Monthly Archive

how can a book be a bestseller when it’s obviously the stupidest concept ever conceived?

how to become a bitch. how to change who you are to attract those that wouldn’t love you otherwise. how to be miserable. how to really hate who you are.

i don’t know if the word i’m looking for is ironic. but i think it’s funny that a book that is supposed to explain how to get guys to want you, tells you to act like a complete cunt in order to acheive this. so lie to yourself, and deny who you really are. self help for the 00’s.

i’m sure the tactic is wonderful. and i’m sure that every girl that reads it and applies it will be happy. happy with a man who fell in love with someone they weren’t… have fun living up to a person you will never be. have fun living up to a person you’d never want to be.

if you want to get a man and you can’t, try internet dating, there are some desperate men out there who are ready and waiting to love you. otherwise, don’t waste your money on a book who’s entire premise is to make women feel bad for what they are.

you are good, sincere, honest, vulnerable, and beautiful. the last bitch i met was ugly, fat, and got men. well, she got men to sleep with her, and she really had no one to talk to when she was sad, because in order to get men, she had to pretend that she was never sad. needless to say, she wasn’t my idol. my favorite thing to do is cry, and have someone accidently find me and hug me.

i’m a chick. every chick can be a bitch. it’s in us. but really you are allowed to do whatever you want. if you want to call a guy. call him. he may think your clingy. so just love yourself enough to let him go.

i get the idea. but i wish the book got the idea.

you are wonderful. start acting like you know it, and everyone, not just men, will love you. there’s something so special about a girl that believes in herself. you sad, vulnerable, nagging, sagging, over-bearing, emotionally wrecked, compliment-fishing chick. you just might change the world. but you have to be okay with who you are first.

it shouldn’t be “why men love bitches” it should be “why men love women who respect themselves” but honestly people, where is the book called, “why women love men who make a lot of money, dress well, don’t get angry when drunk, and have power but don’t abuse it”? because honestly, a guy knows he doesn’t need any of those things and he can still get a chick to sleep with him.

so for all those who are already bitches, buy the book. it will make you feel good about yourself, and that’s what we’re all about here. loving ourselves.

i’m out.

i used to pray to god everynight.

“dear god, please help me to have a good night sleep, with no bad dreams, and keep me safe through the night. i pray that no robbers come and my whole family is happy. i love you. amen.”

i remember this like it was yesterday, because frankly it might have been. i got so used to praying this prayer, that when i am in my own bed, i recite it. and if i don’t, i feel like i might not be able to go to sleep. i spent a long time getting that out of my system. i don’t want to recite for god anymore.

i was pretty emotionally tied up in how much life sucked yesterday, so my mom and dad took me out with them. they bought me food, starbucks, and work clothes. they also took me to lowes. while we were in lowes, looking at the sinks and baths, my mom told me that if you trust in god, he won’t let you down.

i said, “so how do you know this?”
“experience.”
so i responded, “i’ve trusted in god, and he never got me anywhere. the only times i’ve ever gotten out of a mess is when i pulled myself out.”
“you think that’s true. but it’s not.”

i looked at my mom. i thought about it. and i remembered when i would rely on a god for everything. i’d ask him for guidance. i’d pray before i made a decision. i’d sing those songs. i’d wait around a lot. and i wouldn’t get much from him. one time this lady prayed for me, she told me that she could see i was afraid to ask for much. that maybe i didn’t think i deserved it, but that god wanted to give me everything, and even more. i just had to ask.

so i asked. i asked. i wanted this boy to like me. i wanted this certain job. i wanted to be skinny. i wanted people to respect me. i want to be heard. i wanted life to be happy. i waited, i went for it, i tried my hardest, and i asked. and god didn’t come through.

this was my life people. i grew up in church. the same way you may have not. it’s what you know. it’s who you are, even when you don’t want it anymore. it’s engrained in your head, your heart and your way. i waited for god to fulfill his promise to me, and this is what i got:

i got the boy to like me. he didn’t want to date me. i got the job, but then my future boss decided against it, a week later. she took it away from me, after i had already turned down another job and had been unemployed for six months. i lost ten pounds, but i haven’t really gotten skinny ever. i wanted people to respect me, when in that same year, i went to a party, got drunk, and lets say that no one respected me anymore, even though i did everything i could to be strong, and trusted god to “use it for good.” i wanted people to listen to me, and hear me out and no one did anymore. i wasn’t allowed to talk. i became nothing.

you could look at this, and see that i did get the job and the guy. that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be and god knew better? maybe i was the one who got drunk. maybe i was the one who ran my mouth too many times and had to pay. maybe. but i asked you see, i asked to be happy. to be good. and i wasn’t, and to think that for a little while i thought god wanted to give me the world.

so i prayed and prayed. “god, make this better.” please. and i was sad. and he didn’t help me out of it. and i wanted to trust him. but i couldn’t anymore. so i let go. and it took me a year, but i made it better myself. i don’t remember god being there. even though i asked. i trusted. he gave up on me. and, you know, you could say that i gave up on god. because maybe i did. but i’ll tell you it wasnt before i tried. for twenty years i tried. thats longer than most people can say.

it’s been three years. since the beginning of this ordeal with god. i’m kind of back in the same place. unemplyed, single, not respected and unhappy. this time i’m here without god. this time, it would make sense to christians. and they would blow off the last time it happened. but really it’s the same place, and this time i can blame myself. and this time i don’t feel stupid for relying on someone that doesn’t care.

and i asked my mom yesterday, “isn’t god a god who can turn water into wine? if he is i’m sure that he can turn my life into good. he already knows i’ve waited. and until he does, i will make my own decisions, because god never told you to wait for something to help you, he wants you to use the brain he gave you.”

my mom looked at me like i was stupid. but if there is god, which just so you know, i believe there is a god. i do. i just don’t know anything about him. i don’t think he’s the god i knew. i think that THAT god was a figment of my imagination.

“dear god, please help me to have a good night sleep, with no bad dreams, and keep me safe through the night.”

“help me god.” i dont think he helps. i think that he looks to see who is willing to help themselves, and then help others.

i think this god made the world. and then i think he watched.

