Dearest Friends,

Do you know what a friend is?

1. A person you know well and regard with affection and trust
2. A person attached to another by feelings of affection or person regard
3. A person whom one knows, likes, and trusts

Those are the definitions I found in Google [well they were the shortest and easiest to retype] and I guess those are technically what a friend is, since they are the definition. I can't remember who it was that I heard this from but the definition that I love most for 'friends' is the family you choose. Really and truly, I adore that simple explanation because it's true. Sometimes we choose wrong though and we get hurt. At least, I know I do. I've lost quite a many friend due to lies, betrayl, even simple misunderstandings that we were too stubborn to work through. But real friends, we get through it. And God knows at times I swear I hate them. I want to punch them in their stupid, little faces. I want to gouge their eyes out with sporks and shove them down throat. I want to cover their bodies is cheese and let loose a thousand starving mice upon their tied up, cheddar soaked body. Yet...sadly and fortunately...I don't. Not only because I think those might be illegal [I'll check that out] but because that's what's family is. And that's what true friends are.

Best Friend: You're such a ho!

Me: Yes...but you love me.

Best Friend: I kind of have to.

Me: What!? You have to?!

Best Friend: You think I'd love someone so crazy by choice?

Me: Oh...I see...

Best Friend: I have to. It's what I live for.

Me: What??

Best Friend: I live to love you. Duh. If I didn't love you and you didn't
love me, we'd both be dead. We're maaaade for each other!

Me: -insane giggles-

Best Friend: Dorkk.

Tired

I'm tired of falling in love.
I'm tired of just getting pain.
I'm tired of looking for joy.
I'm tired of feeling so insane.

Tired of trying so hard,
Of never being good enough.
Tired of faking a smile,
Of pretending like I'm tough.

I'm tired of comparing myself.
I'm tired of begging for respect.
I'm tired of wanting to fit in.
I'm tired of always being the reject.

Tired of waiting for Prince Charming,
Of wishing on shooting stars.
Tired of praying to be wanted,
Of having to hide my scars.

I'm tired of fighting to breathe.
I'm tired of trying to be the best.
I'm tired of just being me.
I'm tired so please let me rest.

Fool me once...

Last night, I called my dad to see if he wanted to do something because, wow, today is Christmas Eve. We haven't seen each other in a month or two and against my common sense, I miss him a little. It took me ten minutes to dial his number. I hung up three times before I actually let it connect. So finally his voice echoed through my cellular device and my breathe caught. Now I'm an excellent speaker. I compete in public speaking competitions and I've won numerous awards for them but asking my dad to be with me on Christmas Eve made me hesitate, it made me stutter. And then, my amazing, wonderful dad said he would "have to think about it".

Ouch, Dad.

So forgive me if I'm not in the holiday mood. Forgive me if visions of sugar plums don't dance in my head. I miss when I was little and Christmas meant something. Even after my parents separated, it was still amazing.

Christmas Eve was spent with my dad and his family. At some point during the night one of my brothers sneak off outside. Usually it was my redheaded oldest brother. And he would run around outside the living room window with a flashlight cupped to his nose. The red glow always made me gasp. I would sit on the couch with my face pressed hard against the cold glass and just stare in awe at my own Rudolph. When he finally "flew" out of sight, I turn back around on the stiff couch and everyone would giggle from my own red nose. We'd have a huge dinner and I'd always set the table. I got to use my own silverware that my grandma has been giving me since kindergarten. They have sea shells on the handle and I would get to choose who got to use them 'cause they were the "most specialest". I would sit next to my dad or my grandma or sometimes even I got to sit next to my uncle who was my favorite. He lives in Washington so he only flies in once a year, if that. And after consuming copious amounts of food, we'd head back into the living room to open presents. Those years, my grandma would always take me shopping. I'd get a hundred dollars to spend so everyone always got their own special something from me. My brothers didn't get that. I did. I was special then because I was the first girl in several generations. Back when I was little, I was the princess.

