Let's "Make Love"

It's sad that you don't even know me. It's probably my fault though. I don't act like myself whenever I'm around you. There's so much we have in common that you don't even know because you're not willing to believe.

I was sitting at the lunch table today with Ben, getting to know each other and such, and he was going on and on about how he though I was this quiet girl but in all reality, I was more of a rebel then he knew. He thought we might have God in common. Then my friend Zack from highschool joined us and we had fun talking about football and baseball and my boyfriend. After he left, Ben told me about his personal issues with his ex that he was still in love with. So cute. I couldn't really help though, not my area of expertice, if you catch my drift.

On a different note, I've been hurt so many times before that it's very easy for me to get upset when something happens. It's called being over protective of my relationship, to inevidently protect me in the process. I blame myself for everything because I'm tired of it being the guys fault. Actually, I'm rather strict these days, and am surprised that there even is anyone out there who can feed that hunger and/or put up with me. I'm not needy or obsessive, that's just weird, I just don't wish to be hurt anymore. :]

The Brutal Truth

Equivalent to a truth box.

Want to know my favorite hang out spot? The Hampton Mall. It's an abandoned mall on my dads side of town. They won't knock it down and some people consider it a land mark, or whatever. Nowadays, it's home to a lonely comunity center, joggers, walkers, and a single Manderin Chinese resturant. Other than that, it's like walking into a time machine and going back to the 80's and 90's. Dust and abandoned stores pave the way. It's a really fun, nice, quiet place to go. Matthew and I used to go there everyonce in a while when it was to cold and dangerous to aimlessly drive around the city. One of the times we went there (we only went once or twice) was going to be the time when I felt I trusted him enough to tell him that I had been assulted. Well, I never even got to that point when he started to lecture me on getting a job and the fact that I have to start making money. I told him I was too focused and busy with being on the yearbook staff, which was technically a business even though I don't get a paycheck. It pays me with it's experience. He then said that I should put my love for writing on hold, and get a real job. He even went as far as to say that getting a job sweeping floors would be more important than my writing. I dropped my jaw. What?! Nothing, and I repeat, NOTHING is more important than my love for writing. He said it was because of the paycheck. I said it was because he was an asshole. I thought about dumping him right then and there. I can't express with words the emotional distraught I was going through. I had to fight back tears so hard I couldn't believe it. He was all emo, and I was considering getting up and leaving. But it was blizzarding outside and I hate the cold. I sat there and waited for him to force me to look at him. I closed him off, and didn't talk to him for the rest of the night.

I was born to write, it's what I'm going to do for the rest of my life, no matter how much stress or lack of paycheck it provides me. To see my name in print, means more to me than anything. It means immortality. Someday, people will appreciate it, and maybe finally understand me.

Soul suckers

That's how the 2008 yearbook staff was described. Getting onto the staff wasn't the easiest process ever for me. I had to apply (even though my sophmore year the teacher loved me so muc she said that I didn't even have to apply), then if they liked your application, they contacted you to do an interview. Obviously I didn't pass up that oppertunity. When I entered that room my first thought was "wow, never seen so many unhappy faces in one place." And for some reason that didn't slow me down. Probably thought I'd fit in perfectly. I went through it the interview and found out later on that they loved me and I was "in". I was super estatic. This would look great on a resume.
I didn't start off my senior year on the staff confident, but I ended it...still not confident. It was my job to write the stories that would go in the yearbook. But to the editors, designers, photographers, and advisors, that's all we were. Writers. We didn't get a say in anything, and no matter how well a story was written, we were yelled at, literally, and instructed to re-write it their way. There was no such thing as a free write. Even our own opinions were looked down on. I began to undrstand why all those script writers went on strike in Hollywood.
We were given complicated assignments, and were told to have it back on nearly impossible deadlines. I quickly learned the defintition of stress, and had to step out of my comfort zone to get the job done.
Not only was I just a writer, I wore black. Which must mean I'm the anti-christ or something. I was looked down on because of it, and only made one friend the entire year.
I've never been more happy to get out of a class. The day we took that group photo, I was in the most terrible mood imaginable. But that was the photo I had been waiting for all year; proof that I was strong enough to complete the year as a staff member. My writings published for then entire student body to read. All 1,400 of them. I smiled and looked happy, as the rest of us did. And now, as I look that picture over, you can't even tell that I was upset by the look on my face. I did it, I learned how to be fake. Like the rest of them.
Now I know I can survive.

