Things I actually Want to say....

• Oh hey.. your girlfriend is a bitch.
• I love you even though you think I hate you.
• No.. I actually hate you.
• Hey dad (insert punch to the jaw here)
• I'm not ok.
• I act this way to keep you from asking me how I really feel.
• I want to kick your shins in
• Your face makes me want to vomitt.
• You know you really aren't happy with her.
• You're just staying with her to prove a point.
• I think polar bears are the most deadly things in the world. go play with one.
• Go jump off a bridge. (oh wait I already said that one)
• Be more Independant bitch.
• Hey you. Fuck Off!
• Why don't you look up from that 10 sac we all know is in your pocket and pay attention.
• I do know what you're going through.
• I've been down that road a million times.
• Even if you think I'm a goody two shoes now.
• I enjoy old worn out records and converse.
• I hate getting dressed for school. so everyone wear sweats!

There is a million more but you know there is severall reasons why I don't/shouldn't say them.

April Showers bring May Flowers

I've always wondered about this phrase.  I mean don't get me wrong I know the literal meaning of it (when it rains in april it waters the ground so that the beautiful flowers will bloom in may.) But what if this wasn't the actual meaning. 
What if long ago there was a beautiful lady named April Showers who was totally in love with a man named Steven May.  She loved him so much that she brought him flowers.  Red Roses in fact. And he thought it was an interesting trait for a woman to have so he coined this phrase. And their relationship was as peaceful as any relationship could be and they lived happily ever after and all that jazz.
What if not too long ago a man with seriously messed up parents (messed up enough to name a boy April) was born.  He walked day after day past a bench with a tulip plant resting on either side.  He always thought that those flowers were pretty enough to be presented to an angel.  One day he found his angle and brought her to that very bench and said "May will you marry me" and the tale of the man and the womans love was passed down from generation to generation until practically the whole world knew the Story of April Showers bringing May to flowers. but the unimportant words were droped to make it easier to say causing it to become April Showers bring May flowers.
What if April Showers was a bitch in HighSchool and one day she decided she wanted to be nice to every one she had ever done wrong. and she wanted to start off by making things right between her and her old best friend May.  So she brought her a bundle of sunflowers and marigolds and all the beautiful flowers May was fond of.  and they became best friends again.
What if it really is just a tale of the seasons.  And there is nothing special behind it at all...

Well then I think that would be a waste of a good story.

Crooked Nose

a broken nose.
i can handle that pain.

a family torn apart.
thats nothing new to me.

But a brother causing these things.
i can't seem to wrap my mind about that.

i wasnt at school today. because when i woke up my face was in more pain and more swollen than when i went to sleep.
Last night my brother went crazy and punched me repeatedly. when i called for my dad he made our altercation my fault.
so i got ready to leave to go to my moms house.  i was three steps out the door when my mom called me again and asked me if i could bring her some tylenol.
so i went back in the house. and my brother and i got into it again.  and it ended with him punching me in the nose.
Normally when i get hit in the nose nothing happens.. i guess you could say i have a strong nose? normally it doesnt bleed... ever. but he punch me so hard it is now slightly crooked and it bled quite a bit. 
Nothing happened to him. again this was all my fault.
i just dont understand.  Honestly. im a straight A student. a vasity athelete. and i dont really party or do drugs. 
yet still im the one who gets blamed. and has to live through this hell.
i cannot wait to be out of here.
im more than done.

Horrible.

Why do you have to  be such a good person?
Why do I still have it in me to hate you?
Why can't I just stop?
I have come to the conclusion as of late that I am not as good of a person as people may believe.  I hate people who are happy with one another and I hate the people I have lost.  Someone can make the kindest jesture toward me and I will still hate them.  Just because of my situation.  I hate it but I know it will never change.  Its one of my fatal flaws...

Home Is Where You Make It.

These walls they know my pain.  This paint it shares my tears.  These nail holes they understand each and every scar.  This unfinished house represents me in every possible way, it comprehends each and every moment.  I've grown up here.  My height has been measured in sharpie on the walls.  I have sat in each and every corner whether it be for punishment or losing my self in a novel.  This house isn't just a place of residence it's my home.
Yesterday I got the 90 day notice.  This home is no longer mine.  I have to pack my books, my Nic-nacs, and my pictures.  But the thing I am putting off most is packing the memories.
I always hear of the people who 50 years down the road still live in the houses thier children grew up in... I hear about getting a complete tour of that house with each and every detail maped out.  From where they lost thier first tooth, to where they stood when they came home from thier High School graduation. 
I will never be able to bring my husband back to my fathers house.  I will never be able to show my husband where I used to sit and stare at the painting on the wall for hours gettting lost in the beautiful sun sett. I will never be able to show him the  place of my childhood. But what hurts the most is that I won't have the opportunity to show my kids where I went through everything they have gone through and all they will go through.
But I guess I'll get over it eventually.  I'll find a new home.  It won't be a home though.  It will simply be a house.

For my Father. My Back Bone.

i can feel the pain.
its spreading from the inside
out.
i thought i would be able to mask it,
when the time came of course.
but now that
the day has arrived for me to
walk alone,
i don't know if i can walk at all.
it's beginning to cripple me,
this pain,
or at least i am made to believe.
it started out as an
annoying ache in my abdomin
but has progressed to where
i'm affraid i'll soon need a full
body cast.
i always knew that seperation would be hard,
leaving my backbone behind
while i go to live my life,
now thats a
different story.

Allergies.

For as long as i can remember I have always been the sniffly friend, the friend who can't feed horses, the friend who is so conjested she can't see.  For as long as I can remember I have always been that friend.  My best friend pointed this out to me not too long ago. 
You see she knows me like the back of her hand.  Of course she would she's been my best friend since kindergarten. 
Anyways I believe her exact words were "You're the sick kid friend" it actually made me chuckle because its the honest truth.  and my prime example of this is a time when Dina and I were in the 6th or 7th grade.
Dina's mom was always into wild life.  She had a pet raccoon for the majority of our childhood and she nursed a baby blue jays back to health to many times to count on one hand.  but inparticularly she had a weak spot for horses.  Which would explain Dinas love of the creature.  One time she took Dina and I out to her friends ranch where we were always welcome to explore.  This day we didn't feel like adventure much so we decided to feed the horses.  We fed them alfalfa.  One of the many plants I am allergic to.. almost immediately my hand started breaking out in little red bumps. I asked Dina what we were feeding them she replied "I don't know... stuff you feed horses?"
Appearantly she wasn't comprehending the seriousness of the question so I asked her again "what are we feeding these horses? i really need to know."
She replied "probably alfalfa. why?"
My heart stoped. I had always heard of those people dying because of stuff they were allergic too.. and I was a very over dramatic 13 year old. "I'm allergic to alfalfa!" I shouted as we began to run toward the house.
When we got there her mother emmidiately told me not to touch my face so of course my face started itching uncontrolably because it was the one thing that I couldnt touch on my body..
Dinas mom turned on the hose and washed off my hands and the bumps went away.  I was fine.  but to this day I'm iffy when it comes to what I feed animals