And waking up Christmas morning? There's never been a feeling like that. I was first up. Half the time I'm not even sure I actually slept. Rather I believe it was a dream like state passing the hours, minutes, seconds till I was allowed to get out of bed. 5AM. I'd go and prod my mother. She'd yell for me to go back to bed but...I'd sneak into the living room. Surrounding our mix matched tree were three huge piles. Each had a different wrapping paper and on of each was an individual stocking. The three of us had Harry Potter stockings. My oldest brother was Ron (red hair), my second brother was Harry (dark brown hair), and the third was Hermione, me. I'd spend the next long while picking up each present oh so carefully and trying to figure out what was hidden under the snowmen. My dad would come to our house around 8AM so that was more of the time we actually opened the presents.

Later, sometime in the afternoon, we would go to my mom's family's Christmas. My cousins and I would play tag outside while the men inside watched football and the women folk gathered in the kitchen like a picture of true holiday cheer. It was good. We would all cram into the dining room that's only used for Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Elbows smushed elbows and you never could tell who you were playing footsie with under the table. It was love. So we would eat, eat, and eat. Everyone had seconds, most had thirds. My second brother is more of the shy nature so he'd sneak off into the back room where my Nana kept the desserts and he'd dive right into the cherry yum-yum. We all knew that's where he was. It was tradition. Afterwards the children would all grab their parents arms and try to drag them into the huge atrium where we'd open presents. The three girls, myself included, would sit on the big, squishy white couch and have ours handed to us. It was happy.

That used to be Christmas for me. Now, I'm not sure what it is. I've spent my Christmas Eve writing this, watching a variety of movies with my fever ridden little sister, napping with my old boyfriend, and driving the frost bitten asphalt doing errands for my mom. Tomorrow, we'll open presents here at my mom's boyfriend's home and at some point, we will probably meander down to my Nana's to make an appearance, eat, collect presents, etc. But I'll hug all my family members after they disguise their hatred filled glares. I'll smile at them though theirs will only be reflexes. And I'll laugh, not because of the awkwardness that will surround us but of the memory of when I was a princess, instead of the reality where I'm a disappointment.

So, forgive me my lack of cheer but your holiday season is just another one of my seasons.

Reject me? Okay. Just don't perfect me.

Soooo I got dumped last night. 'Tis okay in a way I guess. Better now than later but that doesn't mean it hurts any less. That's something which will probably always hurt, being rejected.

And I'll be honest 'cause I know I'm not perfect. I have my ups and I have my downs but overall, I'd like to think I'm kind of awesome. I'm one of the smartest kids in my class, smart enough to get accepted into this early college program so I'm getting a two year associate's degree while graduating high school. My PSAT and SOL scores are always through the rough, not to mention I've had over 43 colleges and universities send more than one mailing. And I'm passionate about what I believe in. Really I don't think I've ever backed down from a political debate and I don't think I've ever really lost one either because sure, sometimes I don't know EXACTLY what I'm saying but I pull it off 'cause I'm dedicated to my cause. With regards to my physical appearance, I've been called cute, adorable, pretty, gorgeous, beautiful, ravishing, sexy, hot, etc. So I guess I'm not ugly. No, no I know I'm not ugly. Guys are attracted to me with regards to my looks. And they say I'm nice. Everyone says that I'm nice and kind. They may say a lot of things about me but nobody would ever say I'm cruel or sadistic or evil. No matter how much I dislike a person or their beliefs, if they need anything, I offer it. I can't stand someone in pain or hurt.

I'm sort of rambling now. My main point was I'm good enough, right? I'd like to think so. But sometimes people seem to be against me. My mama says it's 'cause they're just all jealous or threatened. She's supposed to say that though. Actually, yesterday she called me a trophy girlfriend. "Not that they don't like you but the guys you date never are up to your level and they know that so they like the fact you're slumming with them." I wasn't sure if it was a compliment. I don't feel like a trophy girlfriend. Ha. I'd have to be someone's girlfriend first. Maybe I'm a little bitter right now. I thought things were fine, I thought they were good. Then BAM. Nope. Need to know each other better.

