't I'd like to thank you guys as well. Even if you think you're not helping or you're being nosey or a pain in my ass it means a lot to me for you to even try. So thank you guys I couldn't do this with out you.

MY SUPPORT;;;
Amanda Mercer.
Shnay Mclellan.
Stacey Hillman.
Miranda Hinson.
Emily Rosemont.
Drew Woodward.
Dustin Deniston.
Kaitlyn Souza.
Cassie Thrift.

THANK YOU GUYS I LOVE YOU<3

What to do with Halifax pt5

Wed, 02 Apr 2008 13:56:42 GMT

Red. What do you think when you see that color. Red, stop, halt, cease, blood, love, hate. Everything and it's opposites. Each red light I pray we run and I just die in a horrible car crash. Just me and no one else. "TEENAGE GIRL DIES IN TRAGIC CAR CRASH" is what the headlines of the local papers will read in black and grey, but those words paint a color rainbow of pain. Every single fucking day I hope it to become true and each day I'll imagine it a different way, more gruesome, more pain. I feel pain and suffering is only good when it can be solved and put to an end all at once. I don't know what makes me think being torn into a million pieces as my body smacks with pavement and gets dragged along like vegetables on a box grater. Disgusting, thinking of this doesn't even bother me, nor affect my life. Sharing these thoughts makes me crazy, having them makes me suicidal, confiding them to someone makes me pathetic. So honestly it's the point where I want to sever all ties.

Scene: walking home I see the red car in the driveway, our family sedan, a chevy and I just know something isn't right but I don't even think twice of why dad's home early. I go in and instead of my normal routine of walking into my room, throwing my school stuff down, and propping myself on my bed to check mail, IM's , emails and nap, I walked into dad's room automatically (funny how I no longer refer to it as mom and dad's room or my parent's room but dad's room huh funny), I asked him why he's home and I got the normal stiff response of "I had to make some phone calls that I couldn't make at work." I didn't think anything of it until later.

Ever get news so terrifying that the food in your mouth, not even chewed has the ability to be regurgitated up as if it had already been digested one time around? Well, that's what happens when you get wind of the "phone call" the one I never thought was time to get. As I'm eating quite possibly the nastiest thing ever, rushing to go out with my boyfriend to research colleges so maybe I'll make my goal of having a decent future my dad drops the bomb. This bomb has no letter in front of it because it's more like the A-Z bomb it's such a shell shocker.

"Those phone calls I had to make today Trace…."
"Yeah dad?" shoveling food into my mouth.
"They, uhm they told me to start calling funeral parlors, start making arrangements."

And that's when that whole regurgitating the food barely in my mouth thing occurs. I couldn't take one more bite of whatever it was before I got up and threw my plate in the sink like a flying saucer and ran into my room. Where dad followed me about 5 minutes after and we had a "tiff" if you could even call it that. Because it was so much more. This man at his wit's end, telling me why he tells me things how he tells me them explaining how he lost his own mother and how hell never forgive his father for doing such things, tries to explain his own reasons for doing this and I'm just not having it. In my mind I'm putting my foot down because there's a time and a place for everything. This was not the time nor place, my ride practically waiting for me in the driveway we fight as he breaks down into tears and I'm bawling my eyes to the point where I feel as intoxicated as I look, and at this point wishing I were, yell at him.

"It's not fair that you choose to tell me now! I'm leaving the house, you know I'm leaving. This makes me not want to show my face in public for days because of how much like shit I feel! Can't you understand that? People don't need to witness how shitty our lives our! There is a time and a place for everything, DAD and dinner isn't one of them. I'd like for once to stomach my meal without you somehow disrupting it with another moment of bad news, let alone the fact that I have to leave. Why can't you, why , why, why can't you just tell me sooner? Or maybe even later, is it that hard for you to swallow up the courage!?"

And in that moment, insulting my fathers pride and dignity as a man making him feel small and both of us teary eyed I flipped the screen to my laptop shut and ran out of the house. I screamed as I left, See ya Dad not like it matters. And got in the car.

