oh i miss you, you know?

Living together as if the other doesn't exist.

Your Turn.

About 4 months ago Tyler and I had walked around the school together one lunch break, hand in hand. He asked some fellow on his basketball team who he could buy some weed off of. Within ten minutes he had spent $10.00, and had a couple joint's worth. I didn't think of it as a big deal, in the few months we had been dating he'd blazed once or twice before, "but hey, this is high school," I had thought, "it's not a big deal, not at all." Later on that same day he rolled his first joint, as I lay on his couch, fiddling with his guitar. Who knows why, but I felt proud to be part of something like that, maybe I felt grown up, or mature.
Three months later I would find him smoking weed more and more, it wasn't too big of a deal, but i was getting worried. One night I called up my friend Brittany, she said that I shouldn't be worried, "it's high school," she claimed. Although, earlier that night Brittany said that she had seen Tyler, and he was 'high as a kite.' I tried to explain to her that I didn't want to be controlling, Tyler could do what he wanted, I wasn't his mother. The following night when Tyler came over, his eyelashes were burnt. He had invested in his first pipe. Four times that week - although that's all I knew of - he got stoned.
By April, it was ever, single, fucking day. I had tried to talk to him about it, but nothing worked. I didn't want to press 'T' too hard, we had just gotten back together after being apart for a month or so. Brittany agreed that now was the time to be worried. One Sunday night, when we were watching some show about Mandy Moore, she played herself, Britt told me "it's no fun to talk to someone about how much weed they smoke, but you need to do something." Some night, or morning, depending on everything, I asked him "if I asked you to pick weed, or me, what would it be?" He tried to convince me that it would be me, every time. I knew better than to believe him. Through the tears I tried to trust him but I couldn't. I didn't want to hurt anymore. Neither of us were happy. From the words both of us were saying - to other people of course - neither of us wanted to be with the other.
One night a bunch of us - his friends and mine - went to Brittany's. Tyler immediately ran upstairs with Brittany, Connor, and his 'ex', Alicia. Leaving me in Britt's room, with her sister and boyfriend, and my friend Ally, watching Nightmare on Elm Street 3. Yippee, what a fun night we had. The four of them came back down and hour and a half later, completely ripped, and slightly drunk. Ally and I left shortly after that. I was completely irritable, and tempted to end it there and then, but I couldn't, I needed him too much, "I cant be with him, but I can't not be with him," I told her. We spent the rest of the night smoking Bulls eyes, and jokingly planning to hook up, even though both of us were 97% straight. Drunken nights spent kissing members of the same gender do take away straight marks. Besides, nothing bugs a guy more that having his girl cheat on him - with another girl.
As tempting as that sounded I decided to try a different method. I couldn't be with him, but I couldn't not be with him. Psych him out I thought, let him realise that if he couldn't stop blazing, he couldn't have me either.
It took him a while, but soon enough he got the 'hints'. I wouldn't be around him at school when he was stoned, which surprisingly, was quite often. I was yelling at him once or twice a week, always about the same things. One day he found me wandering the halls when i should have been in some class. It took him about twenty odd minutes to get it out of me, once he hit the right spot though, I wouldn't shut up. We were outside in the rain while I yelled, again he sat there in silence, patiently waiting for me to stop, as he'd done time and time before. The only words that came from his lips when i was finished we "That sounds like everything you've said before..." I was speechless. If I had said all those words time and time again, then why didn't he get it?! I love him so much, still, but whatever I did to try and help him, just didn't matter. I cried myself to sleep that night, and many more following.
A week or two later we broke up, once again. I was the one who brought up the subject of ending it, but I believed at the time that I was the most upset. We tried to just leave it and be friends, I still needed him. In our months together he became my best friend, although at the time I hadn't ever realised it. But his claiming to still have strong feelings for me got in the way. In the end, I left it all shaken, and more upset than when I began.
In the beginning, I mean the real beginning, when this 'crush' first bubbled up inside of me, apparently he was already going through all of this. Except mainly from my angle. He was in love, hurt, and smoking. Flash forward to the following Halloween week, and he finds me laying on his bed, in a pair of his boxers. We talked on the phone every night before one of us would admit defeat, and fall asleep. It was usually Tyler though, I needed to hear his voice too much to give up any phone call. Only recently did he admit his distaste to talking on the phone. Leaving me alone to only my breath, my heartbeat, my body, and my tears.
"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."

you know i nearly fell down and died

whats the point even? doing anything to make
someone happy, then nothing changes anything.
nothing.
giving all you've got for someone who doesn't give a fuck,
and when you stop going out of your way to please them,
they drop you like a rock.
whats the fucking point?
apparently there isn't one.
see I ain’t the boy that she loves the most
i’m just enough to fill the void her daddy left
lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely

just another pretty face, but i want one more taste.

