Anyway, it’s about 7 days, give a few hours, since I sustained my concussion. My follow-up for my concussion says I still have a concussion. Dr. Getzin recommend mental and physical rest, of course, and advised me to push back my midterms thank God; I was worried about that. I had taken my Bioethics midterm last Thursday and I couldn’t finish it . He said “no exercise”, which I knew and had already been doing with frustration (I hate not playing soccer). I still get headaches, and they worsen when I have to really concentrate on something. The sunlight hurts too, and not just my head but my eyes. Sleeping does help and I should do more of that, but since I’m going home in a couple of days, and since I have a life outside of the house and Nat’s place, I think sleep won’t be an issue.

… Crap. I shouldn’t have stopped typing this to pull up a song… now I can’t remember what I was gonna write. Yea, my short-term memory has improved, but it’s not back to the way it was. Um… yea. Since I don’t remember what else I was going to say, I guess I’m done with this blog post =/

So I have a concussion. I’m about to go to the ER to get it checked out. Simply because I panicked about going to sleep. Though I guess one can never be more safe than sorry. But I didn’t want to turn this into a hospital visit because I didn’t think it was that bad.

Well, here’s what happened; last night during our intramural soccer championship game (in which we won YAY!), I was playing defense on the girl who had the ball. Sam, her name, has a really powerful drive, and is one of their better scorers. So she went to take a shot, and I got in front of her. I’ve blocked shots before, hitting them off of my legs, shoulder, back, etc. It’s nothing new to me. So I turned around, hunching my shoulders to tense up my back (which was probably a good thing, because if I hadn’t, I’m pretty sure the concussion would’ve been a lot worse), and I expected the ball to hit my back. Well, instead, it hit the back of my head.

I vaguely remember taking a staggered step forward from the force of the impact, and I managed to sit down on the floor without falling. I remember there was someone on my right side, and then someone on my left (there might have been at least one more person). I could only look straight ahead; I couldn’t even turn my head to look at who was around me. Or maybe I did, but I don’t remember. I don’t know how I got back on my feet, and I don’t know whether or not I got off the court with/without assistance. But my head felt light-headed and in a daze, and I had a slight pressure-ache (the barely there headaches). I managed through last night just fine.

Today went by in a blur; I can’t remember what we talked about in Spanish, and I don’t remember what we went over in Assessment. The only thing I could tell you about AT Tech was that my injury RP was a patellar subluxation, and Jess was my clinician. I can’t really remember the other injuries nor can I remember which assignment was to whom. I even forgot something that Rose, my professor, told me, seconds after hearing her say it.

I’ve been told by nearly everyone I talk to that I should get looked at (though I didn’t think it was a big deal… did I say that already?). I figured I’d do it tomorrow. Nick, one of my coworkers, told me that sleeping with a concussion, wasn’t a good idea. And about an hour ago, my headache got slightly worse. So I panicked slightly, and called the Cayuga Medical Center for consultation. The lady told me I should go over just to play it safe, so I’m about to go right now. I don’t think it’s anything terrible, but I just want to make sure I don’t accidentally die over night. I guess it’s true that you shouldn’t take head injuries lightly. Anyway, I’ll update you all on what’s going on tomorrow.

(I find it slightly ironic that it’s been almost a year since my last visit.)

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!!!

Yea. I went there.

I love you Kimmie~

To put it simply, it started out very well, and then proceeded to get worse over the course of the few weeks I’ve been home.

Here, I made a graph to illustrate my point better:

… >.>

… Look, It was Microsoft Paint. At least the words are legible, damnit.

Anyway, I’ll go over what’s happened and whatnot:

Christmas was good, for the most part. We got a tree, decorated it and the house, stuffed our stockings for a change, and had a… well. I’d like to say we had a “decent” dinner, but yea. A certain someone was in a pissy mood and took it out on me. I got a gift card worth $85 to Rue 21. Kimmie did as well so that weekend we went shopping. I got a few really cute tops so that majorly satisfied me (I also got a couple of new pairs of jeans from JCP. Ahhh~ I love that store).

New Year’s probably would’ve ended better if Ricky isn’t such a stupid airheaded douchbag. I had forfeited my part of the game we were playing in because his inability to shut the fuck up pissed me off, and I went to bed promptly after. I couldn’t even get a buzz! It sucked.

Originally, my New Year’s resolution was to “buy a car by then end of the year”. It’s changed. Now it’s “get my ass down to El Paso to visit Steve.” At first glance I bet you assumed the reason why I’m going out of my way to fly down and visit is because I like him or something. Well, that isn’t all that important of a reason. He’s my best friend, and someone I can trust. That’s one reason. The other reason is, I need to get the hell away from here.

