The Stranger

You've been in my life since I started avidly using the computer.

You've been in my life since the time I thought I would never fit in.

I would never have a boyfriend, never have a bunch of truly good friends, never be looked at as anything but a freak- that is what I believed.

I knew I had problems. But once I met you, they started to disappear. Or atleast go to better use, like roleplaying.

We got to the point of talking every single day- on the chatbox, on the phone, later on Facebook. You came to know more about me than anyone else, and I felt like I knew you just as well.

I fell in love with you. You saved my life. And I didn't care that I would never meet you in real life, you meant so much to me that I would go through hell to keep you as a friend.

And trust me, if the past three years weren't hell I don't know what is.

From best friends, to lovers, to a broken friendship. Kept me a secret from your friends and family, kept 'us' a secret from our own friends. We broke up for the last time, you promised we would stay friends.You ignored me. Tried to make me hate you to get over you. You idiot, can't you see I could NEVER hate you no matter how much of a bastard you are? Yes, you piss me off to no end. You make/made me cry more than a girl should. And still you are the first person I want to talk to when I'm feeling horrible, the first person I need when I'm going through a crisis. I should have learned by now you don't care, don't respond. But I do it anyway. Shoot you some friendly attempts at a conversation, get you something if only a card for your birthday/Christmas.

Hoping that the boy who saved my life is still somewhere inside the stranger I see.

On my way home

My stomach churns as I stand up from the cramped bus seat, ease my way out of the vehicle, head pounding. I'm not sure if it is due to nausea or hunger, but I hold my breath, hoping not to throw up. I glance down at the sinful pages I hold in my hands- An Ellen Hopkins novel, about teen prostitution. I really shouldn't have picked it up, or still be reading it for that matter. It might also be contributing to my weak stomach.

I notice my angel wasn't on the bus today as I glance at the people in front of me. Now, people would most likely look at me funny if they heard me call her my angel, but that is exactly what she is: an angel. Beautiful, selfless, not judging; smart enough to handle herself and yet vulnerable like the rest of them. Honest. And although a sinner, she is still an angel. Absolutely beautiful.

I never really thought about her in any other way but a good friend until she opened up to me. Until that night when she told me she was bisexual. I was bicurious, but never gave it much thought. But after that night, I thought of her. I thought of being able to make her smile, happy, loved. To protect her, to let her be her true self. It was unlike any other crush because I wasn't looking at appearence, or personal needs, or anything physical. I was looking at pure emotions. I was looking inside, the most beautiful place I've seen.

Hell, I even thought  about telling her how I felt. I promised myself to tell her before the summer was over. But, I was confused because I knew that I loved my ex boyfriends, and especially had feelings for one of them still. Could I love her if I still loved them? I was also scared as to what she would think, if it would work out. Or if it would break us apart. I lost a friend because of 'love' before, I would hate for it to happen again. Especially with her.

She found a boyfriend, I lost my chance. But she was so happy. I saw her blush, smile, saw the love for him in her eyes and just knew that if she was happy, everything is golden. I was happy for her. If she came to me with a problem because of it, I'd listen. Try to help her- let her know I'd do anything to help her. It was at those times I really wanted to tell her how I felt about her. But I never did.

Not even after they broke up. I lost hope on telling her, ended up going back to my first boyfriend. I still love her though, still have those thoughts about bringing a permenant smile to her face. I want those beautiful eyes to glow with happiness, hope. Love. And so, I will do that as a friend. It's all I can do.

I finish my thoughts, look ahead. I've gotten to my driveway. Oh look, my father's truck is in the driveway. Good news or bad news? The house underwent some progress, yes, but not nearly 'spotless'. He hasn't left yet. Will he? My stomach churns again, asthma acting up. I haven't seen him for a week. Him not being here then didn't affect me at all. But him coming back is making me wonder, will he leave? For good? Has he even really been here to begin with?

