Once Upon A Time

A Child’s Thoughts

I’m slowly being destroyed by my own body. I can no longer eat on my own, or even try to, and all I do is suck on a bottle. I just tire so easily now. So I just sit and watch the people come and go, each one cooing and picking me up, pretending that it’s all going to be fine despite no one truly knowing. Endless doctors appointments, so many of them describing my surgery, how my heart will beat and be strong after it. How simple the surgery will be, how they have the utmost confidence that nothing will go wrong.

The day comes closer and my parents and friends and all sorts of relatives worry and worry but try to mask it, and talk about all the fun things we’ll do as I grow older. Baseball and soccer and even rugby and football or how they'll corrupt me (whatever THAT means) and all the scary movies we'll watch and all the pranks we'll play on my momma and dad.

But how are we to know I'll even get to that point? If I'll even be able to function normally? What if it doesn’t go well? What if it all goes wrong, or what if it kills me now? Should I just give up now, let my body die and have all the doctors and nurses tell them they don't know what went wrong or why, saying that I was resilient and I shouldn’t have given up so easily. Then my parents will always wonder why it took so long for me to vanish, always wonder why I vanished in the first place.

Yes, I know I shouldn’t be thinking like this being so young. But I can’t talk, I can’t write, I can't communicate at all. All I can do is gurgle and cry and hope to the gods that someone will understand what it means. I am just as scared as you and everyone else and that I worry, too, that everything that can will go wrong no matter how hard I wish for the opposite.

I don’t want to think like this. I want to be normal and playing and gurgling and throwing things around and eating when I want to and not having to have it forced into me. I want to play and learn to walk and run and be a normal, healthy baby, one that runs naked throughout the house and yard and hides in the clothing racks in stores waiting to scare mommy. I don't want to be someone who’s sick all the time already.

Plans and Plottings


It was a cold night and around midnight the five of us, Adam, Aaron, Patrick, Courtney and myself, got into the silver-with-a-blue-bumper van at Adam’s house, getting ready to go home.

After twenty minutes of driving down some back roads and main roads and talking about silly little things, we dropped Courtney off at her house that was just a little bit outside of town. Her house was dark except for a light on in the main room of a parent or sibling watching the TV. Once she got into her house the conversation turned to something much different and much more serious: how to survive a zombie attack. And it’s not just any zombie attack we’re talking about, but the full on apocalypse, the-undead-taking-over-the-world-and-trying-to-kill-us-all zombie attack.

The driver, Adam, excitedly started talking about ways to kill them, bad ass weapons and exactly the type of vehicle he would steal and how he’d change it to make it truly zombie-proof. There were mentions of guns on the roof, flame throwers, spikes all over and grenade slingshots. The boy in the passenger seat, Pat, mentioned places to hide out in and where would be best – hospitals, schools, police stations, an apartment or a big house in the country.

Eventually, after much discussion and flailing and shouting, we decided on the hospital, despite most people saying it would be the worst place to go in the event of the zombie apocalypse as when people get sick – say, a zombie bite – that will be the first place to go and not to forget all the easy to get food for zombies. The brains and bodies and slowly dying people everywhere and all of the noise. How would that not attract someone searching for exactly that?

So we figured out what to do about that. Wait. Wait a few days and take up shelter elsewhere, like in a big house in the country where there would be very few zombies, or, for closer access to the hospital, an apartment in town. And then once a few days have past, and people are figuring out not to go into the hospitals we take over. Blow up the stairs, barricade all exits and collect food from all of the vending machines and cafeteria. Get medical supplies and put people on the roof of the hospital to snipe the oncoming zombies. And once the hospital becomes full of zombies, leave and blow it up and move onto the next place. As we have learned from the official zombie guide: no place is safe, only safer.

