What did I do today? Well, let us look back. You know, like one of those totally awesome scenes in a 90's sitcom where the screen goes all wiggly. *wiggles her fingers at you*
I woke up to the screaming sounds of my Dad. When you hear his voice in a certain tone, your immediate thought is "Oh, shit." And when I heard "LORIE" coming from downstairs, oh, did I know how deeply screwed I was. Yep.
So I make my way downstairs, acting oblivious to the situation. If I don't admit it's there, it won't be. Right?
Right?
So, I see my Algebra book has been shuffled through. Awesome. At least I'm not the type to scribble embarassing teenage thoughts like "I *heart* ___", but since I don't really heart anyone deeply at the moment, it just never happens. But I digress.
"Did you finish your Algebra test [that was due four days ago that you've put off too damn long]?"
"Uhh, yeah, yeah, I think so."
"Well, about half of it is missing."
Well, shit. Yep, your right, Dad. You are always so goddamn right.
"Uhhh..."
If I don't acknowledge it, it will go away, if I don't acknowledge it, it will go away...
"And some of them are right,
but some are not."
Wow?! REALLY. That's such a newsflash. Since I seemingly BS'd through this chapter, because I was being a retard and procrastinating. Fuck fuck fuck. I'm grounded. I'm dead. They will put me on a stick and take me outside, slather me with barbeque sauce and make a meal out of me for the next century.
Awkward silence for that oh-so-cliche` minute that seems to go on forever, then we eat lunch. Amazingly, I am NOT hungry after a lunch chalk full of silence and averting eyes. So I eat about a third of my mac and cheese and stalk off to the counter. My mom makes a comment like "Yes, I know, you couldn't eat it all." I feel like crying. And for a few seconds, my eyes did tear up. I felt utterly shitty. I slapped the bowl down on the counter and ran upstairs to my cold room (which literally was FREEZING, since I had been keeping the door closed and the heat didn't get the chance to creep in), collapsed in my bed and wrapped my sheets around me like there was no tomorrow.
So for awhile I just laid there, thoughtless, then I got up, put my clothes on, stuck my hair up on my head in a messy knot (whenever I'm in a bad mood I stick it on my head, since I'm too bitchy/tired/whatever to straighten it) and went downstairs. While I was in the bathroom, trying to get pretty, oh so pretty, my dad called me down. Again. But this time, not in THAT TONE. I went downstairs, and to my glee, he wanted help with the Mustang. No, it's not a pretty, shiny new Mustang. It's a piece of crap, vomit green, early-80's mustang. And it will be what I will learn to drive in in the coming months. I don't mind it so much, since it's better than no car.
So, anyways, I hop outside and slide into the drivers seat, which feels so nice. I have hankering to be in that seat since I was tiny. I remember sitting there, the wheel looking so damn big and spiffy. Now, everything is the correct size. It fits.
So, we have to drain the breaks. For the second time in three days. Grreaat. This consists of me sitting, turning on the car (YAY!), then going uppy-down-uppy-down-uppy-down-down-down on the breaks. Then I got to put it in drive OMGZ, break more, then turn it off. So, not so fun. I have yet to actually MOVE the car. But that's okay.
So then dad told me, very calmly, to finish my test by the time he got home (midnight) and make it all pretty and good and stuff. So I nodded like a good little student and skipped and hopped back into the house. Then my mom left to do arrands in town and Dad went to work. I was home alone. OMGZ, how scandalous, right? I contained myself in my room, cleared all the crap off my desk and studied my cute little behind off. But then, like, the first episode of Lost came on, and who could pass up an appearance by Rawk Star Hobbits? Not me! So, during commercials, I did my problems. Yeah, not the most efficient way of doing it, but screw that.
So, I got all of it done except for these damned problems which I showed to Dad, and even he was perplexed. Yes, perplexed means confused, if you don't know.
So now it's 1:25 AM, and I'm sitting here listening to my MP3's. With Or Without You makes me weep. Honestly. The Keane version more than the U2 one, for some freaky reason. I think it's more eerie. The piano makes it almost uncomfortable to listen to. This is my damned theme song, I tell you.
So. Tomorrow I finish those retarted Algebra problems, clean my room, and um, whatever else I find to do.
You know what my fucking problem is? Right now, the one thing I want more than anything, the one thing I wish I could do more than anything, is find HIM and tell him I like him. But it's not going to happen. Every time it slips through my fingers like water. And no one else has a goddamn clue. He knows, I know he does. If he didn't he would look at me the way he does. People don't just look at you straight in the eye everytime you find each other somewhere.
Honestly, before last month, I thought I would never see him again. I hadn't seen him for what, almost a year, and then he shows up again, like nothing's ever changed. But if I wasn't meant to talk to him, why would he keep showing up at random places in my life.
I just wish it could end. If the truth was cold, and he didn't even remember me, I wish I could just know. I wish I could just go up to him, put him in a corner and ask, but I can't. I don't even know where the hell he is right now. All I know is where he was, and where he is sometimes.
I actually wish someone would come up to me, and say hello, and I would forget all about him. But that hasn't happened. In the past seven years, not one stranger has come up to talk to me. Out of curiosity, interest or any other reason. And the people I find that I wish would see that I'm alive, that I'm right here, don't.
Someone slap me, please. My hormones are raging and I'm cramped in my room in anticpation of a too-fucking-long road trip to be, to see relatives that I can barely STAND.
But I have to go, I hate to let you down
But I can't stop now
I've got troubles of my own
Cause I'm short on time
I'm lonely
And I'm too tired to talk.
Can't Stop Now - Keane
Currently listening to: Jem - Come On Closer
Currently reading: Confessions of a Shopoholic
Currently feeling: cold
