Issue.

I feel like I'm all laid out on the table, but you've yet to say anything that connects us.
I know I'm getting ahead of myself. I've got this fantasy world all set up for the two of us.

I want to crawl inside of you, and never ever come back out.
Absorbed into your skin, your bones, your tissues, your faults and perfections.
Lose myself in your identity because it's so much more interesting than mine.
I'm so unrealistic, and you're so grounded.
We can live anywhere you want. As long as you want to live far, far away.

I'm having a problem.

Do you know that feeling at your high school (why isn't that one word? Highschool instead of high school?) graduation? The one where you realize, "Oh my god. I will never see 100 people ever again. I've learned their names, their likes and dislikes, and it was all for nothing. None of that information will ever be use full again." That sad, bitter feeling?
That just hit me.

So, in this moment of being so alone, I'm reaching out and trying to latch onto people.

My problem is that I'm not very good at long distance relationships.
If you're more than ten minutes away, I probably don't talk to you very often. And when I do, I don't have much to say.
I'm too physical. Talk is cheap. I want to hold your hand and know you're standing next to me and we are about to have a paaaaar-ty of a time.
I don't like phone calls. I'm an uninteresting text-er. I'm overall very boring.
I'm scared that when I get to UNO, it will be without friends or acquaintances because I will have wasted them away over the summer.

I don't want to lose anyone.

Mowin' You Down.

You're the smile I didn't quite earn.

I will always regret that missed opportunity.
But, you have to give me credit: I tried. If I wasn't enough, it's because I was a little more naïve than I am now.
I guess I should be thankful. You taught me so much.

I just wish I hadn't needed to feel so worthless in the process.

West Texas

My dog has gotten so fucking big. The last time I saw Max, he was sixty pounds. Now he's one hundred. He's not even fat or stocky yet-- in fact, he's really lean for a rottweiler. He's just tall as a motherfugger.
John Green is my favorite author.
Ashlyn is my favorite writer.

I love Texas.
If you're added to my facebook, you know all about it already.
I ate at Rosa's Cafe today. They handmake their tortillas.
TexMex is delicious.

But for all of Midland's perks, I'm still excited as fuck to move to New Orleans.
Michael and I were comparing ourselves to various lights.
Michael will be a floodlight.
I want to be an emergency nightlight. I'm always on, always active, and in times of emergency I will flash too brightly for anyone to handle.

Down with coconut crabs.
They are a menace to society.

Tarantula and rattlesnake season is coming up. In a few weeks, big ass spiders will be everywhere.
FUCK.

Jennifer's Body.

Let's talk movies for a second.
Jennifer's Body.
Megan Fox. HAving sex and eatin' folks. Bisexually. Mmmm.
Jennifer's Body, the Soundtrack.
I love it. I love it so much.
Songs about sex, abusive relationships, and teenagers being idiot assholes?
Umm, checks one two and three.
Songs about jealous ex boyfriends and learning to dance?
Uno and dos.
Epic love song?
Got you covered.

Download it. Limewire has everything you're looking for.

Someone has wonderful ideas.

I hope that I'm the type of pet-owner that gets way TOO into their pets and doing crazy shit with them.


This school is ridiculous. I owe $30 to Mr. Kimmonz. I go to Kimz, say, "Here, Kimz, moneies!" He says, "No, my child, I cannot steal from one so young. Please, take the money to Kara. She is closer to you in age than I."
I goes to Karkar. She is missing!!! I says, "Ladies of the Why Hut? I come bearing many dollars, please take from me?"
They says, "Newp. You dun owe us moneies right nao. Cannot take $$ until tomorrow. See ya guhfran."
So I goes to Jenjen. Gives her monies for graduasion. Goes to take capngaown. She says, "Nuhuh. Must pays monies first." I says, "But dey says not til morrow?"
"Well, go backs nao. Kara here finally. See yuh!"


WHAT IS THIS SHIT?
WHAT. IS. THIS?

OJ, You're So Fucking Poor

Mears, Michael, Danielle and I have this inside joke that makes fun of some stupid manga (anime comic book.)
The plot of the book is that this stupid girl buys a perfect, robotic boyfriend. HOWEVER, he cost millions of dollars and she is already RIDICULOUSLY poor. so, to compensate, she has her robot boyfriend get a job so that he can pay for himself.
It's crazy stupid.