History of Smokie; the beginning of Alaina

I also had a nightmare the other day about the whole smokie ordeal again except this time it was Alaina. Before Alaina, it was Streak and before him it was Tazz. I have had to deal with these nightmares for the past eight years. What happened to Smokie was terrible and he/she is possibly the only cat death that I have never gotten over. And it's because of Smokie that whenever a cat dies and I'm not around, my parents don't tell me about it, or they continuously lie about seeing them "around" to make me think that they just ran away.
I don't remember what cat I had before I got Smokie. I just remember being really connected to her. (All my cats were girls, Aprils were boys) and whenever a cat of mine died (back then) Chris Sr. would make up for it by getting me a new cat. (Quite commonly a kitten from my aunt’s farm...yes the one that is currently a home to 90% of my cats right now)
Anyways, Smokie was the rebound of one of my past cats deaths. And I was instantly in love with her. Love at first sight, if you will. I was called outside and JR. had her in his hands and said "You should name her Smokie because of her fur." So, alas, I was so excited that that was what her name became. Since it was so late at night (the sun had set) we put her on the back patio and went inside. Early the next morning, Sr. told me that we weren’t allowed to tell Mom about Smokie. So I successfully hid her for about a week or two. Until Mom came home from work and felt Smokie rub against her leg one night.
Well that was when she stopped being a secret. This was right around the time when Chris Sr. and I went and bought Brudis; the Irish wolfhound/black lab mix. Quite a stupid dog really. He hated being in his kennel with Hailey our husky/black lab mix. So he slept on the back patio with Smokie. Late one night, Chris Sr. got me and we snuck up to the back window and saw Smokie and Brudis cuddled up together on the porch swing. It was too cute.
My love for Smokie grew like a wildfire in a dry field. We were best friends. She came whenever I called her name and always stuck by my side. I made her necklaces by braiding dandelion stems together and even snuck things out of the house so she could be comfortable when she slept. (It was a director’s chair that said "Larkin" on the back. It was soon covered in her hair. I wish now that I had kept the seat of it).
When I look back now I'm amazed that I have so many memories of Smokie. She wasn't around for a long time; a few months maybe. I just remember it was cold when I got her (but no snow on the ground) and that she was killed in April, still a kitten. Now, there were always three things I blamed for the untimely death of Smokie.
1.) Hailey: after all she was the dog who killed her
2.) Chris Sr.: after all he was the guy who shot her
3.) Me: after all I was the one who released the dogs into the yard.
Through that summer, and Elementry School, I blamed myself and Hailey hardcore. I went through long periods of serious denial and said that Smokie would have made it. After all it was just a scratch, right? I always said that. Every single time it was brought up I would say "It was just a scratch; she would have been just fine." Even though I knew that everyone else was right because since I was only ten my opinion didn't matter, I was smart enough to recognize that. The sweater I had tied around my waist the day I held my bleeding smokie now belongs to Logan, since it doesn't fit anyone else. And whenever he wears it I think of the blood that had gotten on it.
That's when it all comes back to me. I can remember it perfectly like it had happened yesterday. I won't get into any details right now though. I have written about it so many times to try and get over it. It's another chapter to the story all together. I'd probably be okay with it now if we had gone to a Vet and THEY said that Smokie wouldn't make it, but to have Sr. say that she was dying didn't persuade me much. I was told to go in the basement and play N64 with Cody while Sr. put smokie "out of her misery". Sr. wouldn't even tell me where he buried smokie, if he did at all. I had caught him a few years later simply throwing the body of a dead cat away after it had been hit by a car, and then my mom doing the same thing to another. They only person I had ever witnessed burying a cat body was JR. when he buried my kitten Tubby the first. Sr. only buried Patches for me, the first cat to die by Hailey.
I believe in silly things like reincarnation ever since Smokie left in hopes that she would return to me in the form of another and in several different scenarios I thought that she did return to me. Casper had been attacked by a dog and lived, in Egypt mythology; a reincarnated cat can't die the same way twice. Casper, although a little shaken, survived the dog attack, making me believe that she was the reincarnation of Smokie, but then why wasn't she as attached to me as Smokie was? I decided it wasn't her and continued waiting. (And that was when we lived on Wheeler not too long ago.) I only have those nightmares I told you about when I get super attached to a cat. Hence why Alaina was the star of a recent one. I just couldn't believe how real her scream sounded. I don't know where I got that sound from. I hadn't heard a cat scream like that since, well, I just never want to hear it again.

