So. It's been awhile, hasn't it? Gosh. You would think after blogging for almost two years that I would have gotten the hang of coming up with naturally inventive and creative beginnings. Of course, this is me we're talking about, and one of my many mortal writing weaknesses is writing intros to things. And yet somehow I chose to become an author. What can I say, I'm a glutton for punishment. But this post isn't going to be about how much of a monster I am, or how terrible I've messed up the past few things in my life, because, well, I've got good news for once! No, I'm not getting married. No, I'm not pregnant. No, I didn't magically find J.K. Rowling wandering aimlessly down my street looking for me so we could talk and become the best of friends. I really was wishing for the last one, though. The good news I've been meaning to share? Remember that one really huge topic I started what felt like forever ago, called 'Statues' (you can search for it through my user and read it if you'd like)? It's finally turning into a novel. And by turning into, I mean I currently have the first full-length chapter for everyone to read on my blog (also under my information, or you can google for me, too) with an actual title and expected release date of October 2011. Holy crap, RIGHT?! Okay, so maybe I'm a tad more excited than most, but that's okay. I just really, really, REALLY wanted to share that with you guys without looking like a creeper spammer, though after being here for a few years, I don't think I could be labeled as such (right Cog? Riiiiight? -panic-) So, if, by chance you happen across it and read it, let me know! I've been twitching all day hearing different stuff from different people, and it's just got me beyond warm and fuzzy on the inside. Yeah. I'm going to stop the mushing weird stuff now before I'm really labeled as crazy. Haha!
I must admit, I probably have to be the most self-destructive person I know. Last night would be the best testament to this. Most of you know that, while it's been a while since I've written anything in here, I'm not spared of owning my own demons in my life. On good days I think of them like little imps; casual, mischievous little creatures that enjoy watching me trip over my own two left feet. Bad days, however, tell of a different tale. I lose part of myself to the darkness, swallowed whole by a miasma with no way out. My inner voice splits into two, the light and the dark, waging wars with each decision I make. Every time this happens, I can only sit on the sidelines and watch, my hands and feet bound, mouth gagged. The darkness overcomes me with ease, images of icy steel and a withered world holding homage to the black-cloaked side of my nightmares. She only shows up when I'm standing on a cliff, metaphorically speaking of course, just as my feet scrape the edge of the craggy, unstable rock. We both know I can't do this on my own, so she offers to take the reins for a little. I gladly accept. I never seem to learn from my mistakes to put her in control. Last night played out just like that. My head had been spinning for days, my relationship with my life-long boyfriend Tim threatened. I had been doing well before when we'd fight or feel an outward pressure placed upon us; breathe, smile, continue on with life. I wasn't that lucky this time. My skin had felt like I was burning alive from the inside out, my inner screams and pleading going unheard. I had gotten testy with Tim, snapped and felt the crackle of pain in my words, yet I didn't stop. I hadn't even made it to the cliff before my inner darkness had seeped out, promising to make everything go away. So what had I done? I said the worst thing I possibly could. Told him I didn't love him, that I liked his cousin more. I took a sword to his throat, cut halfway through, only to stop and watch him bleed, alive and in pain. What have I done? I want to go back so badly right now, stand up before myself and smack the frightened girl so hard she'd lose her front teeth. In those words that I had cut him down with, I built my own cage, my own damning prison, and from the moment I uttered the words, I regretted it, I truly did. I should know by now that trusting the dark hole to offer me comfort was probably the largest laughing matter next to my wish to win the lottery. Thankfully, I'm not alone in dealing with my inner black hole. With every ounce of darkness, there is a pinprick of light somewhere, like thunder in the distance. It lights up the sky for just a moment, but it burns in your retina, showing you the paths lingering ahead. As soon as the damage had been done between the two of us, I did my best to recover. By no means am I a religious person; while I was raised a Christian, I don't acknowledge myself with a church, or any form of religion. But I do believe in God, and I sure as hell believe in second chances. A very similar road presented itself to me a long, long time ago, back when I thought teenage love was forever, when hormones took control of everything I could think about. While I took the wrong road there, I made sure I didn't this time, even if it meant combing back through the thicket to the fork in the road to make that choice over again, I did it. I wasn't, nor am I ever going to, let my one shot for true, life-fulfilling love get away from me. I'm willing to fight, stand tall and proud, and bridge the gap that has fallen between the two of us because of my actions and my words. I know, I know, it all sounds a little, well, nuts. I mean, who visualizes the light and dark within them as separate beings? I'm sure I'm one of the sole few who isn't existing off of medication for conformity into society. But there's just no other way to put it, because that's how it happened to me. Being a (slightly unstable) writer gives me that awkward spin on things to the point where I view my life almost from a third person perspective. Either way, be it third person viewing or first person, I'm ready to tackle one of my most personal problems head on, because I don't back down from a fight. Never have, never will. Sometimes the sun only shines for a few people, clouding the rest into a thick veil of darkness. Well maybe it's time we try to rise above the clouds for once.
I believe I've discovered a new chapter of myself, growing a new leaf could be another way of saying it. I'm not totally sure it happened, to be honest. As I had mentioned before, I had essentially stopped writing, having cut myself off from my inner author for the pursuit of... well, I have no idea what the hell I was pursuing, but I think I found it. Maybe I'm not the only one here who gets feelings that makes it impossible to write. You know what they are; to some, it's depression. The idea of the darkness swallowing you whole makes you so morbid, you can't fathom to pick up a pen and paper to write unless you plan on creating a mass murderer killing out of loneliness. To others, it's happiness. Even when you think you can write because you're all smiles and your world is perfect and golden, you can't. All you get is images of sugary rainbows and unicorns dancing over chocolate. While happy endings are always something we want to achieve, sometimes the story in your head just doesn't call for it. Then there's that neutral patch. You're not happy, but you're not sad either. You're there. You're living. It's life. Eh. Yes, those moments happen, too, and when they do, it sucks. It's like the dreary skies without the pouring rain. I think I can safely say that my writing tends to be its best when I'm depressed. It's a sad thing to say, I know. Who wants to admit they can't write unless their life is hell and there's no light at the end of the tunnel? No one wants to, in reality, but inwardly we recognize and acknowledge it. We know our happy skies will eventually bring pouring rain, and then we can go back to our computers and notebooks and scribble out every detail that eluded us under the shining sun. But something's not right this time. Today, for the first time in who-knows-how-long, I was writing. But not only was I writing, I was editing. Tweaking, fixing, buffing, polishing, whatever you choose to call it. And the heart of it all? I was writing while happy. Holy hell Batman, what's wrong with me? In a way, I kind of want to thank my boyfriend, Tim, for this. I know he didn't put my fingers to the keyboard, didn't craft the words in my head, but you know what? He loved me, and still loves me. He's stood by my side since he learned of my goal to become a published novelist, and never once did he waver. "Do whatever makes you happy," he said to me, and I haven't forgotten those words yet. No one in my personal life has said that to me, not my parents, not my past boyfriends, not my friends. This one boy, who is facing his own trials and demons between his home and his job, is coaching me, the girl in a comfortable home with everything she could ever need, to do whatever makes me happy in life. If that means I want to change my mind every few months, he's okay with that. If that means I want to do five different mini-careers at once, he's going to support me through it, and encourage me to succeed. I don't think I've ever loved someone as much as I love him. And I don't think I'll ever love someone after him, either. So Tim, even though you're never going to read this, thank you. Thank you for being my rock, my life vest in this storm, my medication to each headache, ranting fit, and crying spell I've ever had and will ever have in the future. Thank you for being you. And thank you, guys, thank you for the comments, the kind words and advice. I've personally taken the time to say this, so I believe it's well past due. And even if you never commented, but just glanced through and suffered reading this whole thing to hear me rant, rave, sob, scream, or cheer about something, thank you, too. ...I really must be in a mood. Ho-lee crap.