…it only hurts when i breathe.

sometimes i have things to write. things i’m passionate about. things that are on my mind. things that make me angry. things that rhyme… today there is so much on my mind. i’d love to write. i’d love to know what to say. but i’m at a loss. i have no effing clue. i guess we’ll go down the list.

apparently i’m out of work for another week. huge problem that i dont feel like discussing.

i have finals coming up. i was getting A’s in all my classes. now i am getting B’s. not too happy. this means my finals need to be great. like not C’s and D’s, the grades i most recently pulled on every one of my last tests. i even got two B+’s on papers in english. hello? that is not okay for me. i’m kind of being a spoiled kid right now. but i just really wanted to do well. exceptionally well. so well that maybe i could be proud of my mind again. i failed. because i let myself get sad.

i’m depressed. severely, utterly, devastantly depressed. i don’t know if that word was a word. but i like it, so it’s staying. i’m constantly in a state of sadness. my state of mind is more like the state of nevada. it doesn’t know if it wants to be desolate, dry and scorching, or if it wants to be awake, coniving, and resourceful, or if it wants to be trashy, insignificant, and a lesser being then it’s normal, better counterpart. my brain is arguing whether or not prostitution should be legal, since, come on, there are worse things in the world.

my hands are cold. so cold. they need to be held. really badly. held. come on. hold my hand. do it. whatever. it’s too late now. i found a fireplace. serves more purposes then you could ever. you’re like my knight in shining armour that leaves when things get rough. “oh damn, you’re weighing down my white horse, i’m gonna have to let you off- or you could workout.” you’re like never there when i’m sad. and that’s only like so completely annoying. i can’t accept that anymore. but i do. cause the whole problem is in my mind. i am completely psychotic. or that’s what you tell yourself.

if i were a man, my method of communication would be my sex drive. instead of this horrid emotional communication that i use. men think everything can be solved with sex, because frankly, if they were sad, they would love a blow job. if i’m sad i want starbucks. and then i want things bought for me. and then i want you to listen to every stupid and irrelevant thing i have to say. and then i want you to give me hug. and then, and only when i’m ready, you can tell me i’m pretty. i’d like that.

i had grape juice and apparently, my mom just informed me, i spilled it on the counter. i need to move out of this joint. i really really really really really need something to be proud of right now.

anything.

my mom just bought me starbucks and gave me a hug. the worst is over.

you can tell me i’m pretty now.

come on try a little. nothing is forever. there’s got to be something better than in the middle.

and there i go. crying. everytime i see you.
is that me? or is it you. are my tears from you?
or a reaction of everything you are. to me.
i love you like the day i woke up and found four new kittens at my feet.
i love you like the most intoxicated drunk i’ve ever felt without puking or blacking out.
i love you, because i don’t at all.
it doesn’t make sense in a world where everything must make sense.
me and you? no. i understand, you know. i understand why you fight it.
why it seems so wrong.
you’re like a mirror. a mirror of everthing i hate in myself.
i could paint your entire existence on a canvas. and it would be empty.
you think we’re both so empty. afraid.
because everything we have ever wanted has come crashing down around us.
how am i supposed to change the world, if the world runs my life?
i am not big enough. and you are afraid that it will bring you down.
it’s okay. i understand. i get it. but i still cry.
but right now, between love and life, and everything that flies around on little butterflies, that i am not capable of finding.
we are in the middle.
one day we will get out. you might be closer than i.
but you are also more afraid than i am.
but if you go your way.
i’ll go mine.
and if we both find the way out, who’s to say it’s not the same?
i guess we’ll find out.
i guess it doesn’t matter.
i’ve got a few years left to discover.
meet me in five.

one of the best compliments of my life ended with a negative one that sent me straight back to hating myself.

“when you’re 24 or 25, you’re going to be quite the catch.”
“what am i not the catch now?”
“no, absolutely not.”

i’ll probably never be in love.
——————-

i kind of wish i had the benefits of parents who thought more about the future, then the present. who maybe cut off the the baby making so that they could send their children to college. for those of you who don’t have to pay for college, consider yourself, in a word, blessed.

you can study. you can party. you can work, only if you’re bored. but school can be your number one priority. let me tell you that it is really hard to study for a test when you worked six doubles in a row and only made two hundred dollars. you have a phone bill, a car insurance payment, you need an oil change. gas is four dollars a gallon, and you live forty-five minutes away from everything. it’s even harder to study when your temporarily unemployed.

i just lost my job, so i asked my mom if she could loan me three hundred dollars for a summer class at community college. she hesitated, and said, “let me think about that.”

you know, most likely she doesn’t have money to give me. but that just makes me more bitter. why did you need six kids? i remember when i was a senior in high school crying my eyes out. my mom kept yelling at me, saying, “why are you so bi-polar?” “get some medication.” “i’ll check you into a hospital if you want.” i almost took her up on the offer. i knew i’d get to the hospital and they’d realize i was fine, i just wanted to be free of my mother standing over me yelling at me to stop crying.

i was crying because i didn’t want them to adopt another child. i didn’t want to see more reasons why i couldn’t go to a four year college. i guess i was selfish. i guess my parents didn’t need to pay for college. i guess they have every right to not pay for my summer class even if i pay them back. i guess they can have twenty kids, if that really helps.

i never want kids.

why is it that just when something good happens, 5,000 things go wrong? i just got a job, i was only unemployed for five days. yet, i’m not really excited. i’ll have to train and study for tests while i’m also studying for finals. i thought i had a place to live, i was all set, when that fell through. i’m going to look at another place at 6:00, but i don’t even want to. chances are that won’t work out. chances are i can’t afford it anyway. and i guess i could not take a summer class, but by me not taking it, greatly affects my work load in the fall, and how much more money i will be spending on a real school.

you’re right i’m not bi-polar. it’s just easier to say that then, “i hate my life.”  but i do wonder why everything makes me sad.

 maybe we’ll grow up and make a new name for ourselves. maybe we’ll acheive the dreams we longed for when we were younger. maybe life will throw us a bone. maybe we’ll have to work really hard- harder than most because, we were given less. maybe we’ll have to make do with what we have.

maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll make it out okay, because our parents aren’t the final say in what we are to become.

my best friend is going to be engaged soon. i would love for her boyfriend to tell me when it’s going to happen, so i can figure out my living situation. but he’s pretty afraid i’ll tell her.

i will.

i just don’t really keep secrets. i guess it’s a flaw. i mean like a butt chin or being too emotional. but what makes you different makes you beautiful? right.

probably the most intriguing thing about me is that talk about my family, friends, and loves over the internet. i guess i don’t really care about privacy. or about other people knowing everything about me. i guess because it doesn’t matter.

i don’t really care… but i’ll tell you what: i think it’s very sexy if you can keep a secret.

keep up the good work.

