All About G

“Un-friend”, a.k.a. James, keeps sending me IM’s on Skype. I ignore them each time, and he still sends them. He still doesn’t understand why I stopped talking to him. Here, let me show you:

“‎……I still think it’s wrong to monopolize on her pain by writing about it in your blog, and then getting everyone to read your blog using facebook.”

You know, normally I don’t care when people don’t know me all that well. I’m not really the type of person that opens up to everyone easily, well, not anymore, and I know this. Because of what happened in high school, I have trust issues. But, something all of my friends should know by now: I would rather die than do anything to intentionally hurt the people I hold care about.

How dare you? You think I’m the type of lowlife who would do that? You have NO idea how much my sister matters to me! I didn’t write this blog post for the sake of increasing blog traffic. I wrote it because I had no one to turn to here at school, and I needed some kind of support and insight!

I would NEVER do ANYTHING to to harm my family and friends. I’m as loyal as a dog, and as a result of that, I was sometimes treated like one too. And I endured it all, just for the sake of having them as friends. You were just as blind to that then are you seem to be now. Ever notice how I don’t flip out at you whenever you piss me off? Like when you threw your keys at me? And when you scared the crap out of me, still recovering from that car accident last May, by zooming around a corner? And like when you tripped me into knocking over my computer? I never said anything because I was willing to be aggravated, over and over, just so long as you remained my friend.

This has NOTHING to do with my fucking pride, you oblivious person! You insulted my loyalty! A true friend wouldn’t question my loyalty to my loved ones, AND THEY SURE AS HELL WOULDN’T ACCUSE ME OF TAKING ADVANTAGE OF MY SISTER’S PAIN FOR FUCKING BLOG TRAFFIC!!!

If “The things [you] say represent the person that [you are],” then you are too BLIND for me to deal with. I don’t appreciate people who accuse me of being a self centered bitch. Have a nice day.

Comments (2) Feb 12 2011

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I hate a lot of things. I’m not sure if you’d know it or not. Maybe you could tell. Who knows.

I hate it when my little brother talks and talks and talks in an attempt to try and impress me, but in reality, he’s bragging about nothing important.

I hate it when my sister is a complete bitch to our brothers even when they didn’t do anything wrong. I hate it when she takes her anger against her dad and takes it out on them. I hate how, when I bring this up to her, she snarls at me instead of trying to change her behavior.

I hate how Dad thinks that, now that Derek’s been kicked out, our family is back to normal, and how he’s oblivious to the fact that that’s not the case. I hate how he continuously treats me like I’m an incompetent 12-year-old. I hate how, when something happens, Dad’s quick to blame everyone else, but will never take the blame himself. I hate how he’s always acting like my sister and brothers as purposefully doing things to make his life miserable.

I hated how Kasedy used to expect me to do everything for her without asking anything in return. I hated how she wouldn’t allow me to get mad at her, and blame me if it happened.

I hated how Eva, out of spite one day, ruined any chance I had at being with a crush I had back in the 8th grade, just because she “didn’t like me much at the time.”

I hated how Andy manipulated everyone into thinking I was the bad guy in every situation, just because I didn’t want to go out with him.

Most of all, I hate myself for being too cowardly to say these things aloud.

I hate how, no matter what I do, I still look like I should be Kimmie’s age. I hate that I have to put a ton of effort into my looks. I hate how I’ll break down into hysterical fits and burst into tears if I don’t understand a concept in math or science. I hate it when I always think that there’s nothing that can be done when I know that if I stopped to think about it, I’d find a solution. I hate how, when I was still in high school, I always stuck by the friends I had, even if some of those friends treated me awful, because I thought I wasn’t worthy of being anyone else’s friend. I hate how I can’t talk to new people very well because I feel like they won’t like me.

But more than anything, I hate how I still don’t trust the people who I’m supposed to trust. I hate the fact that my insecurities lead me to assume that if anything is done by anybody, it’s because they don’t like me. I hate how I can’t even trust my best friend enough to take his word to heart. I hate how I didn’t even realize this myself until last night.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I get past the past?! There was betrayal, but I thought I’ve moved on. I’ve had my share of bad friends, but he hasn’t done a thing to date that said to me he was a bad friend. And yet, I still assumed! I always assume like this! And it’s on of the things I hate the most! Because it’s precisely what Dad does, and I HATE IT!! At the rate I’ve been going, my friends didn’t hate me before, but they will in time. I’m awful. And I don’t know what to do.

