I was laughing at the mall... Because once again, my mom was asking both Dad and I and the air around us, "Is it REALLY possible for two people to just sleep in the same bed together without doing anything??"
She can't fathom ever sleeping in the same bed as a guy without having sex or doing something. That really made me laugh. I love to cuddle with Wess so jeez. She then said "It would be torture!"
Course it's tempting but... every night? Cuddling is so relaxing, who would want to ruin a perfectly good moment like that with sex? Well, at some points but -always-? Nope nope.
For us it would be more tempting considering we don't see each other very much and we don't know when we'll see each other after this. But for an ordinary couple..? How could they not just fall asleep together sometimes? How odd.
Mom and dad are playing Bust-a-Move. "Miss T sucks!" Mom is saying.
Today at the mall she went to Body Works to issue a complaint about their candle burning. Apparently the scent was vanilla, and it was flooding most of the mall with a scent I would call 'melted, or burning candy mixed with cologne'. I say, if you can't get them to stop burning candles, then at least have them choose something that smells nice like pear.. Something sweet and not disgustingly thick. At first we thought it was coming from Hollister co. but it ends up it was the candles across from them.. She talked to them and I pretended not to know her, waiting out on a bench far away. She told me that they said their manager had them burn two candles all day. They gave her a number to whine at, as that as employees the weren't allowed to change what rules were issued.
Now mom is looking at the background of Bust-a-Move and saying it looks like floating bologna.. 'it's ridiculous, why would someone choose floating bubbles of that color? It looks like bologna!'
She's interesting. But endlessly amusing.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Thursday, August 17, 2006
I think I want to be remembered
Why else would I scrounge his every word at age 14, for any sign of myself?
It just makes me get a headache, remembering his journals were known to me to never, ever, make sense. And if they do I read them wrong. He writes in code, and backwards. He never uses names, he uses titles, he never writes a straight sentence.
So it's mostly pointless.
I do it when I'm lonely. Because I want to be remembered?
It's funny.. Really funny actually... .. .. in a sick way? I'm talking about something else now..
I always daydreamed being brought to the hospital in critical condition and staying there with people worrying about me. I got my wish on Thursday!
Maybe not as dramatic as one would hope, but it was the emergency room, and it was for 8 hours. And I was 'severely dehydrated'. Not all that cool either. But one of my worst fears is something happening to my body. I'm afraid of getting near anything that could affect my body in any way negatively (besides food). Inhaling something, something under my skin, parasites.. I take my condition very seriously, because I'm afraid I could mess something in my delicate internal workings and die.
You know what I thought in the hospital, after a few hours?.. "I don't want to die."
I was just sick, but god, it wasn't going away. I was afraid I'd have a fever forever. It'd been 4 days.. The fever went down, but once I fell asleep, I woke up on fire. So it felt like a never-ending cycle of pain. The meds weren't working.. So I thought I could die that way. I couldn't eat anything at all, I thought to myself "I'm withering away huh.." I started throwing up water. So what better to happen.. I would stop being able to eat, lose a bunch of weight, become seriously dehydrated and unable to drink, and then die.
Wess.. he's beautiful.
Very depressing but very beautiful.
I was in the shower before he was going to call last night, before he was crying and before I knew anything about his side of my ER night..
I was smiling at the reflection as I got out, a rare thing. I no longer looked like a zombie, the rashes were slowly receding from my stomach and arms, and my hair was actually a good length. Face was clear too, because my nervous fingers didn't have as much time to attack. (both my parents said I looked especially cute today)
And what'd I think when I looked? I grinned big, stared for a bit, and then gave a big, clasp-handed "THANK YOU!" and said half sarcastically "Confidence is mine!"
I wasn't saying thank you for being blessed with survivable looks. I was saying "THAAAAAAANK YOU" for him.
Wess expresses his love in the strangest way - through his sadness. He shows it best that way. In his fear, in his care, he shows it.
The night I was in the ER... I sent Wess a text message. I was laying on the bed thing and knew that cellphones weren't supposed to be on, but the nurse was like 'ehhh, it's fine'. I told him, "I'm in the ER." I waited a few minutes, no response. "Emergency room, bleegh.." still nothing for quite a while. I figured there was faulty connection, and shrugged. I checked about ten, twenty minutes later it vibrated. All it said was "Why?" I told him about it and such, and later on he said he left a message on the cellphone, and to have me call whenever I could to let him know how I was doing. I told my mom to go outside and call him, so she did.
I spent 8 hours there, rest of the night I kept the cellphone off, figuring I shouldn't be breaking rules if I wanted to get well. They stabbed one of my 'wonderful' veins and I took in 3 liters of water-like-substance. It made my arm cold.
