You.

I remember times with you. Out in the country but still close to the city pavement and streetlights. Close to a major highway. With cars rushing by, we made the turnoff down the gravel road towards your house, or mansion as I liked to call it, considering it was about 3-6 times as big as my house. I anticipated seeing you again, it was just shortly after camp. We were going to a family barbecue of yours, and I was really nervous. I didn't necessarily know how to act. You drove us there, and at the time, being only about 13 I was scared of what would happen (did you have your licence?!). Anyways, we drove the escalade there, and hung out with some of your family, who were really nice to me. Some of them even joked about us going out, and at the time both of us were too silly to realize that that's what the other one wanted. I think the image that'll be stuck in my mind for a long time is the scene that came next. We were driving your expensive escalade down the gravel road as I watched the speedometer crawl from 40 to 60 to 80. We were flying by then. As corny as it sounds, I think it felt like my heart was flying too. We went back to your house, and I saw all the expensive cars you had. Holy crap, you had a lot of money. It didn't bother me though, because you never acted all high and mighty because of it. I can't remember what else we did, but my mom came and picked me up later. By then, I think I was sure that I liked you. A while later, I told Davis about this. He told me I should tell you, but I couldn't, I was too shy. So he told you for me, in an email. And it turns out you liked me back. And that was the longest relationship I've ever had, to this day. I miss you sometimes. Okay, a lot of the time....Okay, I wish I could go back and reverse our breakup and not have gone out with Brandon, but unfortunately that's not possible. You were a great person. And the few minor flaws now seem like nothing to me, but I remember that back then they seemed bigger. Big enough for me to be a little bit mad. Then you broke up with me on your birthday, and it was over. 3 months, 1 day. Over. I'd lie and say I could remember that day as clear as glass, but I can't. I just remember moderately when it ended. I guess what I'm trying to say is not that I regret what I've done, or that we both made bad choices, but simply that I miss you. And hey, some days I probably miss you as more than a friend. But unfortunately that's sort of irrelevant now. The more things change, the more they stay the same....

14 months.

So occasionally, I wish I could go back to those simpler days, of grade 9, of analyzing songs in Language Arts class and listening to Wishlist by Pearl Jam and Comfort Eagle by Cake, and learning to love them over time. Back to MKIH, and writing it all over our stuff. "Do you know what MKIH means?” No, sorry, no idea. And desperately trying to conceal it, because we really knew what it meant. And so did he, but we didn’t know that yet. I’d go back to the day, to fourth period English class and “Rachel, they need you at the office”. And knowing what it meant, and how I didn’t want to go, but went anyway, leaving my pink English binder on my desk and hearing them wish me good luck, their voices grim. They knew I would need it. She took me into her office first, explained what they knew. Said someone had told them, she couldn’t tell me who it was. Said how I was ruining things, I could get out if I wanted to, how I had potential. And all the while, I am thinking about my parents in the next room, about how my leg won’t stop shaking, and if she doesn’t quit saying nice things then I might just start to cry. About how she tells me it’s time to tell them, and I get up out of the chair as I watch other kids walk by out the window, desperately wishing I could get out of here, that I was one of them. But she gives me a hug, and I remain stiff and solid, nailed to the ground, waiting for the inevitable. She opens the door and my parents are there, my mom looks like she might cry, and my dad looks quite indifferent, like always. She explains to them about what is going on and what I have been doing, the real thing. The weed, Brandon, the whole deal. Brandon’s history, which they are surprised to hear. I’m appalled at the fact that they didn’t know. I came home, my clothes smelling of pot many times in a month, and neither of them noticed or said anything, despite the fact that my mother could “Smell that stuff a mile away”. Yeah fucking right, I think. “Are you going to break up with him, because you should.” Yeah, I was planning on doing it tonight anyway. “Okay, good.” We get home. I walk after them. After Megan has gotten in trouble for interrupting my session with Ms. Bhatti, to tell me she put my things in my locker. After the meeting, I walk slowly to the locker and line things up from left to right, tallest to smallest. I pick up everything I need, and walk out, dreading what will happen when I get home. I walk in the door and sit, and they talk to me for a bit, or mom does, I can’t remember about what. “Did you do it to see what it was like?” Spat, the words like razors across her tongue, and my heart. The guilt is starting to build, but little do I know, this is only the beginning. No, shot back in the same tone. I am informed that I will be calling him after supper. Hey, it’s me, can you come over? How about you come over here, no one’s home. No, I need you to come here, I need to talk to you about something. Okay; I’ll be over in a bit. The next couple minutes are hell. He walks up to the door and we go to my room. We sit on my bed, and he holds my hand. And I tell him what is happening, how there can be no more us, and why. And throwing the blame partially on my parents, because I can’t handle it myself yet. He cries. And cries and cries and cries. Baby, I’ll kill myself, you’re the only girl I’ll ever love. Between choked sobs, like I should fall for it. And I do, I fall for every word. Then, I didn’t know he was going to date Rachelle, I was going to date Jason. That him and Krysta were going to go out and have sex a month later, and how they are still going out today. I apologize every couple minutes. He tries to leave, I stop him. He continues to cry, I don’t know what to do, and I cry too until I have to do something. In tears, walking out to the phone in the kitchen. Shane, can you come over? Sorry Rachey, I can’t. I’m grounded, remember? Please, I need you! So he comes over. And the three of us sit and cry for a while, until we have convinced Brandon out of it, until we have convinced him to talk to my mom, who calls his mom. It kills me to watch them cry. And after a few hours, it is finally over; although it’s never really ended; not now, maybe not quite ever. And he walks out my door. And so does Shane, who apologizes to my mom. And she sits and tells me that it’s not my fault; after all this, she has the nerve. I know it is, or at least I think I do. But it wasn’t, and it still isn’t, but of course that doesn’t stop me from thinking so. And 14 months later, I am talking to Austin. Did I used to be like this? No. You didn’t used to overanalyze, or underanalyze. If you did, you didn’t show it. You had a balance in the middle. You weren’t overly cocky, and you didn’t hate yourself. And no, you didn’t worry all the time. And it’s like after all of this, I finally realized that it’s true. I used to be her. The girl that many people liked, nice to everyone, trusting. Drug free, smart, had everything. Wasn’t too sad or too happy, had great balances everywhere. I wonder if I’m ever going to be anywhere close to her again, if I can ever wake up in the morning and be her. I know I can’t be her completely, but if I try hard, maybe I can come a little bit close. As soon as I get the energy to try hard enough…