It’s killing me, because I know what I did hurt him. I keep telling myself I won’t turn out like Dad, and HERE I AM DOING EXACTLY WHAT HE DOES!!! And I did the one thing that pushes my buttons. It’s the one reason why I get into fights with Dad nearly all the time. Because he blames someone, or he assumes they’re doing something to him when they’re NOT. AND I’M DOING THE EXACT SAME THING. I can’t even think anything other than I’m just like him, and I have the same qualities that Dad has; the qualities that led me to nearly despise him. I’m a pathetic, horrible person. And I don’t know what to do.

I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. You have every right to be furious with me. I know I deserve it.

Sorry.

Comments (2) Jun 28 2010

Honestly, I can’t tell which feeling is worse: being called all sorts of names, or being called all sorts of names by someone who was supposed to be your closest friend.

I’m not going to bother talking about exactly what the fight was over; that doesn’t matter. It usually doesn’t.

Her final words to me were “U are all full of urself. U only care about u and only u. You have to demand everything from everyone. Im sorry that the world dont revolve around u and im sorry that you think ur shit dont stink and im sorry that your a self centered cunt this is the worst you have ever gotten grow up and look at urself for a change ur not all that hot and not everyone wants your nasty ass sorry.”

I think more than anything, I’m furious with her. I don’t know why it took me so long to see everything. Looking back, I realized that my friendship with her wasn’t really a friendship so much as it was me bending to her every whim and letting her walk all over me. Every time she’d ask for a favor, I’d help her without hesitation. When I had first received my driver’s license, I shuttled her to and fro; so much, that my dad had to draw the line, forbidding me to be “the cab driver” for my friends. Whenever I confronted her about one thing or another, she’d turn it around on me and make it my fault for whatever it was. If I got mad at her, it was my fault.

I kind of wonder if she ever noticed when I stopped being open with my life, when I stopped telling her things. I knew that it was fruitless to try and get any kind of support from her; whenever I’d come to her seeking a comforting shoulder, her sympathy would last about five seconds before she would launch into her own world of misery and drama. I never told her how I felt that she didn’t care about me at all. Instead, I played the role of obedient friend and listened to her woes, gave her advice when I could, and backed her up with most anything.

At first, when I had received that text, it hurt. Slowly, over time, however, I’ve grown completely outraged. Not because of the text itself, because of the fact we we have known each other for nearly ten years. We were supposed to be best friends, and yet it’s like she didn’t know me at all. And maybe that’s my fault for never telling her anything. I thought she was more observant though! I can’t believe she didn’t realize that whenever I compare myself to another person, it wasn’t “I’m so much better than them.” No, it’s more like “I wish I was as good a singer as she is,” or “I’ll never be on his level at soccer,” or “Kimmie’s boobs are bigger than mine,” or “I can’t get myself to look more adult like Kasedy can” or, “I’m not as good as this person” or “I wish I was more like this person”. Hell, I didn’t even need to compare myself! “I hate the way my legs look,” “My hair’s too frizzy,” “I suck at this and that”, “I can’t do anything right!”

I wish I was prettier. I wish I was smarter. I wish I could compete on their level.

How? How is that egoistical? How am I being full of myself?!

It was the “you’re selfish and no one wants you” thing that really got to me. I’m selfish, yet I put aside my own happiness and quietly suffer, just so I could focus more attention on you? I got into trouble with my dad numerous times over the car, because I would lie and use it for taking you places instead of wherever I said I was going. I stopped bothering going to you for consoling; instead I bottled up my pain so I could try and heal yours. I would give you all kinds of advice, I listened to every one of your problems. I comforted you when you needed a shoulder to cry on. I kept every last one of your secrets (though I can’t say the same for you and my secrets, thanks for nothing), and I will keep them till the day I die. For God’s sake, Kasedy, I stood by and said nothing, NOTHING, when you and Steve were dating behind your mom’s back, and hung out at my house! In front of me, where all I could do was just watch you and the guy I liked hang all over each other and kiss each other and tell each other how much you cared. And I hated you for it, but I still didn’t say anything, because you were supposed to be my best friend. I cared about you and wanted you to be happy because you were someone important to me, even if it meant sacrificing my own happiness. And all that, all of my unwavering loyalty, to the point of allowing you to treat me like shit, makes me selfish? So what is it, I wonder, that I’m supposed to do to make you take that back. Shall I kill myself? Take a bullet meant for you? Am I supposed to just shut up and be your slave? Treat you like the queen of the world?!

