stupid, idiotic, proud BOYS
I hate them.
So so so so so much.
And I hate how I clingclingcling to people.
I just... I can't let them go.
They're mine.
They're a part of my family, of my life.
He's duel-enrolling next year.
Year after that he's starting up training.
By the time he graduates high school he'll be ready to actually go in the fucking Army and fly helicopters.
Helicopters that fly over "enemy" territory, that get shot at, helicopters that mightmightmight come back.
But then again they might not.
I love him. But I'm not in love with him.
He's my family, my brother, he's the guy who has always been there.
He's too smart to not see this, but he doesn't. See it that is.
He doesn't see how this upsets his mother (who supports his decision still, throughout the worry) and he certainly doesn't see how it upsets me.
Because to him I'm the stupid, has-her-head-too-high-in-the-clouds, doesn't-know-a-thing-about-the-world-or-what-happens-on-the-news, little sister.
I'm immature, loud, rowdy, and going to get lost in some big city someday and never do anything productive with my life.
To him I'm the girl who has always been there physically, but mentally he knew I was in Lala Land.
But he never knew (never will know) why I'm always in Lala land.
It's not because I don't care.
I do care. I care so much it reduces me to tears in the back of the car when no one is looking. I care so much I spend night after night after night thinking and thinking about it, worrying and crying for all those lives that willcouldmight be lost.
I'm in Lala Land because I know what it's like out there, and because I don't have some misplaced, blind sense of pride covering my eyes and keeping me from seeing what's around me, directly.
He might see the War and think "One day I'll be out there, helping this country with pride" but he doesn't see two feet to his left, at how I'm sitting there, near in tears, thinking "He could die, he could disappear and I'll never get to fight and argue and nerd it out with him ever again. He could die and the world would be down one more smartsmartsmart individual that might actually be able to help this shit-hole. He could die and I could never see him again."
I'm not in love with him, not romantically.
He;s too much of my 'brother' to be in lover with him.
But that doesn't me I don't love him, and that certainly doesn't mean I won't miss him and cry like crazy when he's gone.
...I'm tired. So tired and jaded and fed up with explaining everything to everyone because they just don't get it.
They think I'm heartless, cruel, bitchy, that i don't give a shit about the world because I'm too immature or superfical.
When I'm not. I'm just tired of showing like I care because if I did I would never stop bawling.
So just because I don't go out and annouce to the world my opinion on the War or something else equally as horrible, doesn't mean I don't know and care about it.
It means I like pretending, if just for a moment, that it can't touch me. That I'm not upset about it.
That it doesn't make me cry.
She's dating a Seller.
A Dealer.
Whatever, I don't care what you fucking call him.
And he took her home and gave her weed.
She's... been slipping out of our reach, lately. She used to be so much fun to hang out with, all her opinions on the table, no lies or back-stabbing bitching.
Now she's bitching to me about how my best-friend is bitching at her for her boyfriend and her usage and her life.
She's bitching about how it's her fucking life and it's not like it's going to ruin it and how she and her fucking boyfriend are in love and how they'll never ever ever hurt each other and how my best-friend is just jealous and upset because my best-friend's boyfriend used to adore and be 'in love with' her.
It's like watching history repeat it's self right in front of my face, instead of being states and states away.
It's like watching someone being burned at the stake, yet somehow they don't know it yet.
It goddamn hurts like a bitch, listening to her whine about how my best-friend rags on her. She doesn't even realize she does it because she's worried, because she generally cares about what happens to her.
If the bitch whines to me one more time I'm punching her. Fuck Allen and fuck her boyfriend and fuck the school rules of 'no violence' she's getting her nose broken because I will not stand there and let her rag out on ME because someone has taken the time to actually CARE about her stupid-as-fuck self.
I care about her, really, but I'm not watching something like this happen again. I don't want to hurt like I did last time (mark I was sort-of in almost-love with the guy, but still, the memories fucking hurt) and I'm not going to let it.
It's cruel and it's mean but I know what I can and can not take.
I can't take putting up with her shit. Since she obviously wants us to back off I will.
And I'll sigh and cry quietly, at a distance, when she smashes completely on the rocks.
I want the fairytales of life back.
I want the princesses and the princes and the happily-ever-afters.
I want to life in my Lala Land, because reality is a bitch.
