A word about MJ...

So it's been like 48 hours since MJ died, right? I've observed many people's opinions on him and I've come up with a conclusion:

People are retarded.

Stay with me, I'm going somewhere with this.

(This may get angry, I appologize.)

First of all, I don't give a damn if Michael Jackson was a 'music legend' and that will be 'missed' (um?) He will not be missed. I don't fucking care if he was the greatest mucisian to ever be alive. Sorry, I don't like pedophiles. Not my taste. His musical 'ability' (and you know what? I'll admit it. I hate his fucking music. I like two songs from the Jackson 5 and I only like the versions sung by Kaitlyn Maher and the Wright Kids. He was a sucky singer, his songs blew hard and I wish he never produced an album. Fucking sue me!) has nothing to do with his FETISH FOR LITTLE BOYS. Yes, everything I say will come back to that because celebrity or not, if you molest little boys, you molest little boys. Is everyone forgetting about that?

Secondly, if you think he didn't touch those boys, you're straight-up RETARD. I'm talking mentally-challenged-you-need-a-fucking-helmet-and-a-seat-in-the-back-of-the-bus-type retarded. What is your best argument, huh? 'He wasn't convicted!' Yeah? Fuck you, neither was OJ, dumbass. 'Well, he didn't go to prison!' Neither did Chris Brown, douche. He touched those little boys and if you can honestly stand here and feel sorry for a man who molested children, you are really FUCKED UP. And when I say 'FUCKED UP' I mean BIG TIME. I state again, you feel free to argue Michael's innocence all you want. But if you can stand here and say to me that he didn't do it, not only are you the dumbest person to ever live, you also DIDN'T follow up on the trial or the evidence.

I cannot understand people who have an ounce of sympathy for him or his freaky little kids. Blanket, Prince and whatever the hell the third little weirdos name is (probaby 'Coconut' or 'Tupperware') They're BETTER OFF without him. At least no one will try to touch them or hang them out of balconys. Also, if you want to blame his childhood for shit, you're an even bigger moron than I thought you were. Plenty of people have had messed up childhoods. How many of them put an amusement park in their backyards, sleep in the same bed as young boys and claim it's 'a form of love' and then pay of a family of ONE of the boys they touch? Ummm...just the 1. And that's Michael Jackson.

I'm gonna stand by how I feel on this and continue to spit fire at the retards who sit and weep over the death of a 'beloved' scum of the earth. I don't care WHO you are. If you harm a child, you deserve to die. He may've just been " ACCUSED " of it, but we all know it fucking happened. So as I've said before, I'm glad he died, I hope he suffered, he is currently burning painfully in hell and I'm glad he's gone forever and ever.

MJ, you suck. I hate you. You were a disgusting waste of skin and the world is a much, much better place without you on it.

Whoever supports MJ and vows that he's innocent, fuck you.
You suck too.
You're an idiot and if I am in arms reach of you, you're taking a fist to the Adam's-apple.

We are the only ones who know just how to bleed.

I told you I felt like a jerkoff.

I made Sam feel bad with my stupid vent-y blog which was the exact opposite of what I was trying to do. I feel bad for making her feel bad (ow, headache) but I don't know what else to do. I mean, I was pissed. I was upset about her not going to school but I vowed not to live in the past recently. Hell, I've even stopped writing SLADE. Do you know what that means to someone who has put SLADE as their life's top goal for two years? I've decided to grow up, mature and move on from everything and that includes being pissed at Sam for not going to schoo. So I don't want to make anyone feel bad. I just want to live. I'm not living in the past. I'm not pissed.

Let's just leave it at that.

We've come so far, don't fall.

Okay, so, I think I just snapped like a crazy person on my best friend. LOL.

I blame finals. I crammed a bunch of knowledge in my brain to take one two-hour test every day. Now I get to spend today trying to eject a year's worth of English, Math, Spanish and World Civ out of my noggin (not Science though, I have to take that final on Thursday).

Anyway, I need to use this blog to justify and explain why I just went all cuckoo for Coco Puffs on my friend so I don't feel like a complete jerkoff (I felt like one as I was talking to her but my brain and my mouth aren't connected, evidently.)