It's been a while, I know. I almost want to start things off with a simple 'hello, old friend', before I dissect my life for the world to rip and tear apart. Things have been... different since I last posted. I've stopped writing, completely. If you honestly asked me why, I couldn't give you an answer. To admit it alone is like I'm offering my beating heart on a silver platter to a hungry pack of wolves. I do my best to never directly confront my writing, afraid I'm going to see what I knew would happen all along; that it's not as strong as it once was, that I don't hold the ability to write like so many people thought I did. That I, Livi, would fail so many people on so many levels, and ultimately, fail myself all at once. But with every storm comes a clear sky in the end, and my life hasn't been without it's high moments. I've been dating the love of my life for a solid four months, and the promise ring on my finger shows just that. He may not be the best person on a planet, with all his ducks in row, but he, like myself, is trying to find his place in the world. It's proving to be difficult, to say the least. It's like... I can feel myself falling back into the hole I dropped into my junior year. I know the pit well; I dug myself into it. The walls are the same dark, damp, cold walls I stared at in the darkest moments of my life. They offer little comfort for me now, only the stinging reminder of what was once in here; the lost and crying girl who couldn't speak for herself and stand up on her own. The difference from this time and the last? I can't seem to claw my way out, no matter how many roots I grasp at frantically, no matter how many screams for help I let out. Each day has proven to be a different struggle for me, it seems. Sure, I have my moments of happiness and joy, but I feel myself putting on a smile to keep everyone at arm's length than really meaning it. Lately I've been wondering where I'd be if I was where everyone else was; off at college, hitting parties, coming home for weekends, all of the typical post-high school stuff. I wonder day in and day out if I made the right choice in going against the grain and refusing college because I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. Wait, backpedal here. Did I say I don't know what I want to do with my life? Honestly, I don't know. I just don't know. So instead of sucking it up and picking an undeclared at a local college, I'm sitting here, moping up my tears with my sleeve, making a desperate attempt to keep that smile on my face so the world doesn't give me any unneeded attention. Someone else could use it much more than I could; someone always can use it more than me. And I know I've talked about this all before, that I've gotten several people telling me that I shouldn't worry about not knowing what to do, that as long as I'm in college, I'm making an effort. You really think I want to make an effort when most colleges will cost me two thousand dollars or more a year? I'd rather save myself and my family from paying for such ridiculous costs by knowing in which direction I want to go before I do it. I don't know, maybe I just enjoy chasing the dream more than owning it. It appears that with each new insight into the world of the Arts, I'm drawn into it. From graphic design to writing, sewing to painting, it all appeals to me, and I have a raw talent for it all. Talent that, with time, could be cultivated to make something of it. I just wonder if I'm going to love it as much as I do now if I spend so much time on it. So, I'm continuing to claw at the pit, and I'm still screaming down here, hoping someone will here me. But it's only so long before I run out of a voice to use, and my body becomes too weak to keep fighting the never-ending fight I'm against.
I love how one thing can suddenly spark a million different fires, igniting the ground in a flurry of brilliant, dazzling light. I don't honestly know how it started. The day was already planned ahead: get up, go to Dorney with my best friend on the planet, hit home and crash from a whole day of roller coasters, water-parks, and mild madness in the form of two giddy girls together, gossiping like old wives. Well, it turned out that Dorney was closed, go figure. Stunned, Steph and I debated what to do, and settled for visiting a good friend of ours, Katie. Her having a pool only made things a little better. I know, I know, I'm kind of jumping around on this one. My brain's a little frazzled, and I'm finding myself in the process of losing my words even while I write. It may have to do with the person I'm on the phone with, it may have to do with the ideas and realizations that smacked me in the face while I was talking to him, on the verge of passing out, but hey, no one's pointing the finger. See, earlier today, I ran into an old friend at Katie's house. He's been a friend of mine that I lost touch with in the middle of our graduation, him getting kicked out of his house, finding a job and so far not succeeding, etc. Brandon had always been someone close to me, and not just because I had been crushing on him since the day I met him junior year of high school. We connected on levels that most people didn't even touch with me, levels that people didn't even get close to. All we'd have to do is touch, or look at each other, and the silent exchange was more than a book filled with our words. Just before I left Katie's house today, naturally, I hugged him. I didn't think it would be anything more than the same bodily contact like it was with everyone I knew. Only this time, it was someone ripped a good chunk of my chest out, hollowed me in a way, and then proceeded to fill my insides with a fire that couldn't be contained. I could myself burning, almost to the point of wanting to cry. I honestly thought the loneliness I had felt, the loneliness that felt just like this, had left me when I said farewell to Mike over two years ago. But this one burned stronger. A reminder of my absence in life. A reminder that I was still missing something important. I had thought that I could go on without it; the human touch that left me with shivers up and down my spine, that twisted knot in my stomach that reminded me I felt attraction still. But that one, tiny little connection with Brandon, told me I was wrong. I had been making sure not to connect with anyone, keeping these walls up to preserve what was left of my sanity. I didn't think I was doing damage to myself in the process. It only clicked to me that, while talking to someone near to my heart just a few minutes ago, that maybe it's time for a little change. To take a risk or two, quit playing all coy and 'subtle', and just spit things out when they need to be said, be a little honest, a little vulnerable. And, ironically, you'd think I'd start with Brandon. But, that's not even close. Brandon was the fuel, no more, no less. So, I'm going to go ignite myself some more, and hopefully this fire will override the other, choking one inside my heart, maybe numb the pain a little bit, if not fully. And I think I know just the guy who can help me with that.
