"I'd prefer to be remembered as a smiling face
Not this fucking wreck
That's taken its place"

spent lastnight lying on the bathroom floor

poisoned half to death and unmoving.
i might die from medication, but i sure killed all the pain.
im not sorry yet. i dont want you to forgive me.
i am a fake. i am a scam. i am the worst thing anyone could put love into.
i just want a moment of happy without the guarantee of immediate sad.
the lights always out when its my time to shine.
"ive opened up so many clams but only found sand inside."
i dont feel sorry for you anymore.
if i dont get a break, neither do you.
no one gets my love if i cant have some back.
im going to stick around.
i will exist without living.
i will try to function normally, but i dont want to interact.
i know what people think. i know what you think.
there is something wrong with me.
maybe youre right.
maybe i should fix it.



givelovethentakeitawaynooneevershares.

i swear tnat im dying

slowly, but its happening.














i know how to fix everything.

Once upon a time...

There was a boy and a girl. Their names were Madalyn and Mikey. They grew up in a tiny town called Sematton in a tiny state called New Jersey. One day in second grade, Madelyn threw a rock at Mikey and he cried. Teacher made Madelyn walk Mikey to the nurses office. She sat with him. They became friends.
Another day, in sixth grade, Madelyns boyfriend dumped her. Mikey was there and he loved her. He held her while she cried.
In ninth grade, Mikey made a new friend. His friend was fun, but mean. He made Mikey sick and got him in trouble. Madelyn didnt care. She loved Mikey.
Two years later, in 11th grade, Madelyn made a big mistake. It got bigger in a few months. Mikeys friend helped Madelyn. He made things beter and more fun.
But Madelyns mistake suffered. Her mistake died before it lived.
Madelyn and Mikey couldnt live without Mikeys friend.
But Mikeys friend didnt want them to live.
He rotted their brains and stomachs and made them crazy. He made everything bad and scary.
Then one day Madelyn and Mikey died.

Merry Christmas, I could care less.

Getting into the Christmas spirit is always fun.
Getting out is even better.
It gets less and less exciting each year and eventually it will blow hard.

I am not excited for anything anymore. Got this new no one really gives a shit outlook on life. Cos no one really does. Realization is key....but Im not sure to what lock.

"Santa cant come til you go to sleep."
We should go to sleep and maybe progress will be made.



We are mandatory players in a pointless game. We are a glitch in the mind of a meaningless man.

Bloody, soapy bathwater.

I feel insane.
Im running low on love. Refill me. Im almost on empty.
Something isnt right in my mind.
Im incapable of functioning as the rest of society.
Ive given up on trying to find you.
I will wait patiently.
I will go crazy(er)
I will play games and tell stories.
Make everything a little more inocent with my puns.
Nothing is the same when you turn around.
Dont look back! Dont look down!
Where was I going?
With this, I mean.
Or maybe just in general. I cant tell.
Im so sorry, but not really.
HEY GUESS WHAT. I SECRETELY HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU.












Shes got issues and theyre all the emotional kind.

It's not what it seems in the land of dreams.

Don't worry your head, just go to sleep.

all i want for christmas is you.

ahahahaha.

im another one of gods jokes.

this time my tricky dream was different. i raided someones refrirator of six different kinds of alcohol, then went to school drunk.
i like to sleep because my dreams are better than my reality.
im back on the pills and the blade.
it makes me feel better. im sorry.
i want it to be okay again. i want to fix it.
"im a stitch away from making it, and a scar away from falling apart..."
i am not well.

I hate tricky dreams.

i thought i wasnt alone anymore. he was singing to me. whoever the hell he is. im unsure. but he was there beside me as the world crumbled around us. i want to go back and live there forever. it was okay.


i just want a chance.

im gonna show you how were all alone.

i cant stand this anymore. it hurts so unbelievably bad, but im scared to say anything because i dont want to bring you down. i love you. i love that youre happy.
but its not fair that im the only one who never gets to be happy.
im hated for absolutely no reason. and i do care. i do.
i wish i didnt, but i do.
no one will ever love me, because i cant love myself.
i dont know what to do anymore.
i dont know how to handle it.

Im not the one that you want.