See, in like November-ish, my bestest friend decided that she uh, wasn't gonna go to school anymore. Uhhhhhhh. Yeah, I wasn't sure how to respond either. I was pissed. Like big time. But I figured it'd be best friendly of me to not freak out on her because apparently it was 'medical'. Her and I both knew this was total bullshit.

Well, technically, it was medical. The issue the doctors were trying to figure out, essentially the reason for her leave of absense, was what was causing the medical distress. I maintain that if they wanted to know what was causing her headaches and high bloodpressure and stuff, they should've just asked me. I know what it is. Its locker is about eighteen feet from my locker.

SPOILER ALERT:

It's Tori.

T_T

Yes. Sam left school because of Tori.

C'mon, people, are we suprised? I mean, I probably could've predicted this but you know, I figured, Sam wouldn't leave me at school alone. I was wrong. I then figured, well, I bet Sam will only be out a month or so. Why is that whenever I'm wrong, I'm really wrong?

So here's where it gets angry and venty and borders on 'hide-under-the-table' material. Ready?

Sam leaves school. All well and good. I'm sure it sucks. I'm sure it must suck to not be at school (wtf) and not see your friends. Okay, fine. But she doesn't get it. I am not a social person by nature, I don't tend to like people. I like Sam and Chris. I love Sam and Chris; they are my best friends. I've spent two years having the identical schedule as the two of them (mind you, I was only friends with Sam for one of the two years but you get the idea, yes?) and in one year I'm supposed to just adapt to not seeing either of them? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?

This was my freshman year of high sccool. Do you know what kind of bullshit that is to deal with? High school sucks. People suck. Schoolwork sucks. Guys suck. All of these suck-y problems that I was going through, well, I had to go through them alone because Sam (I don't blame Chris because he actually tried to go East) just 'didn't wanna go to school'? What the fuck is that? No one wants to go. We just do. We have to. It's uhhh the law.

Oh, but wait, Inner Kristyn, what if you had to see the person you were in love with every day at school? That'd be terrible! You must try to understand. UM. I DO. I DO UNDERSTAND. IN FACT, MY LOCKER IS THREE OVER FROM THE BOY I WAS IN LOVE WITH FOR TWO AND A HALF YEARS. GEE, NOT-INNER-KRISTYN, I GUESS I DO KNOW WHAT THAT ONE IS LIKE.

Wait wait, Inner Kristyn, there's more. What if you had some sort of chronic pain? A headache, per se. UM, ACTUALLY, I KNOW THAT ONE TOO. HMM, MAYBE CHRONIC STOMACHACHES? OH WAIT, I'VE ONLY HAD THEM FOR SEVEN YEARS; THE LAST HALF OF MY LIFE. YES, I KNOW THAT ONE. I'M ON A ROLL HERE. ANYTHING ELSE, CONSCIOUS? BECAUSE SO FAR, SAM AND I ARE IN ONE DAMN SIMILAR BOAT.

WAIT, HERE'S SOMETHING SAM NEVER HAD TO DO; SHE NEVER HAD TO FACE HER FIRST YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL, PERIOD. SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO FACE IT. WHEREAS, I FACED IT, LONELY AND BEST FRIEND-LESS.

Isn't it bad enough that I lost Nicole as a best friend? I didn't want to spend a whole year losing someone else.

This year sucked. There was a lot to go through. I would loved to have went through it with my real friend instead of telling it to an emotionless, sarcastic horndog who was too busy checking out Kaci's ass and talking about track to notice that for once, I just needed someone to listen. No, I wanted my best friend. But as always, Tori out-ranks me. Tori will always out-rank. It's just the way life will always work. I can't really change it. Sam can try to argue it all she wants. But it's never going to change how true it is. Sam cared more about how much she 'hated' Tori than her 'little best friend darling Kristyn' who faced highschool alone. Well this little darling Kristyn is sick of being quiet about this. It's fucked up. I'm still pissed. It hurt my feelings, it made me angry all the time and I want to make someone pay. Rather Tori than Sam, though, because I hate Tori and one day in the far future, I'll probably stop being pissed or harboring resentment. Whatever, I'm done today. I need to get some fan fiction done because that's the best thing ever, though I never get to read any. But I don't care. Venting over, creative writing beginning.