What's to know that he won't judge? My biggest phobia is people touching my feet but I'm learning to deal with that. I had a huge crush on my middle school gym teacher. Sometimes I bite my nails even though I'm trying to quit. My ring size is around a 5, quite small actually. I like the color blue and I prefer the night. Winter is my favorite season but I don't like when it starts warming up and the snow melts 'cause then the ground gets all wet, icky. When I eat oranges, I nibble the skin off first and then eat the pulp. I have a thing for musical artists like the Backstreet Boys and Katy Perry and Lady GaGa and Metro Station. Under my desk in my bedroom, I have a cardboard box that I've covered in duct tape and inside is a little memento from everything important in my life. I don't always understand things in history or science but they really interest me.

Do those help you know me better? I don't think so. Those are superficial. I could tell you how last January the woman I loved as a second mom blew her brains out. I could tell you how my ex-boyfriend held me down and touched me until I managed to run away. I could tell you how I've seen my drunk dad throw knives at the wall that I was two feet away from. I could tell you how I shook and sobbed when my mom went in for a surgery that didn't really have a survival rate. I could tell you how it feels to have over 200 hundred pills pumped from your stomach with over twenty strangers watching you. Maybe those will help you know me better. Maybe. Or maybe those will make you look at me like a freak, make you look at me with pity, make you judge me for my past. And if that's what happens, I don't want you to know me.

Mm really now?

Oops, I did it again....

Yes, I watched the sequel to Twilight. Well actually it's the second of the Twilight series, New Moon. I promised myself I wouldn't. I swore that I would not fall victim to it but alas, I see now that I don't think I'll ever be able to resist it. And I don't mean the books or the movies. No, I believe I'll never be able to resist the torture of idea that there is real love, true love, the kind of love that grasps your body in its hands and tightens and constricts around you until your bones begin to snap and push their way through your taut skin but you feel nothing because you're staring into that one person's eyes. The thought of that type of adoration pulls at me and tugs. Does it, could it ever exist?

You see there's Bella. She's supposed to be your typical every day girl. Divorced parents, Daddy issues, trouble fitting in, blah, blah, blah. Three years ago, when my hazel (let's call them green) eyes first fell upon Bella Swan, I saw myself in this naive, young girl and couldn't tear my gaze from the pages where I met her. She was beautiful because she was how I saw myself then. For granted, she was a lot prettier to me before they cast this little chick-a-dee as her in the movie but still, her purpose was fulfilled. She was the relatable teenage girl of modern society. Then came Prince Charming. He's known as Edward Cullen. Hello, stage one of tormenting us teenage girls because he is supposed to be the most beautiful thing since I was born (ahahaha). Not too tall, luscious brown hair, deep chocolate eyes, the body of a 11-year-old. First portrayed as the bad boy of her new high school, we then see he has a deep, sensitive side that only she brings out in him. Now I'm in eighth grade reading this story and my mind immediately thinks of Justin, the bad boy in my World History class. Could he be tormented on the outside but really just looking for that one girl to show him how to love? Could I be that girl? No and no because that's dumb. I'm pretty sure he's in a detention center right now. My point is there about a 1 in 3928947284728645726 chance of the bad boy secretly writing poetry and singing lullabies to a baby kitten he rescued while helping an old lady cross the street to get his Boy Scout patch. But it's a good dream. That's why we (typical teenage girls) love us some Edward. And he notices the boring Bella. Sure he fights it but he can't resist. They rush head first into this love-capade (made up word) and it ends up being all Romeo-Juliet-esque (another made up word). Then...INSERT JAWS THEME....he's a vampire. Shocker, right? This is what is supposed to keep us (dumb teenage girls) from not falling in love with a fictional character because he's exactly that. Fictional. Doesn't help one bit. And now, now is when it gets good. We meet Jacob. Oh sweet, young Jacob. He's gorgeous in the book. To me, he was better than Edward. And he falls for Bella too. What's better is Jacob is a werewolf and thus the nemesis of the vampire! So now this average, mundane girl has two of the most amazing, epic guys completely heels over head for her. Eighth grade and I'm cursing myself for not being in this book. I'm literally angry at myself because I live in reality. Now I read the first book in two weeks. The second lasted a little over a week. The third was devoured in four days. And when I finally received the fourth book, I stayed up all night in bed with a two liter of Dr. Pepper and a thing of oreos. There's so much more to the story but the basic theme of it is that no matter how boring you are (Bella), you always have a shot at love (Edward) and should that fail, you've got a pretty sweet back up (Jacob).

