And here we are...

school has started.

I want my face in the books.
I want my life back.
I want to make friends.

I keep talking over with myself, why do I try so hard for someone who hardly trys? well, although that's love on my part, maybe not on the other end.

I don't want to try to keep up, and try to stay someone's choice by doing things i don't want to do. I want to be myself, and have someone adore that. I want to feel that maybe what I need is a good friend. I want that for myself. I just need someone dependable, who will love me, and and respect me, and we'll be golden. I promise, I'm a good friend.

Summer '10

And it seems like nothing will ever just be nice to me.
I'll be nothing short of awesome, and that essentially gets me no where, other than on good terms with myself. But maybe that's what I should be working for. I should be working towards doing good things for myself.

This summer, this past relationship, i've learned a few things. One of the most important being that I can be beyond amazing to someone, give them everything I have to offer, but that will never be an affective way to sway someone. Because the truth is, if I feel I have to do that to keep someone around, if I feel they don't like me enough on my own, without me dishing out everything, then no amount of spoiling will make a difference. It's just not how that works. At the end of the day, if another person doesn't want to be with me, and only me, then they won't be. They will cheat if they want, to get a quick fix, they will flirt and tease other girls, they will not give you their all. That's all very discouraging, yes, but I don't think I would want anyone else to sugar coat this for me; It's simply fact weather i want it to work that way or not.

Another lesson, well, people don't care. And the people who don't care about you, shouldn't mean anything to you. If they know what they are doing will hurt you, and they do it anyway, well, that means they don't care. I had three, maybe more, have their actions show that they don't care about me. Well, I wish it was as simple as saying, "fuck off" but it's not, because these are all people that I care about, people that I had nothing but positive feelings for. The people who fucked my life, they were all people that I wanted around, so it's hard to just say that.

And as for myself, what I learned about myself is that I am always going to be slightly disadvantaged. My heart is so big, and so broken now, but I can never stop being who I am. Who is that? A loving, sweet, helpless, dependent, girl. I will never stop having love in my heart for people. I could have someone spit in my face, but if they are in a time of need, I would drop almost anything to help them out. I could be warned of the doucher guys, but somehow find my way into their arms. I can not be a single, and be whole. I have to have a counterpart to complete me, to bring out the best in me, and that doesn't necessarily mean a boyfriend, but a friend, just someone to be with. All these things always seem to lead me to my downfall, but you know what, someday I hope that it won't.

I don't want to be any other way than I am now. Because I will always show that I only have good intentions for everyone, and I like that. I would rather be known as a sweet heart, and do things that I know are good, and feel good about what I do, than be known as a bitch, a heart breaker, soulless, and not knowing what to feel good about. I want to know that what I do will not be looked down on. I want to be proud of my actions, always, and that's what is now important to me.

Of course, I want marcus in my life, and I begged him to take me back, and did what I felt would get him to stay with me, but will I be proud of that decision? Because I am now looked down on by so many people, and they don't understand what I do, and why I do it. Well, yes, I am proud of my decisions, because despite all of them telling me how I'll get hurt again, and how stupid I am, I know what I want to do, and nothing anyone will say will change the love I have in my heart for him. I am proud that I can do what I want, despite what people say, because I want to do it. And everything I've done shows exactly who I want to be, sweet, loving, and hopeful.

You may say he doesn't love me, and believe me, I've battled that argument in my mind, in my writing, with other people, time and time again, and maybe he doesn't, but I know that my feelings are genuine. So do I like getting kicked in the ass, in the heart, everytime i'm with him? well, the truth is, no. But for my love to still exist through the kicks in the ass, well, I think that says I'm either sick in the head, in love, or have the lowest self worth imaginable. Take it as you will.

poem. =]

I can't promise you I'll always be slender
and I can't say I'll never be under the weather
I am not definite forever.
So If there comes a time when I break the mold that was your perfect girl
If I don't come across as the prize inside the clam, a pearl
It's not the end of the world.
Because I may seem like your safest bet, but I know better than that.
But if you decide that you're not done, and I'm still allowed around,
that a love even slightly greater will not ever be found,
I will hold no treaties, but I will always try with you.
but only with you.

The end.

You always told me that story of the first time your brown eyes saw me. You recalled this meeting to every last detail in the most vivid manor; You knew what I was wearing, who I was with, and what I ordered at that empty sandwich shoppe. To me, it always sounded so unreal, because I couldn't begin to imagine that it was possible to take such flawless mental notes, and remember them, especially for a complete stranger.

You told this story so often, I could just about steal each word before your lips and tongue had time enough to form each word. But I guess I'm also partly to blame for how frequent these words were recited from your memory, because I would ask to hear this story. And during this story, my eyes would widen from amazement, my longing hands would weasel their way over to yours to interlock, and I would strategically kiss your neck, just below your jaw line, so you could tell the story without interruption.

The story always started with the sandwich shop scene. I walked in, as you recall, with a friend; I was wearing a purple shirt, my hair long, and all I ordered was a smoothie. You would tell me what you though, like how you said to yourself "I have to meet her" and "that girl is perfect", and "she's so beautiful." Then you'd go into the events that followed such as coming to my house, our brief "dating," and everything that brought us to each other. I'm convinced to anyone else, this story would fall short of all their expectations, but it filled my every last one.