This house in which I come back to from school shelters me, and the people that have raised me continue to keep me fed, clothed, and healthy. But this house, this place that’s supposed to be my home, doesn’t feel like a home to me anymore. And no, it has absolutely nothing to do with “getting ready to leave the nest” bullcrap. Before I came back for break, I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I wanted to be back with my family, back “home”. Now, there is no feeling of home to me. I can’t explain it. What I can say is that I was stuck here for a little over a month; I had no friends to go to, really. There was volleyball every Thursday, and Jess and Steph and Kas rarely. But it wasn’t the same. When I’m not here, however, I’m at school. I haven’t had a chance to get away. And I need to get away, because I don’t want to leave my family yet (although they aren’t even starting to feel like a family at this point either), and I know I’m not ready to be on my own.

This post took me a little over three hours to write. I just finished the brunt of packing. I’m going to bed.

Ah, right. I’m a size 4 dress size, size 7 jeans, S-M shirt size, and shoe size 8.5-9. (I should probably note the sizes in the wish list…).

And think of it this way; if you’re the one getting these things, I won’t need to get them. And then, I can turn my funds towards other, more important things (though the dress and boots in the top three is SPECIFICALLY for a performance, and if it weren’t for the fact that I’m supposed to be in full costume when I audition in February for a show in April, I’d be buying them myself, later… and the bathing suit is for my Lifeguarding course in the spring…). But anyways I’ll update later. I should go psyche myself up to fail… I mean, take and pass the two exams tomorrow >.>

I’ve pretty much lost the ability to think. I’m almost looking forward to going home. And I’d actually be looking for it if it weren’t for the fact that I’ll be working. Lame! Who ever heard of me having a REAL break? I know I sure as hell didn’t!

There’s a knot in my neck the width of my thumb. It starts at the base of my skull and it goes down to my scapula. I think I need to see a massage therapist.

Everything is riding on my Advanced P and C final on Tuesday. Else I’m pretty much fucked. I hate life.

Some relatively good news: All my personal essay papers came back with A’s, and this final paper of mine is coming along nicely. I’ll post up download links to them so if you want to read them you can, and if you don’t want to read them, you can stfu and not bitch that I posted them anyway.

… I actually had a lot more to talk about. Unfortunately, I completely forgot all of it. So, I suppose I’ll try to keep you posted.

Mom accidentally broke her wine glass. It was a wedding gift from 25 years ago. Somethings happened after that, and she ended up going upstairs and crying for several minutes. It’d be hard to describe other than to say it was ironically symbolic.

I watched the scene unfurl with my own eyes, and replayed it in my mind over and over. And the only thing that I could think at the end of it was: there is no hope for salvaging this at all.

She’s doing better now. I feel rather hopeless and indifferent… numb at the moment. More than anything, my head’s been buzzing incessantly and I seem to feel rather enraged at the moment. The buzzing comes and goes whenever I get pissed off or calmed down. I kind of feel like I’m moving along the line to snapping — something that’s never happened to me before. It seems that over the years, my anger’s been building up and building up and now the only left for it to do is overflow.

But that was my Thanksgiving. I suppose that event at the very end could be called a buzz-kill. All I know is, it ruined my semi-good mood.

My 20th birthday was spent upstairs fucking around on Kimmie’s computer, and eating birthday pie (because I can’t stand the texture of cake). Presents couldn’t be afforded (though I got a candy bar from Kas, so I guess it’s something), though I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything; after all, Mom told me to not expect anything come Christmas, a month later.

I got paid on Wednesday (yesterday, technically), and half of it went to my credit card, a shirt, and some neccesities. On Friday, I hope to get a new pair of boots, but I’m not really expecting much there either because I have approximately $40 in my account, and unless the boots I saw were discounted further, I won’t be able to afford them, though I need a new pair.

I helped Mom with baking a couple of pies just now. Two pumpkin and an apple. I think I might be helping with the turkey, but I don’t know. I suppose I ought to be feeling that ol’ holiday cheer, like I do every year, but I just don’t feel anything.

… Check that. I feel completely and totally furious because I deleted the texts I sent myself and INTENDED to fucking save. It figures. I just don’t fucking care anymore.

Hopefully I’ll be in a better mood when I wake up in the morning.

I suppose the only good new that comes out of this post is I’m a year loser to death. Whoopie. I’d wish you a Happy Thanksgiving, but it wouldn’t be coming from the heart. So I’ll try to update tomorrow after the festivities are over. I just hope I won’t be feeling so shitty by then. In the meantime, I’m going to attempt to remember that fucking text I deleted (I can’t even begin to tell you how pissed off I am about that).