When I got home it was like nothing happened and we just acted like it didn't happen . Ignorance and denial is the easiest way to deal with things so it was silent. I left it to the thunder and lightning to do the screaming and the yelling it's better if they have the arguments tonight because my throat was raw. From just being upset , crying, fighting, and just plain old fed up of talking; so maybe it was a pseudo-sore throat.
The next morning I woke up still upset laying in my own salted pillow. I took forever and a day to get dressed to wake up and roll out of bed. I walked to the bus stop in the rain completely uncovered, maybe hoping I'd get another cold so I could stay home and wallow in self-pity and maybe even sleep. The bus rides to school are so relaxing, it's very…melancholy. I lay my head on the window and match the vibrations of the bus made by it's big diesel powered engines. I start to doze off but when I wake up only to find that it's two stops later I start to think. Thinking is never good in my case because when I think I think myself retarded and somehow manage to always get upset. I wonder if anyone else can notice the fact that my eyes are red pools now.

The day is rainy and it's calming enough but I can't seem to calm down. I cry in every class with my head face down in my books or desk and hiding from any source of humanity. I spend most of my day just talking with my guidance counselor, I really like her. She's so understanding and it's a nice change of pace from someone who doesn't have to see or deal with me everyday, that I can choose to let in. She knows just how to listen to put my mind at ease and make it so I can sort of function like a normal person the rest of the day.

Each day progressively gets worse; in that case can you even call it progression. I'm denied once again of seeing my mother so I've taken it upon myself to have someone take me to see her and I intend on taking care of all I need to. But, she'll pass before I get a chance to plead my case.

[Read the letter I wrote to momma here]
http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b38/Dirty_Barbie/letter.jpg

What to do with Halifax pt4

Wed, 02 Apr 2008 13:55:01 GMT

Life and death; the parameters of life is defined by death. In reality, I wish death wasn't the end of life and that there was more to life than death or waiting to die. I mean can you really call it living when from your first breath on you're dying and most people fear death but I am not most people, I accept death with open arms like a long lost friend.

In my short-comings I've realized a few things watching her come and go. Like, what's pain without suffering? In her last exit only moments ago it seems, she was unconscious and it clicked, "this is what giving up looks like." With eyes like death and a peaceful sleepy snore I can't help but think that's the last way I'll see her and I'm starting to wonder if I should prepare my goodbyes because they gave her less than 12 months and were nearing ten.

You feel it in your chest and your heart speeds up to the rate of your tears falling. It's like a mathematical equation in and of itself. It was the last smile; big, ridiculous, and goofy. I know she doesn't recognize me but, her smile speaks if wanting to know but at the same time her sunken in eyes glaze over saying I want to know this stranger. AS her smile starts to fade back into her face so does her ability to stay awake. It drives me crazy that I had to share this moment with him. He shouldn't be here my dad should because now everyday is like a mystery and full of salty puddles forming lakes in his eyes. And each tear forms a new leathered mark on his stressed tanned face.

She just lays there in what I hope to be a dream. I brush her hair back, combing it with my fingers. It looks so much shorter because it's trapped behind her heavy head. 47, the short hair suits her better now that it did any other time it was cut short in her life. I can see where she gets her face from, a perfect blend between papa and grandma; so many faces to miss.

My nights are spent in panic or anxiety attacks wondering if I'll black out this time. It varies from night to night depending on how worked up I get myself. I recently added a repeated phrase to go along with my gasps for air, "I'm not ready." p until this point I had fooled myself into thinking I was okay and that I was ready but I know I'm wrong and I know I'm a liar; so prepare the masses.

"We fall in love with hopes of never parting only to be let down,." To quote my long time friend and to prove her point in so many ways other than she'd originally intentioned for her English IV honors senior exit project. Isn't it true that the "ultimate" journey in life is to find happiness/love? And in finding one you usually find the other but love and the "pursuit of happyness" doesn't mean love as boyfriend/girlfriend, significant other or financial success . All of which lead to obsession and the inevitable unsatisfactory results as per common with the average high school or college student. I bet you could directly link this to depression and obesity.