As we talked about houses and whose house is the most zombie proof brought us to another point that night. Who to save, who would be valuable on our zombie fighting team and, most of all, who did we want to save and who did we want to feed to the zombies? At that point the van got impossibly loud without any music aiding. All of us were shouting names and reason and then the names of who to feed to the blood lusting zombies. We all easily came upon the first choice of who would be fed, the boy who has taken residence in my house much longer than the month or so that was offered well over a year ago. He would be the bait, his shouts and screams and flailing attracting the new zombies to be our target practice for when it all first starts. We talked about tying him to the back of the van and dragging him along at a slow pace and shouting from the back windows. The gunshots, the screams, the zombie groans and the zombie shuffling would be heard throughout the area and then, finally, a complete silence as we killed them all off (including the boy considering he would be a zombie himself now).

After minutes of laughing and plotting this we moved onto who we would save and all the reasons why. Adam, of course, because he drives and has the ideas of how to trick the vehicle out (and not too mention ADD so those zombies wouldn’t stand a chance). Then there is Aaron, he has a shit load of ideas and how to barricade the hideout, he’s part ninja, has a mean blood lust for zombie killing and is so skinny that if he turned sideways you wouldn’t be able to see him and then there would be surprise attacks on the zombies. There’s Pat because we need a token kid for the group and he would be it. And then myself as I hold the official guide, the starter ideas and some archery training (I’m also the zombie king but I’m not sure how effective it will be when the apocalypse happens). There is Caitlin, whiny voice and evil plots – and also Adam’s girlfriend. Our friend Brad who is in the military and can actually shoot a gun. And then Courtney, a bit of a ditz, and would be able to talk and talk and talk and talk and talk (you get the idea) at the zombies and confuse them until they just leave. As of yet we haven’t figured out everyone’s reasons for being saved yet so they might just be on their own (unless of course they come forth with something we could use or we’re all together at the time the apocalypse starts).

Jabbering and talking we turned another big corner and hit the gravel patch that lead to my road. We continued plotting and planning and talking zombie movies until I stepped out of the van (and I’m sure it continued long after I was gone, too). Aaron walked me to the door and gave me a goodnight kiss as we shivered. As he turned to leave I grabbed his arm and asked him to, please, not get attacked by any zombies tonight. He smiled and kissed me again and said goodnight to me one last time. I went inside and the boys left (and, as it turns out, they did not get attacked by any zombies).

Living in the country...it's nice, sometimes. For me, as a kid, it was okay. My best friends lived across the road or beside me. I'd walk down the road, which took a couple minutes, to get to one friend's house, and the other was right across and all I had to walk was a long driveway, which also took a couple minutes. I always had someone to play with so I was never bored. But most of the time that doesn't happen. Most kids don't get that. When we grew apart and I moved, it got lonely. Everyone was at least 4 years younger than me in my area now.. My nearest friend was a 2 hour walk away, not two minutes. And then thing is, I only moved a seven minute drive away.

I found it really lonely as I got older. No one to play with. No one to talk with. Everything had to be arranged the day before, at least. I was still a kid, I had to depend on my parents for rides anywhere. I still do, for the most part.

Every month or so we'd go to a city to visit family. I loved being in the city, like Toronto or Ottawa. People everywhere, friends to make. I made so many friends on weekend trips to Toronto that, I'm sure if I stayed, would've turned into something bigger and stronger. I remember almost everyone of them and I wonder if they remember me.

There was a boy next door to my grandmother. He was a year or two younger than me. I was invited to his birthday party one weekend I was there and I had so much fun with these new and strange kids. After so many visits to Toronto I was good friends with the boy next door. But one time I went up, and he was gone. His family had moved. I was quite devastated, I really hoped to see him again. I was angry we didn't live in the city, for if we had I would have known he was leaving and I could have said goodbye to my friend.

Living in the country though every time I leave a friend's house I have to say goodbye, not knowing when I'll get to see them again. Some friends I haven't seen in days, others weeks, some even months. All I really had to do here was read. Sit and read. If it was a nice day I'd go outside to do it, but I'd get bored soon. Reading outside in the city though, I never had to read very long before a new friend came along and we'd talk and talk on the small front lawn for hours. Simply because they lived across the street or down it and their parents could just look outside and see them still, safe. Can't do that in the country. You have to know the people because once you drive away you can't see your child until you pick them up again in a few hours.