Now it's really a lot more poetic than that and I quite recommend the books because I find them to be very well written as far as sappy, teenage, vampire/werewolf love stories go. But the movie is what got me. Seeing it portrayed by real people? It makes the love between Bella and Edward so much more painful to watch. I took my ex-beau, Robert, with me to see the first movie when it came out. Sure I told my friends it was irritating they ruined the book and I wasn't going to support it. But I did anyway. "Scientific research" is what I told myself. So we went. We watched it. Well I watched it. He seemed much more interested in my v-neck shirt (definitely not up to Edward or Jacob standards). Afterwards, I felt...unsatisfied. Don't get me wrong, it DID completely go against the book every way possible and destroyed the sanctity of the story. Yet that wasn't what had me so crestfallen. It was the realization that the horny boy holding my hand was never going to look at me the way the mosquito and dog looked at Bella. This is when I told myself I was NOT going to see the second movie when it finally hit mainstream.

And so there are several scenes during the movie that make me want to shove a wooden stake through my own heart (though apparently that doesn't work?) but there are two that really send a stabbing into my blood-pumping organ. One that gets me the most is Bella and Jacob in the kitchen. Edward had left her all alone to "protect" her from himself. In swoops Jacob to pick up the pieces of her broken heart but she keeps rejecting him. This really upsets me because I was always Team Jacob (don't tell) and so they're in the kitchen. Her back is against the sink, he is in front of her. Their bodies are pressed against each other. His tan, rough hand reaches up and caresses her porcelain cheek ever so softly. Their breath is quick now and there's less than a centimeter between their hungry lips. Phone rings. It's Edward. So she runs off to rescue him leaving Jacob. He tells her not to leave. He asks her to stay. He begs her to choose him. And she doesn't. But he still loves her. The second is when Edward comes back. He is in bed with Bella and she wakes up screaming from a nightmare she's had since he left. Except now he's there to comfort her. It's all sweet and stuff but I don't feel like going into details else my heart cries any more.

Now I'm watching this movie and I'm texting my boyfriend while I do so. Is it the rampant teenage hormones coursing through me or the double strawberry shortcake with whipped cream I had for dessert that is making my estrogen levels sky rocket? Neither. It's the movie. It's the idea of the movie. It's the idea of love. It's the idea that someone like me could find a love like that. It's that DAMN (pardon) idea that is making me cry as I type this because though my dreams wish it were real, though my heart yearns for it, though my body aches to have it, I will never have that type of love. I'm not saying no teenage girl with divorced parents, Daddy issues, and trouble fitting in will have that type of love (pending its existence). I'm saying that I won't. Why not? Well it's because I've spent so much of my time putting faith into everyone, everything else, I forgot to put faith in love and I forgot to put faith in me.

So I just finished the credits. And I thought about it. Maybe...maybe if I wish upon a star, I'll find a little faith left over. I really hope so.

I mean, have you seen Taylor Lautner (Jacob) without a shirt?

My Angel

Tonight, I made a snow angel.

She was soft and oh so pretty.

And though the moon was hidden,

Her face was lit by lights from the city.

I felt bad to leave her out in the cold,

So I sat outside and held her hand.

I told of life and love and laughter,

We spoke longer than I planned.

Hours passed and still I spoke on.

Never did she say a single word,

But looking into her eyes,

It was clear that she had heard.

Finally before the cold did me in,

I kissed her hand and held her tight.

And a favor I did ask of my angel,

Simply that she watches over you tonight.