Dream me a dream

Lately I've been having alot of dreams about my ex, Matthew. But the nature of the dreams make them more of nightmares. I've had dreams of being kidnapped, beaten, and more. Sometimes he would just simply make an apperance, and that alone is enough to upset me. Today he posted a blog on myspce titled "no clue" and I wanted to check it out, but I had taken him off my friends list and while we were dating, I had told him to put his profile and blog to private so that Sam couldn't spy on him. So I tried to unsubscribe from his blog so it wasn't tempted to read it or send him a message, but my computer keeps spazzing out every time I try to do so.

Also, last summer my friend Chris said that I could go golfing with him and my brother, but ever since that nasty break-up with Matthew, I haven't been invited. Really all I want to do is drive a golf cart around. His excuse is that I'm always busy. Well, this sunday I will be because of my sisters baby shower. I'm pretty damn excited. I invited Taylor to come along, good chance for him to finally meet my sister whom I constantly talk about, but he has to work at the River Of Time. Understandable, but I miss him and can't just hang out with him during the week.

I'm not even mad at Matthew anymore, just more of disgusted with him. I've known the guy since I was six or seven, and now he disappears because he didn't get what he wanted out of me since I was sixteen. Before we dated I asked my sister what she thought of the situation. She said, and I quote: "At least you would know that even if you two broke up he would still take care of you and be a friend."

So much for that April. You were wrong.

Star light, star bright...

I can still remember the smell of the smoke when me and three of my other friends went on our senior camping trip. It was the first time we were doing something alone, without adults, and we were surprised to find out that it was easy for us to work together and survive on our own.

It was crazy cold at night, even with the four of us in a tent, there was no hope for body heat and we actually were willing to get up at five a.m., just to start a fire and warm up. We paired up most of the time. I hung out with Bastian, and Kristen and Jeana stuck together.

It was the night of our second day at camp and Bastian and Jeana were in the van watching a movie on the portable DVD player. Kristen and I were around the camp fire; I would frequently glance up at the stars, which were alarmingly bright, especially compared to the stars I would see sitting on the roof of my house back in the city. It was hard to believe that the sky we saw that night, was the same sky we saw from our bedrooms. I brought it up to Kristen, she simply stared at me. I knew her looks, and I was uncomfortable under her glare. She was cautious to bring up a touchy subject. "Melissa, what happened between you and Sam exactly?". Groaning, I let my head rest on my knees. That topic had been coming up alot lately. Reason being was probably my fault. I had let them convince me to burn some of Sams belongings, so to vanquish any evil spirits and help me get over my past. That had been an earlier ceremony. I actually did feel better after seeing his boxers go up in flames, as we had.

I couldn't tell her that nothing bad happened. I've tried that before. It was awkward having an actual real life serious conversation with Kristen. She had been the one that I ran around super stores with, making sure to cause a racket. The most serious topic we had ever discussed before then was how unfair our parents were. I just saw it as a sign that we were growing up. I told her what happened, straight to the point. She was confused at first. How could that happen? "I wasn't ready, and he said too bad, basically." I didn't want to talk about it, even to this day, just thinking about it is bad. It gets worse the more I think about it. Everyday I have unwanted flashbacks, and now only my closest friends know the truth.