“I don’t know how to write on anything when you just tell me to write. You need to give me a topic. If you say write, I’ll do it, but you’ll end up getting some short poem about a broken heart.”
-Rosey

Twenty years ago. I was two. It was my golden birthday. I got chicken pox and and a pink and purple purse with my name embroided on it. “Alyssa.” My dad got it for me.

Fifteen years ago I was seven. I was in third grade. I told my mom to put me in public school because I wanted to feel normal. Needless to say, I haven’t felt normal since.

Ten years ago I was twelve. I was in eigth grade. My parents were surprisingly still together. I mean all my friends got to have divorced parents. Mine had to last through an affair. I wasn’t happy. I had already chosen the parent I was going to move out with and was excited for my dual bedroom situation. I spent the entirety of this part of my life relieved that I didn’t kill myself, but wondering if I still could.

Five years ago I had graduated highschool. I was supposed to go to Columbia College in Chicago. I had everything all set when I realized that my parents REALLY were NOT going to pay for anything. I decided I was not about to waste my money on art school. I went to community college because my friends made bets with each other. They doubted I’d go. So I went if only to prove them wrong. I dropped out. I proved them so wrong.

Two years ago I was raped, which we no longer like to call it. The current term is, “Sexual Assault,” had it been someone I didn’t know, and had I not been completely blacked out, we might have called it “Aggravated Sexual Assualt.” But apparently I was more than willing to sleep in this man’s bed after spending two hours of my life getting over alcohol poisoning. (You’re welcome for the lesson on rape.) I then proceeded to spiral downhill and neglect the only job I had thus far, with a boss that didn’t hate me. I had to leave on semi-awkward terms. I was unemployed for two months. (I had been unemployed for 6 months before so this was no big deal.) I then got the job that I just lost. When I say lost I mean quit. I mean got fired from. Its not lost. I know where to find it. 2575 Higgins, Hoffman Estates. Dial out? The code is BLUE.

That whole assualt thing is a funny story. Yes it brought me here in a way, but honestly it’s over. And those that are still trying to save me from it, need to back down. I’m fine. I’m really okay. I don’t need saving. In fact if one more person wishes to save me, I might have to hurt them. As my friend Jace told me the other day,

“It’s kind of something you never would think about when coming out of such an ordeal. Not that it’s worse then what happened, but this desire in everyone’s heart to save you, has got to feel pretty horrible.” It does my friends, it does.

Because if anyone could see me, they’d see what I am. That was two fucking years ago. Finished. I may talk about it, just like I talk about how I argued my way from a B- to an A, in highschool, on a research paper on Marilyn Monroe. It’s my life, let me talk. Don’t try to fix me. I’m not broken, well not in that way. I don’t need protection from the world. I don’t need you to be any different then anyone. I don’t need saving. If you really NEED to save me, mail me an anonymous check. That would help right now. I don’t need a hug, I need tangible goods and services. I need a job. I need a place to live.

I need you to be real. And that’s really where you failed.

This is called officially the sixth worst time period of my life.

I’m fat, unemployed, acne-faced, without savings and with a car that gets 15 miles to the gallon. Oh yeah, and I have to drive 45 minutes to school, everyday. Oh yeah, and the house i was supposed to rent has “severe setbacks,” especially with the, “I just lost my job” factor. Oh yeah, I’m not tan… Being shallow is what gets me through incredible pain.

I’m so fucking sick of being resiliant. But I’m even more sick of people trying to rescue me. Please save your saving for someone who is not as strong as I am. Like the girl with the little doggie. I need a long walk. I need free starbucks. I need someone to think I’m the most wonderful person in the world. Not because I’m pretty, smart, funny and/or creative. Even though I am ALL those things. But because they’d pay money to be in my presence and not talk. Because they want to sit in the middle of a dead street with me and wait for the cars to run us over.

Write that down.

i keep a rabbit’s foot hanging from the mirror in my car. it’s on the passenger side, so sometimes for no reason, i finger the dead foot with my right hand, and i feel better. i don’t feel better because i believe in the foot. i don’t believe in luck. it’s not real. it’s an illusion that some people seem to have more of. when i touch the foot i am reminded that i am in control of my own destiny. i am in control of the light switch that turns the epiphanys on and and off. i am in control. i hate to be out of control.

next to the mirror, above the window, there is a stain. the stain reminds me of a day. a day when i lost control, and then it reminds me of the time i took it right back. and i felt so unlucky for so long. why would a girl like me, who is kind and good and pure have something like that happen to her? if there is a god he had forgotten about me. if there is luck, it was not meant for me. and i was unlucky.

i was unjustly fired from two jobs before i reached age twenty. it sounds strange, because i mean, if it kept happening i obviously suck, not my managers. but the point is, i had to go back, share with the management my viewpoint, and they offered me my jobs right back. and one of my bosses even admitted to me that the whole time i was there i was treated unfairly. and she was sorry. that’s just me, being treated poorly, because i am young, naive, and vulnerable. unfair, unjust, unlucky.

i told myself that i was okay, and that it was for the best. when they offered me my jobs back, i turned them down, because i wanted to go somewhere where i was wanted. it’s nice to be wanted. it’s nice to know that there could be someone out there who looks at my good, and wants to develop me. instead of being around people that want to tell me that i dress too slutty for work, because i don’t wear nylons with heels. some people.