I always got bored here. No where to walk to, nothing to look at. A cow and a tree maybe, depending how far off you are. But in the city, some place huge and beautiful there were so many things to look at, so many places to go.. The lights, the people, the buildings, everything. You couldn't be bored there, it's impossible to be bored there. Minutes to a park with many other kids all sorts of ages, minutes to stores to buy anything and everything. In the country there wasn't even sidewalks and the nearest park, well that's a school playground.

I'm not a country fan. I get bored easily.

He smiled at her, he always smiled at her. He couldn't help it, she just made him smile. As they walked and wind came. She shivered and pulled a little closer to him. They talked and laughed and she would hid her face behind his shoulder trying to keep warm.

A car drove by and and gush of wind from that made her shiver more. He let go of her hand and moved to the other side of her.

"There, now if a car goes by the wind will hit me. And I'll be be able to push you out of the way incase one tries to run us over." He grinned at her and squeazed her hand. She smiled up at him and squeazed back, as hard as she could.

"...what was THAT?" He laughed at her.

"Hey, you're just jealous because I'm so super strong and you're not." she stuck her tongue out at him and flexed her arms.

"Oh yeah, totally. I feel so weak, can you carry me since you're so strong?" the boy started to weave and stumble around, almost letting himself fall each time.

"Alright, come here I'll try and carry you." The boy stumbled over and fell onto the girl, and his weight pushed her a few steps back. He dragged his feet along as she struggled to hold him up. "Hey, stooop, you're really heavy! I'm gonna fall!" she squealed and she stumbled onto the grass and started to fall back.

The boy took his weight off her and held her up, "hey, I told you you'd never fall, remember?" She smiled at him and he leaned down to kiss her.

Her eyes widened. "Jeremy, look out!"

He turned his head and saw it. He pushed her far away and tried to move fast enough to get out of the way. He heard her scream. He felt a thud and another thud.

The girl ran over to him and fell down beside him. She cried and talked to him, she tried to keep him there.

And he died. Nothing special, nothing big. He died. No last words to get out, no last kiss or touch.

He simply died.

Maybe we have a chance to live and love and do something beautiful in this world.
Maybe we don't. Maybe we're meant to die young. Maybe we're meant to live alone. Maybe we're meant to sit in an office. But why should that stop us? Why should we just give up and quit now when we don't even know what the outcome is going to be? Even if we do get one of the shitty outcomes we can still have fun while we reach that point. Because we don't know what the outcome is until we hit it.
So go. Go live. Go love. Go have fun.
Go be the trouble you want to see in the world.
Because maybe you do have a chance.

*****

prompt_a_day #404, expanded version.

Remember when we were little and I was over at your house? It was late at night, at least it was late for a couple of little kids. It was dark. Your sisters were there and your parents gone.

We were being silly kids, playing pretend or hotwheels or Nintendo. Just having fun, right? And then we looked out the window and saw a single light coming up your driveway - your driveway is so long - and we started talking about it.

It kept coming and coming and soon enough the group of us started freaking out. We were scared, we were thinking we were going to be robbed or kidnapped or something. Then there was a pounding on the door and we started screaming and freaking out. I remember you saying "call 911, we should call 911" and I remember clutching onto you and your sister and being pushed into the hall outside your bathroom.

There was knocking and yelling and hushed whispers of what to do and then there was another voice, more yelling.

My eyes went wide and I stopped clutching. "Is that my mom?!"

Your sister went to the door. She peeked out the window and it was my mom, and another boy's mom.

We laughed and spazzed out. I was pulled out the door by my mother, who was angry that we took so long to answer the damn door.

I was dragged back home and the next day while we waited for the bus we talked about it and giggled.

It's one of my favourite memories of us.
I often wonder if you remember.

"This is my dream. This is what I wanted. How could I not be happy?"
She smiled for the cameras, smiled for the people. She had to look happy, if she didn't everything would fail. They would all be so disappointed in her.

But she's so lonely.

I've alawys lived by "people always leave" and I've been wary about who I become close to.

Yes, they always did leave. Or maybe I pushed them away. It's a 50/50 thing.

But this is the first time I decided to leave first.

He was a horrible "best friend" in the end. I didn't deserve any of that.

And I don't regret it and I'm happy.