Ill only let you down.

doesnt matter how many people are around, i still feel completely alone. maybe its nomal, maybe its not. i just want someone like everyone else. i want to be loved by someone other than the ones who love me most. i am selfish, i know. im a monster. nonexistant self esteem. liar. unloyal. disrespectful. ugly. name it and ive been named it. i only get i love you when i cry. pitiful. pathetic.
boycott love.
love never wanted me.
i dont do too well on my own.
i will never believe in anything again.
when it all goes to hell...
i used to waste my time dreaming of being alive, now i only waste it dreaming of you.
why put a new address on the same old loneliness, when talkings just a waste of breath and livings just a waste of death.
i get it.

please dont tell me you feel the same way, because i know you dont.

my faith has been restored.

in nothihg but them.
no matter what happens, these boys will always have my heart.

what a match; im half doomed and youre semi sweet.

and im only scared of losing you.

everything is so cliche these days.
put her down or fix her.
but if im gone i wont have you.
doesnt it just make you sick
the way mayhem applies to love
and everything in between.
i dont understand half of what i go through,
let alone what i put you through.
im sorry for the wasted nights, breath, and tears.
but it wasnt it vain.
i dont always mean every word i say,
but i love you is never a lie.
someday well look back and know it was naive but i want the world to end before we do.


dont tell me about true fucking love. ive spat and punched and bled for it. now i want to curl up and sleep inside of it.

im keeping up with the moon on an all night avenue.

you keep my mind alive at night. can we make it all about me this time? the headaches and stomachaches aint got shit on heartache. i dont want you around if this is what it takes. i wake up everyday and sigh because i didnt want to see the sun rise. and ill hate every second that it shines. cant give up because theres still too much time. my clock is ticking down, just not quite fast enough for my taste.


im constantly nauseaus these days.

im other side of the pillow cold (hearted)

you make me want to lay still. cant tell which way is up and which is down when im under water standing on my head. please tell me where to go because ive lost control. point me in the direction of affection; i have none. let me see you undress your mind. let me in. hold me tight. if only you could see me on the most lonely nights. in the bathroom floor with my face in the porcelain. pills only work if theyre in yr stomach. i lost my way at such a young age. no one ever put me back on the street, but i was up all night watching the cars speed away.

"I'm a nervous wreck.

The drugs just make me reset."

I have a secret.

breakdown.

Im not totally sure where things went wrong, but i know at some point they did. nothing is okay. nothing feels right. everyone only says they care because if they dont, someone might get hurt. im not sure of anything anymore. who i am or where i stand. all i know is i want you to be here and you never will. im tired of caring when no one cares back. the li/oving only makes me sick. dont count on me to get tnrough this. the yelling and the suicide attempts and pills and cigarettes are all ill ever know. dont blame it on bad luck if thats all weve got. in sorry for everything. lies and laughs i didnt mean. i cant undo a thing. please help me. i cant remember the words or i could really make this hurt. for a second i imagined someone else was there. it wasnt you. she was a christian and she didnt care. i never want to exist without you by me. this just doesnt feel like home anymore. tell me im not crazy anymore.

Don't make a promise you can't keep.

I didn't want to wake up in the middle of the night and learn that you tried to kill yourself again.
What happened to that double promise we made?
"You'll never lose me as long as I have anything to do with it. I give you my word."
We both said it. Apparently you didn't mean it.
You PROMISED me I'd never lose you. You can't do this.
You can't break a promise like that.
You can't leave me.
I don't want that phone call.
I don't want you to stop existing.
I can't ever breathe if you don't.
I'm so scared of finding out you're dead.
I can't handle it.

"As long as there's one person there who loves me, I can stay alive. Love really is powerful."

You told me that afterwards. I wish you'd think like that all the time.
Love runs deeper than anything. I've seen it. I've slept in the middle of it.
It hurts fucking way worse than anything ever, but it saved you.
Love can save you.

You are more than I bargained for. But I love you.
Please don't leave me alone.
<3

The wind is a monster.

A jealous one. He wants no more than to steal your body heat and run with it. He has none of his own and what he steals is gone in a matter of seconds. Melted into the air. His surrounding pupils that jab and tease him. They tell him he is too thin and loud. Too easy to predict. They tell him he is a deceitful monster. Just like me.


Not sure this made any sense, I just woke up. Almost at school.

Things are changing.

We're growing up and I don't want it.
I want the experiences and fuckups.
The one night stands and wasted nights.
But I don't want to ever forget about the people who make me smile.
...and I know I will.
It scares the shit out of me that I've only got two years left.
Two years to make it or break it.
Two years to do whatever the fuck I need to do.
Two years to fall in and out of love.

We're going to lose more people.
There will be more funerals.
Some of which we may sit in the front row of.

There will be days where we wake up and won't know what we did.
We will cry.
We will freak out.
We will buy pregnancy tests.

Guys will dump us.
We will dump them.
We will cry again and realize that we don't know what love is.

And then we will grow up.
And things will get more tragic.
And things will hurt worse.
And we will cry more.
Our parents will die.
We will get pregnant.
We will have car accidents.
We will fall in love.
And then back out.
We will remember.
And then forget.
We will make life altering decisions.