Dreams when I'm sick

Usually are a mix of Ellen Hopkins and whatever my mind wants to torture me with. Tonight's dream was one of those.. It wasn't a nightmare, like the dream of a fatherly figurehe was supposed to me my dad in the dream, but didn't look or sound like real-life dad) raping me that I had last week.

No, this one was much less frightening.. but confusing beyond belief.

We were in the backseat of a car. Myself, Ex#3, and my current boyfriend's ex. I believe we were being escorted to the Library? I don't know. But we made a pit-stop at Wawa. I remember accidentally putting my arm around 3 to get balance, move away quickly.3 and 'Her' stay close most of the time.

So, we get to the library. I go to look at books while they slowly exit my mind and the area of the library. I find two Ellen Hopkins novels and something else, then go to look for them. Stumble upon a very strange room to have in a library- a bedroom. The room just randomly on the side of the library with a door. Open the door, therethey are. I still see the picture in my head.. Both naked, blanket covering both for the most part. He looking down at her with this smile on his face.. a gentile, loving smile. With her.. well, I can't remember. But apparently both leave their glasses on during sex.

They notice me. I turn around, say 'I'll be in the car' and stumble off. I feel weak.. Jealous? Of what, and more importantly who? With a sigh I get the person who was driving us- my mom, apparently- to check out the books for me and, instead of going back to the car, I go deeper into the library.

I meet 3 again, fully clothed, while I'm actually trying to write down what just happened as if it were a dream. we talk for a bit, joke around.I end up hugging him. He embraces me. I struggle between wanting to break away and wanting to stay in his arms due to the scene I just witnessed. He kisses me, just the way he used to. Gentile, loving, soft yet firm. Okay, really confused now. I think I curse him off, I forget. But I remain in his arms, looking away from him.

That's all I remember in the dream.. But it really confuses the hell out of me. I guess that's what dreams do when you're sick(probably in both meanings of the word).

The threat

Or rather the promise
of you leaving shouldn't effect me.
I mean, you moving out would be
no different than how things are now
because I never see you.
You don't bother with me,
my life,
hell, if you saw this you would just ground me
because I'm telling you off.

You wonder why I'm so ill,
it's because you make me ill.
Here I am, working my ass off at Wawa,
at school,
dubbing,
and I do try and atleast do some things around the house.
Already overworking myself as it is,
then you say 'guess what, if I come home and this place isn't spotless
I'm turning right back around and never coming back.'

You're already gone in my eyes, dad.
Hell, I can't even call you that anymore.
You're just like your own father,
you don't even realize.
And if I end up in the hospital
because of the stress you're putting me through,
because of the 8(yeah, I counted) times I cried in the past two days
that caused me to puke, to burn up,
to barely even be able to do my own work
let alone stuff you forced upon me,
well I wouldn't be surprised
if you didn't care.

I don't even have time for myself anymore.
And if I do, I can't enjoy it
because I'm so stressed,
so sick,
still making the list of things to do in my head.

If you want to leave, just do it.
It will give me one less person
to disappoint.

Busy.

School.
Work.
Homework.
Food.
Dubbing.
Pass Out.
Repeat.

This has been the last two weeks, for the most part. On days that I don't work, I do extra homework and dubbing. On days that I work 4-8 or 3-8, I end up passing out as soon as I get home. I haven't had a full day off yet(but come next Saturday I might), which will probably still consist of some kind of project, dubbing/audio mixing, and either talking to or hanging out with my boyfriend.

It's strange, but I kind of like that I don't see him as much as a typical boyfriend and girlfriend would. It makes things more personal, ya know? Sure, I miss him, especially if I don't see him for weeks at a time. But it just makes me even happier to see him, to hug him, and to know we both were waiting for that day to come. Then we just chill out, talk, laugh, other stuff, and know that the next time we see eachother will be just as amazing as the last even though it won't be for a few weeks.

