Something that cheered me up.

Angel

You were right.

lonestarnorth

huh?

Angel

I’ve only lost if I’ve given up.

lonestarnorth

if you give up, the world wins

even though the world is a hundred billion times your size, every time it knocks you down, you need to get back up

because if you stay down, it rolls over and crushes you

Angel

If you fall off a horse, you can’t just stay on the ground and let it trample you.

lonestarnorth

you can’t beat the world, but you can sure give it a run for it’s money

that’s why you’ve got to audition for plays you won’t get into, and apply for jobs you won’t get, and ask people out that will say no

CHOKE ON MY GIGANTIC WISDOM

Angel

It’s so hard, though.

…

NOT YOUR–OHGOD

HAHAHAHA

lonestarnorth

😀

and now you feel so much better

he’s leaving home

So, it’s happening. By this time tomorrow, my gentleman friend will be at Wilfrid Laurier University, in Waterloo.

I… words can’t even describe how much this hurts. How much I am going to miss him. I know it’s silly; he’s coming home on Saturday and we’ll see each other, and he’s promised to text me and write. But… still, I feel like I’m losing half of myself. I keep crying randomly, and I don’t *want* to because I know it’s so stupid and illogical. He’ll be home soon, and I’ll see him, and I’ll keep talking to him online, but I miss him, and it’s so fucking hard to let go of him now.

On the 12th of September, it’ll be nine months. By Christmas, it will be one full year. I’ve never been this close to that goal. Before him, my longest relationship was 5 and a half months, and it really ended two months prior to that, we just dragged it on unnecessarily. But, with him… the novelty hasn’t worn off. Every other boy I’ve met has some inherent flaw, preventing me from wanting to be with them. With him, that’s not true. With him, he seems to *have* no flaws. It’s amazing, perfect, too good to be true.

But it is true. And he does love me. For almost nine months he’s loved me, and I can’t see it stopping now, not when we’re closer than ever before, not after everything we’ve been through.

I love him devotedly, and I know he feels the same. Everything is going to be okay.

Please, I just need to believe it today…

a letter from the past

27 May 08

Dear Angel,

This is you. Er… me. This is 17-year-old Angel in the year 2008, writing to the Angel I will be in the future. I wonder if I’ll ever look back on these words someday. And I am sure that I’ll read this opening paragraph and not know what the HELL I’m blathering about. I’ll tell you what I’m blathering about, man! (do I still get that reference?)

It is, as noted above, the 27th of May. Today is BEAUTIFUL. The sun is shining with all his might, the clouds are all white and floating lazily, puffily, through the blue sky. The trees are an ecstasy of green. And I’ve decided that it’s true what they say about spring — it is the time when one’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

For I am in love. His name is ___ ______. [not for the world to see] His skin is luminous and soft, his eyes are five shades swirled together, his voice is gold, and he writes music in a tapestry of wonder and magnificence. He is my lover in every sense of the word. He is magic.

My reason for writing this letter, then is simple. I am writing to ask if you remember that boy. If you think back on these days with fondness, bitterness, regret, sorrow, anger… hate? I am writing to ask what the end of our story is. Do our dreams come true in the end and send me happily ever after with my Prince Charming? Or do I forget him? Does this love that I treasure more than anything else end up as just one more forgotten photograph buried deep in the cardboard boxes of my memory, one more old boyfriend to scoff at and mock for all his imperfections?

I’m writing you, my future self, to know these things. And, to implore you, never EVER leave this boy. Angel, he is the best thing to ever happen to you and if you leave him then I will kill you.

He is the best thing to ever happen to you. Don’t you DARE let him go. Don’t you DARE.

Love,

Angel.

*delighted gibberish*

This is awesome. Yes, he’s talking about me. Yes, it’s apparently all true. Yes, I want him forever.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

the things I find on old blogs…

This is an entry from a blog I had in Grade 10. That’s 2006. September 19th. Observe:

Oh bother.

Okay. So it turns out that I’ve fallen insanely in love with a Grade 12 in my Vocal class (let’s call him Erik). He’s unbelievable. He’s incredible. He’s amazing. He’s completely oblivious to the fact that I love him devotedly.

His voice is so beautiful. It’s like liquid gold. He’s SUCH a great singer, and he loves musicals, and while he hasn’t seen Phantom (grr) he is allowing myself and others to force him to see it (yay!). He’s also very affectionate, and every time he touches me I blush and turn stupid. Yum. He’s so lovely, and I want him so much, but… gah. Qu’est-ce que le point?