We lose our friends in the sea, then vanish everyday.
And dreams can fade when you don't come back the same.
When I got here it felt strange, somehow.
People I once knew seem different to me now.

Hey, baby, we're the lucky ones.
Oh, hey, baby we're the lucky ones.
When the last long night is done,
If we find our way back home,
Baby, we're the lucky ones.

Don't know what to feel like these days,
Is it gonna end? Is it ever gonna change?
We'll get back one day; sweats at night, cars on fire,
As long as we're alive.

What You've Been Waiting For...

Don’t ask me why I agreed to go with Sam, Jessica and Taryn. I don’t know why I did. Sam convinced me. True, I was originally the one begging to go (I just had to see Sam spaz out over this girl at least once, not to mention that I just wanted to meet her; she had become a legend!) Either way, when Sam called me up freaking out that Jessica was dragging her along to some random bar and bringing Taryn, I could tell in her tone of voice that this meant bad news for me. I was right, of course. After she begged me to go (though she still claims that she ‘told me’ I was going … just like she ‘told me’ I was going to see Dark Knight and I still haven’t seen it), I pretty much said ‘you know what? Screw it, I’m in’, and went along for the ride.
The car ride there still is one of my favorite memories. I wasn’t entirely sure where we were headed (convincing my mother to let me go to a bar with two chicks in their twenties sure was fun, by the way). Jessica was driving; Taryn was in the passenger seat. I sat behind Taryn (somehow I thought Sam had arranged that so she could look at Taryn from a side-view as we drove but she denies it).

Sitting in the car with these three was, to put it simply, was amusing. Why would something like this that seemed so genuinely common be so amusing? My guess was the fact that Sam had made, um, ‘comments’ about Taryn in the past (I use the term ‘comment’s lightly). Holding in all the smart remarks, all the little jokes that I wanted to make, was giving me an ulcer. My stomach muscles were getting sore from not saying anything. Sam had told me once that Taryn made her stomach hurt, too. I’m guessing it was for different reasons than for my sudden discomfort. I think her stomachache was more like the ones I get when watching certain Rascal Flatts videos. Either way, not making jokes was killing me. I think little quiet-non-joke-viruses were eating my gallbladder.

Every once and a while, I’d glance over at Sam. Since she knew me so well, I knew she could see it on my face that I just needed to say something. However, I wasn’t allowed. If I ever shot her a Ha-Ha-I-Know-A-Good-Joke-look, she’d reply with a Just-Wait-Until-We-Get-To-The-Bar-And-I-Kill-You-With-A-Toothpick-look. I decided to keep quiet just because it would be easier and we could all win. Plus, Sam’s sister scared me. Our first ever communication experience was her yelling at me. She called me. Sam, even though she was sitting next to me, felt that she couldn’t exactly verbalize her thoughts, so she texted me.

“She makes my stomach hurt!” The text read. My mind tried to scroll through my bank of jokes (mainly because it was easy; anything involved with a stomachache could be retaliated with anything involving the word ‘eating’. But thanks to my decreasing speed with jokes and the fact that I was a pansy and wouldn’t have even said it if I thought of one, I couldn’t get the shot off.) About the time that Akon’s ‘I Wanna Love You’ came on and Taryn started singing, it started getting harder not to laugh. I buried my face in my arms and tried to think of all the reasons why this wasn’t funny. Couldn’t even name one. Eventually, I had to taunt my friend.

“Hey, Taryn,” I called to the front seat. “Turn this song up!” I flashed Sam an ear-to-ear grin and she shot me the look about the death by toothpicks. Actually, this time the look was so evil and angry that my soul felt cold for a moment.

“Okay!” Taryn yelled and blasted the volume. “And you can call me ‘Bubbles’!” My smile suddenly got wider.