Tuesday, May 19

Well, I haven't written in a week on account of forgetting my pink pen at home.
My apologies.
Allot has happened that i have wanted to write about since last Tuesday. I just haven't had the time... or the proper writing devices. I would like to get all 10 or so pages now, but I am in English class, so I obviously don't have the time.
My mother found out that I smoke, on Friday I believe. On Friday I went to boxing for the first time, and got a ride home with Tia when she got off work. When I arrived I called mum, said where I was, she casually asked me when I started smoking. I replied with an "oh shit." She laughed. It was weird, she wasn't angry, but said that I needed to stop, along with some other humorous comments. She told me that if I stopped smoking, and didn't smoke again by graduation, she would send me to Europe, and I agreed. I also spent the weekend smoking.

.

A new memory came to my mind for the first time, likely since it happened. During art class Kate and I were discussing smoking, as she smoked all weekend with me. That somehow must have flicked an on switch of this tiny part of my past.

In pre-school, before and after my 2 hours per day of school, I would go to my Grandmother's. Gramma and Grampa. Grampa died of Cancer, the summer before or after Kindergarten, when I was camping with Mum. It was just us and the orange VW van, and maybe some Danes.

One day on our camping trip, mum got a call on her cell. Although I don't recall her having a cell phone before or after that moment. Up until my 6th grade year, at least. But I'm sure she had one. Anyways, she got a call right before we were about to go swimming in the lake. It was a very hot and sunny day, and I was very excited. She suddenly looked very upset, and I was confused. I ended up writing a letter to my Grampa about how much I love him, and missed him. Then we burned it, so that the pieces and ashes would fly up to the sky for my Grampa. I honestly believed that he would get the letter. That he would know how I felt. I remember that I still felt really bad for still wanting to go swimming after that.

.

That wasn't the memory that came to mind in art class. But it came to when I was writing, so I went with it. This - what I'm about to write - is what I remembered. The 3 pieces of my past that will be in this entry, are basically about the same things, and people.

In pre-school when I was going to Gramma's, and having a father, we would sometimes do errands. Just Gramma and I. Sometimes we would go to the doctor, for my Gramma of course. I always loved going there, the big white building, with white, or pale blue walls. It wasn't the hospital, no we went to the clinic. But being only 4 or 5, it really didn't make a difference to me.

They had nice toys there. These cute little plastic people - one was a doctor - and a big yellow bus. The people had hollow bodies, and the bus had bumps, so that the two fit together perfectly. The doctor was always the driver of the big yellow bus.

.

I remember a little girl of only four or five. She is standing at her Grandmother's white window sill, which her head barely tops. I am 85% that I am that girl. I mean... I know that she is me, but I'm not her. That was a completely different lifetime. The two of us - her and I - have almost nothing in common. But at one point, that was me.

Looking out the window she can see her mother slamming the driver's door in her old van. Within moments the loving mother sees her young daughter. The child eagerly waves, and blows a kiss. Her mother 'catches' it oh so skillfully, and blows another to the little girl. Thus she (the girl) 'catches' the kiss, and blows another. This continues long enough for both of them to have enough kisses to last the day, and the mother to realise how late she will be for her job.

Every morning she had breakfast at her Gramma's.

Porridge.

.

See? There is no way that that could be me. My mother and I have nowhere near enough love for each other. Although I do say porridge, apposed to oatmeal.

all that that means, is neither of us is listening.

why are you acting?
why are you kidding aroung?
it's all fun and games in the life of glamour, glitz, and scripts.
it's all fun and games in the life of costumes, love, and hate.

theres no need to talk it out cus it's too late

if life starts at seventh grade, when does it end? not death, of course,
if life were to end at death, then it would begin at birth.
but no one remembers anything-close to nothing at least-
from birth to fifth grade. so then why doesn't life start in fifth grade?
because people, no - children, don't fall in love. pre-teens don't
exactly fall in love either, not in seventh grade of course. they
may think it, but it is quite doubtful. seventh grade is the first
crush year, the first real crush at least. love doesn't start until eighth
or ninth grade sometimes. sometimes it's a couple years later, give
or take. real life doesn't start till high school though. drinking, drugs, sex,
etc. etc.
although, some may be lucky enough to start those barely after
starting middle school. they shouldn't but they wont realise that
until later. much, much later. someone said once that ninth grade
was the best of them all. they could have been lying,
but there was a good point made in the quote. first love, but first
love also means first heart break. what about graduation? that has to
be something. if life starts in seventh grade, real life starts in ninth,
what happens after all that? lost friends, lost hobbies,
and living on the streets for some. college, jobs,
etc. etc.
life really begins then, a kick start on it all. out of the house, in the car.
etc. etc.
you need to watch the way you talking to me you know
i mean after all the things that we been through
i mean after all the things we got into
i know of some things that you ain't told me
i did some things but that's the old me
and now you wanna get me back
and you gon' show me
so you walk around like you don't know me
you got a new friend
well I got homies
but in the end it's still so lonely

talking just turns into screaming.

sometimes sorry doesn't fucking do it.