And then you die.
So so so so so much.
And I hate how I clingclingcling to people.
I just... I can't let them go.
They're mine.
They're a part of my family, of my life.
He's duel-enrolling next year.
Year after that he's starting up training.
By the time he graduates high school he'll be ready to actually go in the fucking Army and fly helicopters.
Helicopters that fly over "enemy" territory, that get shot at, helicopters that mightmightmight come back.
But then again they might not.
I love him. But I'm not in love with him.
He's my family, my brother, he's the guy who has always been there.
He's too smart to not see this, but he doesn't. See it that is.
He doesn't see how this upsets his mother (who supports his decision still, throughout the worry) and he certainly doesn't see how it upsets me.
Because to him I'm the stupid, has-her-head-too-high-in-the-clouds, doesn't-know-a-thing-about-the-world-or-what-happens-on-the-news, little sister.
I'm immature, loud, rowdy, and going to get lost in some big city someday and never do anything productive with my life.
To him I'm the girl who has always been there physically, but mentally he knew I was in Lala Land.
But he never knew (never will know) why I'm always in Lala land.
It's not because I don't care.
I do care. I care so much it reduces me to tears in the back of the car when no one is looking. I care so much I spend night after night after night thinking and thinking about it, worrying and crying for all those lives that willcouldmight be lost.
I'm in Lala Land because I know what it's like out there, and because I don't have some misplaced, blind sense of pride covering my eyes and keeping me from seeing what's around me, directly.
He might see the War and think "One day I'll be out there, helping this country with pride" but he doesn't see two feet to his left, at how I'm sitting there, near in tears, thinking "He could die, he could disappear and I'll never get to fight and argue and nerd it out with him ever again. He could die and the world would be down one more smartsmartsmart individual that might actually be able to help this shit-hole. He could die and I could never see him again."
I'm not in love with him, not romantically.
He;s too much of my 'brother' to be in lover with him.
But that doesn't me I don't love him, and that certainly doesn't mean I won't miss him and cry like crazy when he's gone.
...I'm tired. So tired and jaded and fed up with explaining everything to everyone because they just don't get it.
They think I'm heartless, cruel, bitchy, that i don't give a shit about the world because I'm too immature or superfical.
When I'm not. I'm just tired of showing like I care because if I did I would never stop bawling.
So just because I don't go out and annouce to the world my opinion on the War or something else equally as horrible, doesn't mean I don't know and care about it.
It means I like pretending, if just for a moment, that it can't touch me. That I'm not upset about it.
That it doesn't make me cry.
She's dating a Seller.
A Dealer.
Whatever, I don't care what you fucking call him.
And he took her home and gave her weed.
She's... been slipping out of our reach, lately. She used to be so much fun to hang out with, all her opinions on the table, no lies or back-stabbing bitching.
Now she's bitching to me about how my best-friend is bitching at her for her boyfriend and her usage and her life.
She's bitching about how it's her fucking life and it's not like it's going to ruin it and how she and her fucking boyfriend are in love and how they'll never ever ever hurt each other and how my best-friend is just jealous and upset because my best-friend's boyfriend used to adore and be 'in love with' her.
It's like watching history repeat it's self right in front of my face, instead of being states and states away.
It's like watching someone being burned at the stake, yet somehow they don't know it yet.
It goddamn hurts like a bitch, listening to her whine about how my best-friend rags on her. She doesn't even realize she does it because she's worried, because she generally cares about what happens to her.
If the bitch whines to me one more time I'm punching her. Fuck Allen and fuck her boyfriend and fuck the school rules of 'no violence' she's getting her nose broken because I will not stand there and let her rag out on ME because someone has taken the time to actually CARE about her stupid-as-fuck self.
I care about her, really, but I'm not watching something like this happen again. I don't want to hurt like I did last time (mark I was sort-of in almost-love with the guy, but still, the memories fucking hurt) and I'm not going to let it.
It's cruel and it's mean but I know what I can and can not take.
I can't take putting up with her shit. Since she obviously wants us to back off I will.
And I'll sigh and cry quietly, at a distance, when she smashes completely on the rocks.
I want the fairytales of life back.
I want the princesses and the princes and the happily-ever-afters.
I want to life in my Lala Land, because reality is a bitch.
And then you die.