Pong
Shit, I haven't written in this thing in a while. Uhh, let's see. My whole weekend's been like a giant pong game. It's been bouncing back and forth. On Thursday, I did something I regret in it's entirety. I lied. And it was a stupid lie, but the fact that I did it to the person I care about more than anyone else in the world fucked up my life. Or so it seemed. I felt so bad after lying to Shana...She lost all my trust. And i can't blame her. I knew that only time could gain it back, but I owed her a lot. Berman came over for support, just cause he's the fuckin greatest kid ever, and we went to the florist. I bought a dozen red rozes, cut, trimmed, wrapped, and tied. I also wrote Shana a rap that she's been asking for. We drove over to Heather's house ((where she was)) and I delivered them to her, with all the apologizing I had in me. I didn't expect any big change. I was happy enough that we didn't break up.
Friday comes, and we're all supposed to hang out at Shana's Dad's Mansion. Me and Shana, Steph and Ricky, and Heather and Vinny. As soon as I stepped foot in the house, I had weird vibes. Really weird vibes. I was really hesitant to walk into Shana's room. I eventually did. We were making out on her floor, and her sister and lucas ran in the room to bust our balls. Anyway, when they walked out, Shana was sitting in the corner, and she had a panic attack. She was hyperventalating and shit. I froze. She collapsed into her sisters room, and eventually, she relaxed. While she was calming down and killing the attack, I couldn't stay in the house. I was too confused. Me and Ricky went into her backyard and walked to the lake. When we came back, she was calm, but pissed at me for leaving. I guess I can't blame her. She was upset...I was confused...we had a long talk. She was explaining to me how she's sick, and we came to the conclusion that we need a break. So, that's what we're doing. Breaking.
Yesterday was hell. Saturday. I was going crazy, knowing that she wasn't mine. I missed her so much, and it felt like I haven't spoken to her in 8 years. That night, we did talk, and we sort of analyzed the break. It made it a helluva lot easier on both of us.
And so, it's Sunday. I'm sick. I was so mentally sick from the whole break thing, that it got me physically sick. My head is pounding, my stomach is hurt, my nose is stuffy, and my throat is felm-filled. Beautiful. I had my dad call off work for me today, but apparently my boss didn't get the message. So he calls me up at 10 o'clock this morning asking where the hell I am. He's bitchin' me out, and I'm barely paying attention. That greedy fucker has no right to say shit to me. He can go fuck an onion bagel. I'm probably quitting anyway. I'll keep you updated.
I have a huge journalism test tomorrow. If I don't do good, I'm dead. DEAD. Problem is, I don't have anything to study from. Oh well. Tomorrow morning I'll see what I can do. Ughhh, i'm still sick. This weekend sucked shit. Oh well. Maybe this week will change. Maybe something interesting will happen. Pshh, yea, right.
Oh yea, PS. The band's doing pretty kickass. Standard Theory. Give us a good month or two, and we'll be ready. Fuck man, brace yourselves.
--Ruby
Friday comes, and we're all supposed to hang out at Shana's Dad's Mansion. Me and Shana, Steph and Ricky, and Heather and Vinny. As soon as I stepped foot in the house, I had weird vibes. Really weird vibes. I was really hesitant to walk into Shana's room. I eventually did. We were making out on her floor, and her sister and lucas ran in the room to bust our balls. Anyway, when they walked out, Shana was sitting in the corner, and she had a panic attack. She was hyperventalating and shit. I froze. She collapsed into her sisters room, and eventually, she relaxed. While she was calming down and killing the attack, I couldn't stay in the house. I was too confused. Me and Ricky went into her backyard and walked to the lake. When we came back, she was calm, but pissed at me for leaving. I guess I can't blame her. She was upset...I was confused...we had a long talk. She was explaining to me how she's sick, and we came to the conclusion that we need a break. So, that's what we're doing. Breaking.
Yesterday was hell. Saturday. I was going crazy, knowing that she wasn't mine. I missed her so much, and it felt like I haven't spoken to her in 8 years. That night, we did talk, and we sort of analyzed the break. It made it a helluva lot easier on both of us.
And so, it's Sunday. I'm sick. I was so mentally sick from the whole break thing, that it got me physically sick. My head is pounding, my stomach is hurt, my nose is stuffy, and my throat is felm-filled. Beautiful. I had my dad call off work for me today, but apparently my boss didn't get the message. So he calls me up at 10 o'clock this morning asking where the hell I am. He's bitchin' me out, and I'm barely paying attention. That greedy fucker has no right to say shit to me. He can go fuck an onion bagel. I'm probably quitting anyway. I'll keep you updated.
I have a huge journalism test tomorrow. If I don't do good, I'm dead. DEAD. Problem is, I don't have anything to study from. Oh well. Tomorrow morning I'll see what I can do. Ughhh, i'm still sick. This weekend sucked shit. Oh well. Maybe this week will change. Maybe something interesting will happen. Pshh, yea, right.
Oh yea, PS. The band's doing pretty kickass. Standard Theory. Give us a good month or two, and we'll be ready. Fuck man, brace yourselves.
--Ruby