I feel gross.

I’ve never really noticed before how disgustingly skinny I am.

The only reason I’m noticing this now is because of the pictures I took of myself and posted on MySpace.  A few were taken from such an angle that you can see most of my torso.

And I happened to be wearing a rather close-fitting polo when I took them.

I look so anorexic.

It’s disgusting.  I look emaciated.  I feel gross now, like I’m nothing but a pile of bones.  Nobody finds that attractive!  It’s creepy and weird!

…this is ironic, I think.  Don’t most teenage girls in America complain about how fat they are on their blogs?

Well, I’m not most teenage girls in America, anyways.

You know how they say that you’re supposed to feel attractive?  You’re supposed to feel like you’re pretty?  Well, I don’t.  My stomach may be flat and my arms don’t jiggle, but I don’t feel like I’m attractive at all.  I feel like a boy.  I look like a boy.  Why can’t weigh more?

Gah.  This is so cruel.

Fighting

I said I’d moved on and I’ll leave it alone,
But before I walk out there is something that I need you to know:
I got lost in a blink of an eye,
And I can never get back – no, I’ve never got back.
You were not there when I wanted to say
That you were everything that right and it wasn’t you but me that changed
Now I got to go it alone,
But I’ll never give up, no I’ll never give up

You know what?  I can’t trust anybody.

At all.

So I should just kind of give up on life.

But I’m stubborn.

So I won’t.

What am I fighting for?
There must me something more
For all these words I sing,
Do you feel anything?

I just had about five different people betray me in five different ways.  How did I ever think of them as friends?  It turns out that the only people who actually are my friends are people I never felt that close to in the first place.  I find that amazing.

And I can’t trust anybody.  Ever again.

I said I’m ok but I know how to lie
You were all that I had,
You were delicate and hard to find
I got lost in the back of my mind,
And I can never get back, no I’ve never got back
You were not there when I needed to say
I hit the bottom so fast that my head was spinning ’round for days
Now I gotta go it alone
But I will never give up, no, I’ll never give up

So it’ll be my mission to lie a lot now.  And I mean a lot.  Because I walked into this school year with no best friend – he ditched me – and no friends, period.

Plus, I thought there were people I could trust.  Turns out there’s nobody.

You know what?  Fuck you.  I TRUSTED YOU.  You turned around and stabbed me in the fucking back.  What kind of friend are you, anyway?  I don’t need you.  Nobody needs a friend like you.

What am I fighting for?
There must me something more
For all these words I sing
Do you feel anything?

Everything I do feels useless.  Everything I say bites back.  Everyone I meet eventually finds me worthless.

The only solution?  Meet new people.  Never stop meeting new people and doing new things.  Never trust anybody.  Never fall for anybody.  Never, ever trust a best friend with a boyfriend.  And never let anybody see things going on inside.

What am I fighting for?
What am I fighting for….

It feels like I’ve been losing my mind.  I’ll never get any sleep tonight.

Never give up on this [x4]

I’m not giving up on myself.  I’m not giving up on my life.  Yeah, I thought about killing myself today, but for about five minutes.  I won’t kill myself, I won’t hurt myself, I’ll just do what I do – write – and forget about everybody and everything else.  Nobody is worth the words.  Nobody is worth my writing or the writing of any of the amazing authors I love to read.

And if they aren’t worth the words, they aren’t worth my attention.

Said I’m ok but I know how to lie -
But I will never give up, no I’ll never give up

Yeah, I’ll be depressed for a while.  I’ll be upset.

Because it’s hard not to be.

But when it gets down to the matter, I’m kind of stubborn.  I will not give up on anything.  I’ll never give up on myself.  I never give up on my friends.  That’s gotten me into the trouble I’m in, but it’s also kept somebody alive who was worth everything to me.

No giving up.

What am I fighting for?
There must me something more
For all these words I sing
Do you feel anything?

I’m finally finding the things that are worth it.  I’m finally finding out who I am and why I am the way I am.

I am fighting to be who I am, and I’m fighting for my right to be adult.  I will never be a child again, and I don’t want to be.  FUCK YOU.

What am I fighting for? (No I’m never gonna give up, give up)
What am I fighting for? (No I’m never gonna give up, give up)

Nothing is worth it anymore.  Nothing.  I have no friends.  I have nobody to trust.  I don’t care anymore.  All I want is to write.  Nothing more.

Said that I’d fight for the one that I’ve found
I’m gonna stay here while I wait for you to come around.
I fight: you’re apart of me now,
And I will never give up, no I’ll never give up!

Why Can’t I Be Somebody Else?

I hate myself.

I almost hit somebody today.  Again.  I suck at driving.

And I suck at life.

I have no friends.

God help the outcasts.

Boys Seem Useless. Maybe.

Well, after hanging out with BOTH of my ex-boyfriends on Friday, I’ve figured out two things.

1:  Boys are something like useless.  At least, the ones that aren’t writerly or above the age of 30.

2:  There is something massively wrong with me that I dated these two people.