I think that was the first time in that entire relationship, that I missed Matthew. To tell the truth, I was glad that we were so far up north, that there was no possible way that my phone could ring, no possible way I could send or recieve emails, no texts, no nothing. The last thing I wanted was to realize that in a few days, we would have to return to the real world. That that place, actually existed.

My Chemical Romance

I thought it was so sweet and romantic when I found this picture of a man proposing to his girl friend in the rain, that I had to save it and make it the newest addition to my photo collection. Then I thought to myself: "how would I like to be proposed to?" I thought that this would be the perfect way. I can't think of a better way, and trust me, I've thought about it my whole life...well almost. I wanted my proposal to be similar to how the first day I met the love of my life went. Which, to the ironic lifestyle I lead, is a great story to tell. Especially since the day that Taylor became mine, and the day we had our first kiss, was out on the pier in the rain. It was so perfect the way the rain suddenly stopped and the sun came out, it was definitally a sign. A sign that I had finally found the right one for me. We have both agreed to work towards our goal: forever.

Then the other day, Taylor asked me why the male should always make the first move. If he had waited for me to make a move, we'd still be admiring each other from a far. I'm very traditional and believe that the male should make the first move. He told me he planned on proposing to me after he graduates. We're trying to plan our future very carefully. I love to think of my future with Taylor, it makes me excited that I finally have something other than work to look forward to.

I'm scared to get my hopes up about my future again though. I can remember dating Sam and not being able to wait for our future together. I never thought that he would be stupid and I would turn my shoulder from him. Then with Matthew, I thought for sure I'd get stuck with him. How we were only dating for six months and yet he was building his future around me. I knew I would destroy him when I told him it was too much for me. Another broken promise.

But, it's different this time, and I know it. It's just hard to ignore the scars of the past and make room for more potential ones. I want more than anything to be with Taylor for all time, I'm just scared for myself, and my sanity ofcourse, the little I have left.

Rat Race

My friends are actually participating in my new "game" of hide an seek. I start up a blog, make it extremely valuable to them, and they stumble over themselves trying to find this hunk of gold. Okay, that's just a metaphor but they are quite eager and my beloved boyfriend spends hours looking online, and surprisingly, he came to this site and said he couldn't find it. My bud, Kristen, thought she found it the other day and announced it on my myspace. Too bad she doesn't know the difference between a forum site and a blog site. It was a good shot though, I did used to run my own forum site, but it has been long deleted. I laugh a little on the inside and say "Sorry I don't give out hints," on the outside.

Another day in paradise

I love it when my mom has trouble with her cell phone and my completely technology illiterit step father tries to help her. It's like watching a teacher try to teach a first grader rocket science. Then I come over and try to make the situation easier. ("you don't HAVE to erase missed calls, just acknowledge them and they go away.") But of course that would be screwing up the memory in some way, shape, or form.
Then the other day, I had to greatly restrain myself as my step father bashed my real father in an extremely disrespectful manner and expected me to just sit there and take it. All the while, Taylor congratulated me on holding back my angst. I can't believe my step father expects me to respect him when he throws so little respect at me. His version of apologizing for being an ass, is calling me an ass with an attitude and telling me that I need to change it before stepping into his house. Which isn't even his, it's my older brothers. At least he didn't throw a bitch-fit when Taylor and I were laying on the couch together. If only we could have had more time to be affectionate. It's what we crave for these days. Togetherness...

Let's make it work, and prove myself wrong

I'm not one to babble on and on about past relationships, but it would be an understatment if I said my past relations were always on the scary side. My first boyfriend wasn't even a boyfriend. he was just a boy who I was a close friend with, and it wasn't until everyone else said we should date, did we actually spend time together. We went to our eighth grade step up dance together although he wasn't that good of a date or dancer. We broke up after an evening band practice in ninth grade, saying we should go back to 'just friends'. He dropped out of band, and we haven't spoken since.