I want to cry. Maybe that's a little too vague. I want to scream. Rant, rave, throw a dozen different things across the room, collapse onto the ground and start sobbing, hide in bed for a few days, then shape up and get back to the little game of Life. I'm sure some of you are wondering where the heck this all came from, so suddenly. To be honest, I'd have to say I've done it again. I let every little thing in my life grow and mutate behind my back, and now it's the the fire-breathing dragon that's got me shaking in my shoes, ducking for cover. Everything's out of my hands, and yet everyone tells me I have the power to fix it right here, right now. What a load of crap. How can I fix what is clearly not even within reach, even if I stretch as far as I can? It's just not possible. Let's start with something less dramatic of the bunch: schooling. I've spent almost the last whole year trying to figure out what the heck I'm supposed to do with my life. Deadlines are approaching, my father's reminding me about them every single day with that look that says 'You'd best know what to do with your life, and soon'. My mother's asking me now, my brothers, sister, friends who are just coming back from their first year at college. My answer? I still have no freaking clue. Yet I'm supposed to be going off to school next year? Really? Now the hell am I going to go off to college when I don't even have a clear idea of what I want to do with my life? Sure, I mean, I could go for what I want to do, which is writing. But realistically, how is that something to keep myself financially stable? Granted, my parents have both stressed I will always have a home here, in their house, but I'm 19. I don't want to be home all the time under their eyes. Who does? Who wants to have their parents judging their every move while they go through some of the hardest years of their lives as the develop into an adult? Sure, I could go off, maybe get my book done, and if I was really lucky, make something off of it. But the market is slim out there now, and everything is coming out with vampires, vampires, and yeah, vampires. So where does my book fall into place when it's got the same thing? So my writing's different, great, but will that be such a huge difference? If the average reader browsing through B&N is anything like me, I'm screwed. I pick up a book, and if the first few pages don't get me, or even the jacket of the book, I put it down and never look at it again. Prejudiced, I know, but it's honestly how most people choose a book. I generally don't read anything unless a friend suggested it, or I'm right there, the book's right there, and I'm going to die of boredom after counting the ceiling tiles for the fifth time. So yeah, that monster certainly has me hyperventilating. Then take my standard issue of failing at connecting with any of the male species outside my computer. After my little episode with my friend, he's spoken to me, although it's few and far wide. We don't talk at night anymore. And you know what? It feels like a white-hot knife has been jabbed into my chest and is just lingering there, infecting me one cell at a time. This is where I want to start screaming. I've been playing good and holding my composure, acting like nothing's wrong and being myself, and yes, there are moments were truly everything is fine and dandy. But the moment I begin to dwell on him, oh boy, it's like the barrel of monkeys got loose. Moments like these make me start to freak out. Maybe it's me. It's got to be me. I must be some kind of freak if I can't even manage something with someone locally, let alone online. What's wrong with me? To be honest, I wish I knew. And don't give me that 'you just haven't found the right one' horse-crap. I get that enough, and you know what, it's not comforting one freaking bit. I'm sure I am at most blame here, though. Why? Because it's who I am. I know myself better than anyone, considering I've only clung to this pile of skin and bones for nineteen years, and when you stick with the same sack of flesh for that long, you learn things about yourself you're not proud of. I'm not talking physical features, I'm speaking mentally and emotionally. I know for a fact that I'm an over emotional, clingy-attention-craver. Not something I'm proud of, but I accept it. It gets me into a lot of trouble at times, like when I assume something because of one person's actions, when my assumption isn't even close to the real situation at hand. But other times it's helped, like when I've been open and honest with people about how I've felt and why it hurt me in the way it did. It's a horrendous double-edged sword, particularly in the romantic department. While I seek love and compassion, most males I meet want something physical, something emotionless. Something I can't do. So fine. I could say that's their problem, and move onto the next guy. So what happens when every guy is like that? What do I do then? Honestly, I feel like I'm at the end of my rope. I can only take so much pounding on my heart and head before I crumble under the pressure. Already I can feel pieces of my chipping off while I crawl back into the hole I found myself sitting in back in my junior year of High School. It's not much, just a small dark abyss, but it holds enough space to let me thrash about while I start to scream. Hopefully it doesn't echo.
I seem to keep finding my way back here, back to my old watering hole, so to speak. This place seems to hold something magical for me, a place where I can properly pen my feelings without the eyes of my personal peers staring down my back. I'd like to think of my life right now like a video game quest; in order to complete it, I need to gather several different things, which means I need to kill several beasts before I get those things. Sounds easy, right? Hardly. These beasts are elites, each one representing the problems in my life that are threatening to crush me with so much as a solitary glare. The first, and more foremost one, is my hell-hole of a love life. I've probably whined and complained about this more than anything else I've ever blogged about. From Mike, to Gaylon, to that damn good looking Greek boy Savvas, I'd like to think anyone who's read this has probably choked on my poor choices in men and either laughed or cried over my emotional roller coasters I've faced with each one. I guess I'm a sucker for punishment, because I found myself growing to someone without even realizing it, once again. His name? We'll leave it out, for now, I guess, I don't know. After the wake of Gaylon pretty much not talking to me anymore (and yes, he hasn't said a peep to me since that last phone call. It's almost depressing, but not quite) I found solace with someone who took interest in me. Jarret* was already in the in-game guild I'm apart of, so I'd already learned a little about him. We shared a few, basic interests, and he said he loved my fire. One night, after complaining about being tired, he suggested to call me. I obliged, and it seemed to be the start of another little round of Tugging on Livi's Heart. Things had been going fine, maybe a little disagreement here or there, but things were going well. At least, I thought so. He got my fire, and I gained his nurturing affection towards me. It was definitely a win-win situation. Until I goofed. We had been talking the other night, like any night, and our conversation turned away from the innocence and towards the nitty-gritty. Everything had been going fine, until he said something. It wasn't even an insult, or an accusation, an attack, nada. Just a common statement. And I cried. Sobbed. Went into hysterics. It must of been about fifteen minutes of me hiccuping and gasping for breath, while he's clueless as all hell as to what happened. Somewhere amidst the cries and tears, I explained what happened. He had said something that triggered a faint, but strong memory of my father, one where his hand was used as a weapon and my body was the punching bag. Jarret knew I hadn't had the best relationship with my father growing up, but I never specifically told him he used to beat me, call me worthless, and basically make me hate myself. After the episode, I tried to remedy it. Of course, my timing had to suck, and his phone had to die. He said to call me after half an hour if I hadn't fallen asleep, and sure enough, half an hour came and went, and I called him. He was groggy, probably half-asleep, and said that his phone probably wouldn't last long, and that he'd talk to me tomorrow. I, against every fiber in my being, agreed, and hung up. I spent the next few hours wide awake in my bed, wondering what damage I had done. This morning, naturally, I tried to call him. No answer. I called a few more times, spaced throughout the day, with no luck. That was where the first bells went off in my head. This wasn't like him, which meant something was on his mind. Still, I played it safe, assumed he was busy, and played about my day. I came home and logged online, and right away, threw myself into an apology. He said it was fine, but then paused. I felt it coming, definitely. He said afterwards that he 'wanted to take things down a notch'. He said he still liked me, but wanted to breathe. Of course, I thought, that would be what anyone wanted after hearing the girl they like sob on the phone over something as little as a statement. It got to me, clawing at my insides, reaching up into my heart and planting the seed of corruption I knew would consume me whole unless I cut it off. So here I am, shaking with the scalpel, my beating heart thumping uselessly in my hand. So, where to cut? *Name's been altered to save this person's soul should they ever read this. I'm sure they'll know it's them if they read it, but anything to keep them safe, I guess.