i am an emotional wreck. i know this. i cry a lot. i do a lot of really stupid things. things that make you feel like maybe i am not as smart as you once thought i was. when yelled at i do one of two dumbassfuckup things. either i completely freak out, or just shut off and ignore you til you go away. both unhealthy. both completely insane. but at least i know what i do. and i know how to fix it. i know how to undo a lot of what i’ve caused. i know how to apologize, maybe because i’ve had a lot of practice? maybe because i am really good inside, just surfacely crazy. my mom has told me that i am a genius. so i look at micheal jackson for reasoning.

with great genius comes great insanity.

i just got fired. actually i’m not really supposed to know that i did. but one of managers decided to tell everyone. so now with my second hand firing i have to go in on my own terms today and hear it again. there’s nothing i can do now, except hope for the best kind of grade A firing i can get. it’s because i was stupid. because i do that. because i am unlucky? no, because there was a choice, and i am more easily replaceable then someone else. i’m nervous. my hands are shaking cold. but even those will be okay.

i found a place to live. kind of transitional while i move on with life. so now i need money. and i am fired. came out of nowhere. kind of a shock. i could be unlucky. whenever i am happy finally, something happens to shove my face back to the curb. it’s like the life goal of the world is to not let me stay too content for too long. that would be too nice.

but i am not unlucky. i know this. two weeks ago i fell into dispair. so i spent the last week going over my life to get out of it. i quickly discovered that i was lucky.

luckiness recap:
i am a horrible driver, and i’ve never been in an accident. i’ve been pulled over twenty times and have only gotten three tickets. (because even the luckiest lose sometimes.) i’ve gotten every job i’ve applied for. i completely blew off a class for two weeks, took the test, guessed on every question and got a passing grade. the mechanics at the ntb told me that i am the only person they know who owns a car that actually fixes itself. and then they decided not to charge me for the oil change. and why don’t we just fix your tires for free? this could also happen because i’m cute, but even that is lucky, eh?

i am fired. i am. but for some reason it seems okay. i am sad. but i should have been fired five other times. this is just it. the end. and time to move on. i’m lucky in this way. sometimes when i need to make a decision, the decision is always made for me. not saying i’m out of control. i am, but when things feel the most clouded, is when a burst of light shines through and i carry on and i go right back to the beginning. a little bit stronger, a little smarter, a little more impervious? and it’s all good again. i am lucky that i can see, i am lucky that i know there is more, i am lucky.

it doesn’t ever suck to be me. i’m not a victim. i know what i’m doing, and i know what i’ve done to deserve it. and i am my own hero. hopefully thats okay.

and the foot belongs to a rabbit. that rabbit wasn’t so lucky. and it reminds me that i am.

lucky.

she might have born too soon. she might have wondered what that even means.  had there been less time to touch her and more times learning on older girls. she might have been saved.  she might have stayed happy.  but things change when life is thrown at you. things change, and you begin to feel it’s your fault.

had she been born in a different family.  or maybe had a brother that would one day be a man.  maybe things would have been better for her. but they weren’t. and her mother didn’t care. didn’t know.  it wasn’t her mother’s deal. and she was alone.

when she grew up, she found herself weary of most. but still wondering what her body might be like if she didn’t feel the need to exploit it herself.  maybe she would never have dated the married man.  maybe she would never have hurt the baby inside of her. now she regrets it.  and they say it’s not a big deal. but she knows it is. because that’s how she feels.

and maybe they should lower the age of consent too. because then maybe she could stop feeling sorry for what was brought upon her, and just have to deal with the fact that they had the right to touch her. 

they didn’t. but she had the right to destroy what she brought upon herself.  and she is confused.

she meets a man. and he is strong. handsome. funny.  and she wonders if he could save her.  and he thinks she is pretty.  and for twenty years she finds herself lost.  

she learns that only she is capable of saving herself.

untitled film.

I once knew a girl. In the years of my youth. With eyes like the summer all beauty and truth. In the morning I fled, left a note and it read: Someday you will be loved.

what’s you’re name, alyssa? can i tell you something? you won’t take this as a pick up line. i mean it just as a compliment. your eyes are crazy. like strangely beautiful.
thank you, that’s really sweet of you to say.
ha. i go and get take out, and i see the coolest looking eyes i’ll ever see in my whole life. thank you.

Do you think I’m pretty?
You know what I think.
No. I don’t.
I think you look like your sister and your sister is beautiful.
Is that a cop out? Cuz if you think I’m pretty you can tell me.
you know I think your pretty.
But beautiful like my sister?
No not that pretty.

Maybe it’s like i didn’t say no, cause i kinda wanted you to not try.
that’s not fair to put on me. i’m a guy and you’re pretty.
yeah, and now you’re just like everyone else.

How many times are you gonna lie to me? I always figure it out. Stop lying to me. Would you rather a friend who stuck around because she was ignorant. Or one who knew what was going on and still cared about you anyway?
I’d want you to know, i guess… I’m getting better! But its hard. I’m trying for you. for you I am.

it’s like i’ve been testing everyone… and everyone has failed. the problem is, they just get mad, like my tests are unfair. they might be. the thing i always liked about him is that he understood how he failed, and so he never yelled at me for holding him to a standard that wasn’t real. he just kept on being a dick. he was honest about his slight as the man of my dreams. it kind of made him become that.

You’re gonna find a girl who loved you no matter what and you’re gonna not love her back because you just won’t respect her for loving you.
That’s not true.
You don’t respect me.
I respect you more than you think.
I’m not retarded. I know what’s going on here.

do you think you could be friends with her?
probably not.
even if she apologized?
eh, she doesn’t think she did anything wrong. and so she won’t ever apologize… and therefore not worth my time. plus she’s ugly and is currently putting on weight.

You gonna mess around with her tonight?
No. I have no plans on that.
Then why are you even going?
I don’t even want to.
But you’re gonna go.
Yes.
And you’ve never asked me to go.
Yes.
Okay. Just figuring this out.

i can’t really be around you right now.
why? because i’m happy. alyssa you’re going to have to get over it, i am happy. and it’s there. let me enjoy it.
i can’t.
thats not really going to work for us.
i know. so maybe i should just take a you and me vacation til either you’re sad, or well, til you’re sad again.