The point of writing all of that: none. It just was a sit and think moment that I had in a midst of my Italian III class while they argue over vespas and bikes on how they change gears. I'll admit it caught my attention completely distracting me . Backtracking to the quote that sparked my rant of andom information, each day I fall in love with the fact that she can take another breath but I'm fully aware that she is parting but see, that's the thing about love, theat even when the person's gone or moved on love never dies. It's somehow the only thing to give me hope when I wake up in the morning yet, I'll still continue to spend my night in whales.

:Lost in my own world in my own mind, just completely gone. I want to lok at the clock but I can't bring myself to life my head up to stare at the minutes go by and the second hand tick. Instead I just stare and my knees and shoes propped up on the desk next to me cause it's what's in my line of vision when my head is relaxed so I could finally rake the pressure off from it. It felt so nice to have that moment to be zoned out. It was like when I was relaxed, completely off in the distance, nothing was wrong like the weight had been lifted. All up until the teacher shouted for my attention. Then it came flooding back hitting me like a ton of bricks. Needless to say it sucked; but it's a bittersweet life.

What to do with Halifax pt3

Wed, 02 Apr 2008 13:54:22 GMT

You know it's cold, you should feel cold, but you're sweating. You're sweating and shaking and a million and one thoughts are going through your head. You know it's cold and for once it's empty and quiet. The only things talking are the plastic seats, telling stories of horrors and tragedies of the loved ones awaiting news in the past.

The weird slinky man was sitting behind the desk just waiting for blood to be shed and for hell to rush through those automatic doors and as we're crossing our T's and dotting our I's his over eager and slighty flamboyany trainee steps in wearing this burgundy vest and starts asking questions like, "is it a slow day?" as if that's not apparent.

He prints out the sheet of off-white paper with information all too personal about me and I wonder how a few numbers can identify me and give the story of a life time. It all comes down to numbers, what we're reduced to. In the end we're just numbers and nothing more, a sometimes sad concept when you contemplate on it. In any event, they strap my wrist with a band telling me my information. Name age Date of birth and other random information that's apparently important. The man with a smile on his face like that old nerdy teacher eager to talk about quadratic equations and other numerical debates tells me to have a seat and listen for when they call me name as he stands and points to the seating. As I drag my feet towards the area he left me with this smirk that'd be on my mind for the next 20 minutes, then adjusts his glasses and sits down.

Before we have a chance to even fully sit down I'm called back to a small room where the triage nurse takes my vitals. The machine just beeps telling you the person on the other end of this equipment isn't alive. It's just beeping this insanely quiet but annoying buzzing beep, that you can't help but be fascinated by. She looks at me as the bigger nurse comes in and starts typing for her, It's sad I can't remember what either nurse looked, sounded or smelt like but I knew they were nurses, and she fixes my blood pressure cuff andwhatever that thing is that they clip to your finger. Then the nurse attaches another wristband, a day-glow orange one like the kind they strap on your wrists at the club.

After clacking away at the keyboard trying to gather all my symptoms, the nurse leades me by the hand to a curtained room in the somber but yet somehw upbeat ER. "Exam Room 4," sh hands me a gown.
"undress."
I immeadiately looked at her and she said in a calming happy voice;
"undress you may need x-rays."

Before she could even finish explaining I'm kicking my father out of the curtain and I hurried to get changed. I lay there on the bed freezing just in a flimsy gown, my underwear and socks, that dad later yells at me for because they looked dirty, as an army of people come in to see me. First some lady from registration who didn't look older than 19, a few nurses, the doctor and finally another nurse to discharge me.

But all the while I was trapped inside my own mind. I thought silly thoughts, impractical ones. While I was wearing the gown I kept cmparing them to the ones at home, the ones my mother wore. I told my dad "SEE! Nw I match momma." Hw looked at me with a little smile almost a full one but not quite, and I tell him: "At least it's not as long becase those are a bitch to fold." Finally! Finally, he laughs, although short in length, it was a laugh and it was something that man desperately needed, to laugh. It really is true what they say, that laughter is the best medicine. But you don't knw that until you have to use it yourself.