“Bubbles, you say, eh?” I answered. I was now staring at Sam’s reaction. “Are you sure you don’t like ‘Taryn’?”

“Bubbles is better.” She answered seriously.

“Really? I think that-"

“I’m begging you,” Sam said to me. Her tone of voice told me that I was in trouble. “Just call her ‘Bubbles’ and end this conversation.” I almost laughed but kept it in and just enjoyed the song and Sam’s reactions again.

Flo Rida’s ‘Right Round’ came on next. I prayed to God, Buddha, Natalie or whoever was looking down on me that we would arrive at the bar soon. If not, I was pretty sure I was going to throw up jokes. And that didn’t seem medically possible.

June 8th (technically June 9th)

June 8th, 2008. Sunday.

Hot.

Did I say 'hot'? I mean HOT. 98, 99 degrees.

Wait, there was humidity. Make that 201, 202 degrees.

I had found a book. Armageddon Summer. We went to the mall that day. For some reason, despite my hatred of reading, I got extremely wrapped up in this book and sat on the floor in every store we went to and just read. When I went home, I crashed in my room and finished the book. The heat was unbearable by 10:30 that night. My mom offered to let me sleep in her room, with the AC blasting, on the air matress since my sister was going to already. Eventually I agreed and slept on the floor for fear of melting otherwise. The next day, I woke up at 6:25, freezing. Apparently sleeping in the AC with Dance Shorts on makes you cold. Also, when just awaking from a dead sleep, your legs are kinda wobbly. Getting downstairs proved to be difficult and thanks to my shorts, I was able to see my pale legs stumble over each other.

June 8th, 2009. Monday.

Humid.

I went to school with a mad sore throat, reviewed for my finals then my best friend told me she thinks the Dixie Chicks are hot. She said Natalie's the hottest.

FML.

Me & My Gang

Ah, hanging with my crew. I haven't done much of that this year. We did it once and that was to see 'Obsessed'. That was...fun. Seriously though, anytime I'm with those two, it's a great time. Today started out as an attempt to get tan. I wore the smallest Hollister bikini that is in existence, I put on barely any sunblock (it was SPF 8, come on!) and layed out for an hour and a half. I have one patch of red on my chest. I think the sun erased me. Sam, however, (I can't say 'on the other hand' because she ruined the phrase for me) got burned. Whatever, I give up. The sun hates me and my baby skin. I don't care. I'll just live in pale, freckled agony forever.

Probably one of my favorite parts of the day was when Chris was playing 'N+' on his 360 (the other games were being retarded and not playing. Is there a reason that every piece of technology I touch turns into a suicidal mess?) Apparently Chris gets angry at 'N+' a lot and just yells things from 'Red vs Blue'. It was pretty damn funny, probably because normally he is pretty mild-mannered and not much of a yeller.

I also learned today that while Sam is quite the talker on AIM, over texting and on the phone, in person she's a straight up pansy who won't say a damn thing. I found it hilarious. I stared her down. Twice. To quote the legendary Callie Torres, 'I'm a good starer'.

On the way home, (my mom drove me and Sam home since Sam's dad took us over to Silverton) we ran into the also legendary Austin. At first, I didn't believe it was him. I had to look close.

"Oh, dude, no way." I said, leaning very close to the windshield, trying desperatley to focus my vision on the spiky haired boy with the basketball. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding. You will not believe this." Of course it was him. June wouldn't be June if it wasn't him! I laughed. A lot. I still find it funny.

On a slightly less amusing note, today I had quite seriously been considering getting through Chapter 5 of my 'Is Forever Enough?' fan fiction. This was my plan. Sam had written a paragraph that I needed and even Chris had added a line in. I was ready to write. And then Sam IMed me. Oh, yay.

And what did my best friend Samantha have to tell me, you ask?

Well, she just kindly pointed out that a certain song reminds her of me.

And Adrian Pasdar.

Oh, and it's this song.

Yes, I know. OMG.

