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Friday, 18 February 2011

  • I'mmadbro

     

    For the last few months I've been intensely frustrated and saddened by my relationship with someone I thought was a close friend.

     

    We were close, very close. I told him everything. Every good thing that happened and every thing that bothered me. We texted every single day from waking til sleeping. Obviously I didn't expect our communication to stay that relentless, but neither did I expect to be treated like a stranger after everything we've been through together. 

     

    I'm more than annoyed, I'm more than pissed off, I'm angry.

     

    We went from being "twins" (we were so alike, or so we thought, and we had so many inside jokes), to barely speaking to one another. Now, I'm always the one chasing after him for a conversation. He NEVER initiates conversations anymore. And when I do try to talk to him, it's like pulling teeth. Our conversations are short and it takes him forever to respond. I can understand if he's busy, but every single time I try to talk to him?!?!

     

    I could understand if he doesn't like me anymore or if he's sick of me. But he won't friggin say so. I've asked him about it and he denies it. But his actions tell a different story. If you don't like me, if you don't want to talk to me, if you don't want me in your life anymore THEN FUCKING SAY SO. Don't sit there and expect me to understand why you won't fucking talk to me because I don't. 

     

    It hurts to feel like someone you really care about doesn't want much to do with you anymore without so much as one word of explanation. It drives me insane at all hours of the night and day. 

     

    You're supposed to be my friend. The least you could fucking do is man up and tell me if you don't want my friendship anymore. 

     

    Ugh. Just fuck you.

     

     

     

Thursday, 11 February 2010

  • 3/Forever



    I could come up with a book full of reasons why my relationship shouldn't work and I'm sure somebody already has. Today is the three-month anniversary of the day I started dating a guy I met on the internet, more specifically the MMORPG juggernaut known as World of Warcraft. I see the eyebrows raising and the 'wftfareyoucrazy' coggs turning in people's minds when I tell them this. And the responses I get?

    - How do you know this guy is who he says he is?!
    - He could be some 50 year old stalker pervert!
    - He's probably some desperate hideous geek that does nothing but play video games all day.
    - He just wants to take advantage of you!
    - How does an online relationship even work?
    - He doesn't like you, he likes your character!
    - It's the internet! Nobody is who they say they are!

    And the list goes on and on. (All of these things have been said to me by my mother, by the way.)

    I'm not a 13 year old girl who's just gone into a chatroom for the first time (that's a story for a different blog). I've been surfing the internet for years, I watch the news, I've seen Chris Hansen and To Catch A Predator. Why on earth would I have not thought of all these things myself? I'm almost 21, and I have more common sense than my whole graduating class put together. And to be honest, I still think online relationships are the worst idea since colored ketchup.

    But this blog isn't about defending my relationship from the stereotypical worries. It's about why it's working.

    - We talk every single day
    (my friends and family argue that I spend way too much time on WoW, but when that and email are your only viable communication options because your SO's phone got stepped on by a cow, I'll take WoW over email or IM any day. It's more fun and we can do things together in the virtual world.)

    - When we talk, it's not just about the game.
    (If our relationship were exclusively game-centric, we probably would have failed weeks ago. As it is, we talk about every aspect of our lives, interests, wants, likes/dislikes, work, school, etc.)

    - He's everything I ever wanted in a guy without me ever having told him what I was looking for.
    (I never wanted a Prince Charming or and Edward Cullen. I wanted the ordinary guy who loves and understands me, loves affection just as much as I do, can take a joke (my sense of humor is notoriously skewed), I can have a long conversation with at the drop of a hat about anything, and really, it's just the little things he says and does that makes me believe he really does care and love me. If I believe in soulmates, then he is mine.)

    - When we fight, we always talk it out.
    (Admittedly, when we do fight it's over something inconsequential, but he always talks it out with me and is never to proud too apologize. This guy is truly humble and pride and vanity are foreign to him. Which is good, because pride is one of my faults as well as sheer stubbornness. We always make up within 20 minutes of our argument and life goes back to the way it was, as if we never disagreed.)

