Take Our Tears, Put Them On Ice, 'Cause I Swear, I'd Burn This City Down, To Show You The Light
I'll admit, sometimes I go a little crazy. I can only imagine how totally insane I look when I start screaming/crying/occasionally throwing stuff. But I am nothing compared to my mother. Big fight today. Over... nothing. As usual. It started because my dad wanted me to get off the computer and do math with him. I was a few minutes late, so he got a bit ticked. Of course, I got ticked. Then he yelled. I yelled. Mom started yelling for no reason other than she likes to yell. I got frustrated because it wasn't her issue and stormed off to my room. Nothing new there. Dad knocked a million times on my door and I just turned my music louder. Also, not knew. Dad finally got sick of knocking and kicked my door in (not as dramatic as it sounds- my door is kind of broken so it doesn't close right, probably because I slammed it one to many times, so I keep it closed by sticking a pen in it- the pen has to be replaced a lot) but that's really nothing out of the ordinary either. (Not that my dad is violent. We're already cool again, an hour later. Actually, he told me he felt stupid for kicking the door because he hurt his foot. Made me giggle.) He yelled at me for a bit. I ignored. He gave up and left. Mom barged in because she doesn't know when to let well enough alone. She yelled at me for a bit and also pulled off my headphones so I had to listen. I heard everything from "could you act sixteen and not fifteen for five seconds?!" (which makes no sense) and "I'm counting the days till you're sixteen and out of here!" to "I'm sending you off to your aunt's!" or even "I'm putting you in foster care!!" (Seriously, Mom, I am not a problem child. You don't know how easy you have it.) The problem with Mom is she tends to get physical. She's not abusive or anything. But I think she figures since I'm bigger than her it's okay to push me around. I've got two inches and five-ten pounds on her. And I'm way stronger. So she went to steal my mp3 player and I just pushed her off. She instantly claims I've hurt her and even starts to cry a bit! Sometimes she's so childish I can't even believe it! I, amazingly calmly, told her to leave. She, and this is the part that's so unbelivable, got down on the floor and BOWED to me. I didn't know if I should laugh or scream. I screamed. She said she couldn't live in this house anymore and that she was leaving- again, nothing new, she says that weekly. I told her I'd save her the trouble and leave myself. Dad said there was no way I was going anywhere at night and blocked the front door. So I slipped out the back. And realized I had nowhere to go. I'm not stupid. Spryfield at night when you're a lonely small white girl is just suicide. I went down the street to the church for a while and sat under the streetlight but I was home after a few minutes. Too nerve wracking. Of course, then my mom comes out and yells more about how she knows I don't like her. Which, at the time, was true- but it's not like I constantly hate her. And when she gets all teary and tries to make me feel guilty- it does nothing. I invented that. She's just so manipulating sometimes. Anyway, right now she's stormed off somewhere (library, or something) so I'm fine. And Dad and me have talked. I don't mean to sound like a bitchy teenager from a broken home, but sometimes she really gets my back up.
Other than that, my day was actually nice! Wonderfully warm weather, Toni came over to watch Grease finally, and the little bit of writers block I had is over. I was frustrated beyond belief with Freddy for being so decent, and ready to kill Donald for acting jealous (I don't get that guy) and bored out of my mind with my classes (thank you so much for coming with me to math, Toni!) but other than that, fine.
Something happened in music that would have delighted me in grade eight but now it just made me smile. I'm in my little bubble, playing piano (I really do kind of zone out) and I feel someone behind me. I turn, and there's Evan, cutie of the year that I used to be so so so "in love" with. He's such a darling. He randomly snuggles against me and puts his head on my shoulder, and whispers in my ear that he's going to play for me. (It's not flirting. It's just him. Trust me, he does it with everyone.) So he plays me chopsticks, haha! And then bows, grins at me, and runs back to his guitar. We were in the hall later and he was playing Simple Plan songs and singing for me. He's awesome. And so cute. One of the prettyest guys I know.
I'm too tired to write anything about how mad and confused I am about the whole Donald thing or how messed up I am about Freddy. I'll leave you with the next bit of chapter two and then I'm going to... well, I should study for my science and do my math homework, but I don't think I will. I'm too stressed out from my mother. I think I shall write poetry and listen to Fall Out Boy and just attempt to forget.
♥
I had been planning on skipping math class the next day but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to leave Connor. So I swaggered into class, late as usual, sat down, turned to shoot a seductive smile at my emo cutie- and he wasn’t there.
It was surprised at the cold-sweat of panic that overcame me. Was he sick? Hurt? Dead?
“Of course he’s not dead,” I muttered to myself. But though I knew it was stupid, I couldn’t shake the terror.
Suddenly, I felt eyes on my back. I turned, and was delighted to see Connor grinning at me from the back of the room.
“What’re you doing?” I mouthed.
“He moved me,” Connor mouthed back.
A ruler snapped down on my desk.
“Turn around!”
I turned sulkily.
“Do your work.”
I patiently opened my binder and arranged my pencil, eraser, and calculator neatly beside it.
“Going to be an interior designer, are you?”
“Going to be an asshole, are you?” I murmured.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I singsong-ed.
When he finally left, I twisted and waved at Connor, fluttering my eyelashes dramatically and blowing kisses.
He cracked up, shaking his head, and going back to calculating quadric equations.