While my dad was fed up and walking the halls trying to track down a nurse to get my prescriptions and discharge forms, I noticed in the curtain diagonal from mine an old couple possibly in their 60's or 70's. The woman lay in the bed and I had no idea as per her ailment was. But I couldn't help but stare at them, the whole time, for some reason that woman gave me a smile and looking at her put me at ease of mind. Her husband didn't leave her side for a moment, holding her hand and offering his every care. As my dad came back the woman caught me glaring at her while she was eating, I knew it was rude but I just wanted to witness every moment of that aside from the fact that it seemed so rare, and while her husband looked away to grab her something from her purse she looked up from her cup of coffee and smiled. And that's all I really needed. Well, except for some food in my stomach, I demanded some Denny's for breakfast, and I got it only because I was sick. Sometimes being sick pays off. But since then, that woman has been on my mind on and off and I'll never forget her face, I studied it enough.

What to do with Halifax pt 2

Mon, 03 Sep 2007 04:17:52 GMT

It's ironic how the simplest little thing can erase the mind of yesterday's horror and make the new day completely optimistic. It's those little ironies that surprise me and make me wonder and question the parameters of day to day life. Like today for instance; Dad walks in and comes into my room and says the one thing I never ever thought I'd hear him say.

"You're gonna have a new little brother or sister!" and immediately I drop my things stutter back a bit and reply with a "WHAT the hell!?" He then goes on to explain how momma had woken up today and given him a call and in the call she decided to say she was pregnant. I'm betting it was the milkman oh yeah.

Now, although, momma being completely out of it shouldn't be funny it is in a few ways. I mean the fact that she was awake enough to declare pregnancy and make a call along with telling just about every nurse in the danged ol' place that she was "with child" is a major improvement. I ponder to myself for a bit while life seems to come to a stand still as it often does, then I realize I'm slowly drifting off as my body smack lands with the bed and my head collides with the most comfortable things my cheeks had ever touched; my pillows.

One of three things wake me up: the smell of my soaking wet clothes drying and those reaked with rain drops from the 3 O'clock showers from this afternoon, my dogs going captain insaneo on me, and finally my "therapist" ringing the doorbell. Once it registered in my head that it was my therapist I made a mad dash for some clean clothes, I'd never ran so fast in my life I wish I had that speed when it came down to playing soccer. David Beckham would have nothing on me.

My brother greets him and today talks to him first, what a relief as I zip up my favorite black hoodie stained with the invisble tears of yesterdays walk of shame. But then it's my turn, spot lights on me and I know a very serious conversation is about to take place. It's all on me, it's time for me to try and handle it, but this time I just can't open up I can't seem to tell him what's really on my mind nor can I make up my own. It's crunch time down to decision that need to be made and I can't make up my mind or compromise or anything of the sorts. Maybe I'm being completely unreasonable to myself who knows because I surely don't.

Throughout his visit here, I would occasionally sit back, sigh and attempt to lighten the situation in which time in point he'd make reference to my mother and how much of her is in me. It wasn't until this point I really realized how much of her is in me and how I'm only alike my father in DNA and looks.

"I really am my mother's daughter," I spoke aloud with a giggle at the end because I was just now noticing it and I felt ridiculous in doing so. "I really am."

The therapist looks at me and agrees and goes on to explain and I am following along don't get me wrong but at the same time I"m nodding off. On and off in the conversation I'd attempt to change the subject and we'd derrive from the point occationally and we'd move on to silly but yet drastically important things like my senior year stuff. You know, the cap, gown, tassle, pictures, fun stuff etc. But everything would lead right back to my mother and really I'm not ready to deal with it.

Battle after battle turn after turn leads to a new issue these days and as soon as that conversation was over and I swallowed my tears trying to fight their ways out (not just any kind of fight they were going for a T.K.O. and they almost got me). It got down to family business and that's a whole other issue I'm not willing to tackle.