Honestly!  When two teenage boys go dancing about IN THE MIDDLE OF A PUBLIC PARK, there’s something strange going on!

=D

I am going to completely and utterly destroy my younger brother.  =]

If I don’t lose my mind first.

Unsent Letters

Dear Tiffany,

I know we don’t talk very often.  Maybe we should talk more.  But you made me feel better tonight when I was scared I was going to cry my eyes out.  I love you.

Your friend,

Fefe

Dear Christina,

I wish you would come home.  I know you’ll be back tomorrow night, but I miss you a lot, and I don’t know what to do without you.

Yeah, yeah.  You didn’t think I’d miss you, all the way across the state, but I do.  Even if I do like having extra space in our room.

Your very lonely sister,

Felize

Dear Trevor,

You stupid fucker.  Fucking call me, you stupid fucking fucker.  I’m fucking sick of waiting for your fucking phone calls.  You fucking say that you’ll call.  You fucking PROMISED that you’d fucking be my friend.

WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT?

I really hate you right now, you stupid fucker.  I hate you.  I hate you.

Fuck.  I thought I could trust you.  I thought you liked me.  I fucking loved you, and you just turn your back on me.

Wait.  Never mind.  I LOVE you.  Not past tense.  Present tense.  I know it, any body who actually cares about me knows it, and people who don’t care about me know it.  I fucking LOVE YOU, and you don’t give a flying fuck.

I hate you.  Mostly because I love you so much.

I’m so stupid.  I thought that you were different.  I thought you were better than Jon.  You aren’t.  You’re just as much of a jerk as he was.  I hate you.  I fucking hate you.  Why are you such a jerk?  Why did you laugh at things that might just possibly make me happy?

You know, just because some people don’t believe in God’s unconditional love doesn’t mean that none of us do.  I do.  Sometimes it’s the only reason I feel like I belong anywhere.  Because at least I know God loves me and gave me a purpose.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.  I hate you.

Your rather displeased non-friend,

Feliza

Rejection… Rejection… Rejection…

This really just isn’t my month.

Two rejection letters in one day.

And the thing with my ex.  He is so massively confusing.  Not even kidding.  If you don’t love me anymore, my dear, why is it you call me every other day to talk for an hour?  I know we’re friends, but it is rather confusing when you tell me I am not attractive to males, then three days later (the next time you talk to me) inform me that I have nice legs.

That is just STRANGE.

God.

I was talking to my mother last night.  She was getting annoyed at me because I wouldn’t stop saying “I can’t wait to turn eighteen.”  This is because I am sick of high school, sick of being a teenager, sick of people not recognizing that I can have adult thought processes and ideas.

Or maybe it’s just that they can’t, so they don’t understand why I do.

Curl up and die, why don’t you

My massive depression has returned.

This is pretty much all because of Trevor.  He broke up with me last week, on May 27th, and I don’t think I’ll be over it for a while.

It doesn’t help that he’s pretty much told me that I’m unattractive, that he could date if he WANTED to, and that things I’m excited for are boring.

I’ve already considered cutting myself, and I never even thought about it with my first ex, who ripped my heart to shreds.

Right now, I just wish I had a friend.

RAWR

My boyfriend can really be a jerk.

UGH.

Stripe-Jack and the Ryan Killers Brass Quartet

Sunday was the Bowling Green Handbell mass ring.  It was great.  We ate a lot of food – especially the AWESOME brownies Lexie made – and ended up having not too terribly much to carry.  (Thanks to Mom and Trevor – for different reasons.)

Then, when we were practicing the last song, the brass quartet and the timpani player came in.

The timpani, by the way, isn’t a sissy little woodwind instrument, like we thought it would be.  Those are some big, badass drums.  And according to my sister, the timpani player was cute, in a Mikey Way sort of way.  And Mikey Way is pretty cute.

The first thing we noticed about the brass quartet was how awesome they sounded when they were playing with us.  The second thing was that all of them were wearing solid Oxford shirts – except one of the trombone players.  He had a striped shirt on.

Amy Waters was pretty annoyed about this.  “Everybody else is wearing solid colors.  Did he not get the memo?”

Anyways, Stripe-Jack (my name for him) had this really pretty, curly hair, like a certain ex-boyfriend of mine, only more golden-brown than just plain brown.  I pointed this out to Christina, who kind of nodded.  We then proceeded to name the rest of them so that they matched the Ryan Killers, a band of guys from our high school.

The one in the red, who played trumpet and sat across from Stripe-Jack, was Keith.  The other trumpet player, who was wearing green and is highly likely to have actually been named Davis, was Bobby.  The other trombone player, who was sitting next to Stripe-Jack and not playing in nearly so hyper a fashion, was Keith and a Half.  (He was bigger by half a head and half a body around than Keith.)

The ring was awesome, though.  The best pieces were Allegro Spiritoso, which was the first piece, and the final piece.  I can’t remember what it was, but I’ll probably remember at about 11 tonight when I’m trying to sleep.  The music was so pretty!

 

EDIT:: I looked it up - it was “Guide Us, O God of Grace.”