So this is life
Sniffling, hung over, bored in Redondo Beach, California. Everyone is tan. It's cold. Colder than Raleigh...I miss you all. Nobody reads this anymore, because I never write in it...but I miss you.
Blake--happy birthday, love. I don't have your number or anybody who would have yours so I hope you know it's not going unnoticed.
Steve--God I miss you. I shouldn't. I feel guilty and stupid and stupid and used and guilty and ridiculous for missing you but not an hour goes by that something doesn't remind me of you...or the lack of you...I want to move to Hermosa Beach, live on The Strand. But you don't like the beach. I remembered that. And thought, "Shit. Guess I can't live there..." You always said I was selfish; I didn't think about you. You were all I thought, think, about. All I talked, talk, about. Your love was what made me smile when I had nothing else to smile about. Everything, you, everything felt so right...it was so right for us to be together and I felt it and you felt it and we lost it because we both fucked up. We both did. You'll never admit that. But we both did. In some ways, equally. You did one thing--one really, really, unforgivable big thing. I did lots of little things. Most of them were retaliations....me proving to myself that I was an independent human and that no boy would ever have control over me. But you did. People (specifically Justin) ask why I still try to please you... I have no answer for them...just that I feel like I owe it to you. I disappointed you so much; I owe it to you to make you proud of me... I want you to come to my graduation...want you to see me the night before I leave for school. I want you to stay in my life and love me, if nothing else, as a little sister.
Justin--Haha I had no idea how much I cared about you until I realized that not being able to see you, talk to you, is killing me...I'll have to start a damn book for you too while I'm out here.
I think I might shut off my phone...my cell phone is consuming my life and it's not very polite of me to be at parties talking to people across the country
Everyone here is fascinated by the fact that I'm from North Carolina. They ask me if I watch Nascar, if I listen to country, if I know Clay Aiken. They ask me if people still discriminate against black people. I tell them no, no, no, and yes. They say "Good. We don't like niggers. They're fucking crazy." WHAT THE FUCK. THIS LIBERAL, WELCOMING STEREOTYPICALLY PERFECT CALIFORNIAN SOCIETY AND THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT BLACK PEOPLE LIKE THAT???? I was appalled. I have no idea what the hell kind of people these are...I'm used to rednecks in North Carolina; I can pick them out and steer clear of them. These kids look like hippies, spoiled brats and skater boys. And they're saying things like that...I just don't understand what the hell....
Nonetheless. I love it here. Would live here. Want to live here. But the traffic is horrible. There is no land and there are no stars. But the beaches are beautiful, the weather is beautiful, the people are beautiful, the clothes are beautiful and the houses are beautiful. The hobos are hilarious, scary. There is no rain. None. Not a cloud in the sky. It's 75 degrees during the day, and 65 at night. Sunny. Breezy. Everything they say about California, it's fucking true and it makes me fucking sick.
Blake--happy birthday, love. I don't have your number or anybody who would have yours so I hope you know it's not going unnoticed.
Steve--God I miss you. I shouldn't. I feel guilty and stupid and stupid and used and guilty and ridiculous for missing you but not an hour goes by that something doesn't remind me of you...or the lack of you...I want to move to Hermosa Beach, live on The Strand. But you don't like the beach. I remembered that. And thought, "Shit. Guess I can't live there..." You always said I was selfish; I didn't think about you. You were all I thought, think, about. All I talked, talk, about. Your love was what made me smile when I had nothing else to smile about. Everything, you, everything felt so right...it was so right for us to be together and I felt it and you felt it and we lost it because we both fucked up. We both did. You'll never admit that. But we both did. In some ways, equally. You did one thing--one really, really, unforgivable big thing. I did lots of little things. Most of them were retaliations....me proving to myself that I was an independent human and that no boy would ever have control over me. But you did. People (specifically Justin) ask why I still try to please you... I have no answer for them...just that I feel like I owe it to you. I disappointed you so much; I owe it to you to make you proud of me... I want you to come to my graduation...want you to see me the night before I leave for school. I want you to stay in my life and love me, if nothing else, as a little sister.
Justin--Haha I had no idea how much I cared about you until I realized that not being able to see you, talk to you, is killing me...I'll have to start a damn book for you too while I'm out here.
I think I might shut off my phone...my cell phone is consuming my life and it's not very polite of me to be at parties talking to people across the country
Everyone here is fascinated by the fact that I'm from North Carolina. They ask me if I watch Nascar, if I listen to country, if I know Clay Aiken. They ask me if people still discriminate against black people. I tell them no, no, no, and yes. They say "Good. We don't like niggers. They're fucking crazy." WHAT THE FUCK. THIS LIBERAL, WELCOMING STEREOTYPICALLY PERFECT CALIFORNIAN SOCIETY AND THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT BLACK PEOPLE LIKE THAT???? I was appalled. I have no idea what the hell kind of people these are...I'm used to rednecks in North Carolina; I can pick them out and steer clear of them. These kids look like hippies, spoiled brats and skater boys. And they're saying things like that...I just don't understand what the hell....
Nonetheless. I love it here. Would live here. Want to live here. But the traffic is horrible. There is no land and there are no stars. But the beaches are beautiful, the weather is beautiful, the people are beautiful, the clothes are beautiful and the houses are beautiful. The hobos are hilarious, scary. There is no rain. None. Not a cloud in the sky. It's 75 degrees during the day, and 65 at night. Sunny. Breezy. Everything they say about California, it's fucking true and it makes me fucking sick.