I feel like a coward. A traitor, a fool, someone with no soul. It's funny how someone will swear to stay by someone's side, regardless of the dragging, tugging, and pulling they endure, only to turn around and leave so suddenly. I know it's not my fault, I know he didn't leave because I was rude, or mean, did something insulting, or anything along those lines. How do I know that? Because I'm the one that left him. That's why. I'm not even really sure how it happened, to be honest. One minute I had promised myself to wait a week, until this coming Friday, and then if things were still on thin ice, I was going to end it. Cold, hard, slap-chop break. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to call him that night and lay into him, especially after a little push from both a helping hand here, my cousin, and a good friend of mine. So sure enough, I broke my little vow and gave Gaylon a call on Saturday night. I have to admit, I was surprised he picked up. We started off causal, asking how we'd been, how our day was, what we were doing, standard ice-breaking conversation. Mentally I was buffering myself for the questions I was going to ask him, and trying to prepare for his answers that would ultimately seal the deal on my decision. I started small, asking him how his job interview went, breaching into if he was going to be online as much or have much time left over outside of work. Judging by the hours he told me, he did, certainly, but that didn't stop him from saying he was going to be busy. I couldn't take it anymore at that point, so taking a breath, I began the harder questions. "So what are we going to do about this? Did you only say you wanted to try at my benefit, or did you really mean it?" He said he really meant it, and if it was any consolation, he hadn't talked to almost anyone in the past few days. It did little to soothe the sleeping beast within. Part of me wanted to cry and tell him he was an idiot for doing this, but another side had control over my actions. For once, I was naturally calm, collective, and thoughtful. My head was clear as I carefully phrased my sentences. We danced along the outer edges of the topic, him reluctant to mention it, me slowly dragging him into it further and further. I finally asked him if he wanted this to be over, if that would be better for him. "I don't want it to be over, Liv, I just... want a break while I get everything together," he sighed to me. I oddly wondered if he meant like a pause button, and while a little part of me hoped that was the case, the bigger part of me knew he probably meant pause as in 'sleep mode' with a computer. He was powering me off to turn on a bigger, better computer. But I pushed through, never once faltering in my voice or in my words. I told him that was fine, and if the time ever came up that things would fall back into place, maybe we could chat one day again. He made it a point to say he would still talk to me from time to time, but I took his words with a grain of salt. Even as he spoke, his hold on me diminished, dissolved into nothing. I found I could move forward without pausing my life and drowning in the sea of my emotions. "I'll miss it, you know, the little things we did," I mentioned towards the end of the conversation, my brain having brought up a few of our old conversations into play as I thought about it. I sang a small piece of Rob Thomas' 'Someday' out loud, inwardly knowing his weakness towards my singing voice, but not caring. I was leaving my mark on his heart. We ended with the same, simple 'See you around' statements, and hung up. And while I wanted to sit there and silently cry after it was over, I found I couldn't. Something about wasting tears on someone who doesn't really even care about you seemed to ring in my head and remind me it was done, and I was still alive, unharmed, and able to function as a human being. So I'm back to square one, open and proudly okay with not being on anyone's arm. It's like the giant invitation to flirt with whomever I want as much as I want just smacked me in the face, and I'm kind of already eying up that one boy at the local eatery I frequent, who's been single for a few months now. Hmmm.
...or, you know, don't. I'm ready to start bashing my head on the wall. It's only in moments like these, when your love life is crumbling at your feet, that you see just how many people are watching you, hoping you'll fail, hoping you'll fly, or maybe in my case, have spontaneously combusted into nothing but ash. I started looking over my old blogs, just a moment to pass before I started this splash of a rant, and noticed the lyrics of David Cook for one of my titles. I'd like to think of this as a full circle; this is the second guy I've pretty much told to screw off in my blog. Huh, looks like a trend is starting. Anyway, back on topic. Gaylon had an interview today, something I was blissfully happy about. Him getting a job could boost his confidence, maybe knock some of the fluff back into his head to realize he's pushing his girlfriend right off the nearest cliff into the raging ocean of emotions below, or whatever it is I happen to be to him. I called in the morning, as a little way to say 'Go get 'em, tiger!' and left him a cheerful message on his voicemail. It wasn't too long before I noticed it was 5 pm, and my second break in the day was up. I took the time to fish out my phone and give him a ring, since he hadn't texted me back. Once more, his cheesy voicemail greeted me, only this time I didn't leave anything. I just shrugged and figured he was busy. He'd text eventually, or maybe he'd passed out in glee after his interview. I didn't know. 9 pm came and went. Frustrated, I went home, and logged on my computer. I couldn't help myself; I wanted to know if he was out cold or if he was just blowing me off hardcore now. I checked a few logs on some websites concerning his characters, and lo-and-behold, the bastard was online, active, and completely awake. I was pissed. Might still be pissed. It was only hours ago I was worried and hoping he was alright, feigning nonchalance about him dropping me like a hot knife. Everyone's general consensus about him so far was this; he's overwhelmed and busy, give him space, he'll come back and miss you. Yeah, well, what happens when he doesn't miss me, and I'm still here standing like an idiot with my arms open, waiting for the hug that'll never come? What happens if time comes and goes, and I leave, and then he decides to come back? What's a human to do with all these damn emotions and their lack of place in a slowly hollowing heart?
Well, sort of. I don't know if it's just my sort of luck to keep finding these guys who start off as wonderful people, only to turn into monsters, or if it's my miserable form of fate that I'm bound to be repeating for the rest of my life. Alright, let me re-cap. Most of the people who have read at least one of my posts knows that I've gotten over one terrible pick of an ex, Mike. So, before you start losing your minds thinking I'm going to be venting about him again, the answer is no. He's been out of my life for almost a year steady now, and I'd like to keep it that way. Along my journey of writing-withdrawal, I took solace in my new laptop and the ability to play World of Warcraft. Yes, I'm a nerd, go ahead and laugh. I must admit, it was a good distraction. It killed my depression over all of my 'friends' from high school leaving me for college, gave me comfort when I was considered 'important' to a raid group, and all other forms of nerd-talk. I found something that interested me, and didn't pressure me, unlike my writing had become. My little book soon got stuffed into a corner, out of sight but certainly not forgotten. Even during the moments I was least expecting it, I found myself jotting down plots twists, conflicts, small conversations, anything to increase it's weight and worth and build a strong story. Outside of my little plot jots, I got a job working in a sports store. Nothing huge, but at eight dollars an hour and only requiring me to work on weekends, well, I wasn't going to snub the position. At home, I spent my time on my game, upon where I'd meet the average male player: old, living in his parent's home, oh, and sporting a huge ego that they'd stroke given any chance. One of these so-called ego-strokers was someone by the name of Gfox, his character name. I never learned anyone's names outside of their characters, simply because you never knew who you'd be talking to the next day, and I wasn't about to get emotionally invested in anyone or anything. Gfox from the start, reminded me of another fellow player who I had accidentally gotten too emotionally invested in only months earlier; cocky, demanding, and cynically sarcastic in every way possible. It didn't take Gfox long to have me snarling and spitting insults at him, putting him on my ignore list, and rolling my eyes at any given moment he would try and talk to me. Things rolled smoothly like that until New Years. I had convinced mom to buy some Smirnoff to split between myself and my friend Steph, who stayed for the night as we watched the ball drop, buzzed and giddy. For kicks and giggles, I logged online and, sure enough, Gfox was online. In my happy little buzz, I cheerfully ripped into him about how he was all alone and on a video game for New Years, stabbing at anything I could just to get a rise out of him. He passed the microphone over to one of his friends, Frank, and from there it turned into a crapshoot. How was I supposed to know Frank was the warm up so Gfox could talk to me, causally, like a normal human being? I ended up giving Gfox my phone number that night, and two nights later, he called me. He talked me to sleep, playing on my weakness of men with twangs and soft voices. It was probably one of the best nights of sleep I'd had in over six months. And more shortly followed. It wasn't too long down the road, but Gfox and I were exchanging names, little stories, opening up to each other like a flower to the rising sun. I was his rose and he was my beacon of light, sparkling the dew drops on my petals. His name was Gaylon, he lived in Texas, and he was in love with me. One day he asked me how long-distance relationships work, and after playing back and forth off each other's answers, we figured we'd give it a shot. We officially started our relationship on the 19th of January this year. Over these last few months, it's been nothing but a fairytale. Even with him being hundreds upon thousands of miles away from me, we found a way to work over the little things? Movie? Netflix and Skype with screen-sharing. We used webcams, nothing sexual mind you, and just chatted, and eventually started using them when going to bed, he mostly making sure I was asleep, watching over me like a guardian. There's just something about him that quells my anger, keeps me level-headed about myself, and as my mother would put it, "brings out something different in you, something good, but different. Nothing Mike or anyone else has ever brought