Sure, we could say that would've been a problem.
I should sleep more, my eyes hurt sometimes from the sheer brightness of life, as a window at sunrise.
I got cold so I buried myself in a giant comforter, I feel like I'm wrapped in a giant fluffy cloud.
Today was absurd.
I can't tell if my life is terribly boring or truly insane.
I met a friend though (I had to pick up a cat for my mom, you heard me right...that's all).
Meet my friend Sasha, I'm gonna steal him (sshhhh).
I also adopted an Imouto-chan...
She's obsessed with Miku, and she's adorable!
I quit drinking, and started smoking pot *laugh*
Mmm, music this week?
Lots of Catch 22, it's less serious than Streetlight Manifesto.
Um, Marianna's Trench...The Suicide Machines, The Cure, The Smiths, Pink Floyd, and The Bleachers.
If I could start a band?
Sid Vicious on bass, Toh Kay on vocals, Tim Armstrong on , Matt Skiba on guitar and vocals, Travis Barker on drums, and Billie-Joe Armstrong on harmonica.
Meh, idk....not sure how good that would be, it's just a thought.
Satan got back together with his ex, I think...
Do I have a right to feel anything about this?
I have the sensation of waking up, because for the first time I've realized it doesn't hurt...I don't worry about what I say or how I sound to him anymore.
This means I can leave with a clear conscience, and in the end I guess I just wanted him to end up happy.
We're still friends....if you could ever call us that.
Maybe in some parallel universe we ended up happy.
He told me that he would use all my built up luck from always being so unlucky...maybe I am unlucky.
Maybe I'm meant to be like Mark from RENT.
I'm observing the lives of others, the world behind the glass, that pool of light that I never quite felt a part of.
I'm being morbid, aren't I?
Certainly I'm sure it sounds that way.
This week has been exciting and odd, don't mistake these confessions as more of my depression.
I just have to get this out, because it's time.
Time to confess and lay the past to rest.
Factually?
I'll always love him...
One day, right before he went to Australia, before he fell in love with a little hipster girl, before he changed so much....there was this day, was it raining?
No...that was a different day, there were so many similar days, so many nights that blend together.
But on this day, I was sitting on his lap, I was crying....he told me that he isn't a good guy, all he would ever do is hurt me, and that he has always had feelings for me.
He was fighting the person that the world was trying to make him be, he was lost.
Maybe this girl that broke his heart, but is apparently back and asleep in his bed, maybe she helped him find his way.
I have this theory that Satan and I were never meant to be because we're too alike.
We're lost, stubborn, angry, cynical, skeptical, dysfunctional....
Or maybe if I hadn't been so caught up in being adrift on my own road in this life...I simply wasn't around and we both knew that.
Because I was running around all over the place, with all kinds of people, in all kinds of situations...and he was always in the same place, with the same people, doing what it is that he's always done.
It's always been those parallel roads which never intersect, we aren't stable enough for each other.
"All roads lead to Satan's house."
Oh, sixteen year old Bunny....she will haunt me for just as long as Satan.
So many people told me that they thought we'd end up married, even my own mother thought we'd end up together (not that she remembers *sigh* my life).
This.....I....it's really the end of so many things.
The end of Satan, Catwoman, Ivy, The Crew...
We are at the very beginning again.
I feel as if I'm sitting on the floor of the 100 building, near my locker, and it's six in the morning.
I'm writing about neon skies, starlit eyes...my hatred of the word goodbye.
Thinking about love, missing people who will never miss me, convincing myself that there's always a happy ending, that the silver screen could hold some truth.
Idealistic, always the center of a crowd, always with somewhere to go, someone to see....
Always with some new scheme or up to mischievious antics.
That girl sitting on the floor, wearing studded bracelets, kandi, purple lipstick, and unruly curls...she was the person who made me this way.
And Satan, with his black hoodie, longboard, long hair, and old school headphones blaring death metal.
I would ditch English class just to go see him, because I loved him...
He would wear finger-lights to school, when he first got them we were in the car with my mom and he was showing me the smiley face and teasing me about the way I say "milk" and that sixteen year old girl, with Satan sitting behind her and ruffling her hair...she was so goddamn happy in that moment.
He gave me my first lightshow to Skrillex- Scary monsters and Nice sprites, and he taught me to use a butterfly knife, taught me to take a proper bong hit, taught me to always say what I'm thinking, taught me to play both WoW and Borderlands....
He always was there for me when my friends weren't...for the smallest things, but those things meant the world to me.
I might've been shallow, whiny and over-emotional, but I loved him.
And now that I can look back unbiasedly, I see that I have fond memories of him.
It wasn't all just crying in the street or us yelling at each other...
I stole his hat, he stole my soda, he walked me home, he carried me, hugged me when I dumped my boyfriend or when my mom was being a bitch, I could show up at his house in the middle of the night and he would let me stay without asking me for anything at all...in the end even though through all these years I've caused him tons of trouble and even a lot of pain, he was always there for me...even if he was fucked up.
These are the kinds of things that I loved about him...our banter, the way the air would ignite when we looked at each other...*laugh* the way even his friends thought we should've just gotten together already.
"Just kiss already (gosh, pfff!), he obviously likes you."
Now that I've written all this I feel better.
I wrote a novella about all this, I was even going to turn the story into a blog with a post per chapter.
But this is what it was supposed to be, me being honest about how I feel.
Because throughout all these things I learned to stop being honest about how I'm feeling (another thing Satan taught me).
He never, to this day, ever believed that I loved him...finally I learned to quit saying it.
All he ever did was throw it back in my face...the fact that I was stupid enough to be in love with him.
If he wasn't with the "love of his life"....if I had been around more....if all these forces hadn't been working against us (and trust me, everything was working against us), would he have ever believed that I loved him so much?
I'll never know, in a way that's the most tragic part...not knowing if my first love had the potential to turn out differently.
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