The bad side is it's been giving me time to think, too. And you know what thinking means. Doubts. Questioning myself, my past. Strangely, but perhaps a good sign, I haven't questioned him or anything about him yet. The doubts are simple, the ones that I had with all three relationships.

"I'm a horrible girlfriend. Too protective, too annoying, too paranoid, and selfish.."

"It will end before you know it."

"He could do much better than me."

Only this time, I never question him. Not once when he said or IM'd me 'I love you' did I think {Do you really?}

I asked that question, if only in my head, to the other two several times.

I was thinking now that, if it were any of the other two to ask me back, even though I would want to(Especially my most recent ex), I would have said no. Because I'm not good enough for them. They can do much better, and it isn't hard to find. They just have to stop looking, and they'll find her. Someone that is not like me in the least, someone better. Someone who can offer them the same love that they recieve.

I wonder. If you got a new girl, would I cry? Be jealous like when I found out 1 was dating someone else while I was with 2? Or will it be similar to my reaction when I found out 2 was dating someone else while I was with you? When I found out, I wasn't sad in the least. Not jealous. Nothing. I was genuinely happy for him because I was genuinely happy with how things were for me. For you and me.

I only hope that, if ever you find your Fairytale girl, that I may be genuinely happy for you. And be able to listen to 'Dare I Say' as just a song, with no meaning to connect to it.To you.

What's Behind the Doors?

(Third post of the day, yes. Perhaps it shows how little a life I have, or how much of it I spend thinking.)

I look at my past as if I were in a game show. The announcer, just a shadow, smiles and motions over to three doors, asking me to pick one to look behind.I already know exactly what lies behind each door, and I gather up those memories like plants and sunlight.

Door #1
My first boyfriend, met on Halloween 2009. Or was it 08? It was my Freshman year, I knew no one but people that my 'brother' introduced me to. That's how I met him- he was with someone else, I thought nothing of him but another aquaintence, soon to be friend. I remember writing something along the lines of 'Orochimaru is a sexy beast' on his arm with sharpie. Great first impression, ne? Months passed, I would hang out with him and my brother and their group of friends after school each day, end up talking to all of them, especially him. We would even have random convos on DeviantART, as that was before we both discovered facebook or myspace. It wasn't until Christmas Eve that he admitted he liked me, and asked me out. Being the simple fact that I never had a boyfriend or anyone actually say that they liked me(I was always the one who no one would want to talk to and was only asked out if it was a joke by a jock) , I said yes. I was completely swept up in the moment. and thought I was happy.

That was, until Door #2 swung open.

Door #2
I met him in 2007, on a Naruto roleplay site that he created. He was only 11(me being 13 at the time), and the one who saved my life. Sounds kinda sad to say, but I was suicidal back then. I would try to drown myself in the tub, tried to put a knife to my throat, cry myself to sleep more often than not. Barely anyone knows those secrets, but they all would suspect it. I was too shy, too wierd when I did speak, and bullied far too much to be sane. The people who knew nothing about me, including 2 and two other friends I met on that site, ended up becoming my best friends and truly saved me in those times. They knew(and still know) more about me than other people, than my parents, than my real life friends. They didn't care about my flaws, infact they embraced them, and always helped me when I needed someone to talk to.

But 2.. I had a small crush on him, but I blew it off because I knew I wouldn't meet the kid in my lifetime. It vanished completely while I was dating 1, atleast for a few months. It was after 5 months that my feelings started to change. I would end up thinking about 2 more than anything, dream about him, want him to be the one next to me. Lust, maybe? Mixed in with the feeling of safety whenever I spoke with him, that I seemed to care more about him than 1.

So, I broke up with 1 to be with 2. We cybered within a week of my breakup. I still cringe at that, but I accept it. I loved him. No, I was in love with him. I truly thought that.

