Yes, I'll have some videos, and pictures, & some new shit I like every now & then . But Sorry Kiddos - this blog wont be about "what's hot, or new, or instyle" . It wont be center on celebrities & new shit coming out, because honestly I could give less of a fuck . This blog will be centered around my thoughts, my poems, my wishes, my dreams, and my escapes .

Friday, July 10, 2009

Day One.

The arguments from last night still pound into my head this morning as I wake up . . The house phone lays next to me on the bed . . Still beeping, irritatingly . . It hasnt been shut off all night .. I wipe the sand from my eyes as the sunlight dances across my baggy eyes ( due to too many late night conversations ) . . What were we arguing about last night? I can't remember right now . The sun's too bright, the time's too early, and the house is too quiet . I sit up in bed, and I remember . Tears surface . Angry tears. I blame it all on him . . But doesnt the blame really lie within myself? I tear off my clothes and jump in the shower . . I dont remember how long I was in there . . Hours maybe . . Feeling the water against my skin and forgetting where I was , even if only a little while . . The day goes on . I dont do much else , even though my phone is ringing off the hook . Everyone wants a piece of KC , happy crazy, KC . Not today, Not tonight, I tell them . Doorbell rings, and I almost jump out my skin . I dont understand why . I go downstairs to find one of my friends there . We talk . Long story short, Our mutual friend knows of a pool party and I am coming with her . She leaves to the park by my house and says she will wait there with her girlfriend . I mindlessly put on my clothes . . The whole time I think of him , The more I try to put him out of my mind, the more he clouds it . I peel my left eye open, I put in my last contact, and voila! I lose it . The next few minutes are mumbles and cuss words . I try so unsuccessfully to find it . Im pissed . beyond pissed . But I have to go . I have to get out of this house . I have to get away from him . I grab my glasses and throw them on . I finish getting dressed , grab my un*opened bottle of wine, and I tip toe downstairs . . My mother is on the couch . Sitting down . From this angle, I cannot tell if she is asleep or not . I no longer care . I go around the back way and cautiously open the back door . The door yells . screams . laughs at me . Im sure she heard it . I curse myself for wearing this outfit . I'll hear her mouth for hours . Surprisingly, she doesn't move . Im 90% sure now, that she is asleep . She's been working a 16- hour day . Why wouldnt she be sleepy? I feel sad for what I am doing . Here I am , sneaking out of the roof that she works so damn hard to keep over my head . Not for long , though . I am 18 . College freshman in the fall . I will no longer be living here in a little over a month . then why the fuck am I still sneaking out? Im ashamed of myself . I catch her reflection in the mirror . I swear she looked at me . Why havent I left yet? i dont know . Maybe im hoping she'll awake . Maybe Im hoping I can sit down next to her , and we can talk and everything will be how it used to be . Maybe Im hoping she can be my hero again . But that wont happen . . No, that wont happen at all . . . . The night air feels good against my skin . . I walk slowly . 5 minutes later, Im in the park parking lot . My friend and her girlfriend is not there . I consider walking to my friends house, she lives about a 7 minute walk away . And plus, I dont want to go back . Please, dont make me . I decide against it and begin the short walk home . I open the back door again and it screams even louder than last time . I pause, knowing I am caught for sure. No movement . No sound . I sigh . I walk inside the big, empty, quiet house . My mom is still sitting down on the couch . i can see her closed eyes by the glow of the TV in front of her . I see the wrinkles and grey hair . I know I caused many of them . I wish I could have been a better teen . I feel sorry . I feel sad . I feel mad . I feel regret . I feel everything , and nothing at all . I want to carry my mom somewhere where there are No 16-hour-day, No bratty boyfriends, and No unappreciative teenagers . I tip toe back upstairs . I consider calling my friend , but I deicde against it . I sit on the couch for what seems like hours . I want to talk to someone, but I wonder if they will know whats wrong . I sure dont . Then I remember last night . is that whats wrong? Do I miss him that much? It seems like years since we last talked . Has it really only been 17 hours ? Some bullshit on MTV keeps my attention for a couple minutes . I wish I had a fucking ciggerette . What the fuck? I dont even smoke them . . I hardly like them . But I need something , to calm my mind down . To relax me . I sit at the computer , and I consider myspace or facebook . Maybe It'll make me forget . I look at the un*opened wine bottle cradled in my purse . I open it . FUCK . I need a cork-screw . I throw the bottle back in the purse . Mad at myself for even considering to drink that shit . I google a couple things , and somehow end up here . At blogspot . Whats the point of this whole thing ? So people can know you , at least think they do . I click on NEW POST . and before you know it, the words are spilling out of me so fast, that I cant think to stop them . So did this post intrigue you? do you now know me a little bit better? understand me a little better? judge me a little less? Im thinking of deleting this whole thing, but honestly, I dont giva fuck what you guys out there think . I bet someone is reading this right now, that I would never guess . But shit, I guess we;ll never know . . . and that ends DAY ONE , ONLY 25 LEFT TO GO .

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