out." Of course, with long-distance comes hardship. We've had our days were we've struggled with the lack of human comfort and touch. I've had my days of pure depression where I didn't even want to climb out of bed, and while he'd tell me everything was alright, I knew it was hurting him that all he could do was watch me toss and turn and cry repeatedly until I decided to snap out of it. It's only been recently that we've really hit our first hard wall. My birthday was the past 11th, last Sunday, and while the days prior were off-beat, I didn't think too much of it. But when he promised me my own day for my birthday, only to not call or acknowledge me for almost the entire day, I felt myself collapse mentally. Immediately I wondered what I did wrong. Did I say something insulting? Did I miss an important sentence, word, or key trigger? It spiraled out worse in a matter of hours. I called him late that night, determined to find out what was wrong. After almost two hours of harassing him with him pleading me not to keep pestering him, he caved and said something that shook me. "I think we need to re-evaluate our relationship." Naturally, I felt myself wanting to cry, to scream. This was the second guy, and just like Mike, everything looked fine, then suddenly dropped cold. What was I doing wrong? Holding in every ounce of my emotions, I asked what he meant, and when the word 'break' came into play, I knew it was grim. Contrary to when Mike broke it off with me, I didn't burst into tears or have hysterics. I calmly told him that was his choice, and that I'd respect it, and wished him the best. As soon as the phone was down and off, I sobbed. My mother told me that both my father and my sister on the floor below me could hear me clear as day, and while I was thankful none of them tried to console me, I was disappointed none acknowledged my ruined relationship. I lost time of how long I sat there in front of my computer, in the middle of a video game, letting the tears run down my face as I hugged my legs tightly to my chest, my mind going numb. Surely I had to be some kind of monster to do this not once, but twice. Surely I was a freak, a selfish, over-emotional nightmare. I had to be the girl every guy wished they'd never meet, much less have to date and deal with. It took some time, but by 4 in the morning, I'd gathered myself together enough to keep my head level as I called Gaylon back. To my surprise, he was awake when I called, and, by his tone, not happy, either. Slowly I pushed into the topic, digging for the reason why he wanted me gone so suddenly. With reluctance, he told me he was going out to look for jobs again, and wanted to go back to school. When I asked him what was so wrong with that, he reminded me of the fact that the last time he underwent schooling and work at the same time, his stress skyrocketed, and he became the cynical bastard I first met back in November. "I don't want to hurt you, Livi. That's why I want you out. I don't want to hurt you." I'll admit, I laughed. I almost started giggling. That was it? He was afraid of mentally hurting me? Yes, it was a slight worry, but enough to want me gone for good? Not a chance. I told him, amidst the receding giggles, that there was no way he could hurt me like that. That him shutting me out was, and would continue, to hurt me far more than if he swore at me and said some rude things. So, in a tight spot, we agreed to keep trying, and to roll with the punches. The first thing I did was ask my mother for advice. Corny, I know, but she's known so much so far, I figured she'd know what to do here. Her response? Give him space. Let him come to me. And as much as it hurt, I knew she was right. If I kept calling him every 5 hours, he was going to feel smothered and closed-in, and he'd only distance himself from me. But if I kept myself casual, let him start the conversations, I figured he'd come back and open up to me. Trusting her advice, I've only gone through 2-3 days so far of this new set-up. And already I can feel it straining on me. We didn't talk for almost two days until just tonight, when he called me and we chatted. He reminded me he loved me, and even did his silly but cute little emote of him picking me up and holding me close. It's moments like those that I wish would never end, but I know as the pressure mounts onto him, he's going to distance himself more and more from me on some days, and some days he'll be glued to my hip. Does this please me? Not in the least, and to be honest, it scares the living crap out of me. I'm sure I'll have many days where my depression will hit hard because of this, and I'll want nothing more to do then cry all day and hug my pillow. But when I said I was in for the long-run with this relationship, I meant it. I don't quit, I don't give up, until he spitefully tells me he doesn't love me anymore and wants me gone.
I feel like I want to explode right now. The past couple of months haven't exactly been my perfect cup of tea, but more like a diluted version of toilet water. Yeah, that's about the nicest way I can put things right now. I'll sum up the past month or two in a little wrap up first. Carlos and I are no longer speaking, mainly because once he learned I wasn't into him, he gave me a very tough cold shoulder, which surprised me, but hey, it's his choice and his loss. About a month after the fight with Mike and Ashley, I one morning asked Ashley how she was feeling to be nice, and ended up with her arms around me crying, saying how sorry she was for acting like that to me. Mike finally decided to start talking to me, but it was an awkward form of conversation, and centered only on Facebook, not in public. Needless to say, I wasn't pleased with even exchanging swipes of my keyboard with the boy. I graduated, oh, and I'm still single. Yeah, that's life for me in a nutshell right now. But currently, well, it's not so bad. I'm riding on a high of my best friend sticking up for me and threatening Mike within an inch of his life after his most recent stunt with me. See, I've gotten World of Warcraft for my gorgeous new laptop. My laptop is a beauty, 14.1'' screen, 250GB HD, and enough features to keep me entertained all day long. I wasn't even on WoW for two hours when suddenly I get a message from Mike, who apparently decided to renew his subscription just a few days before I got my laptop. Hmmm. We chatted, and it was alright. He said he didn't mind talking to me and wanted to put all the fighting in the past, and sadly enough, I believed him at the time. I truly thought something had turned him for the better; but what that thing was, I didn't know. I learned shortly afterwards that Mike was dating someone for almost a month now, a girl named Sayrah. The happiness and generosity toward me was quickly explained once I learned that. For about a week, things were fine. I was looking for jobs, writing here and there, and talking to an old friend. In a way I felt everything had come full circle for me since my graduation. We shared laughs up until 2 in the morning on there, helping each other out in the game and just talking about life. I decided back in the last month or two of school that I knew I was never going to get over Mike fully, that he would always remain with a piece of my heart for being my first serious boyfriend ever. But I didn't love the boy anymore, instead, I just wanted him to be happy. I chose to play the highest role by giving him up and letting my grip off of him, hence the reasons why I would tolerate listening to him blather on about Sayrah and how much he loved her. Late one night, while he was helping me complete something on the game, he started asking me questions. Questions about us, our past. I kindly told him I didn't want to talk about it, and pushed it aside, but after that, it seemed every conversation we held he pulled our relationship into it. He would ask me all kinds of questions that required me to put myself back into the shoes of my emotions for him, something I wasn't ready to do. But the warnings just didn't seem to be enough. I felt enclosed all of a sudden. Why was he pressuring me with these detailed questions about us when he was clearly dating someone, and would constantly remind me he no longer loved me? I spent a couple of nights after getting off with him softly crying myself to sleep, the emotions too much for me. It felt like everything he was doing was like a pinprick meant to be inserted directly into my heart, and I didn't like it. Several days later I figured I needed to get out of the house, so my friend Stephanie came over and hung out with me. We hit the road, got Taco Bell, chatted like old friends and new buddies, giggling madly and freely. I felt so alive without the bonds of Mike pulling me down. It was when we got home seven hours later, Wawa hoagies in tow, that she noticed my sudden mood switch. Two hours later, I had spilled everything to my best friend. About how Mike was pushing me into a corner, and how I kept fighting to keep myself out of it. Needless to say, she was enraged. Steph was like a sister to me, someone who would do anything to keep me happy. We'd seen each other through some of the nastiest stuff in our lives, from suicide attempts to assaults, tears in the girls' bathroom to driving in the middle of the night just to make sure the other was alright. Glued at the hip didn't even begin to cover us. After calming me down, she went home, telling me explicitly to not talk to Mike, no matter what. Thankfully that night he was in a grumpy mood and didn't even bother trying to talk to me, the two of us having gotten into a dissagreement on the game. I learned the next morning that Steph had posted a message for Mike to read on his facebook, and for all the rest of the world to read, too, that told him to back off from me or face the consequences. I'd never felt so loved in all my life, not when it came to best friends. Stephanie had gone above and beyond for me in that act of protection. Of course, Mike deleted it as soon as he got on and read it, saying that he was 'silently laughing' after reading it. But I thought that would be the last time he would bother me, and for two days, it was. Around eleven o' clock, probably closer to midnight, he messaged me. His comments were sent with nothing short of the intent to harm, stating how he had been 'planning on talking to me in a friendly manner soon, but now, I will never make that mistake again'. He called me malicious, devious, conniving and deceitful. His words were meant to harm me, and yet, they didn't. Steph's words had acted like a shield, keeping his vicious spit at bay. Thankfully, this time I decided to document the event, and at this point, I'm considering a restraining order. How he loves me now could mean less to me. He could be as infatuated or as uncaring as he wants to be; I don't give a damn. I played nice, and wished him the best in his life, and I still hope that he's happy, but he will never play a role in my life again. The chapter with him is closed, now and forever.