Finally, they say something. "Why did you leave?"
The girl gave a hint of a sad smile. "It's too quiet in my town."

*****

Everyone moved there, everyone watched there. Everyone did something and in the end, everyone left just as quietly as when they arrived. Nobody makes a noise.

She stood there, still in the same place. Unsure of what to do, where to go. She didn't want to be quiet, she didn't want to be silent. She wanted to scream, she wanted to shout. She wanted to cry and she wanted to make noise. She wanted to break the silence and show she's there, she's alive.

She wants to live and make the quiet leave.

She leaves this place and moves to the next. Cars drive by slowly, people shuffle by, neither making much of any noise. The people, sometimes in pairs, softly talk and laugh, but never loud. She's disappointed to find this place is as quiet as the last.

Again she leaves the place and wanders into another. This place is beynd quiet, it's silent. She looks around, the place is abandoned and an area is marked off for some reason. She sees the men arrive and watched as they come. She wonders what they have to do, why is the area marked off and why did they fall to silence too as they reached this place.

Most of all she wonders if they will say anything to her.

They come up to her and walk right by, almost through her. They are still silents as they start to work. Some stop and stare at her, wondering the same things. Why is she there, why is she so silent and will she say anything to them.

They never say a word.

She watches and watches. Waiting for something to happen. Nothing happens though, nothing ever does in this quiet town. Even if something does happen it's brushed away, or the town lets it slip by in order to stay quiet.

She looks around, starting to get frantic. Unsure, scared, bored and hating the quiet, the silence. She runs, she leaves that place. She runs and she runs, leaving everything behind. She soon runs out of breath. She's at the highest point in the town, the graveyard. It's also dead quiet there.

And she breaks. She screams and screams and screams. Breaking the town's quiet. She makes it loud, she makes herself known and alive.

She runs again.

Soon she gets into a quiet cab, one where the driver doesn't talk, doesn't play the radio, drives in silence.

She asks for the next loud city, loud town. She babbles to herself, making sure there's noise. Keeping the silence away.

They arrive and she bolts out into the loud city. She wanders, listens to the cars, the people talking and laughing loudly, the machines moving.
She smiles, and she shouts.

She left the quiet town finally. She stops at a crowded area and starts talking to people. The loud city people don't recognize her and easily talk to her. They talk and talk, find out she just left her home, everything to come here. She seems happy, they seem intrigued. A quiet falls and the girl starts to look around, becoming bored and anxious.

Finally, they say something. "Why did you leave?"

The girl gives a hint of a smile. "It's too quiet in my town."

And then the gunshots ring out and she looks down to see blood. The people there watch her as she falls to the ground, everyone in shock.

Everyone falls quiet.

The girl, again, breaks the quiet one last time. "Maybe a quiet town was better after all."

The city becomes a silent place now.



*****

Version 2.
Started September 24th, 2008 finished September 28th, 2008.
Inspired by the song "Quiet in my Town" by Civil Twilight.

"No...no...no. NO. NO NO NO NO NO. I don't want it, I don't need it. I don't want it, I don't want it, I don't want it!" she shakes her head, shouting and screaming, the words coming out as a loud mumble. A brief moment of sanity hits her and she thinks, "surely if anyone could hear me they would lock me up..." but it's soon gone. The wants, the fears, the stress, it's all back. She starts sobbing again, the flashes of anger in everyones face and the yelling voices coming back at her.

FUCK YOU I GIVE UP.

Underneath the broken and destroyed buildings and homes and trees and world is a picture. A single picture that survived the destruction of the world and life we know. There is a girl and a boy, close together and happy, smiling like there was nothing wrong in the world, like everything was wonderful for everyone. In the background were people, some looking busy, some looking happy, some looking hopeful. It was a little beat up, creased, corners tearing. On the back there are names and a date and an "I love you so much" in the corner. There is old tape and tape lines where it has been taped up. It shows hope and happiness, that we can maybe find a way back to life as it was. That we can get through this destruction, that we can heal. We weren't always sad and scared and hopeless, we won't be forever. We can fix this, fix everything and make it back to what life should be like, the happiness we want and deserve.
If only the rest of the world could see this picture, too.