And you know, the thing that was drilled into my skull the most during that high school drama? Yea, it was “Nobody’s going to side with you, because nobody cares about you.”

So thanks, Kas. Thanks for telling me how you’ve felt over all these years. I should’ve realized it sooner, since it’s what you say every time we fight. I can’t believe I was so stupid and naive and thought you, of all people, could be considered a friend, you know, someone I could rely on and trust. I can’t believe I wasted so much of my life being your bitch, babying you and taking care of you and making sure that the world paid attention to you, because you’re SO worth it, right? I can’t believe I LET myself give you chance after chance after chance, ever when it was obvious that it wasn’t worth it.

I’m even more angry with myself, for being afraid to ditch you, because I didn’t talk to or hang out with my other friends all that much. I was afraid of rejection, and sometimes, I still am. I even let your words get to me! “Do they really care about me?” I’ve always pondered this, ever since I ditched my so-called “friends,” and made real friends. Logical me knows that they (meaning my present friends) do, but the rest of me, the loser, insecure me stoops so low as to question it. Because of what happened in high school. And now, because of you.

So here, I’ll be so kind as to do you a favor. Since I’m such a narcissistic bitch, how about I just cut you out of my life for good? Besides that, you’re a waste of my time. I’m better than that. Good luck with that baby, I’m sure you can find one of your friends to help take care of it (or take care of it for you, since I can’t fathom you being a RESPONSIBLE HUMAN BEING). And I’d wish you luck with the rest of your life, but I’m pretty sure that even my blessing wouldn’t be enough. Was that self-centered enough for you, or should I try harder? You’ll have to let me know, KASEDY, since I don’t know if I’M MEETING YOUR FUCKING EXPECTATIONS!!!

Comments (3) Feb 11 2010

This is frustrating.

I don’t know how many of you know, but I have a FanFiction account (you can check it out here). I’ve written a few stories here and there, but I feel like I haven’t really written anything good. There are a couple of stories that I’m working on that a few people like, namely “Haunted” and ‘Retards of the Caribbean”, and I’ve got something like 8 reviews each. They aren’t good enough. I don’t know. I really want to write and update Haunted, especially since I haven’t written in it in over a year, and for ROTC I have a few ideas, but for the strangest reason I just can’t seem to get these plots on paper. And it’s aggravating! I want to write good stories so that 20, 30, and 40 people will comment on and like, like Kimmie’s stories.

She says I’m a “good writer,” but it’s a bias. People that are sucking up to me tell me my writing is good. This one guy on AIM who CLEARLY wants me to date him compliments my writing all the time. All they do is suck up. So maybe it isn’t good, maybe it sucks. I’d like for someone for just come straight out and be real, tell me I should just give up, that I really do suck at writing and to not be so full of myself.

But right now I just want to be able to actually write. I have several projects I want to work on, but I can’t get the thoughts out! AUGH! I WANT TO BASH MY HEAD INTO A WALL!

Comments (1) Sep 18 2009

Stfu. Mom’s going to sing at the very tip top of her lungs and if you have a problem with it, then move out. It is her house after all, so there.

Actually, this goes for anyone else complaining about her singing “being too loud” when you ALL scream and yell through the house when SHE’S trying to work. Fuck you, go kill yourself, fuck off, and stfu. If you don’t like Mom’s belting, leave the god damn house, and fucking move out. SOME people actually NEED to move out too, so there. Bring it up to her again and you’ll be answering to my FIST. Well, more like my verbal bitch-slapping powers. Either way, you’ll feel broken on the inside when I’m through.

Comments (3) Sep 03 2009