But not only has my father said it my therapist has said it too.

"We have to go on. We still have to survive. We move on and live our lives."
I'm starting to believe it but at the same time I'm starting to believe it's a lot easier said than done and when thinking about it for long periods of time it seems impossible. Then again, that's what I'm known best for, going against the impssible and winning. Now I'm curious, are the odds piled up against me too high, or are they just right for a challenge?

What to do with Halifax

Fri, 31 Aug 2007 23:06:29 GMT

Everytime I walk down those halls, I leave a new person. Each time I leave with a new mask to add to my rainbow collection. It's not the leaving that's the hardest, it's seeing a woman lying there in a bed with momma's face, completely limp. I'm convinced that she's an imposter but it's wishful thinking. I only hope that someone else has stolen her face.

With a new mask in hand, this one's a soft yellow, I strap it to my face and lean over to the whisp of a woman drapped in blankets. A tear drops from my cheek to hers and it's a moment where no words are needed and all is understood. I grasp her as best as I can delicately holding her because just the gentle touch can hurt her. Rubbing her cheek I look to my father and give him the look to let him know it's okay for him to walk back over to her to try and get her to talk because she's too weak to move her lips let alone her jaw past an open gaze matching her stare.

All I had to say to her was "Hi mom, I love you" and I got what looked like a small smile,I wanted it to be, but it probably was just a small spasm...

By now my brother is just sitting in the chair grasping the things he brought with him as he starts to tear up. Now all eyes are on my dad as he sweetly talks to momma trying to convince her to wake up as if words were medicine. I've never seen that mancry before and each tear moved a mountain. It wasn't until then I realized how much he'd loved my momma.

The walk out of her room and into the hall was like doomsday in and of itself. The hallway comes to a standstill as the plethora of nurses and aides and the one doctor turn their head at a swivel at the slightest hint of our air particles moving. One last time we spoke to the doctor, then we parted. Leaving with everything moving in slow motin as we snorted and sniffled the snot back up our noses and as we hid our crying faces. Happier families look at us with sympathy as they know their loved ones are headed there too, but they don't acknowledge this feeling with a facial expression, they just keep laughing and carrying on with their conversation as I flip my hood up to further bury my face.

Once the car started the road seemed so long and so empty although packed with rush-hour traffic. No one says a word for almost 30 minutes as the only sound heard is the faint music playing from my brothers headphones, the engine running as it switches between gears and roars down the highway and of course the sound of noses running.

As we switch highways the realization of it all hits us, and the silliest things come into mind. Dad blurts out to my brother:
"Delete the shows set to automatically record on the TV in mom's room, I don't think she'll be watching it anymore.."

Then we talk about it for a few and then dad once more blurts out:
"Such a stupid thing to say but it just popped into my mind..." as you hear the tears building up in his throat making his vice quiver and shake with fear and love.

We kept on driving and ended up at Blockbuster where dad pulls into a spot and attempts to change the mood but neither him nor I could do it. So he just returns the movies and drives home.

More conversation is kept, mostly small talk of the family event this weekend, my grades and senior bullshit. Then we get home gather our food and rush off in different directions.

"We have to go on. We still have to survive. We move on and live our lives."
Dad was right.