*****

Probably gonna be editted and changed. Criticism please?

He took the pills, each one making him a different person. Sometimes more confident, sometimes more violent, sometimes more depressed. He never knew what or who he'd be after each one, that was the fun in taking the pills. They let him be another person. Sometimes he wanted to stop, he really did. When his friends left him behind because he got too crazy that one time, that was when they had it. Or when his girlfriend left him because he got too violent. At those times he really did want to stop, but, at the same time and more than ever, he wanted more pills.

After a while the pills started affecting his body. Piece by piece, his body changed. Weight, shape, colour, strength. Every now and then an old friend would come by to check on him, clean him up in needed. Clean around the house, stick the boy in the bath and find some clothes that had maybe only been worn once or twice and maybe would fit him properly. Most clothes now just hung off of his body, showing how small he had gotten in the past year.

The pills were destroying him. He still didn't seem to care though, each time he took one or two or seven he saw himself as what he used to be. Built and strong, tanned and attractive. Hair that was soft and always looked good, eyes that always had a hint of something fun in the near future. Perfect teeth, perfect hygiene. Who wouldn't want to be with him, be seen with him? He attracted all the crowds, got everything he wanted. Now he took the pills, saw himself and tried to go out thinking he was that man still. Smiled at the girls, scared them away. Tried to start fights, get seriously hurt. Or he would simply just try and leave his home and not even make it down the stairs and out the door, he would pass out from exhaustion, lack of food, and a destroyed body.

He always made it home. Or what he could call his home now. He lost his last apartment, a big, beautiful place looking out across the city on a high floor. Always clean, always safe. Now he moved into a small apartment in a sketchy area of town. Always unclean, mice and bugs and food and mold everywhere. He didn't care much, somewhere to stay. Often there would be others in his place, most of them he knew from one party or the next. Again, he didn't care. He had his room, messy with clothes and food and pills everywhere, he was content. Or at least he thought he was, he could never really tell one emotion from the next with the pills always in his once beautiful body.

Piece by piece, pill by pill, he was killing himself. He didn't care though, he had already lost everything else to the pills, why not his life?

*****

Originally posted in linebyline as the_insane_vamp
http://community.livejournal.com/linebyline/296595.html

We lay on his bed after a little bout of daytime sex, my head on his chest looking up at him. We're talking about silly things, nothing of a great importance. We're being our usual, dorky selves. He paused and looks at me and smiles a bit, "why are you staring at me?"

I shrug and grin, "no reason," and he goes back to talking while I wait for the perfect moment.

"Grrrrr," and we both stop talking and stare at his stomach. I lift up his shirt a bit and start talking back to his tummy, and then I tell him to go get something to eat. I tell his tummy his master will feed him soon and I let my hands wander up his shirt a bit.

"Now what are you doing?" He raises an eyebrow and smiles, I know he's expecting something a little different than what I'm planning.

I get to the place where I want, on his sides and under his arms.
I start to tickle him.

He laughs and grabs my hands, and starts to tickle my sides and flips me over onto my back. I'm screeching and laughing, begging for mercy and saying in between gasps, "I only tickled you because you do it to me so often! I need to catch up! I'm getting revenge from all those times before!"

He stops and smirks at me. "Oh, are you sure about that?" and lets his fingers lightly drift about making me squirm and giggle.

"YES I AM!" and I try to fight back, failing as he attacks again. "Okay, okay! I lied, no revenge! Please!" and I screech and laugh, squirming away to the otherside of the bed. I'm on my back, laughing and gasping, flailing my arms about.

He's crawling toward me, laughing, and he stops and looks at my stomach, something he completely loves because it's so comfy. He lifts up my shirt a bit and pokes my tummy. I giggle and he grins. He puts his head down to my tummy and begins to nuzzle it, his slight stubble making it more ticklish than it would have been normally.

I start giggling again, screeching a bit and laughing. He finds it amusing that I'm reacting so strongly to this and he does it again. "You're like a kid, you're so much fun!" He lifts up my shirt a bit more, stops and grins at me and then his lips are on my stomach and he does it. He blows a raspberry on me.