What do you want from me? You want me to treat you like shit? Will that make you respect me?
Well I think I’m used to girls taking advantage of me so it makes sense.
Well I can’t treat you like shit cuz I don’t think you’re shit. Okay?
Okay.

i’m sorry i can’t really can’t make out with you right now.
why not?
cause i won’t be able to enjoy it, and really i would just be doing it as an attempt to make someone who doesn’t care, jealous, and that’s not really going to help anything.
are you serious right now?

If you cared about me you’d let me go.
I can’t. I’m selfish. What can I say?

He loves you.
He’s drunk.
No today at lunch he was sober he couldn’t stop talking about you.
Yeah?
He really loves you. Its weird.

Why would I take you out to the city when I know I can just take you to my house and fuck you.
Wow.
I didn’t mean that.
No you did. It makes sense. I’m gonna go.

She’s never been good to you and here you want her to like you so bad. And I’ve been nothing but good and you so badly want to throw me away. Do it already. Stop keeping me around.

Alyssa I like you. I want you around me. I want to know to forever. I want to call you and talk. I want to be your friend. I don’t know what it is about you. But you’re growing on me.

He’s afraid to let his friends know me. And its weird cuz I’m kind of a lot prettier than anyone else he showed off to his friends.

people like me because i am smart, funny, pretty, athletic and interesting. well rounded.
you are not like that.
you must have a poster of ralph nader on your wall.

Why do you got to pretend that you’re not in love with me?
I’m not.
everyone loves me, has once loved me, or will love me, i’m pretty amazing.
Is that why you stick around even though I treat you like shit? Cuz you’re waitin for me to fall in love with you?
No. I’m waiting for you to admit that you already do.
I don’t.
I’m not arguing.

he’s a bad judge in character. thats all i know. the girls he falls for are always the ugly, snotty, butch, bitchy ones with no sense of humor.  so for reasons that don’t need be said, i will just say he wasn’t going to ever love me. and it was all my fault. i should have sucked more.

What do you think? I like you more than you know.  You’re not ordinary. You’re beautiful. You’re interesting. You make me laugh. You make me laugh, you got that?

I don’t know why you call me everyday.
Because I want to talk to you.
Why do you want to talk to me?
Why do I have to tell you why all the time? Can’t I just call you and you know?
No. You have to tell me.
I’m not gonna spell it out for you.
Why can’t you?
I just don’t do that. and wont for you.

What do you think this is? I’m not trying to get with you. Were just friends talking.
What about tomorrow? You’ll be trying then.
Maybe. But right now its real.
I can’t deal with tomorrow.

She thinks you’re weak for liking me.
I’m not weak. I just like you.

I like when a girl invites herself over.
I don’t do that. You need to tell me.
Why can’t you take initiative?
Cause, I shouldn’t have to.
Chivlary is dead.
Then ill never be happy.

Stop crying. Please be happy. I want you always to be happy, Alyssa.

You know I think I’m addicted to making you laugh. Its my one goal in life.

I need you to say it.
Say what?
I like you. I need you to tell me that you like me like I like you.
Well I’m not going to do that.
Then I can’t be your friend. We can’t talk.
Okay if that’s how its going to be.
Yes.
Fine.

You could be happy and I won’t know, but you weren’t happy the day I watched you go.  Somehow everything I own smells of you, and for the tiniest moment it’s all not true. Do the things that you always wanted to, without me there to hold you back, don’t think, just do. More than anything I want to see you, girl, take a glorious bite out of the whole world.

don’t forget your clothes my friend.
they’re lying there at the end of the bed.
pick up the pieces you’ve left with your head,
i wasn’t lying, but i’m staying instead.
was it a thought?
you wondered what it might be like to keep me.
so you held me close.
don’t you lie to me.
now we’re gone.
now it’s done.
because you are.
hold my hand close to your face. coffins of gold can’t motion for change.
we’ve got this. we’re not going away.
but somehow maybe this time you know me.
i? no, you. honey.
please stop what is there, ignore what you hear.
life isn’t funny, nor blood on your face.
and maybe it was your payment. for all my disgrace.
don’t forget that i’m born for this place.
the one that you want, i’m not on your case.
follow me home so i can tell you a tale,
i’ve got one for the road,
i’ll send you the mail.
take a picture. how does it look?
erase this crime, wasn’t worth our time.
i might cry. but it’s worth it to you.
so do what you do,
i’m not stopping you.
it might be 3am. i might be lonely. and you got me. you took me.
but can we forget who took this first?
you were him in better clothes.
better face. better face?
better back.
i’ll hit erase. i’ll hit erase. i’ll hit erase.
rinse and repeat. relate.
when does it end?
when you’re dead my friend.

like most people in the world, i have a myspace. myspaces get hacked. it’s not a huge deal. but last year, sometime, i logged on my space and was horrified by something i read in my “about me” section. it could have been anyone, but i know it was not just anyone. it was the same person who instant messaged my friend matt, under my screen name, and told him i was wasted at 2:00pm and was in love with him. it was the same person who logged in on one of these old blogging sites of mine, and changed my profile picture to look like a horror film. basically a computer-hand-written message stating that, “i am a bitch.”

there is more that was done. reading messages and deleting them. being sent random messages from people stating that they heard a rumor about me. when in reality, these people did not even exist, just another attempt at controlling me.

i kinda wondered what i did that was so horrible. what i was that could make someone hate me that much. maybe i really am a bitch. maybe this person knows something that he/she feels the need to tell me about, without actually telling me who he/she is. what am i saying, already know who he is.

i’m afraid to let someone else get something from my car in fear that they’ll forget to lock my doors. i’m afraid of nighttime. i am afraid of blacking out. i am afraid all the time. and i don’t think that’s fair. i’ve never made anyone fear this much. except once. i’m pretty sure he cried he was so scared.

this is what my about me said:

“you have to understand my life story if you want to understand me. my need for smoking and drugs and wanting attention from boyz is all caused by one thing. see, i was raped last year. i need people to feel sorry for me even if they don’t know why to feel sorry for me.

i like to call myself a christian, but if you really knew me, you wouldn’t believe it. i’ve always been a bitch. i like to bring others down, especially those who are prettier than me, because it really does make me feel better about myself. to see someone cry because of me is a rush.

don’t hate me because i’m beautiful on the oustide. i’m certainly not beautiful on the inside.”

and that’s it. i didn’t write it. and i don’t think anything has made me feel that horrible in my entire life. and when someone gets all weird that someone hacked into their space and started spamming everyone. i laugh. because it’s really not that big a deal.

i am a bitch. what’s your name?

somewhere there is thought. ground deep in your world. there is a thought my friend, deep in you. there is a thought that could save you. that could make you true. that could undo what your mouth has just conceived.  somewhere there is a thought.  and thought is me.

somewhere there is an idea. an idea of sorts. traveling long distances throughout your very short mind.  eventually the idea will reach it’s destination. the idea will find that somewhere, and stick.  and it will take back your words that you spoke too soon. and will favor the life that you gave up too soon. somewhere there is an idea. and the idea is me.

somewhere there is a passion.  a desire of heart.  if you could only feel, maybe it could grow. there is a passion in you, to take out your boat. to sail the ocean. to never give up on everything so soon.  abruptly you took, but to give of yourself? the passion is in there somewhere. but you are afraid to let it out.  somewhere there is a passion. and the passion is me.

somewhere i am crying. for a place that i can rest my head. somewhere i am mindless, because i don’t know what i’ve said. somewhere i’m going crazy, because you didn’t care. somewhere i am hoping, because life cant be fair. somewhere i am waiting, to see you again. somewhere i am fleeting, to the dreams of my friend. somewhere i am losing, the desires of your bed. but here i am living, just like you said.

and if this thought is not enough. i’m sorry, i’ve got nothing left to give.
 

currently i am sitting in this little cube, in the library, trying to think up a topic to research. i decided on the supreme court, but my teacher told me that was a retarded idea, and forced me to reconsider. so now i’m all like, i want to research how many times keira knightly has been on the cover of vogue.

i’m pretty sure i own every one of those. everytime she is on the cover of vogue i buy it. same with drew barrymore, if she is on the cover of vogue, i will purchase the magazine.

i think keira knightley is beautiful. like her face is perfection in the strangest form. i also like how she is boobless and too skinny. i love that.

now drew barrymore is a different subject. she might possibly be the worst actress on earth, besides anyone from 7th heaven, but i am intrigued by her. you know, i don’t even find her pretty in the least, she’s actually even kind of annoying. but, my whole life people have said i look like her, and act like her, and so when i see her on vogue i like to pretend that that is me. in my head we are the same person.

maybe i hate myself or something. i mean keira knightley is not me at all. she has brown hair, sometimes, like i do, sometimes, and she is flat, and so am i. but not like me.

drew barrymore is funny looking and lisps. i hate that. but i lisp and sometimes i think that i am the funniest looking chick in the world.

coversation held 15 years earlier:
hey honey, what’s your name?
aletha
aletha? that’s an interesting name.
no, a-l-y-th-a.
uhuh. anyway, you look just like that barrymore in ET, but with dark hair of course.

drew barrymore can be pretty. i know that. but normally she is a dog, and i look like her. luckily for me i look like everyone.

some i get all the time:

drew barrymore:

katie holmes:

selma blair:

princess caroline of monaco:

liv tyler:

jennifer connelly:

ashlee simpson:

jay leno:

my family:

and your best friend’s girlfriend…

not saying i look like all these people, i mean, some of those girls are super hot, but i’ve gotten each comparison a thousand times over. once, someone actaully thought i was katie holmes. i was like, yeah. okay. tom cruise is weird.

conversation held 3 days ago, and 2 days before that and soon before that:
wow, you remind me so much of this girl i know.
really? cool.
yeah, she’s just like you, so original, and pretty too.
oh yeah? awesome.
hey matt, doesn’t she look and act just like sam’s girlfriend?
yeah.
thanks.
you wanna go out sometime?
how bout you just steal your friend’s girlfriend, instead.

i want to know, if i look, act, and smell just like some girl that everyone knows, how is it that i am always compared to the chick, because she is so original? she is obviously not original, if we are exactly alike.

this was so pointless, and i got nothing accomplished.

i don’t believe anything i write about. just so you know. i’m just a hater.

now that we got that accomplished…

i’m going to the meat market tomorrow night. i can’t wait. 3 dollar you call its. i have an interesting dilemna. lets use a metaphor:

dog problems.

i have a dog. i love this dog.  probably more than anything.  this dog is a husky, my favorite of all dogs, but still bi-polar.  bites me when i stand in front of his food, thinks he owns me, protects me of course, but then walks away when i want to kiss him on the fur.  all independent and shit, but obviously he still needs me to live, without me he doesn’t get food, water and shelter, but he’s all like, “whatever, i’m going to constantly pretend like i don’t need you.”

so yeah, i’m growing tired of him i guess. i love the dog.  like a lot.  more than most things in my life.  but it’s so hard to love something that tells you everyday that it doesn’t want you back, even though you know it does? maybe i only think it knows it does. maybe it doesn’t want me. who knows really. 

so now, my dog has run away from me.  won’t wake me up in the middle of the night just to lick my face anymore.  and it doesn’t help that in this husky’s absence, i’ve met a black lab, golden retriever and a australian shepherd. and they are all the opposite of my husky.  they run up to me. they bring me the fucking frisbee that they want to catch.  i can sit there, not chase them, and they come back.  and it’s nice.  because i’m tired of looking for this husky.  always running away.  always hiding.  always pretending the grass is greener. 

i’m so sick of husky games.  huskies are great ideas, and i’ll always want one.  but seriously, no one should ever own one.  they’ll only break your heart.

if you love something let it go.