That is until the day our story took a tragic turn, crash, and burn. I will always speak the story of my first love, Marcus Gonzales. It starts with your story, when you first saw me, and you telling me my fairytale, but never ending the way it could have, probably should have, something I had definite faith in. At the end of the story, my heart broke. You had given something only we were to share to three other girls. As anyone could imagine, my tears were a heavy down pour, and I wished for my eyes to experience a drought. My self worth was demolished beyond recognition, paralleling my pride. I could no longer figure out who I was, what I stood for, and where I was going. Everything lead me to no clue of what to do next, which path to choose, and even which paths were there, and how to find them.

My dearest Marcus cheated on me, Anna Preston, and it was never understood why. My love was so abundant, enough to last us both until neither of our hearts were beating, and where was it to go? He was the only one this love was intended for, the sole motivation for the creation of this feeling. So this is now my struggle, my night terror. Where will this love go if my pride, my value, my fears don't allow me to deliver this love anymore? What will I do? What will become of me? How will I live? Well, I guess that's where the next story begins.

another lie?

but a more serious one.


I feel terrible because of it.


He makes me feel like a bully now that I know the truth, and I think this could possibly be a bigger problem then I could imagine.

lying will get you no where.
It may make you think I approve, and for the moment, I may, but when I find out the truth, i have no choice but to laugh about how stupid it makes ME feel....how uncomfortable it makes me feel, how helpless.

If you can't tell me the truth, what are we doing here? that's not ideal.

a lie.

So marcus and I are talking, and this is how he starts of a statement.
"Well, if a lie would benefit our relationship..."
and leaves it at that, without finishing it.
=[


Okay, so we all know that this statement is complete shit. There is nothing nice about this. We all think about how a lie would soften a blow of something, but that's all it should be, a thought. "oh hey, wouldn't it be nice if I could just lie and say that I DIDN'T kiss that guy at that party?" and then follow that with the thought "But I can't because that's not right. He should know." That's how it should go. Doesn't everyone have a conscience? Maybe mine is just bigger than most, but i could never be alright knowing that I didn't tell someone something that was true.

I'm big on honesty. Real big on it. If you ask me a direct question, I will not weasel my way out of it. I will be honest. This does get me into trouble sometimes, but I would rather that happen then feel the sickness in my stomach from knowing I could be better. I know right from wrong, and if i"m wrong, I have no reason to hid it, because I know it's wrong.

So would I lie to benefit my relationship? Never. NEVER would I do that, because that is not how I want to live. But first off, I don't want to put myself into situation that make me want to/need to lie. I can't think of a single situation when lying would ever "benefit" any of my relationships, and I'm sure they would have to agree too. It is not a good relationship if you feel you ever have to lie to make things better.

Of course, I'm sure marcus didn't mean for it to seem this way, but I can only wonder about his logic and how he thinks. He thinks this it is okay for this to happen, and I'm going to have to disagree.

His lie was telling me he wasn't a jealous guy, then later fesses up to it. "I know I said that[I wasn't a jealous guy], but I lied." This may not seem like a big deal, but when I asked him why he did it, like you naturally ask someone when you want a TRUE answer, he said "I thought it would worry you if I said I was, so I didn't."
Ummmm, well, I'm not dumb. I can pick up on these things. I may play like I don't realize what's going on, but I do, and I don't make a big deal about it because I don't think I should make a big deal about something someone is trying to avoid. I'm not going to push it if he thinks he doesn't have to share it. But I am aware of it being there.

I hope he can be more honest, because it sucks when you deny something, and I know what's really going on anyway, meaning I know you're not being truthful. Let me tell you, it sucks.

My problem with smoking.

It's not that I care so much for your life.
It's not that I care so much for my life.
Health is not so much a reason to me, but more of my own, personal story.

My father is a habitual smoker. He smokes a pack or more a day.
He has been since before he knew any better.
when a pack was less than a dollar.

Growing up, my dad always smoked. In the car, around me, anywhere, he didn't care, he just smoked because that's what he wanted to do, and that what he did. When I was younger, I was told smoking was bad for you, and just not to do it. I didn't want something harmful to happen to my dad, so I naturally wanted him to smoke. I wanted him around. I wanted him to live to see my his grandchildren, to attend my wedding, to college graduation, and I was convinced that he would get cancer, and he would die all before he could be proud of me. I wanted nothing less than for him to be proud of me and to see me accomplish something. Well, my dad isn't dead, he doesn't think he has cancer, well, mostly because he refuses to go see a doctor because they just remind him how dangerous it is for him to be smoking at his age, and I am no longer afraid of him dying. My problem with this nasty habit is a little more, well, superficial now. It's about money. As most of you know, Marlboro's are about 5 bucks a pack, a little less I know. For the past, well, as long as I can remember, my family has struggled with bills and food and everything financial, all up until this past year.

All through out high school....I've paid for my everything. When I would get birthday money, Christmas money, anything, it was spent on clothes I needed, rationed for when I needed to eat lunch during swim season, for sports, for anything. Perhaps that is why I never really did much sports growing up. Although I am very thankful for my father, who was the only source of income for my family, I am also very resentful.

I just don't understand how the "necessity" for cigarettes is greater than feeding your family, making rent on time, giving your children opportunity. So my problem with smokers is that. I don't ever want that. I will never smoke, ever, because I do not want to. Simple as that. I would never by choice date a smoker...and probably will never want to fall in love with one.

I don't think anyone knows how much I struggle with the fact that my dad smokes, that my brother, whom I use to look up to so much, smokes, and how my boyfriend smokes. I'm concerned for their health, yes, but mostly, it just hurts me. I guess I'm more concerned with myself. This may be selfish, and I know this, but I think this is kinda a big thing.

It's actually a really big thing to me.
Too bad I don't have the balls to tell Marcus how much this really bothers me and can't possibly think of telling him this story. I'm a coward.