We were on and off several times- he always broke it off, felt bad, came back to me. One time he realized while on a trip with a bunch of other kids and girls in his school that I was the only one right for him. The only one he needed, loved. The second time it was a week before Valentines Day. He felt like such a bastard about breaking my heart(again) that he had a dream I was with someone else, and he felt so hurt, betrayed. Regretted letting me go. That was the last time he asked me back.

We were together for a few months after that. All I truly remember, looking back on it, was the cybering. It was most of our relationship, with only sometimes a genuine, not-perverted conversation in the mix. One day, while eating Perogies(sad that I still remember that?), he called me up. He was at a party, but he knew I was going to go to bed soon, and wanted to tell me goodnight and that he loved me. That is my favorite memory.

What should be my favorite memory is the day he told his parent's about me. I was just a secret for close to a year. No one on his side of the country knew who I was, or what we had. However, I found out something that shouldn't have done any damage but instead put my heart in a blender and pulsed it(no pun intended) for close to an hour.

I found out 1 was dating someone else.

I cried so hard that I had to reread 2's message three times before I started crying again, this time of joy. I was finally not a secret, I was finally 100 percent his and people knew it. His parents accepted us together. At that moment I had more hope for us than I ever did.

Only for him to break up with me, for the final time, three days after.

I was a complete mess. Any music that reminded me of him I couldn't listen to (which was almost everything on my iPod at the time), I barely spoke to anyone, my grades dropped. This was my Sophomore year.

It was July of 2010, approximately four months or so after the break-up, when I met #3.

Door #3

I saw him around school from time to time, but didn't even know his name. He was in #1's Japanese class, that's how I knew about him. But we really only started to talk on facebook. Simple conversations, aquaintenceship turned to friendship. We even said that we should hang out sometime over the summer, and I brought up the perfect place to meet- the St. Mary's Fair. And so we did. In that time we learned more about eachother, hugged for the first time, played some games, danced like fools by the water-squirt game.

It was one of the best moments I had in a long time. I forgot about 2, if only for a moment, and the song Funny Little World started to slowly resemble my feelings for him. Unofficial dates followed- Bowling, movies, etc. until October, when he told me he liked me. For the first time, I could honestly say I liked him back. It was far different, far more simple, than my past relationships. It was what I needed at the time, and got more and more perfect as the time went on. Sure, some days were like repeats of others- me in charge of the music, joking around about how I can never play a whole song through, watching anime/Zim/movies while cuddling. But it never got boring. Never seemed repetitive. Each date was very simple, entertaining, perfect because it was just us. Even the highlight of New Years eve was breaking away from our friends, making a Wawa run with him, talking, laughing, laying in the 'snow'(though it was more like ice then. XD). It was a perfect night. And every time he told me he loved me and never wanted to lose me..

I believed him. I felt the same way.

Yet even so, I knew it would end sooner or later. Considering my last two relationships blew up in my face and I almost completely lost the one friend who very well may have stopped me from commiting suicide due to a relationship, I was terrified of that moment. I tried not to think about it, kept reassuring myself by talking to him, kissing the 'love locket' he gave me before I went to sleep or when I had doubts.

I still remember that day.

I just got home from work, a busy 6 hour shift in the summer. Check my phone, one missed call. Before I could even call back, I get a message on facebook. The only thing it says-

"hey"

No capitalization, punctuation, no smiley-face or calling me 'you' or 'love'. Something was up. My heart heaved as I ask him if something's wrong, trying to sound casual. And then he tells me, detailed, that something changed that made him bitter, careless. That whatever this something was, wasn't going back to normal. So in order to not hurt me in the long run, we should break up. I sat there, staring at the screen. Fingers trembling, trying not to cry. But I knew it would happen, even though I didn't want it to. I told him I understood, that I would be okay. I had to be okay, for his sake.

And so I let him leave. Put the locket in my Ex-box(a little Beauty and the Beast music box, holding anything my exes ever gave me). I tried to talk to him a bit after that, stay friends. He ignored me, I got pissed. I tried to force myself to hate him, just like I did with 2. Didn't work. But, after a while we started to speak again.