    - We're not perfect.
    (Neither one of us always says the right thing. We're both ridiculously stubborn and pig-headed sometimes and we hurt each other's feelings. But perfection and constant smooth-sailing isn't a normal relationship. I don't want or expect him to be perfect at any time and I know he feels the same. We love each other the way we are and we're normal. Well, as normal as a relationship can be for two people who met in an MMO.)




    I don't have to ask somebody else's opinion or advice on what love is or what it feels like. If I did, I'd have my answer. I'm in love with Sam, crazy or not. Maybe it's not smart, maybe it doesn't make sense, and maybe the whole world thinks I'm an idiot lovesick girl who's too blind to see the possible consequences. Maybe my parents and my friends disapprove. But the thing is,


    I don't care.

    I'm in love with this guy I met through a game and you can think what you want. Throw every argument you've got at me, I've thought of them all. And it doesn't matter.




    Happy Anniversary to me. :)

Thursday, 27 August 2009

  • Currently
    The Fray
    By The Fray
    You Found Me
    see related

    Kayleigh

    I slept rough last night. Or should I say this morning? It might have had something to do with my roommate not crashing 'til around 6 a.m. But probably it had more to do with the nightmare I had and deja vu. 

    It was one of those nightmares where I wasn't sure if I had dreamed it before or if I had seen it in some movie. After considering it, I decided it was a previously dreamed nightmare, as I wouldn't watch something like this. It ran like a movie in my head until suddenly I became one of the characters.

    Here's an abridged version of the awful thing:

     It starts out with a happy family. A mother, father, two daughters (one in her late teens, the other around 7 or 8 or so), aunts, uncles, and cousins living on one big farm. The dream starts with the sun rising and all the adults are out in the fields working. The older sister (whose name I can't remember) was cooking breakfast for her younger sister (whose name is Kayleigh). I'm thinking it was a Saturday, as there was no mention of school. The dream proceeds as if I were watching someone live out a normal life. 

    Until the gunshots start.

    The girls are inside eating breakfast when the shots start and they can hear screaming. The oldest runs outside to see her parents lying bleeding to death in the mud. The father is choking on the blood in his throat and lungs. By this point the mother is dead. More shots echo out from around the farm and the bodies of their aunts, uncles, and cousins are seen strewn about the fields, like broken dolls. A few hundred feet away is a man holding a shot gun. 

    This man scares the shit out of me. His name is John or Jack or something like that, I don't know why I know that. 

    Before he sees her, the oldest sister runs back inside and picks up Kayleigh. Holding her, she runs to the family truck. By now, the man has seen her and is pursuing at a leisurely pace, his shot gun over his shoulder in a menacing fashion. 

    It's his face that scares me. It wasn't menacing, or vicious, or cruel, or full of sick twisted amusement. I can't really describe it, I can only say that his face was extremely serious, dead-set, and the only thing that fueled this man was the desire to kill. I don't even know why. His eyes weren't empty, but were full of something like determination. Not revenge or justice, just the absolute desire to see someone dead. 

    So the girl gets the truck started and drives off with the sister (obviously they are the only survivors), but she can see the man in her rear-view mirror. A rather ominous image. Flash forward to where the sisters are now living in a large open house, where the main color scheme seems to be white. I remember Kayleigh's room particularly well. All the furniture is white. The bed, with a solid white frame, is in the middle of the room. There is a window across from it, with a long bench built into the wall. The dresser takes up the entire length of the right wall with cabinets overhead (these too are white. Maybe white has significane?) The door is on the  right side of the bed. There is one potted plant in the room, which, alongside the bedspread, adds the only color to the room. There is a vanity on the backwall to the left. These details probably aren't important, but I want to remember them. 

    The two sisters are living in this large house all by themselves (how they acquired it and how they paid for it I have no idea). Then this guy shows up (not the kiler) and offers to protect them. He's a sweet guy with floppy gold-blonde hair and an infectious smile. He befriends the sisters and ends up living in with them. He takes care of all the maintainence around the house and is a handy man. 

    But this is a nightmare and not a dream, so all good things must come to an end.

    The three of them are in a field close to the house, the older sister leaning against a tractor, Kayleigh sitting down, and the man sitting in the tractor's seat. Out of nowhere, there is a bang and a large bloody hole appears in the man's chest. He gasps for air for a few seconds, then falls over and dies. 