I was fairly uncomfortable. My stomach was still killing me, but my fever was slowly fading away. I watched WWII on TV and watched them steal silverware from the Nazi meeting room. "Not every day your girlfriend gets a gift from Hitler!"
Anyway, the night went like that. I had nasty medicines that made me feel terrible right before I left, and regained my fever right when I got home. "great" I thought. I didn't go back though.
I found out last night what Wess had been doing all this time. In tears last night he told me, once he got the text message, without hesitation he went over to his mom's room and cried his eyes out. I figured he'd panic at least slightly, but that? I don't know. He said he didn't know how I was doing, tried to call multiple times, and just didn't know what to expect, what condition I was in, etc etc. He couldn't sleep that night.
Just the thought of anything happening to me makes him sick to his stomach. Just the nightmares he has about me make him cry when he wakes up, and the dreams he has where he can't hold me leave him shaken.
When he told me in depth about this, I was speechless. It was 4 AM too, how would I respond to him..?
It was beautiful.
It's almost sick of me.. but it's beautiful. Can you understand? I've wanted someone to worry about me for all my life. Wanted there to be someone who actually would worry sick about me and actually give a damn when these things happen. Someone who my life means something to. And not just when I'm hurt, not just when I'm sick, not just when you're supposed to.. He can't live without me. And that means so much, and shows so much depth to how much I mean to him.
'I want to be needed' or, I want to be someone's angel, as I say when I get over-emotional.
And now a bitch is staring at me. I finish this entry here.
It just makes me get a headache, remembering his journals were known to me to never, ever, make sense. And if they do I read them wrong. He writes in code, and backwards. He never uses names, he uses titles, he never writes a straight sentence.
So it's mostly pointless.
I do it when I'm lonely. Because I want to be remembered?
It's funny.. Really funny actually... .. .. in a sick way? I'm talking about something else now..
I always daydreamed being brought to the hospital in critical condition and staying there with people worrying about me. I got my wish on Thursday!
Maybe not as dramatic as one would hope, but it was the emergency room, and it was for 8 hours. And I was 'severely dehydrated'. Not all that cool either. But one of my worst fears is something happening to my body. I'm afraid of getting near anything that could affect my body in any way negatively (besides food). Inhaling something, something under my skin, parasites.. I take my condition very seriously, because I'm afraid I could mess something in my delicate internal workings and die.
You know what I thought in the hospital, after a few hours?.. "I don't want to die."
I was just sick, but god, it wasn't going away. I was afraid I'd have a fever forever. It'd been 4 days.. The fever went down, but once I fell asleep, I woke up on fire. So it felt like a never-ending cycle of pain. The meds weren't working.. So I thought I could die that way. I couldn't eat anything at all, I thought to myself "I'm withering away huh.." I started throwing up water. So what better to happen.. I would stop being able to eat, lose a bunch of weight, become seriously dehydrated and unable to drink, and then die.
Wess.. he's beautiful.
Very depressing but very beautiful.
I was in the shower before he was going to call last night, before he was crying and before I knew anything about his side of my ER night..
I was smiling at the reflection as I got out, a rare thing. I no longer looked like a zombie, the rashes were slowly receding from my stomach and arms, and my hair was actually a good length. Face was clear too, because my nervous fingers didn't have as much time to attack. (both my parents said I looked especially cute today)
And what'd I think when I looked? I grinned big, stared for a bit, and then gave a big, clasp-handed "THANK YOU!" and said half sarcastically "Confidence is mine!"
I wasn't saying thank you for being blessed with survivable looks. I was saying "THAAAAAAANK YOU" for him.
Wess expresses his love in the strangest way - through his sadness. He shows it best that way. In his fear, in his care, he shows it.
The night I was in the ER... I sent Wess a text message. I was laying on the bed thing and knew that cellphones weren't supposed to be on, but the nurse was like 'ehhh, it's fine'. I told him, "I'm in the ER." I waited a few minutes, no response. "Emergency room, bleegh.." still nothing for quite a while. I figured there was faulty connection, and shrugged. I checked about ten, twenty minutes later it vibrated. All it said was "Why?" I told him about it and such, and later on he said he left a message on the cellphone, and to have me call whenever I could to let him know how I was doing. I told my mom to go outside and call him, so she did.
I spent 8 hours there, rest of the night I kept the cellphone off, figuring I shouldn't be breaking rules if I wanted to get well. They stabbed one of my 'wonderful' veins and I took in 3 liters of water-like-substance. It made my arm cold.
I was fairly uncomfortable. My stomach was still killing me, but my fever was slowly fading away. I watched WWII on TV and watched them steal silverware from the Nazi meeting room. "Not every day your girlfriend gets a gift from Hitler!"