Hell, I even asked him to prom. He said yes. And you know what?
That was truly one of the best nights of my life.
Another being his prom, he 'returning the favor' of me asking him to mine.

That night, in the limo, we unintentionally(okay, maybe slightly intentionally) held hands during a game of 'truth or poke your eye out' with our limo group. I was asked if I still liked him. He, which I found cute, covered his ears and went 'lalalalalala' while I answered. I said 'sort of''.

That was such an understatement. But, because I had no hope of us ever getting back together, I left it at that. 

Looking at all 3 doors

I compare my feelings for each.

1 was a dear friend who actually was closer to me when we weren't dating than when we were. He was a sweetheart, genuinely kind. But we dated too early, I believe, and so it seemed to mean nothing once it was over.

2 was a kid I fell in love with and still loved dearly, though would never go back to even if God himself came down and said 'Get back together with him or you're going to Hell'. I'm already going there, sweetie. And if it didn't work all those times before, If I know I am not good for him and he's not good for me, it just won't work.

3 was the person who gave me hope about relationships. About myself. And up until our break-up, I felt like we were perfect in the other's eyes even if we both have a list of our own flaws hidden somewhere. And though I tried to convince myself I'd never go back to him, I wanted to. I really did.


I ended chosing door number One. When a friendly 'try to get her to squeak by tickling her' ended up with me falling into his arms, and neither of us moved. When we started to talk, had time to ourselves for a few days and both decided to give it another chance. Maybe it started too suddenly, being two days after his break-up with someone who shall go unnamed, but we kept talking about it. Making sure it was right, making sure we were ready to try again.

Does this mean I gave up on 2 or 3, that I don't love them anymore? Not in the least. I honestly believe I love all three the same amount, but the love just changed forms. I still have memories of them both, still end up laughing and crying because of them, still have trouble breathing when I think about what went wrong. But I have to move on.

For my sake,
For 2 and 3's sakes,
for 1's sake.

Ingredients for one Kat:.

~ Two cups of sparkles
~ A dash of Yay
~ Brown hair
~ Hazel eyes
~ Cream skin
~Thirteen Ties
~Six cats
~Two ex boyfriends- three if you count her current, whom she had been with before.
~An attraction to men and women
~2/3 cup Finnish Metal
~1/3 cup Jpop
~1/4 cup Alexander Rybak, Bubblegum dance, techno/nightcore, and European music.
~110 lbs of assorted things
~Two sticks of depression
~Five cups of sugar
~One teaspoon of trucker's mouth
~One cup of perviness
~2 3/4 cup of intelligence
~Absolutely no muscle
~A splash of poetry
~A sprinkle of literature
~A 10 lb heart stuffed with love and stabbed through the middle- twice
~A handful of controversy

Did I forget anything?

Funny.

How only now am I actually using this, even though about half a year ago, maybe longer, I was set on making one.

Sure, I doubt many will even know about this, yet that's perfectly fine for me. Most posts of mine end up on Facebook, anyway.

Even so, I will be posting a bunch of work. Old poems, rants and rambles, English lyrics to Jpop songs, etc.

You might not like what you see, and so I warn you. Hell, my own work tends to bring me down, make me think how twisted I am. Deliciously twisted, perhaps.. or just someone who should never talk.

Funny, how no one would expect me in real life to be so pessimistic, such a deep thinker to the point of creating the most sinful pieces of work, or connecting my life to those whose thoughts are equally depressing.

If you knew me in real life, you would see someone who looks 6 years younger than her age of 17, wearing so many accessories she could work at Claire's and sporting fashon based on a doll collection. You would see someone who is usually either extremely bubbly or extremely shy, but always smiling. Someone who ends every conversation with 'Stay sparkling!'.

Someone who works too hard, but loves her job. Someone who sings to the point of throat infections every month, but loves singing.

Someone who must stop this blog because she has to go to work.