I squeal. I'm laughing and flailing, trying to break free, and he does it again. Between gasps I warn him, "I hope you realize I'm may end up kneeing you in the balls, and it'll be all your fault and I'm reeeally sorry," and I try to protect my stomach and squirm away.

And just before the end of this silly play time he looks at me, "uh huh, I'll still love you anyways," and does it one more time.

*****
Cross-posted to linebyline as the_insane_vamp
http://community.livejournal.com/linebyline/227099.html

We're a perfect picture, she says.
My eyes closed, peacefully sleeping it seems.
His head resting on mine, looking off,
somewhere far, far away.

If she knew, it wouldn't be perfect.
Me, battling addiction and exhaustion,
and a not so great home life.
Him, always exhausted, always brooding,
and a not so great home life, either.

It was difficult to get to this point,
something always trying to seperate us,
something always trying to hurt us.

Scars, both physical and emotional.
Worries, about the same thing and different things.
And we each have our own type of crazy.

We sit and rest there,
supporting each other, holding each other.
Lying about the battles to everyone else.
Smiles come to our faces when we hear her talking.

A perfect picture, she says.

*****

Semi-based on RL events, changed a bit though.

Painted May/June 2007
Inspired by this writing a did.

Painted May/June 2008

I started again after nearly year.
I told you, and started crying and apologizing.
You asked me why, I said stress and lack of sleep.
And I mentioned I was unsure if I wanted to stop.

Thing is, I'm screaming for help but I'm too scared to ask for it.
I know I don't know if I want to stop, but I do know I just want someone to listen.
And I hope that someday soon you'll be able to see that and help me.
Help me drop this again, help me rid of it all.

And still love me despite the new scars.

Sitting here, naked and staring.
The lines, angry and shouting, staring right back up.
Scars.
Blatant, but brilliant.
Screaming everything you need to know.
Unwell, medicated, crazy.
Self-destructive.

My eyes, blue and faded.
Becoming empty, becoming nothing.
They stare at you, waiting for a response.
Waiting for anything.
And with the silence, they fade, and fade,
while the lines become darker and darker.

The urge to make more is strong.
Your eyes are screaming, "no" though.
Causing dilema, causing problems.
What to choose,
addiction or your love?
It's obvious the latter is preffered.
But the addiction is overpowering, controlling.
Taking over.

The lines are blatant.
They tell you all.
I'm left lost and confused.
I need you to speak your words.
So tell me.