That gave me an idea. “Light bulb,” I said to myself, grabbing my calculator and keying in 14. I hissed at him and he looked up. A smile, a mischievous giggle, and he held up his calculator. “Hi.”
I sat there feeling very pleased with myself until I realized that’s about all I could say. I wanted to tell him “you’re cute” or “meet me in the bathroom” but I couldn’t. I only knew one more word.
58008.
Boobs.
He started at me, a bemused look on his face. After a second he replied- 18.
I giggled. Bi? Me? As if.
Unexpectedly there was a hand on my neck. It was fat. And sweaty. Ew.
♥
Random, I know. Want to see something even more random? The poem I wrote earlier. Scares me. It's such a perverted subject and I have no idea where it came from... is it weird that I think it might have been inspired by the fact Freddy looks young and innocent? Oh, ew, that's gross. Other than the fact it disturbes me... I like it, ha.
♥
little boy s(k)in
you made him promise not to tell
(you're too young to say those words, sweetie)
but you can't call it making love
admit it, you pervert, you never loved him
it's the lust of little boy skin and innocent fingertips
and that unintentional seductive smirk
he wanted candy, not that
but now your conscience is your sugar
and prom night is ruined
♥
Right. So. I'm officially insane tonight and that is that. I won't be sleeping for ages, I know that, and I'll possibly have to skip math tomorrow... guess I'll just wing the test. Great. Tomorrow better not suck as much as I think it will. (Then again, Freddy has a strange habit of making everything feel better lately. He was waiting for me outside tech today. Made me smile. He's such a sweetheart.)
Other than that, my day was actually nice! Wonderfully warm weather, Toni came over to watch Grease finally, and the little bit of writers block I had is over. I was frustrated beyond belief with Freddy for being so decent, and ready to kill Donald for acting jealous (I don't get that guy) and bored out of my mind with my classes (thank you so much for coming with me to math, Toni!) but other than that, fine.
Something happened in music that would have delighted me in grade eight but now it just made me smile. I'm in my little bubble, playing piano (I really do kind of zone out) and I feel someone behind me. I turn, and there's Evan, cutie of the year that I used to be so so so "in love" with. He's such a darling. He randomly snuggles against me and puts his head on my shoulder, and whispers in my ear that he's going to play for me. (It's not flirting. It's just him. Trust me, he does it with everyone.) So he plays me chopsticks, haha! And then bows, grins at me, and runs back to his guitar. We were in the hall later and he was playing Simple Plan songs and singing for me. He's awesome. And so cute. One of the prettyest guys I know.
I'm too tired to write anything about how mad and confused I am about the whole Donald thing or how messed up I am about Freddy. I'll leave you with the next bit of chapter two and then I'm going to... well, I should study for my science and do my math homework, but I don't think I will. I'm too stressed out from my mother. I think I shall write poetry and listen to Fall Out Boy and just attempt to forget.
♥
I had been planning on skipping math class the next day but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to leave Connor. So I swaggered into class, late as usual, sat down, turned to shoot a seductive smile at my emo cutie- and he wasn’t there.
It was surprised at the cold-sweat of panic that overcame me. Was he sick? Hurt? Dead?
“Of course he’s not dead,” I muttered to myself. But though I knew it was stupid, I couldn’t shake the terror.
Suddenly, I felt eyes on my back. I turned, and was delighted to see Connor grinning at me from the back of the room.
“What’re you doing?” I mouthed.
“He moved me,” Connor mouthed back.
A ruler snapped down on my desk.
“Turn around!”
I turned sulkily.
“Do your work.”
I patiently opened my binder and arranged my pencil, eraser, and calculator neatly beside it.
“Going to be an interior designer, are you?”
“Going to be an asshole, are you?” I murmured.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I singsong-ed.
When he finally left, I twisted and waved at Connor, fluttering my eyelashes dramatically and blowing kisses.
He cracked up, shaking his head, and going back to calculating quadric equations.
That gave me an idea. “Light bulb,” I said to myself, grabbing my calculator and keying in 14. I hissed at him and he looked up. A smile, a mischievous giggle, and he held up his calculator. “Hi.”
I sat there feeling very pleased with myself until I realized that’s about all I could say. I wanted to tell him “you’re cute” or “meet me in the bathroom” but I couldn’t. I only knew one more word.
58008.
Boobs.
He started at me, a bemused look on his face. After a second he replied- 18.
I giggled. Bi? Me? As if.
Unexpectedly there was a hand on my neck. It was fat. And sweaty. Ew.
♥
Random, I know. Want to see something even more random? The poem I wrote earlier. Scares me. It's such a perverted subject and I have no idea where it came from... is it weird that I think it might have been inspired by the fact Freddy looks young and innocent? Oh, ew, that's gross. Other than the fact it disturbes me... I like it, ha.
♥
little boy s(k)in
you made him promise not to tell
(you're too young to say those words, sweetie)
but you can't call it making love
admit it, you pervert, you never loved him
it's the lust of little boy skin and innocent fingertips
and that unintentional seductive smirk
he wanted candy, not that
but now your conscience is your sugar
and prom night is ruined
♥
Right. So. I'm officially insane tonight and that is that. I won't be sleeping for ages, I know that, and I'll possibly have to skip math tomorrow... guess I'll just wing the test. Great. Tomorrow better not suck as much as I think it will. (Then again, Freddy has a strange habit of making everything feel better lately. He was waiting for me outside tech today. Made me smile. He's such a sweetheart.)