This Is My Life

First off, i’d like to apologize to everyone for being gone so long. The things I thought about posting here got resolved too quickly for you to keep up with it and not have a hernia.

Honestly… I don’t know where I am mentally. Do I love him? Do I only like him? Do I just want him as a friend? And yes, the “him” of which I am speaking is George.

Motherfucking George. Sexy as shit even when he’s not trying to be. Oh yeah, we had sex. Both of our first times. At his house. On his bed. Which, by the way, is too tall for me to get onto without jumping, which gives you an idea of how tall he is. It wasn’t amazing, but maybe because it was the first and it hurt so damn much. What also hurt was when he started picking up girls at the hotel for this trip that we went on for school, dancing with me at the party they held and then deciding not to, being bipolar as fuck, and then deciding to break all ties off between us but friendship (and yeah, he broke off the sex, too).

But I don’t understand why or how he could say he doesn’t feel shit for me but friendship when he basically pulled me on top of him and cuddled with me. He was holding me. And I didnt understand why at the time, but just draped my arm over his chest/stomach (remember, I’m significantly shorter) and laid there while he held me. I didn’t initiate anything. He just fuckin did it.

But now… He likes this other girl, I suppose. I’m not saying she’s ugly (she’s pretty, but still average) but plenty of people I know say that she tends to come off rude or that she’s cool to hang out with in class, and outside of that, well… Not. Not to mention, she and I come from two different worlds, it seems. We get along fine, she’s a good friend so far, but we’re just not the same. She’ll say things that have no meaning to me, vice versa, and we’ll look at each other like the other person is stupid.

I don’t know how the hell he’ll be able to control her when he didn’t even want to be in control during sex.

It honestly is just breaking my heart, little by little. I like him, I want him to like me one moment, and the next, im cool with being friends or friends with benefits. Anything that will make him go crazy about me like I do for him is what I want. Anything that will make him hope that it’s MY text that’s making his phone buzz, that makes him stay up late or that makes him not care that his phone bill goes triple over his limit.

And I fucking hate it.

Now that I’m somewhat over George, I feel like everything’s getting… easier. Of course, I still want to jump his bones every time I’m in a ten-foot radius of him, but it’s not nearly as strong now. And, even though you might have guessed, here’s why…

Do you guys remember Randy? George’s best friend, the a-hole? Well… He’s not exactly such an a-hole, but he just comes of kind of douche-y.

…Okay, really douche-y. Sometimes. To certain people.

Either way, George, Randy, some other people and I were together in a room, doing the thing that we do in Zero, which I still have no cover-up for, and he finally showed some fucking emotion. He cried.

Before I go any further, you need to realize that even though it was about thirty-ish-seconds-and-a-step-outside sort of thing, the guy that we’re talking about is going into… err… somewhere that requires little to no sympathy of any sort. He comes off as a tough guy, not someone you could cuddle up to (not a teddy-bear type, I suppose is a better explanation).

And since then, he’s been nicer. Maybe it was because I comforted him (if you can call an awkward arm-around-the-back-not-a-complete-hug comforting)? And honestly, I see why I started liking this guy in the first place - I like nice guys (and quiet guys, and tall guys, and muscular guys… did I mention that he has some pretty nice guns?). Does that mean that I like it? No. I’m absolutely confused. And I’m definitely not a “homie-hopper,” so the jump from George to Randy has me really worried.

But do I seriously see myself with this guy? Actually, yes. That’s not a legitimate question to ask myself - whenever I like someone, I always have dreams about what our future could be like. Don’t lie, you’ve had those, too.

But every time I look into his astoundingly amazingly beautiful brown eyes, something snaps.

And frankly, it always leads me back to point one: Confusion.

They’re everywhere in our lives, aren’t they? Best friends, sisters, cousins, that kid that sits across from you in class that doesn’t know shit but still got a 90 percent anyhow and you feel like getting up and punching their face in when you find out that you only got a 73?

It’s safe to assume that we all hate cheaters, no matter how big or small the situation.

Ariel Abraham, one of my best friends, is a natural mother figure. It’s no wonder that we call her “Mom.” She’s always there for you, helping you with whatever you need, making sure you’re okay; a natural worrier. And boy, does she have reason to… Ariel’s bestest friend in the world, Marissa, is making a mistake. A big no-no. One that would cause a riot. You’ve guessed it - she’s the “other woman” in the relationship.