The ninth was amazing, as posted about by Brad. No real reason for it being amazing, it just was. Everything was perfect, everything was right. I felt amazing in every way. Healthy, beauty, intelligence. I didn't care that I've lost what I was going to do as my future career, I didn't care that I have no idea what I'm going to do next, where I'm going exactly. I was truly, 100% happy and nothing could have stopped me, I felt that amazing. Everything was going right, everything felt right. Being with Aaron felt more right than ever, how things were playing out at home felt right (even if stressful), the place I am in life felt right, they way I looked felt right, the way I felt about myself and the world felt right. I didn't feel the need to worry about how my views may seem to other people, I didn't feel the need to worry at all about anything, and I didn't feel the need to worry about any of my upcoming doctors appointments, no matter which one it is. I felt truly happy, and that is a rare thing for almost any person.
That happiness even made it through the night and into the next morning, almost through 3rd period, until things came crashing down again and I was frustrated and upset that I didn't know what my future was exactly, I didn't know what I wanted and that I had to give up all of my previous dreams for careers. Near tears from then until...I don't know when it stopped, but I know talking about it hurt a bit more than I thought it would, although I know it's best if I do talk about these things with someone I can trust.
The day went by semi-quickly and then I was at home. Fights with Brendon happened, I'm not even sure where they came from, and even though he didn't know what had upset me earlier that day he still knew exactly what to say to make it hurt more. Insulted me and my old dreams, saying that even if I could make it I'd be horrible at it anyways. Slight arguments with my mother too, but that itself is nothing new.
I showered, got ready, picked out what I was going to wear for the Semi-Formal and took an obnoxiously long time to get dressed and ready, just so I could avoid everyone for a little bit longer. Got there close to 6:30, forced into dances and I felt shy and awkward, I was somewhere completely unfamiliar and I was hopelessly lost on what to do with myself. Made forced conversation, wandered around, listened to kinda really horrible music that was incredibly loud.
Eventually Aaron arrived, dressed in a kilt as he said he would be, and things started getting better. I still felt shy and awkward, and I was still definitely feeling the stings of the night's earlier fights and bickers. Smiles and comments were made, more pictures were taken and more dances were forced. Soon enough I managed to get rid of the awkward and rid most of the shy and managed to have some fun. There was dancing to the horrible music, singing along to the horrible music that I, sadly, actually like and kissing and general playfulness.
Soon it ended, and after giving Aaron a ride home I was at my house. Forced conversation to my mother and her inquiries and hoping my hair was hiding the mark on my neck, not that she'd really care all that much about it. Third daughter now, she's seen it all, especially since her first got pregnant while still in her teen years.
I made it into my room sometime and promptly fell asleep, only waking up at 6:37AM, the time my alarm goes off at. Forced myself out of bed and got dressed and ready. Boarded the bus, made it to school.
The day went by normally I suppose, talks of last night's events and people pointing out the mark on my neck, cameras passed around the show off all the pictures and talks of who was dressed the prettiest and best were even on the announcements. Feeling slightly sick all day and cold and unnaturally shaky, I made it through my classes and everything else without feeling too out of it. During last period, my spare harsh words were said and in the confusion I was, once again, near tears. I got over it and it was sorted out, only to be brought up again by Jesse at the end of the day, upsetting Aaron.
Eventually I arrived at home, pitiful snarks exchanged by Brendon and I were easily ignored by one another and we either meant it or feigned agreeable-ness. Dinner was had, I finished earlier than normal with my lack of appetite, and asked what was going on tomorrow. There were talks of going to Ottawa and I was unsure about what was going on with Terra, all I knew is that she was picking me up tomorrow and I would be arriving home sometime on Sunday. Confused and pretty much unanswered I left and went downstairs to curl up on the couch and hopefully fall asleep to pass the worst of the sickness. My mother came downstairs, yelled at me about the questions I asked and told me to call Terra then and make her pick me up tonight, she wanted me out of the house - either again or still, I'm not sure - and she wanted me out NOW. I stuttered a reply and she called me selfish for saying I wouldn't go to Ottawa tomorrow since I wasn't feeling well today. She wanted an answer right then, so I told her what I knew. I was feeling like shit now, I could easily feel the same tomorrow. I wouldn't want to make another couple of weeks ago fiasco, so I said I'd stay home while everyone else went. She called me selfish again so I quickly changed my answer and said I would go. She stormed away and ignored me for the rest of the night until recently, where she asked me a question about what music I was listening to and stated I looked tired.
Trying to talk to her earlier, but after her yelling at me, proved pointless and only more irritating to her. Brendon on the other hand could go talk to her and she'd be fine, and if my father did, she'd be back to her bitchy, angry self. Again she has stated her favourite in the family, and again it still kinda hurts a bit. Unable to talk to anyone nicely, but he could come along and it would be fine. It's grade school all over again, silence treatment for some "friends" while you can be best friends with the other kids.