    At this point, my point of view shifts from outsider to the older sister's. Suddenly I am the older sister and my only instinct is to protect Kayleigh. 

    I pick her up and throw her into my arms and start running as fast as I can. Somehow I know that it's not me the man wants dead. He doesn't care about me. He wants her. Kayleigh. He wants this sweet innocent girl, who's never done harm to anybody, dead. I don't know why, I don't stop to think about it. It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is keeping her alive. I can hear my harsh, labored breathing, the thudding sounds my running feet make as they hit the ground.  And I'm more afraid than I've ever been in my life. Not for myself, but for this child. My sister. I keep running and I know he's following me at his t s, leisurely pace. I have to keep running, there's no where to hide. He'll find me anywhere I go. 

    I end up at some grand hotel building, which is very palatial on the inside.The rooms are all gilded with gold and expensive, tasteful furniture. Elegant, but not quite gaudy. It's really more like some kind of jacked up city hall or a scaled down version of Buckingham palace than a hotel. It's hard to describe. We meet two wealthy people, a man and a woman (not a couple) who take us into their protection. So we're hiding out in this grand building, living in it like princesses. We think we're finally safe. There are dozens of people around us who want to help us and there has been no sign of the killer. There have been warnings put out on television and a reward set in place for his capture. But he's never found. 

    Then one day Kayleigh and I are walking outside. I'm holding her in my arms, just like when we were running. The place we're walking in looks a lot like the original farm where we were living. The ground is hard packed dirt, no grass, with wheat growing everywhere. I feel safe, but with a slight sense of dread or foreboding. And then I hear it. The crack of a gun. I turn around and there he is, his finger on the trigger and his shot gun (rifle?) cocked in position. The same look that is always on his face. His expression never, ever changes. 

    And then I feel Kayleigh drop like lead from my arms. I see her lying spread-eagle in the dirt, a small hole in her forehead and blood pooling under her head. Her eyes are already glassy. 

    This is the last thing I see before I wake up (a terrible thing to wake up to), but I can feel his satisfaction. There is no smugness, only a satisfaction that the job is done. I can still feel it as I come back to reality and realize it wasn't real. I can still see her glassy eyes, feel my own failure to protect her. I feel the sister's grief. And all day as I've gone around doing normal things, I can still see Kayleigh whenever I close my eyes, whenever I blink. Dead. 

    So this is for her, even if she isn't as real as I felt she was. 

    I've had this nightmare twice now, and I hope I never ever have it again. 


Monday, 06 July 2009

  • Currently
    The Sickness
    By Disturbed
    Down With the Sickness
    see related

    A Flame for the Flamer

    Rawr. I'm pissed. Bordering on angry. 

    I hate drama. I loathe it more than I loathe Miley Cyrus and Maevis Beacon put together. And that's a lot. Fortunately for me, my life is mostly devoid of drama. If it rears its ugly head, it's usually not something I'm directly involved in. But lately I haven't been so lucky. 

    Recently a friend came back into my life after having been MIA for several months (this is actually a rather douche-y thing to do, now that I think about it). I dealt with it, even though sometimes I missed him a lot. But I understood; he's married now so both the wife and the army are sucking up his life. A couple weeks ago, he texted me to get back in touch. Rather than getting back in touch out of missing my company, he texted me because I was one of the few female friends he has left that his wife hasn't deleted out of his phone and he was bored and lonely at another military base during training. Ok. Fine. That's kind of douche-y too. But I can deal with that (and I'm starting to think I forgive way too easily). So we texted back and forth for a couple weeks. And from a wife's perspective, I can see how that would be suspicious when you see the cell phone records. But rather than confront him about it, she sends ME a text, telling me "please don't text my husband anymore." While she may have added "please" to her "request," basically she told me to stfu. That I'm not "allowed" to talk to him anymore. No. You don't tell me to stfu. You don't tell me to stop talking to my friend that I've known for almost 8 years, which is at least triple the amount of time you've known him. I don't think so, bitch. He may be a douchebag sometimes, but he's my friend. I'm not going to sit back and take shit for your insecurities, especially when I'm innocent. At this point I realize that it looks like she's in the right, but let me shed light on a few more details. She's been on his facebook a lot lately (and I know this because he's transferring bases right now and has no internet access), and today posted this status:

    ------------- cant wait to move far away with (name of my friend). no more drama from his patheic friends! :)

    Drama? DRAMA? From his "pathetic" friends?! No. No. That's bullshit. Doubly so because I never bothered to reply to her text message, because anything I would have said would have broken her phone. Second of all, how am I pathetic when she's the one creeping on his facebook telling all his friends what she thinks of them? Very stupid move. As much as I would LOVE to tell her what I think of her (and I don't think much of her at all), I'm not going there. I'm not going to sink to her level and add to the drama. I didn't even want to blog this, but I'm angry enough to spit nails and had to put it down somewhere. I'm slow to anger, but honey you've woken the beast. 

    So, princess, keep your insecurities and your petty drama far away from me. I don't need your bullshit when you've already pretty much ruined my friendship. 

    And now to take my misdirected rage out on my Sims. 
     

Wednesday, 29 April 2009

  • Currently
    Dark Passion Play
    By Nightwish
    While Your Lips Are Still Red
    see related

    Ninjas and Zombies and Pirates! Oh my!

    Yay! Rant part II! It took me so long because I had to think about what else pisses me off. That's actually kind of sad, but sometimes things don't irritate me until I see them in action. So here we go; things I hate part 2!




    Short shorts.


    I hate short shorts. Now I realize that shorts are, obviously, designed to be short. The shorts I'm talking about are the ones that barely cover your butt. I don't want to see that. Put it away. Especially if you're one of those hefty girls with jiggly thighs. Wear clothes that flatter you, not ones that make you look like jello. Save shorts that short for the bedroom.

    kthxbai.




    People Who Look Like Sticks.

    I'm not talking about those poor Africans who have nothing to eat. Those people can't help it. I'm talking about those people right here in the States that look like twigs. I saw one guy the other day whose legs were as thick as my arms. That is sad. I wouldn't call myself fat, but it freaks me out when I walk around and see girls who are literally half my size. I'm not saying stuff yourself full of pizza until you explode, but for Pete's sake, get some meat on your bones!

    (this picture is epic btw.)



    Coworkers Who Don't Do Their Jobs

    This REALLY pisses me off. People who don't show up to do their job and don't have a legit explanation. They just don't feel like it. There are people who would give the left half of their body for that job you're not showing up for. They have families they have to provide for and they can't because there are no jobs in this damn economy. Why do you apply for a job if you're not going to do it? You don't deserve it. So do us all a favor: quit and go be the couch potato that contributes nothing to society that you were meant to be.

    Rawr.




    Rap Music.

    I have a personal vendetta against rap, apart from the fact that it sounds like crap. Every other morning they're outside my dorm blasting that god-awful excuse for music through my wall and preventing me from doing anything remotely productive (i.e. sleeping, writing papers, reading, etc.) Rap has absolutely no musical or lyrical value. It has no melody and all of the accompanying sounds to the (trashy, vulgar, explicit) lyrics sound almost exactly the same. I don't want to hear that crap on the radio. All the songs are about the same stuff too: money, drugs, chicks, sex, becoming famous, haters, blah blah fucking blah. So my message to rap?

    GO AWAY.




    Reality Television.

    This stuff has no entertainment value. I seriously do not understand how people can watch this junk. It fries braiiiiiiiiins. I'll watch the Discovery Channel over The Bachelor anyday.




    Chuck Norris.

    HE IS AN ACTOR. HE DOES NOT HAVE ANOTHER FIST IN HIS CHIN. STOP MAKING LAME CHUCK NORRIS JOKES.

    The end.





    Meh. I need fooooooooooooooooooood. :(

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ebondeath

  • Visit ebondeath's Xanga Site
    • Name: Alicia
    • Gender: Female
    • Member Since: 10/13/2008

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  • tpfairy16
    Where: In the car When: 2008 I remember one time, when we were coming back to Murfreesboro from Savannah, Alicia swerved soo hard to miss an opossum that was crossing the road, only to hit it square on with the opposite tire. XD IT WAS HILARIOUS!! (imported from memories)