I have, however, made a decision. The day my bestest friend tells her amour that she amours him, I shall tell the same to Erik. Because that will work. Either that, or I shall tell Erik on November the 1st. Whichever comes first. =) But even though that’s months away, I can’t help being nervous about it. I’m so afraid to tell him, to show my true feelings. What if he doesn’t feel the same? Even scarier, what if he DOES??? Is that just wishful thinking, or could it actually happen? I’m so scared.

Mmmm… off to sing and think of him. *sighhh*

I am now dating the Grade 12 in question. I love him love him love him. And also, this proves JUST HOW LONG I’VE WANTED HIM. Yay me.

this is what happens when I get too much sleep

Scaramouche:
I am in need of more notebooks.
(*coughcoughBIRTHDAYINAMONTHcoughhack*)

Dan:
hahaha
I know, love, good to know.

Scaramouche:
Also more mechanical pencils and pens and the like!

Dan:
ah

Scaramouche:
AND POSSIBLY A RHYMING DICTIONARY
I should make a list, man…

Dan:
hahaha

Scaramouche:
OR A THESAURUS
IT IS A DINOSAUR WITH A *MASSIVE* VOCABULARY

Dan:
hahaha
yes, dear

Scaramouche:
USING WORDS LIKE “UNDULATE” AND “LUMINOSITY”

Dan:
🙂

Scaramouche:
Undulating luminosity?
ooh.

Dan:
hahahaha

Scaramouche:
MSN name’d.
… wait, I don’t need that apostrophe.

Dan:
hahahaha

Scaramouche:
Well I’m glad I’m amusing you, at any rate.
What with my UTTER DISREGARD for apostrophe welfare.
Little apostrophe children lining up for soup…
Begging in the streets.

Dan:
but didn’t you just employ one?

Scaramouche:
Their well-to-do neighbours, the quotation marks, tossing a comma or two into their — eh?
Oh.
So I did.
Well.
Yes.

Dan:
hahaha

Scaramouche:
Must you?

Dan:
must I what?

Scaramouche:
Spoil a perfectly good tirade about the injustice faced by punctuation everywhere.

Dan:
hahahaha

Scaramouche:
Be thankful I’m one of those who *does* employ them.
Some would toss them to the wayside like so many grains of rice.
(Who, you might add, would throw away perfectly good rice? I’ll tell you who. People who don’t like rice.)

Dan:
hahahaha

Scaramouche:
You see, I’ve had too much sleep.
SLEEP MADNESS
I HAS IT

Dan:
if the only symptom is being vastly entertaining, that’s fine with me.

Bahaha.

scaramouche:
witty has two Ts.

lonestarnorth:
WELL EXCUSE ME

scaramouche:
NO

lonestarnorth:
THEN YOU MUST DIE

scaramouche:
*dies*

scaramouche:
NOW LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE

lonestarnorth:
there, i fixed my type for you

scaramouche:
*GIGGLEFIT*

lonestarnorth:
GO TO HELL

scaramouche:
AHAHAHAHAHAHA

scaramouche:
I love you.

lonestarnorth:
love you too, jerkface 😛

scaramouche:
❤

lonestarnorth:
❤

A Letter of Catharsis (had to be said, so deal)

Dear ______:

3 years ago, you and I dated for about five months. We were both in Grade 9. Both fourteen. You were my first boyfriend. I was what… your ninth? It was five months, wasn’t it? I’d like to say I can’t remember, but I do. Everything. I remember all you did. The lies. The guilt. The pain. Let’s itemize, shall we?

First. You are aware that I was a fourteen-year-old girl, right? You were my first boyfriend, the only guy who’d ever thought I was pretty. I was a kid. I didn’t know what real relationships were like. So I let you do things to me that I was not ready for. You made me go farther than I should’ve. A month into our relationship, I’d already done pretty much everything but actual sex. You would use me as nothing more than just an object. Make me pose for you. Make me do things to you. Make me let you do things to me. When I said no, I didn’t want to, you used guilt trips to make me feel like I was the one doing the wrong thing. You made me feel like if I said no, I’d either lose you, or I’d be the one hurting you. I thought I loved you. I agreed.

You lied to me. You’d pretend to like something just to make me like you more. You pretended to know things you didn’t, in an attempt to impress me. LYING DOESN’T MAKE ME LIKE YOU MORE! I felt betrayed, knowing you willingly deceived me. Knowingly deceived me. I felt weak and stupid, seeing how easy it was for you.