Then there was Sam. He intrigued me from the very beginning. I can remember seeing him for the first time my freshman year at band camp, when our eyes met. I was a sucker for dark eyes and dark curly hair, which he had plenty of. He seemed...nice I suppose. Fake was a better word for it, but we ended up skipping the whole friendship thing and just going into a relationship. I played dumb and listened to all his bull shit samurai stories and his visits to the mental hospital, all true of course. My junior year, and nearly three years into our relationship, Sam sexually assulted me, saying it was "for my own good". And the sad part was that he honestly believed it. He would cry infront of me saying how better off I was. I took his word for it, he knew best. Without realizing it, I started to distance myself from Sam. I took intrest in people who seemed to respect me and actually listen when I talk. In the end, I ended up cheating on Sam with Matthew, a 26year old and my oldest brothers best friend. But, alas, Matthew and I only lasted about 6 months. When he started to demand to know what "physically happened to me that was stopping me from becoming closer to him.". When I refused to tell him, he stormed to my mother and demanded the info from her. Ofcourse I didn't tell her, she still thinks to this day that I am a virgin and seems to be extremely proud of it. How could I tell her that I was raped by a guy who she helped to house and feed? I dumped Matthew, and for his disobedience, I racked his phone bill up to $400 and when he stole my mo-ped to fix it, another surprise for me, the state police arrested him for stealing. Punishment well deserved for his disrespect.

It's been awhile since that day in early summer and I now find myself in the arms of Taylor. To be completely honest, since I can be, I cannot remember loving anyone, as much as I love Taylor. He's everything I've wanted, and dreamed of...

Not only does he know how to listen, he plays the flute. There's something unique about a guy who can say that he proudly plays such an instrument. I also play the flute, so all of the school year, we were placed stratigicly next to each other. When we rode the bus to and from school, if there weren't enough seats for me to sit, he would willingly give up his. And in the end, would save the seat next to him, so I wouldn't have to sit next to any fucktards. Taylor and I are incredibly close for the three months we've been dating. We have a spiritual, physical, and emotional pull towards each other, and can't stand to be apart. I gave him my favorite garnet and my class ring to wear around his neck; whenever I start to miss them, I think of where they are, and I feel good about myself. When I gave them to him, I felt peaceful, like the wind was flowing right through me.

Taylor said he wants to marry me, and I have mutual feelings about the subject. But Sam said he wanted to marry me, and so did Matthew, perhaps I just give off that vibe that I want to deal with bull shit. If you ever read this, yes Taylor, may you know that I do wish to one day marry you and maybe even bare your children. Eh, our children. Yes.

P.S. I love it when you touch me. Keep up the great work. Just the thought of you gives me butterflies and, by the way, I love to kiss your neck. It's hard work not abusing the privledge.

(Professionals don't use parenthesis)

No one knows that when...

...she stands out in the rain, tilts her head back and lets the water rush over her, she can feel His grace all around her. An invisible force, holding and reassuring her. Melissa stands out in the rain, even after he's left to return home, because then no one can see that she had been crying. Tears for him. For his love; for his safety. Hope, for his return.

I was like "uh, no way"

My neck hurts

And it's because of that that I sit here, on my family computer, late at night, typing and starting my own blog. The last time I had a blog of my own was in middle school and early high school, but quickly stopped when my band director discovered it and pulled me aside saying I should "be careful what I post on the internet, anyone could find it". Yeah, duh, you certanly found it. What really groped me though, was the fact that I had never even put anything personal on it. It was usually a place where I vented about my latest relationship problems.

Besides this hunk of gold, I have a blog on myspace that I keep well oiled and running smoothly. The only problem is, is that my friends and family have access to that blog so I can't put how I really feel without people thinking I need help, starting fights, or just plain old losing friends. Plus, there's the whole black mail thing. That would pretty much ruin anyones day, or week.

If they find this blog, it'll be at their own risk that they stick around long enough to read it. I am not holding back, I WILL bare all, and soon you will all know the power that Melissa's mind is, and can be.

Brace yourselves, it's garanteed to be a bumpy ride.