“And so I walk the web in search of love
But always seem to end up stuck
I’m finding flaws in everyone.
I’ve reached the point where all I want
Is to sleep around in hopes that I will catch back up
We are parallel lines
We’re running in circles
We’re never meant to cross…

Can you hear me?
Are you listening?
This is the sound of my heart breaking
And I hope it’s entertaining
Cause for me
it’s a bitch…

Was it worth it?
When you slept with him?
Did you get it all out of your system?”

dog problems by the format 

if you sleep in til after your hangover is gone, you feel much better the rest of the day. and don’t worry about missing out by sleeping til four. the day didn’t miss out on you, you sad, pathetic alcoholic.

i’m not a democrat or a republican, conservative or liberal. raise taxes, i don’t care. i’m just not voting for barack obama because he’s black.

i don’t want to sound racist, but john mccain used to be a pretty hot white boy.

i’d rather be dead then fat. so i guess you could say that i’d rather look at dead people then fat people. call me hitler.

i also despise really skinny framed girls with love handles. i also despise my proportioned incorrectly body. go figure.

i think it would be more beneficial for me to take all my earnings, and everyone else’s, and throw it in the ocean, as some sort of titanic style ending to the downfall of the economy, then to let mexico have it.

all men are gay, but i didn’t mean gay as in homosexual, i meant gay as in retarded.

i’m going to “take a shower” with the rest of my fat friends now.

harper is a weird place. i’ve been freely using the internet for an hour now. i almost drove home, then decided to just waste time screwing around on this computer… wasting time. yes. there should be a starbucks here. i’d love that. oh em gee. wouldn’t that be awesome.

there are black platforms in the student center with ugly couches on them. i don’t really get why ugly couches deserve platforms. it’s like skinny chicks with ugly faces. don’t bother wearing stilletos. you’re still a dog.

do you know how many eighteen year old, armani clad patel’s checked me out today? i can’t even count. they travel with their entourages, and i am lucky to get by unscathed.

(i just used a word in a sentence that i don’t know the accurate definition for. ha. go me. i’m gonna google it, hold on…)
________________

sweet. i’m awesome. it means exactly what i wanted it to mean.

so i don’t really think sarah silverman is that funny… but since i was bored, i think that THIS is pretty funny:

“Everybody blames the Jews for killing Christ, and the Jews try to pass it off on the Romans. I’m one of the few people who believes it was the blacks.”

“[talking about her niece] She called me up and she’s like, “Aunt Sarah, did you know that Hitler killed sixty million Jews.” And I corrected her and I said, “You know, I think he’s responsible for killing six million Jews.” And she said, “Oh yeah! Six million! I knew that but seriously, I mean, what’s the difference?” “Uh, the difference is sixty million is unforgivable, young lady!”"

“The best time to have a baby is when you’re a black teenager.”

“I don’t care if you think I’m racist. I just want you to think I’m thin.”

“Who cares? Different religions. I guess the only time it’s an issue I suppose would be if you’re having a baby, you have to figure out how you want to raise your baby or whatever, which still would not be an issue for us. Because you know, we’d just be honest, and say “Mommy is one of the chosen people, and Daddy believes that Jesus is magic.”"

“I love you more than bears love honey.
I love you more than Jews love money.
I love you more than Asians are good at math.
I love you even if it’s not hip.
I love you more than black people don’t tip.
I love you more than Puerto Ricans need baths…”

“You got it, doll, I was curious to see which Courtney Love was going to show up: the smeared-lipstick crazy coke whore or the violent smeared-lipstick crazy coke whore.”

“You have to be able to laugh at yourself. That’s what I tell Asian people all the time.”

i’m gonna go buy starbucks now.

a lame sort of feeling.
green plastic trees.
smile when your wasted.
you didn’t fall in love with me.
made a mistake at church.
now i’m in hell, burning.

one year might mean a lifetime.
we were friends first.
you pretended i was pretty.
that blessing was your curse.
we all move on.
pity calls are the worst.

somewhere in madison.
nothing like a keg.
i guess you all were innocent.
roofies don’t make you beg.
you weren’t the one i wanted.
but you didn’t have to pull my leg.

october’s over, hallelujah.
took a bite this hallow’s eve.
the banana tasted like a clove.
and smiled so naive.
gave the campus tour.
first boyfriend that i’d leave.

don’t take what isn’t yours.
i say this as you smile.
spent the next day making sense.
you were crying all the while.
tell your friends i’m a liar.
i was incoherent, it made you vile.

crazy by dave himself.
i felt bad, and asked for your name.
you could have lied.
i’ve forgotten just the same.
i was sober.
you were lame.

new york came to madison.
my 21st, come and play.
it wasn’t on my time.
whatever you do he can’t stay.
the mets in the world series.
the used will lose today.

hey there mr. california.
i’ve got me some blues.
rosey, save it for a picture.
this boy’s got me used.
smile for the camera.
pirates in madtown are amused.

happy birthday my dear friend.
we were worth the second glance.
told me i was something special.
lets pretend to dance.
see you later honey.
but we’ll take another chance.

a jolly green giant.
not a bad story for one night.
black lights and a 9.4.
gonna make you feel alright.
get some, hold my hat.
for you was new, i was trite.

you weren’t my type.
but you were sweet.
i’m sorry honey.
you weren’t gonna sweep me off my feet.
you thought you could make me love.
i’m annoyed now, you little creep.

new york, new years eve.
you’re just a little whore.
why would you say that?
i’ve got a quota to get more.
how bout your friend too?
lets smoke a joint outside the door.

no reason.
he was there.
count to two.
now i can swear.
he wasn’t you.
but he was near.

i knew and let you back in.
maybe we should talk this through.
inxs, beautiful girl.
i think i like you.
daddy, daddy who’s this girl?
i’m confused.

they’re both jealous.
it’s niu. let’s get high.
god you’re stoned.
she says you lie.
they can’t leave us alone.
you’ll choose her, i don’t know why.

first time i fell for you.
i drove you in my car.
i was nervous, and so you weren’t.
we walked into the bar.
i can’t believe you’re touching me.
take me home, we’ll go too far.

meet me at bamboo.
(tonsil) hockey in the backseat.
you were bad with girls.
you stopped coming in to eat.
i didn’t like your body.
but that was pretty neat.