The answer lies within one of the remaining 49 states

Mon, 23 Jul 2007 07:01:06 GMT

Everyday for the past few weeks I'd loggin in here, I'd want to write, I'd need to write but I'd never write. But now I'm writing. Honestly, I've run out of ways to tell myself truths. You see, I'm wondering when is there the point where you can say, I give up? When does life's stressors finally over-fill your glass and make you realize you need a bowl a deep bowl instead of a sippy cup? These past few days have put my mind into over drive.
Day in and day out I think about my mother. I wonder why her? Seriously how much can one person go through before they give up, before one thing completely engulfs them and makes them surrender their grip while they're hanging from a ledge. I mean, yeah I know life sucks and it's supposed to be hard but this is completely unjust. I know I've bitched and moaned nonstop for the past 6 months but don't you think I'm entitled? That woman has gone through way too much in her lifetime and it's been nothing of pain. And now she's reduced to a bed ridden life living off of other people just to survive the days, all to be reduced to nothing. And yet if you ask her about her life she'll tell you she enjoyed every fucking moment of it.
How is it that someone who has lost everything and felt more pain than someone should ever feel let alone beginning to feel it so young be so open to life, death, love and hate when I who am only 17 not nearly as wise nor can I even compare to the life of my mother live in nothing but fear but take all the chances? I know lately, my choices would greatly disappoint my mother. But I'm doing it because of her. I love my mother more than anything and I don't even know how to tell her. And while countless nights I'll sit here and cry I don't know how to tell her. She means the world to me, she is my hero, my idol, my best friend, my everything. Yet, I still can't tell her.
My mother has been nothing short of a role model. So it's why I want to be selfish, I want to cry every night hide how I feel and pray so hard that somehow she'll wake up one morning, walk out of bed and come kiss me on the forehead like she used to. But I know that is nothing short of a miracle because those legs haven't walked in six months and they'll never walk again. It pains me to see my mother lose the last of her dignity. What's left of a person if not that? What is she once that's gone?
It's not only my mother that's on my mind because she is a constant but I've recently had some encounters with my family. Not just my mom's side or my dad's side but both and my family of friends. And I feel trapped. I haven't seen my mother's side of the family in five years and it felt good to know I was in control of that. To know that I was right and they were wrong. They destroyed our lives. They made it hell and even after we were gone they tortured us. Then came my uncle the only one to try to get back in our lives. I know it was because of guilt and I fought screamed ranted and raved at my mother telling her how wrong she was about letting him back in our lives and welcoming him into our home. I know she has to forgive to move on and to have a clear mind and a clean slate. She wasn't forgiving but moving on, I know that now.
I had intended full well to drive him out of the house be the nastiest creature I could be. Nothing but mean crude and rude. Make him hate me and be the person he described of only in emails dare he actually utter those words.But seeing him here, I got out one snooty hello but somehow I felt myself making small talk and walking right into what seemed to be a trap.I guess I was wrong it's too soon to know. We ended up having a conversation which led to a few more. He gave his accreditation of what happened all those years ago and acknowledged the fact that I am no longer the child he dealt with then but a young woman who is quite capable of handling herself her own ideas and agendas. I don't think he knew how to process all that I've become or how wrong he was. but the fact is I told myself the whole time he was talking don't let him see me cry because that's all I wanted to do: cry. I wanted to flood rivers because hell was starring me in the face and the devil wasn't too far away either.
After his visit it took me three days to realize it was the past and that I can't hold on forever. No, I wasn't forgiving a part of me is always going to hate him and the others for what they did to us but I was moving on. Accepting the fact that people make mistakes even if they're conscience or not they happen. And he's family. Once my mother goes do I really have much family? You only get once of those. And that started a revelation. I started talking to a few more family members. But since then none of them have really talked to me. I feel my efforts are wasted in a sense. Yet I'm still hopeful that they'll talk and that they'll want to talk to me. Funny. now the shoe is on the other foot hmph strange how that works.
Then came my dads side of the family and all they did was fight and blame others. No need to get into that. But somehow I got blamed for some random weird shit whatever don't really care ahaha. But My friends God my friends, I don't know what I'd do without. Although, I can't really take losing more friends.
I've watched my friend do some insane things. I didn't stop her cause I was doing it to, though she's taken it to a whole new level. It took me and another friend to scare her out of what she's doing. I love her to death but I can't let her ruin her life I can't let her go insane and self medicate. Nor can I let my other friend uproot his life in his senior year. I've know him way too long to let him do that.
I want to say a real goodbye. For once I've started a school and I'll finish it. I made so many good friends living here. many of them I made when I was 12, he was one of them. But now he wants to leave? I knew this was coming I've felt it coming since last week when the girl friend from before fucked him over. Don't get me wrong, they both screwed up her way more than him but regardless. I made friends with the both of them young and they've been there for a while though him and I may not be the best of friends or as good of friends as we used to be. we're still friends and I would still miss him to death if he moved. Not to mention completely out of state. Once we graduate I'll never see most of these people again. We'll say we'll keep in touch and we'll do it for a bit but then we all know we'll lose touch everyone does it fall into the fad why not.
But I want to graduate with most of friends in tact and for once not feel like the new girl or the outsider but for once to just be some kid in some city that no one's heard of. I want to be some kid with some amazing friends to say goodbye to. I want someone to say goodbye to and have a reason to want to come to my ten year reunion.
What I'm trying to say is, my biggest fear is saying goodbye.