Today I learned something that shocked me, something that I felt the need to share so others could avoid this kind of problem in the future. I saw the face of a person who I thought was my friend, a face I'd only heard of in whispers and never believed to be true. It shocked me that it took a breakup and five months of post-conversations and interactions to bring this about, but the mask finally showed itself to the world and all of its hideousness was left in the open with nothing to hide behind. What am I talking about, you might ask. Well, I shall explain to you. Earlier today in school I learned that my ex and friend Michael, had gone on a 'date' with Ashley, a former friend of mine. During the year it's been well known that Ashley has been given several nicknames around the school, one particulary from the elective she chose, Choir. I will fully admit, this bothered me this morning. Why? Well, Michael, as we all know, is an ex of mine, and there will always remain the soft spot for him that all first serious relationships have in people's hearts. I desperately wanted to say something to Ashley about her actions, because she was a friend, and most people I know respect the rule that friends don't date friend's exs. Ashley must not be aware of such a rule, and if she is, she sure as hell didn't listen to it, but rather gave me the giant middle finger. So, upon coming home, I changed my status to something along the lines of this: 'Alivia wanted to say something cruel and totally appropriate to someone today, but then remembered that karma is a hoe and will bite that person in the skibbies when they least expect it.' Simple, enough, no? Oh, no. I had to be harrassed. By Michael. Most of you can read that conversation on my status to get that part, but it isn't needed for this. The following conversation took place shortly afterwards. None of it is edited. Enjoy. You (Today at 3:25pm) what's with the comment on my facebook status? did something happen? Mike (Today at 3:32pm) You happened. First and foremost, it is up to me, and no one else who i choose to date, when i choose to date, and where i choose to go on said dates. The fact that there is **** going around that is blatantly negative to Ashley simply because I chose to go on a date with her, and she agreed, is absolutely unexcusable. Secondly, she is not, I repeat, not, a whore, slut, or any other type therin. She is more innocent than most people I know. How do I know this? 1. me and her talked about it. 2. she was nervous as all get out at the theater. 3. I talked to Brittany about her, and they've been friends for years, so she would know better than most. I'm appalled that you would behave the way you did in response to me going on a date with someone, even if it is someone who you claim is *vaguely* a friend. I'm dissapointed. You (Today at 3:38pm) Of course I happened. I'm the destroyer of eleven precious months of your life, aren't I? When are you going to learn to grow up and see the person you really are, Michael? You claim to be nothing like your father, a player, when in reality you've only managed to follow in his footsteps. If anyone should be disapointed, it should be me, for thinking I could find a heart somewhere in the black hole of yours. I never said you couldn't date her, or go to the movies, or anything like that. I advised you against it because I know what will happen to you upon something happening, and, out of concern, I warned you. I never thought you would take a friend's advice so negatively. And I don't know what you mean when you say there's 'negative' stuff going around the school about her, because if I remember quite accurately, there always has been, since the school year started. Yet you put it on me like I'm the one behind the whole thing? Ridiculous. As for the labels associated with her, it's her own fault for throwing herself at other men like she's an expandable item, not a rare gem in the rough. You should know- you saw what happened with her and Erich and the drama and problems she caused over nothing what so ever. It's so funny- you were in a pretty normal mood upon leaving school with me- I don't know where you suddenly came to this conclusion that I'm out to get you and Ashley and whatever the two of you have going on. Mike (Today at 3:45pm) *smirks* a player? because i broke up with you? thats hilarious. I broke up with you because I couldnt BE with you anymore. I didn't feel the same way anymore because I began to see the things that I was always so quick to ignore. As for Ashley, I went to the movies with her, your warning was useless, and insulting. Her labels did not come from her own behavior in the least, but of rumors and cruel gossip. When i said negative stuff, i meant specifically the **** that fell out of your mouth today. She threw herself at erich, and erich alone, because she thought she was in love, just like brie to danny before her, and just like you to me. And just a side note. My dad had hundreds of girlfriends. I've only had 2. He ended 2 engagements because of secrets that they had kept from him. I still have a LONG way to go before im a player like that. You have nothing to do with my love life anymore alivia, and if you arent careful with the way you behave, and the things you say concerning what I do, and the people involved therin, you may not be involved in any aspect of my life at all for very long. I dont want to have to do that, because I have enjoyed being your friend, but if this continues I will have no choice, simply because I can't be friends with someone who spits such venom at people who I choose to spend my time with. You (Today at 3:54pm) Yes, smirk all you want, but it's not going to do you any good. You see, I never once mentioned our breakup in this conversation or anything to do us, and you just had to bring that into it. You assume that I have some form of delayed and continued feelings for you and that's why I'm saying stuff like this or getting on your case and calling you a player. You're wrong, again. You 'dated' Debbie for six months, and then after that you sulked for a bit, then dated me. What we had was nice, I'll admit, but I can say without a doubt that I am glad I am no longer dating you because the behavior would have disgusted me straight off of a cliff. Some of the time I wonder if all you ever wanted was just my body and not my mind, and if that ever turns out to be true well it certainly would explain a hell of a lot with you. Her labels came from her own accord and her own actions. Rumors always have a small basis in truth somewhere down the line, so she's bound to have done something that just didn't sit well with the general public. As for what I said today, unless you have something exact to say to me that I said, you have no proof on the matter and you're just pulling on strings that can't help you. And for the record, I never threw myself at you. To quote you, you said you "saw a chance with you [myself], and took it." I just went along with it because I young and naive and I didn't know the kind of person you were and how to behaved. Oh, and trust me, you're well on your way to becoming your father. Spitting image. And that's nothing to be proud about. Jee, from the way you've been behaving, I haven't been apart of your 'love life' since January, when you asked Brie out promptly after ending it with me. You might want to watch your wording, because it almost sounded there like you actually still liked me at a period and time after you severed our ties. But hey, if you want to cut ties off with me, go ahead. It's your life and your mistakes, not mine, and ultimately they're yours to learn from. (Mike) lol. Well I can tell you haven't changed one bit. You will never change, because this is who you are. My life, is just that, My life, and I will date who I please. As for me bringing up our relationship, it is obvious that you arent yet over me, and anyone with half a brain can see that, plain as day. We are, and have been since the day I spoke those words, over. This conversation is over. And until you decide to apoligise to both me and Ashley for the things you said about her, for instance somethng about a *choir whore*, our friendship is over. And so, seeing as he removed me from his friend's list after his last post, probably too afraid to bother listening to what I had to say shortly because he couldn't think anymore, I have this to say to him. And I know someone who reads this will tell him, and that's okay. It's meant to be told to him. To Mike: Go ahead Mike, inflate that precious ego of yours some more by saying hurtful things about me to make yourself feel better and 'look' better. But you're wrong on something (surprise surprise!). You think I need you, that I still want you, that I'm still not over you. Well, I hate to break it to you, darling, but I am over you. I don't need to be insulted by some two-foot tall boy who thinks he's a man. And so, in a farewell parting for you, I say this; buy a purse, get the tampon out of your arse, grow some balls if you still want to be a man, and think before you speak next time. Who knows? It just might be useful in your case. And when karma comes back for you and you find yourself in the same bottomless pit you claimed you were in after your breakup with Debbie, I hope you stay there and rot. Alivia
My spring break seems to have taken a turn for the better. Much, much better. The two days before my birthday were miserable. Both my father and mother got sick, chills raking their bodies as fevers overtook them. I felt so utterly helpless, offering them cold water, blankets, and the asprin bottle every 6-8 hours. My dad still found some reserve of energy to go back to work on my birthday, claiming he felt a bit better. My mother, unfortunately, did not. Still weak from not eating, her stomach unable to keep anything down, she stayed in bed, shivering like it was mid-December instead of early April. I spent most of my birthday sitting on the computer, skimming over facebook for any sign of life. I was surprised when, upon logging in, several birthday wishes were left for me, all from friends of mine. I clicked around, checking updated profiles and the like, and came across something that surprised me. A friend of mine, Carlos, had a facebook. I didn't know he had one. We'd known each other since middle school, and only recently become good friends again with him sitting diagonally behind me in Physics this year. Reading over, I learned he had just recently returned from the school Spain trip, and was feeling pretty fantastic. We began to chat, messaging back and forth. Little by little we talked about what he saw in Spain, and how odd it must have been for him to be back home where the biggest decisions involved things like prom. It was the prom segment that things really picked up. Carlos: What about you? are you going with anyone? Alivia: Well, I asked Mike, but since his precious Brie isn't going, he seemed pretty determined to say no. I asked someone else, Jack, but he never got back to me, so I'm assuming no. At this point I think I'm just going on my own. What about you? Carlos: I asked Sam, but she said no. There was someone else in mind, but she doesn't have the same kind of morals as I do. Alivia: Huh? Carlos: She drinks/smokes. Alivia: Ah, I see. Carlos: You know, it's funny. You seem the type who would be asked to prom. I melted into silly putty at this. It felt so sweet to think that he thought I was cute enough to have people asking me, not the other way around. My smile spread as I replied, laughing lightly. Alivia: Haha, I wish. 98% of the time if I want a date for something, I have to ask the guy. Otherwise it's no date for moi. Carlos: Hey, do you remember the halloween party we went to back in middle school? My mind clicked. Of course I remembered that party; it was the time I had been crushing on Carlos. We had gone to the party together, me inviting him along as my 'date'. I felt the blush dash my cheeks, pink covering my face. Alivia: Yeah! You were dressed as the Zorro, right? Carlos: Yeah. Sorry I don't remember what you were dressed as. Alivia: Haha, it's okay. I don't even remember what I was dressed as. Carlos: We had a good time, didn't we? Alivia: Yeah, we really did. Carlos: Do you know where I'm taking this conversation? I stared at the screen, my eyes widening. Was he... asking me to prom? And using that one time together as a base? My face became fully colored in a fire engine red. I was speechless; I just got asked to prom in the most odd way, yet... it was cute. I typed furiously, the smile on my face unmatched. Alivia: I think so. Are you asking me out to prom? Carlos: It's odd doing this online instead of in peson, but yes. Yes, I am. Do you wanna go with me? Alivia: Yes! My heart took the biggest leap it had in months. This was surreal; surely I had to be dreaming. Since when did I ever get asked out to prom? I was no where near pretty enough, graceful enough to dance, and ladylike was never thought of when I came to mind. What did he see? I thought about it for a moment, then just as suddenly decided that I didn't care. He saw something, obviously, and that meant other people could see it, too. It got better. My cousin said I could crash at her place for the night. After making sure my mom was as well as she could be I told her I was heading to my cousin Alicia's for the night, promising to be back in the morning after I went to church with them. My night on the computer extended at her home, where we sat on the computer, laughing like loons over the littlest things. I spoke to Carlos some more, and in the process of things, well, I ended up getting asked out on a date. We're going to see Monsters vs. Aliens tomorrow, and I couldn't be happier. Mike, eat your heart out. I've found something better than you, someone worth my time and my smile, my compassion and my dedication.
Right now, things have kind of settled in my life. There's nothing special happening, nothing momentous or immediate to tell anyone. My feelings for Mike seem to have taken a backseat to my life in the recent way things have been happening. I like him, don't get me wrong, and I care about him, too, but I doubt his actions enough to doubt myself. Take last Friday. Mike had been sitting in one of the practice rooms alone, playing idly on the piano. I followed in after him, taking a seat alongside him. I listened to him play the simple chords of Down By The Riverside, Bells of Rhymney, and more. Silently, I placed my head on his shoulder, relishing in the contact with ecstasy. "Hey, what are you doing?" He asked me, his fingers no longer playing the piano. I looked up, half of my face still pressed against his shoulder and chest. "Nothing. Why?" He shrugged, laughing. "Okay." Then, out of nowhere, he grabbed my arm and bit me. Yes, bit me. It's a little joke between us, where we nibble on each other like we're candy or something. I can't remember where it began. "Hey!" I yelled; he bit too hard. My arm stung. "I get to return the favor." I went to grab his arm, but he nabbed my wrists before I could get anywhere. I made a move for his neck, my stomach clenching as he quickly scrunched up his shoulders, rejecting me. "No way, Liv." "And what, you think it's fair for you to bite me only?" He didn't answer. The bell had rung, and he skated out of the room after I struggled with him to bite him another couple of times. All in all it was fun, but it pissed me off, too. This Monday was somewhat the same thing. I was doing my best to ignore him to a higher degree than usual; my weekend had left me sour, angry, and in the mood to kick him in the face. It was bad enough I knew this coming weekend was going to suck because he bailed on me for laser tagging, but his actions on Friday added to my bitterness. Mike sat down alongside me, poking my sides instantly. I stared him down, doing my best not to explode on him because of last Friday. "Hey," I said. "You're invading my personal space. Stop." "Psh," he rolled his eyes. "You like it." "Not as much as you think," I mumbled, turning away from him, arms folded over my chest. I wasn't going to be his little play thing, not a chance in hell. The rest of Monday went smoothly, me not hanging around Mike so much. Erich was unbearably sweet, so that made things better. And I'm still waiting on Jack for his answer about going to prom with me. Mike is my sickness, and I am my own cure.
My morning's not even over yet and I already feel like crap again. Mike. Mike, Mike, friggen Mike. I met him in homeroom this morning, like I did everyday. We chatted a little bit about why I wasn't there, just catching up on missed things. Then, just to ask to be sure, I checked about us going laser tagging on the 11th. He played coy, saying he should be open. That didn't bother me that much, but the conversation following it did. "Just, like I said before, don't take it the wrong way," Mike warned, staring at me. "I don't want to getting the wrong impression or taking something from it that's not there." I nodded. "Yeah, I know. I know it's not a date, because if it was, you wouldn't have said yes. Right?" He sat there for a second, silent. "Yeah, you're right." That bugged me. I frowned, stood up and recited the pledge, ignoring Mike's glances at me during the moment of silence. We sat down, and Mike kept on staring. "What's with the dejected look?" "I just don't understand why you won't go for something as simple as a non-committal date." He sighed. "Because three reasons. One- I dated you for eleven months, and I've made my choice on you based on that. Two- you'd take the wrong feelings from a date, and don't lie and say you wouldn't. And three- well, I kinda want to just use you for physical reasons." I balked. Did he just say that? "You mean sex." He nodded. "I can tell you this, Mike. I wouldn't take the wrong feelings from a non-committal date, you'll just have to trust me on that. Those eleven months, well, a good portion of them was a hard time in my life, so it's not fair to judge me on that. And even if you did just use me for sex, I'd probably do the same in the end, too." The last part was a blatant lie, but I'd rehearsed conviction in the bathroom mirror for over three months now, so my parents would never learn how upset or bothered by something I truly was. For the first time ever, Mike believed it too. Still, he shook his head. "You're a friend, Liv. I don't take friends out on dates." "What harm would it do?" I asked, keeping calm, not a tear in sight. I was damn proud of myself. "It could go over well." He shook his head. "You'd end up taking it the wrong way, just like the sex would, too." I sat there for a moment, quiet in thought. I kept the same determined expression in my eyes, making sure he knew I was being (or at least he thought) honest and truthful. "I can't show you I wouldn't get attached, you'd just have to take my word for it." That was the end of our conversation, and I haven't spoken to him since. It's awkward. I hurt, feel like I've been cut by a knife, sliced down the middle and everyone sees me bleeding. I like him, I really do, and I'm trying to keep my head high above the waters, but slowly I'm drowning, sinking into the abyss below me, ready to swallow me whole. The rest of the day moved slow, almost like time didn't want me to move past my sorrow. I sloshed through the class periods one by one, the same empty expression in my eyes. 11th period came around, and I groaned. There was no way I wanted to see Mike right now, not a chance. Yet five minutes later we were walking alone to the computer lab, Mike's arms around me in a half-hug while I shivered uncontrollably in the freezing temperatures of the school. We got into the computer lab, and I sat down on a chair, starting up a computer, Mike sitting on the ledge behind me. While the computer slowly loaded (they're old macs) I complained about being cold. At once Mike wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled his head into my neck, staying there. I wrapped my arms over his, taking in his warmth with pleasure, resting my head against his. A minute passed before Mike was whispering in my ear. "You still like me, just as much like before." We broke apart, Mike giving me a second to log into the computer. Clicking the enter key, I turned back to face him. "What does that have to do with anything?" "It's why I don't want to do any of this with you, because you'll expect what we used to have. You'll want what we used to have together." I shook my head, oblivious to the computer having loaded behind me. "No, that's not true. I don't want that anymore." I held up a hand, brushing his cheek to silence his opened mouth. "I know if I had something with you that it wouldn't be the same as it used to. We're two different people now, older, more mature. I wouldn't expect you to call me every day, hang on the phone with me for hours, do something with me every weekend. That's not what I want. I know you have a life, that I have a life, and that can't be changed. We just don't have the time we used to, and I understand that. I want someone who can have a life while I have mine, and meet me somewhere in the middle." He seemed to regard me for a moment, probably confused by the sincerity in my eyes, my tone. I'd been practicing this for weeks, like everything else. You have more time than you think you do when you no longer have a counter part to think about. "I'm just afraid I'd end up using you. I can't guarantee I'd ever feel the same, Liv. I'm mainly just attracted to, well, you." He gestured to my body, as if to explain the obvious. I laughed; I had to. He really thought he was the only one would could pull that card? "Mike, you wouldn't be using me. I want this. If I want it, how is it called 'being used'?" He gave me no answer. Something told me he just was afraid of becoming attatched again. I directed my attention to the computer, where I completed a small test in fifteen minutes. He must of been thinking; his lips were pursed, eyebrows bunched together. "It would be hard," he started, catching me off guard. I'd thought he was done talking about it for the day. "And we really wouldn't be able to see much of each other." "Well, we could," I began after thinking for a moment. "You could always come over to my house and hang out a lot, as a cover." He laughed. "Yeah, no." "It's not like my parents hate you." "Really?" That caught his attention. "Your father doesn't want to gut me like a fish?" "Actually, no, he doesn't." I was being honest. "It's my mother who wanted to give you the third degree. She always said if we ever got back together she'd rip you a new one, but I told her she wasn't allowed to do that." He laughed, grinning like a fool as he clicked a button on my computer, bringing up another test I had to do. A thought came to mind. "What about your parents? Do they ever talk about me?" "Yes." Wow, that was fast. I managed a small laugh. "What do they say?" He mumbled something incoherent. I nudged him, pouting. "C'mon, tell me. What do they say? Does your mother talk about me?" He nodded, just slightly. "They mention you occasionally." I had the feeling, judging by his tone, it was more than occasionally. "They... thought you were crazy." So it did have something to do with his parents. Huh. "Knew it." I sang, turning to the computer and starting my test. More time passed. Once more he spoke up, startling me from my quiet exam, focusing on the keys of the piano in front of me and the notes coming from the headphones. "It would be a lot of work." He was still on the topic? Damn, I was good. I nodded, staring at the screen. "Yes, Mike, we've been over this." His voice was suddenly closer, right behind my ear. "It wouldn't be so bad once you got a car." I turned around again, his face too close. Remnants of my dream shot to the front of my brain, the image of myself pinned against the wall by his body too much. I leaned forward and kissed his lips. It was the shortest peck of my life. His lips were just like I remembered; soft, lush, almost too good to exist. He pulled back rapidly, looking at me with a mix of shock and curiousity. "No, Liv. Not here." I pouted. "Awww, c'mon." He sat there, looking at me. "I'll think about it." A small, little smile danced on his lips.