We will live.
And then we'll die.

Fuck.

Sign your soul on the dotted line just to say you're mine.
But we're both lying about being happy.
So fall in love or fall apart.
Hold hands or hold grudges.
I'm a stitch away from making it...
you know the rest.
Sorry I've been so mean lately.
My mind has been elsewhere.
I hope it comes back soon.
And to be honest, I'll probably never forget.
I know I should.
Give up my biggest regret.
But I won't.
I'll keep building onto my nightmares.
I'll see you there.
I want mistakes worse than the one I made two years ago.

Blades, blood, tears, and guts are all I've got anymore.

"How to Draw a Picture.

Start with a blank surface. It doesn't have to be paper or canvas, but I feel it should be white. We call it white because we need a word, but its true name is nothing. Black is the absence of light, but white is the absence of memory. The color of can't remember."

-Stephen King.

I'm in if you're in.

Regrets and mistakes are what teenagers are made of and sadly, we're loosely held together.

Let's do this shit.

Making plans.

Breaking plans.

Soon enough, I will disappoint you.

My kids will get picked on.

Girls: Kadri Koren, Lacey Jane, Adelae Belle, Karis Paige.
Boys: Jax Avery, Xander Faris, Jasper Sullivan, Eli Zabe.

Not even kidding.

Rest in Peace, Mitch Kertis. <3

I didn't really know you that well, but I'm going to miss seeing you at school.
And I'm sure everyone else will too.
Pep Rally's and football games won't be the same if you're not there.
Monday is going to be hell.

I hate God.

Because of you.

I have only ever cried over two boys.
One didn't know he was hurting me and the other didn't care.
Both of which I would've given my heart to.
One of which I did.
I can't begin to explain how much he ruined me.
Maybe you noticed the way that I can't listen to select songs without breaking down.
Or the way that everything reminds me of him.
I'm sorry that I'm dwelling on this, but it hurts.
And if I never get over it, I can never move on.
I can't let anyone else in.
I can't be what anyone expects.
I can't make it through the day without taking some sort of medication.
I don't care about anything anymore.
I want to fuck things up, solely because I can't see any proof of them getting better.
I want someone to hold me again.
I don't want to be told "It'll happen someday." because I'm not sure it will.
Are you listening?
Do you know what it means to me when you tell me to stop taking the pills?
It'd be like if I told you to stop talking with your hands.
You could do it, but it'd be hard as hell.
It annoys other people, but doesn't really bother you.
It's who you are.
Who you have been.
This is what I am and will be.
I am composed in public and a wreck behind the scenes.
I hold it together long enough to make it home.
I don't feel ashamed and I won't apologize. Not again.
I'm ashamed of my past.
But not of this.
I am shiny new.
More medicated, but held together nontheless.
I have cracks on the surface and big, gaping holes underneath.
I know what you've been through and I know it hurts.
You deal with it differently.
I'm not that strong.
I am a user and a liar and I'm selfish.
But I love you.
There are four people I know I would give my life for and you make the list.
Thank you for sticking out the rounds.

I'm so sorry.

I can feel the drugs in my veins. The consistency of the beating is oddly comforting.
Sorry I fucked everything up.

Elliott Smith's death was ruled a suicide, but her story just doesn't sound right. More like an aggravated attack and accidental homicide.

All anyone ever knows of me anymore is drugged out and unreal. The new me. Version 2.0
I do love you, you know. It's the truest thing I've ever said.

Please don't give up on me.

Time for bed.


Morning eyes meant ony for you wake up to nothing. Close them back. Roll over. Try again later.

I only want back something I never had.

Honestly, I don't want to grow up.
I want to sleep on my sister's couch and sneak out at night.
I want to bum money from my parents and never do homework.
I'm scared of leaving you behind.
I'm scared of being left behind.
I'm in love with everything and everyone at this very moment.
And I wouldn't change a thing.
And yes, I know I've changed.
Who I am is now a twisted, medicated version of who I was.
Disproportionate to the size of the problems.
I don't want to promise you that I won't ever make regrettable mistakes, because I don't like to lie to you.
And I can't tell you I'll get better eventually, because I'm pretty sure I'll only get worse.
But I promise I won't disappear or fall out of your life.
Willingly.
Because when I say I love you, I mean it.
and this is more than just needing a friend.
This is not being able to live without you.

<3

P.s. I'm sorry if I ever disappoint, worry, or stress you out.

There's only a breath between us.

But I love you the same. Please don't ever let any of this go, even when we forget about each other.
Even when we don't know each other anymore.
And there's nothing left but a late night under a black sky.
Don't forget the tears and faced fears.
One day we will be nothing but memories in troubled minds.