Anyway, the night went like that. I had nasty medicines that made me feel terrible right before I left, and regained my fever right when I got home. "great" I thought. I didn't go back though.
I found out last night what Wess had been doing all this time. In tears last night he told me, once he got the text message, without hesitation he went over to his mom's room and cried his eyes out. I figured he'd panic at least slightly, but that? I don't know. He said he didn't know how I was doing, tried to call multiple times, and just didn't know what to expect, what condition I was in, etc etc. He couldn't sleep that night.
Just the thought of anything happening to me makes him sick to his stomach. Just the nightmares he has about me make him cry when he wakes up, and the dreams he has where he can't hold me leave him shaken.
When he told me in depth about this, I was speechless. It was 4 AM too, how would I respond to him..?
It was beautiful.
It's almost sick of me.. but it's beautiful. Can you understand? I've wanted someone to worry about me for all my life. Wanted there to be someone who actually would worry sick about me and actually give a damn when these things happen. Someone who my life means something to. And not just when I'm hurt, not just when I'm sick, not just when you're supposed to.. He can't live without me. And that means so much, and shows so much depth to how much I mean to him.
'I want to be needed' or, I want to be someone's angel, as I say when I get over-emotional.
And now a bitch is staring at me. I finish this entry here.
Monday, August 14, 2006
I've realized...
I -need- to stalk people.
That sounds terrible, no? But I do it all the time. Not like, in real life... ("IRL" sounds too cyber-ish to be used)
In real life I'm p-p-paranoid. They give me a weird look, I get nervous. Wouldn't ever think of that kind of stalking.
I think it's my fascination with secrets. Secrets and the sides I don't usually get to see.
Find myself surfing around, reading, looking about..
I tend to only do it with people know, curious as to who their friends are and what they're thinking. Finding such things is easy with places like blogs, myspace, etc etc.. And all those communities that obviously state who they care about and what their opinions are.
What I find myself doing in my spare time as I sit in my pajamas still a bit queasy from sickness, with Wess going to bed out of both angst and exhaustion.. is seeing what he's said. I like to use it to poke fun at him occasionally, because sometimes he says sarcastic things that I could be offended by if he meant it. Such as.. I went looking at the comments of all the girls he knew, looking at his comments on their pictures. I noticed, that on -any- that showed any bare chest whatsoever (I don't mean chest-chest, I mean literal) he'd say something about their boobs. And with one friend it was her legs he always mentioned. So I gave him a hard time for that.
It's also my way of laughing at how much he worries, because if it was the other way around, heeeeee'd worry a helluva lot. He'd have multiple panic thinking sessions and be convinced after texting all his gal-friends about it that I was going to, whether I particularly wanted to or not, cheat on him.
When I noticed that I mostly just rolled my eyes, and thought to myself, 'shouldn't he kind of be aware that making those jokes would make any normal girlfriend paranoid?'
It still baffles me that he's not clingy. For the amount he worries, he should be clingy. But I guess what he doesn't know doesn't bother him? I just picture him freaking out if he heard I was going to some party at night. Well, he's not that bad, but if there were a lot of cute guys there or any guys I conversed with, sure he'd worry.
I'm the clingy one, he's the worry-wart.
Another reason why the whole boob thing just rolled right off my back.. He gets himself so upset over the idea of not being good enough for me (that sounds so strange to say... 'as if' is all that comes to mind) that I know he wouldn't be serious about any of that stuff. He's not the guy who checks girls out and stuff.. Mostly I've just heard stories of his funny friends dragging him out with them and causing scenes involving that. He's not a huge boob fan anyway.
Speaking of boobs.. Haha. Watching porn with him was funny. Happy 18th to him? I'm wondering how the heck it first came up.. Did he just randomly mention one time the fact that at 3 AM or so there's porn on TV? It's kind of disturbing to hear that in the background of your phone conversation. Funny and gross at the same time. "What're they doing now?" "Two blondes and a redhead having a threesome" "hahaha gross" "Oh ew, her face looks plastic and her boobs are huge" We've had conversations like that. To us porn is mostly a joke. I was icked out to notice that the guys were always so old looking. "Gross, why do they always choose old guys?" "I don't know.."
We questioned why the TV ones bothered trying to have a plot..
After saying that, I'll say, I'm quite pure and demure! Demure is a fun word, I just got the thesaurus for that one. It sounds almost snobby.
... hm. And off subject (doesn't matter, it's my blog).. Eh.. .....
I need to find his shirt, and the letter. Mom cleaned my room whilst I was sick. Maybe I'll write tonight, I seem to be alright for it, unless I burn myself out on this.
That sounds terrible, no? But I do it all the time. Not like, in real life... ("IRL" sounds too cyber-ish to be used)
In real life I'm p-p-paranoid. They give me a weird look, I get nervous. Wouldn't ever think of that kind of stalking.