And the joke is a dead-faced, "You're so fucking poor," to which the proper reply is, "At least I have an awesome boyfriend." The starter of this conversation proceeds to lose their mind with anger and scream , "You can't even afford to pay for him!"

The reason I'm telling you this is because, as Danielle and I are walking up the ramp to the library, I turn to her and say, "You are so fucking poor."
She swallows her sip of orange juice and replies, "I forget where that joke came from sometimes."
With sincerity, I said, "I will never forget!"

Apparently, Danielle found this so funny that she choked on her orange juice, sending it sparying all over the ramp as she lurched forward to clutch her stomach. I thought she had puked.


Today was the last Friday I will ever wake up at this school.
It's bitter sweet.
But mostly sweet.

Say Hi To Your Mom.

"And we're as big as the russia the mapmakers made,
And mighty as a big anvil hammer.
But don't be afraid,
Because it will be over faster than you can say,
'snowcones and puppies and watching you sleep.'"


I'm obsessed.

End Of Senior Year.

When I go to college...


"Hey guys, I'm leaving, can I have my car keys-- Oh. Wait. You mean...?"

"Hey guys, I need to go to Wal Mart, can I have my yellow card-- Oh. Wait. You mean...?"

"Hey guys, I'm going to sleep, can you stop making so many announcements-- Oh. Wait. You mean...?"

"Hey guys, I'm gonna hang out in a boy's room, please don't expell me-- Oh. Wait. You mean...?"

"Hey guys, I'm in trouble again, which way is Jana's office-- Oh. Wait. You mean...?"

"Hey guys, it's Wednesday night and my room is a mess-- Oh. Wait. You mean...?"

"Hey guys, I'm just gonna skip all the meals since I hate cafeteria food so much-- Oh. Wait. You mean...?"

"Hey guys, it's Friday, can I just have the day off-- Oh. Wait. You mean...?"

"Hey guys, I wanna take classes that actually interest me-- Oh. Wait. You mean...?"

"Hey guys, I wish I had my own room-- Oh. Wait. You mean...?"

"Hey guys, I think it's crazy we have to turn our phones in-- Oh. Wait. You mean...?"

"Hey guys, did I miss sign in this morning-- Oh. Wait. You mean...?"



The list goes on and on.
New Orleans is goign to be so much DAMN fun.

I Hate You

I got angry.
No, angry is too general a word. It encompasses all the words that don't accurately describe my emotions (such as upset, irritated, agitated, and morose.)
I became overwhelmingly furious.
And indigent. And insulted.

Then I felt all the anger drain out of me.
No, not drain out. Fade into the very center of me. There are so many layers between me and it, you would never notice it's there.
Someone pulled the shades shut over my eyes, and they did not glare into the shower head. They did not interrogate Pantene and Dial and Volume Conditioner.
And my ferocity fought to stand strong and wage war, but found no battlefield.
So it crept into the soft, warm, nougty center of me and began to fester.
Festering and rotting like a dead rat caught in the walls. There is no scent to give it away. There is no warning.

Someday, I'll be as angry on the outside as I am on the in.
I will stand and scream and not apologize, and no one will ask me to.

Until then, I will hunch my shoulders and shade my eyes and
I
Will
Cave
In
On
My
Self until I am the most broken, vulnerable little girl you have ever seen.

IDC.

I've decided not to like my father.
I still love him, because he's my daddy, and so he'll always be precisely one half of me. But I will not laugh at his stupid jokes anymore. I will not ride in the car and introduce him to new bands that I know will be on the radio within the month. I will not make any attempts to make him proud of/ pleased with me.

I am not planning on communicating with my father more than absolutely necessary within the scope of my adult life.
I am not coming "home" for Christmas.
I will call my granny regularly, but I will probably always send my daddy to voicemail.

My daddy repeats that I'm lucky he's not the type of dad his father was.
And I don't know how to tell him that he is, he's the exact same.
Studies show that beating your kids can be less damaging than talking down to them. A bruise fades. "Why can't you do anything right?" lasts forever.
And I guess I'm blogging this because in a few months I'll be 18, and I will have the right to leave and never look back. But I'm so scared that in that final, important moment where I say "Fuck you, I never want to see you again," I'll crumble and cry and never go anywhere ever again.

I want you to know that I'm leaving.
Because telling you makes it a promise from me to you.
And I will not let you down.