Ken has been with his girlfriend, Ruth, for quite a while now; I actually think their one-year or two-year anniversary is coming up. It’s well known that Ken is a cheater to everyone besides his girlfriend, but whenever someone tries to tell Ruth about it, she goes completely bonkers and has a bitch fit, usually ending up in a fist fight. This time, Ken’s using his charm on Marissa, who’s wise enough to know that she shouldn’t be messing around, but still is anyways.

Holding hands, linking fingers, running their hands across each other’s backs; Ariel’s seen them do it all (well, not all of it. I don’t want to know how far they have or haven’t gone). Trying again and again to convince Marissa that what she’s doing simply isn’t right, she fails. Miserably. Big props to the girl for trying, anyhow. But still, Marissa claims that she knows what she’s doing. She even went so far as to say, “It’s just for fun. I wouldn’t actually date him - he’d cheat on me.”

So then, Marissa, why are you doing it? Attention? Insecurity? Does he make you feel like you’re the only girl in the world?

Ariel wants to tell Ruth about it, but doesn’t want any problems. But what exactly is she supposed to say? “Hey, I don’t know you, but your boyfriend is cheating on you with my best friend and lying about it to your face. Just a heads up?”

I’ve tried to help Ariel with the situation - honestly. I thought that it would be best for her if she just let them do whatever they wanted and let karma bite them in the butt later on. And then I thought, “Well, if I was being cheated on and lied to my face about it, wouldn’t I want to know, even if I thought the person was completely out of their mind?”

So I told her, “Try to explain to her what’s going on. She tried to help you not get too far ahead of yourself when you had problems with Ron.” And off she went. But she’s a lovely girl - I don’t want my advice to be the end of her friendship with Marissa. But I also don’t want to have to stop a fist fight between her and Ruth.

The big question is: should Ariel try to fix the situation?

Zero period with George Andrews; not all that great. Unlike every other boring, irritating day, today was an extremely boring, irritating day. Not only did the… er, person… in charge of today… screw up so many damn times that I wanted to rip their throat out and leave them thrashing in pain on the ground, we barely spoke to one another.

It’s one of those times where it’s awkward, and so the two people in charge of said awkwardness try not to make it awkward, so it ends up being not really awkward, but just barely enough to be uncomfortable. If you’ve followed so far, kudos to you.

So here I am, doing my thing in Zero (which I’ve yet to come up with some ridiculous substitute for what we actually do in Zero), and he walks in. All of him in his six-foot-three glory, maintaining that graceful way, like he’s in tune with every particle that makes up his damned gorgeous body, that someone wouldn’t expect him to have. If you think that he’s awkward with the way he carries himself, you should slap yourself right now. You’re so far off of the mark.

Anyways. Like I was saying. George. Graceful. Gorgeous body. Walked in.

He looked at me, and gave me one of those hesitant smiles that people do when they’re in on a secret but can’t tell anyone else for some reason, which is exactly what he promised me: it’ll stay between us. Or rather, from me to him. I doubt his feelings are mutual.

He knows two things about me that most people would pass right over: I take meds for… something. I write them off as pain meds or migraine meds, but he, and only he, knows the truth. I won’t tell you. You’ll probably never find out. But the second thing… Well, I’m sort of falling in love with the guy. I mean, seriously, he has a great sense of humor, a pretty nice body (from what I’ve seen) he’s athletic, likes a lot of the same stuff that I do, we can pretty much talk about anything, he’s not an asshole, and other good qualities you’d like in a guy (or girl, if you’re male, minus the boobs, vagina, makeup, hair extensions, etc).

I wrote him a poem (and a song, not that I’d ever be able to tell him that and be able to face him again) explaining how the feelings go. This, I will also not tell you about. Es muy… embarrasado? (Oh yeah, my Spanish sucks.) Both things he’s agreed to keep silent about, but still be there for me to lean on. Although, I’m thinking about leaning on him in a totally different way, if you catch my drift. Though, he probably wouldn’t mind… that’s another story to tell, though.

I left early and went straight to my first period class after everything was done. I think he knew something was wrong with me because I didn’t hug (or anyone in the, er, room?) him like I do pretty much every morning. I love hugs; he knows this, too. But thankfully, it never came up, because I’m always the one to text him first, and we don’t see each other until the end of the day again.

All my classes today were okay, sort of. But I kept thinking about him and that hesitant smile. What if I’d messed our friendship up? I couldn’t bear to think what it would be like if I had. I kept thinking that I shouldn’t have sent him that damn poem.