You physically hurt me. Remember the day you slapped me across the face? Remember how you initially spouted some bullshit about how you “thought I was someone else” – we’d been talking for a good half hour at that point, dumbass – and then said that it was my fault. My fault. It was always my fault. When you dislocated my wrist – which still gives me trouble, by the way, as it is right now – you said it was my fault.

It was always my fault with you, wasn’t it? You’d use things against me. Money you spent for me, gifts you bought me, unasked, would be used as leverage. Ways of making me feel as though I owed you. Like I didn’t deserve you. Like I was ungrateful. You selfish son of a bitch.

All that you did, I accepted. I still, foolishly, believed I was in love with you. Eventually, this culminated in you breaking my heart when I said I wanted to stop everything sexual. It left lasting scars, by the way.  I’m not going to say the most severe, because family members read this blog, but I still feel guilty whenever a guy spends money on me. I still feel like I have to rush the sexual side of relationships. Until very recently, I felt as though it was impossible for males to feel love. Because throughout this torture, YOU INSISTED THAT YOU LOVED ME. Hah. My wrist still hurts me daily. (On the ground screaming, you still didn’t stop twisting my hand.) And it is practically IMPOSSIBLE for me to feel beautiful. I don’t trust ANYONE when they say I’m pretty. Because you said I was, and you lied about everything else. Oh, and you remember this little line?

“I tell you you’re beautiful and smart, even though you’re NOT.”

You actually said that to me. You son of a BITCH! Why… what was going through your mind as you said these things? Did you think that you were honestly doing the right thing? Did you honestly think that was the right way to treat your girlfriend? REALLY? Thanks for the insecurity complex.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Right now, and for the rest of my life, all I want is for you to die. Just fucking DIE. You BROKE me.  Congratu-fuckin-lations. You’ve ruined me forever.

I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY YOU GODDAMN FUCKING DEMON.

–A.

25 truths

1. I want you to write a song about us, but I’m afraid to ask you because I don’t want to be a bother.

2. I just got into my pyjamas and dishevelled my bed at 7.30 in the morning, in an attempt to make it look like I’d slept last night.

3. That day last year, when you mentioned in passing that I had a good voice, was the happiest day of my life.

4. I overuse the word “forever” when it comes to relationships, but I want you to know that every time I say it, I honestly mean it then.

5. The only reason I’m mean to you is because I don’t know any other way to stop you from loving me, and make the guilt of not loving you back go away.

6. Everyone says that you should be yourself, but I’m a lot happier being the person who actually HAS friends.

7. I believe in music the way people believe in God.

8. I only ever feel beautiful when I am singing.

9. I hate it when you mention my “squishiness”, but I can’t tell you because I don’t want you to stop telling me it’s beautiful.

10. I have nothing important to say, but I like to pretend I do.

11. I just laughed so hard at some idiot online, and now I feel like a jerk because I found an old blog post of mine where I said the exact same thing.

12. I really wish the girls in porn could fake their orgasms more convincingly.

13. I want to live in New York City because I’ll be able to completely disappear there.

14. I wish guys were more open about their heartbreak, because I’m slowly beginning to hate girls for being so weak.

15. I like the night, because it means I can be alone and no one bothers me for HOURS.

16. I keep asking you why you love me because I’ve been so mean to everyone in my life.

17. I use pet names because I have a horrible memory for names, and I don’t want to call you by his.

18. If Pluto’s not a planet, then what will the new mnemonic be, if it can’t be “Men Very Early Made Jars Stand Up Nearly Perfectly”?

19. A guy posted a very sweet, romantic PostSecret… and all I could think was, “Dear GOD, man, shave off that HIDEOUS beard, cut your hair, and PLUCK your EYEBROWS!!”

20. I’m afraid of what will happen in a few months.

21. I hate you because you’re perfect and nice and talented and everything that I can never be.

22. I’m never saying goodbye again, because goodbyes are forever.

23. I’m completely fucking terrified that I’m going to treat you the way I treated the last three.

24. I feel gargantuan and clumsy when I’m around you, and sometimes I hate you for being so small.

25. I will always love you.

Smarties + nostril = fun for all involved

So, I’ve been reading lolcats lately. They’re so cute and grammatically-challenged. Unfortunately, this means that my grammar has been affected by it.

A week or so ago, I was eating Smarties. And I dropped one. And I cried out, “OH NOES!” My friend Dan (http://6d60.wordpress.com) commented in his usual snide manner, “I don’t think that will fit in your nose.”

Long story short, I proved him wrong. My nostril was rather blue for the rest of the day. Good times.