not too single.
but it was better that way.
free shots tonight.
thank god it’s friday.
crush to end it all.
but i couldn’t make you stay.

i don’t want you.
denny’s and whip cream on coffee.
he’s fucking her.
keep me company.
he laughs, “she won’t put out.”
you’re not allowed to call me.

corona and baseball.
nellies and pools.
took you long.
but i thought that was cool.
buy me flowers.
i made you a fool.

pretty like a statue.
i wanted them all to see.
showed you off like money.
but you weren’t good for me.
tried so hard.
but couldn’t escape your immaturity.

a red-headed step-child.
probably a last born.
first attempt at jacey.
had you, you weren’t torn.
i’m lucky if i remember.
you were a child of the corn.

you were simple and nice.
i treated you wrong.
i smiled to kill you.
i might have come on strong.
i was mad at him.
you’d be gone in not too long.

he made me do it.
but it was fun alright.
sold me like a whore.
then took me back that night.
it was cute, you tried to save me.
but i wasn’t putting up a fight.

it wasn’t that funny.
like the rest of the week.
probably should have told you.
that i’d think you weak.
things had to be different.
now we won’t speak.

i grew up with lindsey. and when i say i grew up with lindsey, i mean we spent are most formidable eighth grade through high school years together.

we would slide down her stairs on sleeping bags, and when that wasn’t enough, we would use mattresses. when it was cold we would walk to a tiny hill and snowboard down it. we were never good snow boarders. later in college, before i dropped out, we went to starbucks once a week, it was a ritual. and there she taught me about straws.

“okay alyssa, take the straw wrapper, tie it in a knot, then pull on both ends. think about the boy you love. if it’s still a knot after you pull, then he’s not thinking of you. if it’s not a knot. then you know. he wants you.”

i believe in the straws.

two summers ago, i taught jacey about the straws. whenever we would order an iced grande soy caramel macchiatto or an iced grande soy green tea latte, we would hold the straw wrappers, and together, we would pull, and together we would get angry or overjoyed that the men we loved were not or were totally, oh em gee, thinking about us. she said, “i believe in the straws.” fact: those boys thought about us a lot, but currently, i doubt they think that often. now we pull straws for other boys.

back five years ago, when i went to harper college with lindsey, who is currently graduated by the way, i pulled straws for a blonde with blue eyes and giant biceps. he told me that i was his best friend. according to the straws, he thought about me a lot, and i would smile, and innocently say, “of course he’s thinking about me, he loves me.” no one ever gave me the kind of attention he gave me. he told me i was pretty, that he liked my conversation. i thought he looked like a cokehead, but he seemed intelligent, and he liked to drive me home. i never told him i liked him, because i doubt i was sure. but i loved hearing that he liked me. he said it all the time. threw it at me, like i could handle that kind of pressure.

one day while driving me home he told me he was dating this other chick with a big smile, googly eyes, and love handles. the straws didn’t lie. he did. this girl had nothing on me. she was lame. and they broke up four months later. but still, my heart was broken a thousand times over. because i must not have been as beautiful, interesting, smart and wonderful as my mom tried telling me i was.

three years later, there was a boy. he lived in wisconsin and he had green eyes and a scruffy face. he played the guitar and smelled like sun burn. i liked him way too long for my own good. in fact, he wasn’t special, just quiet. just interesting to me. he liked me and then fingered a blonde from kenosha. whenever he got intoxicated he told me that he wished he could be with me, but that this other chick was his girlfriend. i told him that he should have checked the straws. they would have told him that i thought about him everyday.

“i didn’t know you liked me too, i would have chosen you. i’m with her now, don’t wait for me,” he said. drunk talk never turned me on. i didn’t wait for him, in fact i got sick of him telling me how much he wanted me when he was drunk, and dating someone else when he was sober. so i stopped seeing him altogether.

that year i met a boy with brown eyes. he was tall with a nice back. to me he wasn’t real. just a figment of my imagination. i needed something like that. something that i didn’t have to put my trust in. he was never something that could break my heart, because he wasn’t the type to ask for my heart in the first place. so i liked him, because it was hard not too. he was mean, and mean made sense. nice guys always dated other girls, because of reasons the straws don’t inform you of. mean guys don’t think of you at all, trust the straws. they don’t lie. he never thought of me. and i could deal with it. until i couldn’t anymore.

the first time i remember talking to him, i pulled straws with him. he was setting up the bar, and had to unwrap the straws for drinks later. he told me i was a quiet talker. i’m not. i’m kind of a loud talker, actually. i wanted to figure out everything about him, i used to stare at him, just to see if i could learn something knew. he would catch me, but i never got that embarrased. he intrigued me, and i knew he wasn’t about to be intrigued back, so i had really nothing to lose. he never promised me, told me he liked me, or gave me reason to expect.

you can read back a year ago. i wrote about him. somewhere in between not caring and the truth, he messed my heart up more than any of them. he never even gave me a reason to believe in him, but i did. he wasn’t good to me, but i liked everything he was. and here i tried to figure out, why me, a smart girl, with a hurt, but normal self-esteem would actually go for someone who treated her like shit. he was my favorite, and the straws, and everything in general, told me that i wasn’t his.

i still like him. and i still pull straws, but it’s more of a mindless thing. i don’t realize what i’m doing, like a ritual, or an ocd tendancy. because where the straws may not lie, they don’t tell you everything. and life is not a crazy, cosmic force that pulls people together and sends brain power through inadament objects– even though the thought occasionally crosses my mind.

in reality you can’t help who you like, and even when it hurts, you still think about that person. but that’s not fate, that’s just us, being retarded human beings, falling in and out of like, pain and optimism, thinking, because we can’t help thinking. i smile when i think about him now– it used to make me sad. i don’t know what changed, but i’m not really ready to understand anything.  i don’t even know what the purpose of all these words are.  i feel like if you read this far, you probably were really bored or something. anyway. i’m going to go to sleep.  sleep sounds exciting.

someone should give him a straw, because i am like so totally like thinking about him right now.