Je ne crois pas en amour ou Dieu ou pour toujours.

You're onlu two and you've already got night terrors.

I wish I could make them go away. I'd do anything if I could.

"Something Vague."

Dye the water red. Don't forget to clean up your mess.

I really want to know you're okay, because right now, I am scared that you're not.
I know how it feels to want to die. Believe me, I've been there a few times. But I also know how it feels to not know whether best friend is alive or dead or in between.
And so do you.
Don't do this to me.
I love you.



"Two pills just weren't enough. The alarm clock's going off, but you're not waking up. This isn't happening."

"Comin' outta my cage and I've been doin' just fine."

Truth is, I wish I were you.

Dysfunction.

Pillows and pills piled around your head. Just rest now.
Take them one by one.
At around half past 5, my eyelids start to burn.
And then they close.
This is not a plea for attention, it is a remedy to breathing.
I will not stop or slow down.
I will speed up with my heart.
I'm running out of time, breath, and prescriptions.
There's a secret I won't tell.
There's something you don't know.
If I don't tell, you'll never know.
I wish you didn't have to pretend to understand.
I stopped playing fake when I realized it only made everything worse.
Open up your sleepy eyes. This is a game.
I am winning.
You are not.

A list of songs to listen to when you're alone in the dark:

Free Fallin' - Tom Petty
How's it Gonna Be - Third Eye Blind
A Fond Farewell - Elliot Smith
Sullivan Street - Counting Crows
My Life - The Game
Love Like Winter - AFI
Lua - Bright Eyes
Bother - Stone Sour
All These Things That I've Done - The Killers
Grand Theft Autumn acoustic - Fall Out Boy
Good Riddance - Green Day
Winter - Bayside



I'll probably add more later, but for now...go cry alone in the dark or something.

Honestly.

"Dear Lord, you've done took so many of my people
But I'm just wonderin' why you haven't taken my life
Like what the hell am I doing right?"

I'm scared I'm going to come home and find you dead some day. Please stop, mommy. I need you. I know I act like it doesn't bother me, but it really does. It hurts so bad. I'm so scared of losing you. It makes me sick. You were doing so well. No alcohol, no drugs, nothing. Two years. What happened? Maybe probation was good. Maybe you need to be arrested again. You're not invincible. No matter how much I need you to be, you're just not. I love you too much to let you lose again.

Dysthymic.Insomniatic.Sociopathic.Psychotic.Dysphoric.Manic.

Please, PLEASE, stop calling me crazy.
I'll settle for any of the above, except crazy.

This whole life thing has gone to your head.

It never really mattered.
We could keep up the lie for ever and a day without a mistake and no one would ever know how hard we worked.
And they don't care.
I fill the space that's inbetween insane and insecure.
There's something about this hurt that makes me want to stay.
No amount of blood spilled can make you understand
that what I don't say is what makes the most noise.
It rattles and shakes inside me and breaks things and me.
It will rip apart my heart and lungs and chest.
Just to get to you.
I've held it captive and won't let it out.
Light and food starved for unborn centuries.
So later you can hold onto an unheld piece me.
You crack the jokes but "don't mean" them.
You spit rehearsed lines and hateful words.
I want to hug you goodbye someday.
I don't want to scream at you while you walk away.
Everyone walks away.
And I don't understand quite why.
But everyone walks away...

Halloween is my favorite holiday.

It's truly the only time I ever feel okay about myself. Only two more hours.

"In order to exist, man must rebel."
-Albert Camus

I am the "who" when you call "Who's there?"

Halloween is my favorite time of year. I just wish you were here. We could scream and scare poeple when it gets dark.
I over did it again. 6 this time. I'm waiting for the day when it's just one too many.
Oh, don't worry. I'll take some more in the morning so I won't be too crabby when you see me tomorrow.
They're making me lose weight. Making me think. Making me sleep.
I don't want to be like everyone else. I don't want to have to be medicated to be unconscious.
Maybe I should move into someone elses bed.
We could trade minds, too. But I don't want you stuck with this. And to be honest, I'd hate to have a mind like yours.
Even though it's probably better than mine.
This doesn't make sense, does it?
It's okay if you don't get it, but I'm not spelling it out for you.
I think the only reason you want me to get better is so you don't have to deal with it anymore.
"She's talking about me." Probably. I don't want to fight. I don't want to yell. I don't want to whisper "fuck you" everytime you turn around.
I just want you to GET IT.
No one does.
No one will.
And it's my fault because I won't say anything.
If you're letting me go, let me know so I can find someone else to hold onto. