Girl balls & band aids.

I don't know if you've heard this, but the real world sucks.

I feel like absolute shit right now.

Why? Hell if I fucking know.

I just got a haircut, I am rockin' the shit out of these sweatpants, and I'm shipping off to Spain in three days.

Life should be good.

But it's not.

Today was my last day of junior year. I haven't cried yet, so that's good. But I got a fuggin D+ on my history test.

I'm not even going to make excuses.

Oh, believe me, I could make some damn good excuses.

But it's over.

Overoverover.

Donde.

But I feel like shit about it. It brought my damn grade down. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Shit.

OHFUCKINGWELL. Who needs salutatorian? PSH! Not this girl! Nah! I'm student body president! I don't need that shit! NAH. Donde. Over. Can't change it now anyways.

But still.

Fuck.

One test just shot my GPA to shit. One. Damn. Test.

College is going to break me. I can tell.

I just feel like eating ice cream and watching a kick ass action movie and bawling my face off tonight.

So much is over as of today.

Band. Anatomy. Math. The class of 2011. The illusion that we still have time left.

Yesterday, I wrote a letter to myself for my graduation day. It was an English assignment. I'm going to miss that class a lot, too. We have a shitton of fun in there. I think I'll post the letter up in a minute. I cried while I wrote it. It was kind of funny talking to a couple of the boys about it, though. They seemed amazed that anyone could talk to themself for 7 almost 8 pages single spaced and cry in the process. Oh, boys. Gotta love 'em.

I really do love hanging out with the guys. They're so much fun. It's games, sammiches, cut and dry everything. Nothing to hide, no gray areas, just plain, black and white fun. That is, when they're not making me bleed or beating me up.

Not on purpose!

Okay, they beat me up on purpose, but legit injuries are all purely accidental.

Anyways, yeah. I'm in a very sentimental sort of mood.

I bet this is why teenagers get drunk all the time.

Being a teenager can suck ass.

Most of the time.

It's a wonder not everybody in the world is a drunk.

I wonder if a little Jack and SoCo really help.

If they do, it's really a wonder not everybody's a drunk.

Yay, life.

sunglasses.

Yep.

Be jealous.

Goal like aspirations.

Someday.

You hear that a lot.

Someday, I'm going to be rich and famous.

Someday, I'm going to own a huge ass house.

Someday, I'm going to own a sweeeet ass sports car. Or seven.

Someday, I'll go to Africa and help the sick people.

Someday, I'll pull a Mother Theresa and be a tiny ninja bad ass lady with huge hands and the Big Guy on my side.

Someday, I'm going to travel. See the world without a care in it.

Someday, I'll have wrestling mats in my basement.

Someday, I'll see a real live ice cream truck.

Someday, I'll loose this weight.

Someday, I'll actually keep my diet going.

Someday, I'll quit caring.

Someday, I'll grow up.

Someday, I'll get a job.

Someday, I'll actually get my ass in gear.

Someday, I'll beat the SHIT out of that little priss.

Someday, I'll tell the people close to me what they actually mean to me.

Someday, someday...

Someday, maybe we could talk this out.

Use our words.

You know, like blah blah blah. Yeah, but better.

Someday, we'll be chill.

Yeah.

Right about the same time I become a bad ass vintage hipster starving artist chick backpacking across Europe and start figuring out where I want to settle down after my escapades.

Someday, I'll be amazing.

And I rreeeaaaally want you to see it happen.

♥

Deuces.

Shit boy
you makin' me cry

This ain't like me
I dunno why

I'm blubberin'
flubberin'
makin' a fool

actin' crazy
hazy
pitiful tool

just quit tryin'
leave me alone

get on your way
and let me go home

we can't be friends,
that won't work

it's all or nothing,
hate to be a jerk

Wake up, boy
smell the roses

put your life together
until then

deuces.

Conspiratic Thoughts.

Rasta rasta
brasta pasta
pink and white
black and red
yellow and green
it's a scheme
I can't believe
what this means
it's you it's you
it's all so you
this and that
that and those
these and thats
and everything else
all they say is
I
love
you♥

Mash-up numba dos?