But then again, what if he was actually harboring feelings for me? Or was that just my heart speaking instead of my mind?

Honestly, this is just a list of names to remind me who everyone is. I don’t want to accidentally say someone’s actual name or keep switching the name of one person because I don’t remember.

These are people you’ll see coming in and out of these posts. These names are all made up.

—-

George Andrews, my current crush. We’re pretty good friends, I suppose. He’s almost a full foot taller than me.

Randy Smith, George’s best friend, or so he claims. He’s a loyal frenemy; always there to make my life miserable when I’m having a bad day, decides to be nice when things are going pretty well. It’s hard to believe that I actually used to like this guy. We have Spanish together.

Sean James, one of my best friends in the world. He’s also freakishly tall, but slouches to make himself appear shorter.

Peter Arthur, another good friend of mine. He’s hilarious and can pretty much make my whole day better. He also gives good shoulder massages.

Kyle Turner, a friend that I’m getting to know better. He likes to punch people, put people in headlocks, etc.

Ralph Anderson, a brother-type figure, a male version of me. We have the same middle name, same skin color, hair color, eye color, same personality type, etc. We have History together.

Ariel Abraham, one of my insanely close friends who I tell almost everything to. She has a horrible sense of humor, but I’m working to improve that. We have Chemistry and our math class together.

Carl Adams, one of my more recent ex-crushes.

Quinn Jones, a pretty good friend of mine that I think I’m starting to fall for. He’s had some girl problems lately, and though I want to help, I don’t want to be in the middle of that. We have our math class together.

Querida Evans, another good female friends who I can tell anything to. She’s tiny, but in an adorable way. We have P.E. together.

Bartholomew David, a very quiet sort of guy that doesn’t appreciate my humor. I copy homework off of him all the time. We have Chemistry and our math class together.

Annabelle Akins, my cousin. But honestly, she’s more like a best friend, a sister, my other and better half.

Walter Earehart, a super funny friend in my P.E. class.

Nathan Johnson, a good friend that I like to keep around. He’s got no fear. He makes jokes about his manboobs a lot. We have Chemistry and our math class together.

Rogan Jacobs, a friend that likes to creep me out. Invade my personal space. Makes too many sexual jokes. Yeah, that kind of guy.

Paula Lachner, someone who I have known since sixth(?) grade, I believe. We have Spanish together.

Rodney Eacret, another kid in my P.E. class. He likes to fake like there’s something wrong with him all the time, and honestly, it pisses me off when he does that.

Megan Locke, a sweet girl with a sweet style. I love this kid.

Lilian Babcock, who also shares math class with me. We have a thousand inside jokes.

** I may be forgetting a few people, but I’ll make them known soon enough. These are just the basic people I interact with every day (besides teachers).

I will be using real events from my life. They’ll probably be out of order - I’ll list the year and season that these things happened in the title, to avoid confusion. When I say that I will be using real events from my life, I mean it. I’m not going to fake random events (you’d definitely be able to tell if someone was faking). I’m not going to sugarcoat anything - you’ll get all my thoughts and my reactions uncensored; straight from my point of view.

This brings up an issue: names. I would like to remain anonymous, and I’m sure that my friends/family/teachers etc. would also like to stay that way, as well. There will be a key to my naming technique - if you know it, for the love of God, KEEP IT (and all of the real names/people that you might happen to figure out) TO YOURSELF. Otherwise, there will be no point to this blog.

In addition, I have a tendency to swear, insult one’s intelligence, and make dirty and racial jokes excessively. If you get insulted or offended by any of the above, you may not want to follow me. If you do choose to follow me and yet still complain, you’ll get an earful from yours truly.

Speaking of followers, I’ll do my best to follow you back. If I miss you, give me time. Even on my other account, I’m not that great on checking up on followers. If you’re following me for the sake of following (or just to get another follower), AKA a follow-whore, don’t even bother.

Again, these are just some key points to live by on my blog, This Is My Life, or TIML, whichever floats your boat. I’ll post more of these “rules” (notice the quotes?) as time goes on and I think of even more things that could go wrong. This will be Part 1.

** On a side note, I hope that this wasn’t too hard for you to read. I’ll try to keep my blandness to a minimum and throw some comedy around in future posts. Each post will be about this length or longer, so I’ll try to make them more interesting.