I think it's my fascination with secrets. Secrets and the sides I don't usually get to see.
Find myself surfing around, reading, looking about..
I tend to only do it with people know, curious as to who their friends are and what they're thinking. Finding such things is easy with places like blogs, myspace, etc etc.. And all those communities that obviously state who they care about and what their opinions are.
What I find myself doing in my spare time as I sit in my pajamas still a bit queasy from sickness, with Wess going to bed out of both angst and exhaustion.. is seeing what he's said. I like to use it to poke fun at him occasionally, because sometimes he says sarcastic things that I could be offended by if he meant it. Such as.. I went looking at the comments of all the girls he knew, looking at his comments on their pictures. I noticed, that on -any- that showed any bare chest whatsoever (I don't mean chest-chest, I mean literal) he'd say something about their boobs. And with one friend it was her legs he always mentioned. So I gave him a hard time for that.
It's also my way of laughing at how much he worries, because if it was the other way around, heeeeee'd worry a helluva lot. He'd have multiple panic thinking sessions and be convinced after texting all his gal-friends about it that I was going to, whether I particularly wanted to or not, cheat on him.
When I noticed that I mostly just rolled my eyes, and thought to myself, 'shouldn't he kind of be aware that making those jokes would make any normal girlfriend paranoid?'
It still baffles me that he's not clingy. For the amount he worries, he should be clingy. But I guess what he doesn't know doesn't bother him? I just picture him freaking out if he heard I was going to some party at night. Well, he's not that bad, but if there were a lot of cute guys there or any guys I conversed with, sure he'd worry.
I'm the clingy one, he's the worry-wart.
Another reason why the whole boob thing just rolled right off my back.. He gets himself so upset over the idea of not being good enough for me (that sounds so strange to say... 'as if' is all that comes to mind) that I know he wouldn't be serious about any of that stuff. He's not the guy who checks girls out and stuff.. Mostly I've just heard stories of his funny friends dragging him out with them and causing scenes involving that. He's not a huge boob fan anyway.
Speaking of boobs.. Haha. Watching porn with him was funny. Happy 18th to him? I'm wondering how the heck it first came up.. Did he just randomly mention one time the fact that at 3 AM or so there's porn on TV? It's kind of disturbing to hear that in the background of your phone conversation. Funny and gross at the same time. "What're they doing now?" "Two blondes and a redhead having a threesome" "hahaha gross" "Oh ew, her face looks plastic and her boobs are huge" We've had conversations like that. To us porn is mostly a joke. I was icked out to notice that the guys were always so old looking. "Gross, why do they always choose old guys?" "I don't know.."
We questioned why the TV ones bothered trying to have a plot..
After saying that, I'll say, I'm quite pure and demure! Demure is a fun word, I just got the thesaurus for that one. It sounds almost snobby.
... hm. And off subject (doesn't matter, it's my blog).. Eh.. .....
I need to find his shirt, and the letter. Mom cleaned my room whilst I was sick. Maybe I'll write tonight, I seem to be alright for it, unless I burn myself out on this.
From D.A. journal
Finally dragged my ass upstairs to write this, now that I can.
I would've on a laptop, but that hurt my eyes..
Anyway, since Thursday I've been -very- sick. I got sick on Thursday with a... 101 F fever or so? Since I got sick I threw up at least once a day, and I couldn't really eat anything. I took medicine and everything, but my virus was immune to things that would lower my fever.
The doctor said it should be over within 72 hours, but it wasn't.. Went down to 99 then up to 102.9 again.
Sooooo I got to go to the emergency room day before yesterday. They gave me 3 liters of water (er.. water-ish-stuff) through an IV and when I got home, my fever went up again. Fun fun fun.
My fever's finally lowering, but my stomach feels iffy.
I'm annoyed because I've had my two most miserable sicknesses this summer... Bleck.
I better feel better soon, I'll be so pissed off if I get all sick again.
I would've on a laptop, but that hurt my eyes..
Anyway, since Thursday I've been -very- sick. I got sick on Thursday with a... 101 F fever or so? Since I got sick I threw up at least once a day, and I couldn't really eat anything. I took medicine and everything, but my virus was immune to things that would lower my fever.
The doctor said it should be over within 72 hours, but it wasn't.. Went down to 99 then up to 102.9 again.
Sooooo I got to go to the emergency room day before yesterday. They gave me 3 liters of water (er.. water-ish-stuff) through an IV and when I got home, my fever went up again. Fun fun fun.
My fever's finally lowering, but my stomach feels iffy.
I'm annoyed because I've had my two most miserable sicknesses this summer... Bleck.
I better feel better soon, I'll be so pissed off if I get all sick again.
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