After reading those lyrics, I was done. There was no way I would be able to write fan fiction tonight. That is now completely out of the question. What was I supposed to do? My mind when from creative-writing-mode to completey-enthralled-with-the-lyrics-and-Adrian-Pasdar-mode. I actually tried to write after that but my mind is so wrapped up in OTHER THINGS that I think I typed 'OMG' like four times. CAN YOU BLAME ME? Did you see the lyrics? Come on, I am only human!

So now I've got nothing to do. I've been listening to the same Rascal Flatts songs over and over and over again. I can't listen to 'Skin' anymore because despite the fact that it's a heart-breakingly sad and emotional and serious song, all I see is Jay DeMarcus sitting at that piano and my mind just goes to a totally different place and just... OMG.

There is definitely something wrong with me, isn't there?

I can't think of a good way to end this so I'm just gonna put some lyrics from the song that just came on;

'When she told you goodbye, you didn't flinch.
When she looked back, you didn't even budge an inch.
You stood there like a stone,
But now that she's gone,

How strong are you now, without her around?
You can't even keep one little, bity tear from falling down.
Tell me, how strong are you now?'

June 1st, 2009.

Well today's been a fun one. I stayed home today because evidently karma comes in the form of mind-numbing cramps and a killer quatricep (talk about cruel-and-unusual punishment, Gods of the Universe. And I know that my gym teacher said that 'light-exercise' is a natural cure for cramps but at one point it was so bad that I wouldn't have gotten up if Adrian Pasdar was naked on my couch. So take that, gym teacher.) But I figure it was good that I stayed home because I was probably the most exhausted I've ever been in my entire life from pulling an all-nighter. Sure, I blame most of my sleeplessness on the pain but probably it was because I had gotten off the phone 1AM after a rather emotional conversation.

I assumed the roll. I've always been that kid who everyone goes to. I carry everyone's problems, I try to help them solve them. I want to save the world rather than save myself and deal with my own stuff. Sure, it's difficult. Sometimes it gets overwhelming, trying to help everyone. I don't fault my friends for this. Especially my two best friends. I want to hear their problems, I do. I want to help them. But keeping all my stuff inside, well, eventually it starts to eat away at my soul.

But getting back to last night.

I don't know what happened, exactly. Somehow the conversation topic came up of how Sam believes that she's 'whining' (bull) and doesn't want to 'make me listen to her problems anymore' (bull x2). Then she voiced her wonder on why I never discuss my problems. Unsure of how to answer this, I tried keeping it simple and saying that I don't want to process my stuff out loud nor do I want anyone to bear the burden of my issues. This answer did not satisfy dear Samantha, though, who repeatedly reassured me that not only was it not a burden but I should just tell her things more often. Simply, my friend wanted me to open up, a reasonable request seeing as we spent most of our phone-time dealing with her emotions and problems. This, however, remains one of my weak spots.

She managed to talk me into letting my guard down. I don't know how she did it but she did. I eased up for a moment and allowed myself to confess the extreme guilt that I have lived with since 6/11/08. I regretted this pretty much instantly. Okay, so I didn't want my friend to know that I blamed myself. Who would? Sam's the kind of friend who doesn't let you feel bad about things and becomes empathetic easily.

So when did I lose all my dignity and become a whiny little infant? About halfway into explaining myself and my guilt, I realized that it had become a lot more emotional than I thought. I don't know what happened. My guess would be that I had never really thought about or talked about my feelings on the subject that in-depth before. I had never even said it out loud, especially not to Sam. I was looking at my dresser when I felt my eyes tearing and I decided that stopping talking (literally, mid-sentence) and buried my face in my pillow.

Sam knows me better than almost anyone does. We've become so close (and purely phone-dependant) that we can actually hear emotional distress in our tone of voice. There was no way Sam couldn't tell that I had started to cry. Sure, I'm freaking ashamed that I lost control but I didn't mind as much because Sam's my best friend. I've become awfully good at hiding my emotions when I talk but only a moron couldn't tell how bad I was feeling. This is why I don't discuss my emotions; once the flood gates are open, it's hard to go back.

So, for now, it's whatever. I feel bad, still. I'm going to go lay down now because I still feel like dying. Only 29 days of June left.