Cassleberry :D

Sun, 08 Jul 2007 23:12:49 GMT

So I had the best weekend of my summer so far this weekend. It was one of my best and oldest friends from Deltona's 17th brithday party, Stacey Hillman. She's some kind of girl I love her to death. Quite honestly I didn't think I was going to have nearly as much fun as I did it totally blew my mind. On Friday she drove 40 minutes out here to Deltona and picked me up and another friend of her's Sammie. We drove back to Cassleberry and I met her mom for the first time and man oh man I love mom (I call her mom now haha). See, when Stacey lived here she lived with her aunt who was very protective and never liked me so we never really hung out outside of school nor did I meet any of her family, so it was nice to meet her family which is pretty amazing. So We get there and we put our stuff down and we start getting ideas for the party and catching up and being girls you know. Then we call up our friend Chris and convince him to come out and chill with us. He's a riot I love that boy he's tons of fun. Now there's no fun without some Drama and Trust me Sammie caused plenty. She's nothing but jealous of Stacey and I, Chris and I and stacey and Chris. She talked a lot of crap and was a wallflower with a nasty attitude at the party and before/after. So later that night we had some fun and Chris left around midnight I think? I'm not too sure because well we were having some kind of fun hahah but I won't say what (; haha but reguardless the night before the party Sammie waits till Stacey is asleep to bear her soul to me about her feelings and such and then rats us out to her mother. She was seriously the most annoying thing.
The day of the party was action-filled. We woke up waay early and it's a good thing too because not long after we woke up Chris was heading out an hour earlier than he'd said the night before haha. Oops! So we got dressed and started decorating for the Hawaiian themed party. After a few people got there and we changed into our bathing suits and the fun began. We were all wrestling and slamming people in the pool. Picking everyone and anyone we could and throwing them around or into the pool. Some people even made it in fully clothed, haha. Of course me and Stacey were being abused and thrown into the pool the most and such. Poor girl, she got the shit knocked out of her, she got soo many birthday punches and kicks and whatnot. Then came cake time, oh boy that cake was EVERYWHERE. Stacey wore it, she looked hot in that cake haha, Then Our friends grabbed mom and threw her in the pool, turns out Stacey's phone was in there and it definitely got ruined. Her phone no longer works haha.
After the part we split up into who we were taking home based on who's staying and who was going where. I had to go back to Deltona to get some clothes and a charger so I went with Chris and Stacey to drop off Sammie, Thank God she was leaving I couldn't stand her anymore at that point. We hung out a bit at Chris' house then we headed off after we stopped at McDonald's and we get on the highway. But once again Stacey the jinx she is totally Jinxed his car. She went on about how he still hadn't gotten a new tire and he was just roughly patching the one he had. Well two exits before the one we had to get off on, on an overpass his tire blew and shredded to pieces off the wheel. FUN!!!! So we got home later than we wanted and ended up having to run some more errands at like midnight. So he just went home after we did that. So Chrissy, Stacey and I went back to her house and slept.
We woke up today and had nothing really planned but getting Stacey a new phone. We ended up going to Sam's Club, WalMart, Target and the Oviedo Mall. We had so much fun just goofing off and driving around it was great. Chrissy is a pretty rad girl, I'm glad I met her. All in all I had soo much fun hanging out with Stacey this weekend and I can't wait to get back out there and do it again another weekend. She's an amazing girl and I love/miss her terribly. haha Happy Birthday Darlin'!