Stupid poem.

I think it's stupid. It's not even cute, just plain stupid. Bah.
(not that i'm not in a bad mood or anything )

1.Find A Guy Who Calls You Beautiful Instead Of Hot
2.Who Calls You Back When You Hang Up On Him
3.Who Will Lie Under The Stars And Listen To Your Heartbeat
4.Or Will Stay Awake Just To Watch You Sleep ..
5.Wait For The Boy Who Kisses Your Forehead
6.Who Wants To Show You Off To The World When You Are In Sweats
7.Who Holds Your Hand In Front Of His Friends
8.Who Thinks You' re Just As Pretty Without Makeup On
9.One Who Is Constantly Reminding You Of How Much He Cares
10.And How Lucky He Is To Have You ..
11.The One Who Turns To His Friends And Says .. " Thats Her "

1. Okay. Superficiality is the problem here I'm assuming? Either way, both words are compliments, take what you can get.
2. Why should he? You've been rude to him, and he shouldn't have to act like a fricken pushover. If you're so intent on talking to him again, you call him back.
3. Okay, I admit, this would be nice. But not all guys are overly romantic, and why should you force someone to be something they're not?
4. Alright, this might be thought of as cute. But hell, I think it's creepy. Why would you want someone to stare at you while you're sleeping? Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeepyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
5. Kisses your forehead? Alright, maybe thought of as cute as well, but what if your forehead is really gross or something? And what's so good about a forehead anyways?
6. Alright, fine. But who says he needs to show you off anyways? Just the fact that he likes you should be enough, but some females just have to want more.
7. Fine. This is the only one I don't disagree with hugely. But again, if you know he really likes you, handholding shouldn't have to happen.
8. Alright, I guess this shows how he's apparently not superficial.
9. I actually think this would get quite annoying. Every day " I care, I care, I care!". After a while, I'd get bored and tell him that I knew it already, and to please be a little more discreet. Actions do infact speak louder than words.
10. See #9. (And after you've been so bitchy with the previous things, maybe he really isn't all that lucky...)
11. That's her eh? Define her. This is completely non specific. If his friends had any brain, and they weren't talking about the fact that you two were going out, prior to your b oyfriend's comment, the most common answer would likely be "who?". Do you really want to look that silly?

So in conclusion, whoever wrote this poem seems to me to be a hopeless romantic. A fairly silly one at that. Obviously their intentions were good, but come on. Good intentions, bad writing.

Dream Girls

it's times like these when you wish you were someone's dream girl. when you wish that someone cared about you in that sort of way. that your words were perfect, along with your face; or at least some part of you. that you had some kind of talent that would make him notice you, but right now you're almost as talentless as someone can get; minus a few exceptions. you're not pure, not perfect. you've had your share of ups and downs, more downs than ups lately, but who really cares other than your close friends? one by one, you watch as they march off with someone else, and come back to you either discussing problems or telling you how much they like each other. it's nice to hear for a couple minutes, until the jealousy and sadness start to kick in. until there's nothing more at that moment you want than to be with someone; to feel how much they like you. but right now, that someone isn't out there. they haven't been for a while. it's been so long since you've felt his touch, and now all you want to do is build over it and go back and erase it. and it was so long ago, new opportunities haven't popped up since then. how can you build your life on opportunities when there's nothign to build on? you look at their girlfriends, who are all so pretty and appear to have so much going for them. every glance is another reason to notice flaws in yourself, the ones that only you seem to see.