Yep.

AND IT SHALL BEGIN!

6

I'm done blaming you.

You will be you.

Cocky. Blatantly good looking. Player.

It's all on me now.

It's my fault I let you drag me on.

It's my fault you have such control over me.

I don't like this. Obviously.

There is hardly a happy medium.

But is that your fault?

Nope. It's mine.

My stupid ideas of the perfect high school romance.

My stupid notions of the best friend boy friend.

None of this is on you.

I'm just learning.

Living and learning.

Picking up the pieces and putting them in a basket.

Someday soon that basket will be full again.

Promise.

7

You may not know this, but you are an amazing person.

SO amazing, in fact, that I am blatantly jealous of you most every day.

You are pretty, smart, funny, smart, talented, and way more confident than I could ever be.

And when you think you aren't good enough, it makes me sad.

Because you are.

You are better than good enough, YOU, my dear, can take on this WHOLE DAMN WORLD any day of the week while wearing heels and a push-up bra.

Never doubt it for a second, darling.

You are amazing just the way you are.

You deserve better than what you give yourself.

Those grades, that college, hell, even that boy.

Don't settle.

You CAN do amazing things if you just believe in yourself a little bit.

I can't wait to see what you'll accomplish in your life, and I really hope I'm there to see it. :)

8

Boy, I wish that I actually had the balls to ask you this in person, but can I get yo' numba? ;)

Truth is, I think you're cute.

Cuter than cute.

Quite steamy, actually.

And every once in a while you pop in my mind and I smile.

I just love talking to you.

You are pretty darn hilarious, and I'm really going to miss our conversations.

I kinda don't want to stop having them, seeing as how much I enjoy them.

..and how much you enjoy them, too. Face it, you can't hide that smile. :)

So for the sake of intelligent conversations;

boy, you should give me your number. :)

9

Journals have always been hard for me.

Required ones anyway.

Well... any of them, really.

What if someone were to break into it?

I need more locks!

More keys!

More rubber bands!

More precautions!

Lock up the keys that lock up the diary!

Hide the diary!

Hide the locked up keys!

Hide the keys to the locked up keys!!

Nowadays, I've given up on secrets.

All they do is push people away.

But I still have trouble actually writing a diary.

I can write poems, stories, articles, essays.

I can draw it out.

I can photograph what I think.

I can plan everything to make the perfect artistic statement, but just saying what I think can just be so exhausting sometimes.

I can't just call you out.

I can't just call her beautiful.

I can't just call myself fat.

I can't just tell you how sorry I am.

I can't just tell him I like him.

Yet, I have no problem writing this down, explaining how I can't explain.

Irony at it's FINEST.

Words eating words, like vegetarian cannibals.

10

Don't look at me like that.

I know what I'm doing.

I know it's bad for me.

I know it'll make me feel like SHIT in a few hours.

But right now, I love the way it feels.

I love that buzz.

I love how it makes me warm up.

I love how half the time I can't control myself.

I love the seconds of hilarity.

I know it hurts me.

I've been there. Ready to barf on Saturday morning.

It's broken me countless times.

But I'm addicted.

I'm addicted to it.

And then there's the alcohol.

11

What's the MATTER with me?

I'll want something SO BAD, and then I'll chicken out.

I don't need it.

I don't want it.

Not worth it.

What bull shit!

I really need to cowgirl the fuck up and do it.

Git 'er done.

Ask for that number.

Go hang out with them.

Make my own rules and deal with the consequences.

Make mistakes and learn from them.

But I can't do that with you.

You are holding me back.

You plan too much.

Who effing cares? We're 17 and it's summer!

We do what we want now.

This is officially OUR summer.

MY summer.

This IS my summer.

This is MY summer.

This is my SUMMER.

Last chance, Harvey.

Final curtain, Bruce.

I want to make mistakes.

And I want the courage to make them COUNT.

∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙Same rules apply as the last time. Not all of this is legit. Some is, yes. Some was me with a pen writing words on paper. Don't read too much into it. Unless you want to, that is. Haaa :)

♥chrissyface

Sassy.

Reasons why I don't give a shit about it anymore:

1. Up until I quit giving a shit, I had to work much much much harder to have a speck of fun.


2. Worrying is a waste of time that I don't have.


3. I am me, and I'm good with that 95%. The other 5% is my extraordinary freak magnet of a personality.


4. I have to start living.


5. I need to have stories to tell my kids/grandkids.


6. I need to have stories to tell myself.


7. I feel like if I don't go out and have the perfect perfect rest of my high school career, I will hate myself for the rest of my life.


8. Coulda woulda shoulda. I already have enough of those, I don't need any more.

Shit will happen when shit wants to happen, because hitting the fan is what shit does best.

Shit.

mash-up.

The following are a collection of mini-works I wrote down on paper-paper. Like tree paper. I know, crazy.

Welp, here goes nothing.

1

Have you ever met somebody that you absolutely shouldn't date, but you would be perfect with if you did?

Yep. You know exactly what I'm talking about.

That, "I'm fire & you're gasoline, I'm no good for you, you're no good for me," one.

That perfect demon with dark brown eyes and amazing hugs.

Fact: I want him in my life forever, in a completely non-creepy stalker way. I never want to forget him. I never want to quit talking to him or quit hanging out with him because he is one of my closest best friends ever.

Ever ever.

Fact: He has no idea what he wants out of life, so I'm basically his constant. No matter what happens, whatever shit he gets himself into, I'm always on the sidelines with a smile, ready to clean it up.

Fact: He messes with me. Simple as that. Does it bother me anymore? No. Does it happen? Yep.

Fact: I don't want that anymore. Haven't for a while. We are just. Friends. Know that now.

I'm not kidding. Some people say that if you're that close of friends with a person of the opposite sex there has to be something going on. Negative, Hoss. I disagree greatly.

Fact: If things were to go there again, would I stop it? No, probably not. Whatever happens happens. Would I try to slow it down? Yes I would.

I was moving on.

I was getting my shit together.

And shit happens.

As shit tends to do.

2

I hate that I hate this.

This;

This is perfect.

I love this.

Carefree.

Fine.

I hate that I feel like it's not enough.

What's wrong with keeping it here?

You obviously think it's enough.

If only I thought that way.

If only I didn't want to barf after hanging out with you.

I don't mind being drug into this friendship, as long as that's really what it is.

I really really really just want to MOVE. THE. FUCK. ON.

I can.

I know I can.

I have.

But dude, we have got to tart talking about what's going on here.

We have got to talk.

I don't care what happens.

As long as we're clear.

If we're clear, we're good.

I'm good.

Maybe.

3

Lyrics of Space Bound by Eminem.

Look 'em up.

Learn 'em.

Love 'em.

They are truth.

Life.

Lyrics of 25 to Life by Eminem.

Look 'em up.

Recite them.

Study them.

Rehearse them like Shakespeare.

Because that's what he is to me.

Modern day Shakespeare.

Telling shit like how it flies.

Play by play as it hits the fan.

'Cause, baby, it does.

4

I'll be the Megara to your Hercules.

I'll be the Mulan to your Shag.

I've always liked those couples best.

The kick-ass girl, and the muscular, fiiiiiiine-ass guy.

Yup.

I wish I could be one of them.

Meg. Is. Gorgeous.

Gorgeous. Headstrong. Lovable. And best of all:

gets Hercules.

Win.

I wish I could be Mulan.

She's so real.

Smart. Down to earth. Badass. And best of all:

gets Captain Lee Shang.

Win. OMG win.

5

I love you but I can't.

I can't do this again.

But I want to so bad.

I know you're just yanking my chain,

but what if you're not?

What if I miss out on you again?

I wanna know what it would be like.

You know, being official with you.

Probably the same as it is now.

Except less awkward and more cute.

But I can't.

Nope. I can't do that to myself.

A huge quick buildup for months of let down.

Fml.

∙∙∙∙∙keep in mind, none of this is necessarily the truth. Words come out on paper. A lot of them I don't mean. They're just beautiful to me.

♥me