I believe in a thing called love?

Fri, 06 Jul 2007 07:49:28 GMT

You know it's been a weird journey. The people I've met and who I thought I loved. But I'm starting to question what I thought was love and what is love. Have I actually really experienced it yet? I really couldn't even begin to tell you because honestly and the point where I thought it was love and for these past five years, not only I've been claiming love but you've been claiming love too. But in reality it was something marked up by a coupled of over joyed and over-zealous 12 year olds in their prepubescent conquests. It only took us two more years to man up and admit how we felt. Back and forth we went for nearly three years until one day you literally just forgot. And then in writing this now I not only realize yes I loved him, and yes it was more than a friendly or brotherly love but was subsequently, an equal hurt.
The thought that wracks my mind almost a year later to the days you forgot about me the girl you "loved" was, How could you pick her? Why her, what made her the better choice the most amazing thing you've seen in a long time? What made you forget about me in a moment of lust with her? I remember that feeling each night when I think of your name. Or when I read over old memories we've shared. And that's just it we've shared so many memories and you're so much a part of me. I wouldn't change it for the world but I'd change the situation in a heartbeat. I'd change it to for once give us a fighting chance.
I remember all the fights we've had silly and serious. Our reasons for break ups and our friends for helping and hurting our relationship. But no matter the bad in all of these things I always saw the good; I saw you.
See what I don't think you ever fully comprehended was that what I felt was indeed love. I saw you as not only my best friend but someone I could grow old with. Even though our lives changed and everything is so different now, I know I'm not the rebound girl. Every other girl is because it seems to be fact you always come back to me. I'm not being cocky but you know it just feels right. And you used to tell me that every night. I know this seems pathetic but I miss it just as much as I miss my best friend. If anyone's been there for the past 5 years it's been you. And I wouldn't change any moment we've had for anything on this planet or in this universe.

With that said; I want to know, how can someone honestly think there is no such thing as love? Or that someone so young could not and can not experience love? Love has so many variations there's not one set definition or form for love. Nor is there one for expressing it. You can love a family member, a friend, a co-worker, a teacher, a boyfriend/girlfriend. The fact of the matter is Love is Love. You can't change it, you can't take it away love never dies; EVEN if the relationship dies Love is still there. And if you want to really understand then find on my friends list a girl named Manda Jayne, She wrote on this very same topic and quite possibly covered it better than I did. She's a wise gal and she's amazing and She has the ability to open your eyes.

Love is there it's just a matter of when you want to wake up to it. Or sometimes who wakes you up.

So, my old LJ...

Thu, 05 Jul 2007 08:48:51 GMT

I have another LJ (danismylesbian) but I've decided that I want a fresh start on my posts and most of the people on there don't even keep in touch with me anymore so it was time to start over. I know that this post no one is going to see because I have no friends on here yet. But I guess I'm gonna blab my fucking brains out anyways. It's 4:37 in the morning and I'm watching click and honestly I'm beyond bored. Today was the fourth of July, well rather that was yesterday now. Funny thing though, I was up for almost none of it. I woke up at 6:07pm because my dad wanted me to eat dinner and to bitch that I was still asleep. The night before hand Shnay had been over and we only got three hours of sleep and no that was not by choice we just couldn't sleep. Positives of that day? We hung out all day woo, and we saw Transformers, and yes it was orgasmically kickass. But I did nothing on the fourth and I'm still doing nothing. Productive yes? I know. It's my last summer of true freedom before my life goes coo-coo bananas. I'm finally at that last stage of high school, a senior class of 2008 and it's a weird feeling I tell you. Because it's only a few months before I'm eighteen and on a flight back to New York, and trust me that's going to be the worst and best feeling all at the same time. I am college bound and I know who I am and what I am, the question that lingers is, do you?