I was told, again, to have him out of the house randomly today and it was mentioned that my father, in fact, does kinda side with me. I said that could happen, but Brendon would just stay on the streets probably, and it's still too cold for that, not to mention dangerous also. We may fight a lot, but I don't want him doing that. And talking to my father about any of this Brendon/mother shit anyway just makes things all that worse, I'd get yelled at by my mother for talking to my father. Frustrated again I pushed it aside and changed the topic of conversation.
Now, as I sit here writing this, I wonder why I'm even bother to write this. I don't know how to post it at all, public, friends only, custom locks, what? I leave it public there are chances that people I don't want to read this that will definitely read this. No reason for wanting them not reading this, just my general paranoia about people knowing too much about me (which completely contradicts my other online journal, one which I write everything in, the people who have access to it really do know everything). Friends Only leaves me knowing exactly who's reading this, which makes me feel uncomfortable still, and custom locks make me feel guilty and paranoid that word would get back to those people or they'd view the calender and see that they can't see one of the updates I had made.
I'm very uneasy about posting this at all, mainly the part about tonight. I suppose I could delete it, post it on my other journal where I can feel fine about no one being able to read it, but honestly, what does that do? So strangers (no offense, I love my online friends very much, but there's a vast difference between an online friend and a real life friend, one, for example, how one can be physically there, one you can see everyday, while the other you count on words on a screen or a page to be how you know them, comfort them, etc.) know what's going on, but they can't do much other than say they wish for things to get better, offer advice, and then nothing else can be done, just a virtual shoulder to cry and lean on. I suppose real life friends can do exactly that too, except you have to expect to see them sometime sooner or later, and know that they have read this, they know something about you.
And now that I think about this, writing about my life, what's happening, everything, it feels as though I'm writing a story. At least, right now. It doesn't feel very real, the memories don't seem to be mine or real at all, made up fictional stories in my head, joining all the others that I've built up from years and years. I know these things I write about are real, I can prove them in so many different ways. They just don't feel it right now, this all feels incredibly fake and as though something is missing.
Today is the complete opposite for the ninth it seems for me. I'm not happy with where I am in life, I'm not happy that I've lost what I wanted to do and I'm not happy that I've chosen to give up on all my past dreams and, in turn, giving up on the classes I was taking to make it towards those dreams. Math, biology, physics, I'm even starting to wonder why I'm even bothering with chemistry, and I can even kinda do that. Without a reason to be there, I feel no need to even try. And then the confusion about possibly wanting to move away, to move out. I'd do it, if it weren't for the people I hold close to me and how I'd have to separate myself from them an entire year earlier than natural. As difficult as it is to live here sometimes, I don't want to leave early, I don't want to leave them. I've already lost a lot of people through social cliques, growing up, and them simply moving or even dying, I don't think I can handle me doing it on purpose and separating myself from them.
And then the beloved quote from the TV series One Tree Hill goes through my mind, people always leave. It comes up in multiple seasons and episodes, it's become my favourite quote in the entire series, the simplicity of the words and the briefness it is and the truth it holds. People do always leave, and I happen to be a person, so would it really be any different? I'd have a chance to feel the opposite of what a person who has been left feels, I could experience the otherside now. But I don't want to, I'd rather stay naive of that and stay here, I'd rather prefer to be one of the people who don't leave.
And all of a sudden I know exactly who I want to read this and now I realize I have to post it as public, or put it on a completely different journal for that person to read it. Even then, there's no chance of them reading it unless I give them the direct link. And it makes me wonder, wouldn't it just be easier to say this all out loud to them instead of posting the words on a page for them to read...when? I don't even know that answer, and I don't even know if it would be easier. I find it difficult to talk, yes, that is a well known thing among everyone who has ever met me, but this time, would it be easier? Emotional, definitely, I'd be shaky and freaking out probably, no different from how I am at any other time.
I don't know what to do exactly, so I'll simply post this as public, cross post it onto other journals, and hopefully maybe that person will read it, or at least I'll have my words out there.

Standing with you, your arms wrapped around me and my head on your chest, everything felt right, felt perfect. I close my eyes and just let everything be, no words, no movements are needed. Everything about this day has been right, everything going perfectly. The seemingly hard classes not so hard, my health has picked up for a day, and being with you felt even more right than ever, and I didn't even know that was possible.
Things seem to finally be falling into place, going the right way for once. Life is actually going the way I'd prefer it to go. Everyone seemed happy, everything was happy. I didn't have to worry about what would be said to me or yelled at me, I didn't feel bothered by any of the little annoying things that happened.
I look up to you and smile, feeling truly, incredibly, nothing could stop me, really happy and loved for once. You notice the movement and look down at me and a smile breaks out on your face. I stand on my tip toes, my arms wrapped around you keeping me supported and I kiss you and smile again. You kiss my nose and smile back down at me and I press my head against your chest, in pure contentent with life as it is.
And that moment, among so many others with you, have made me this incredibly happy today. Thank you.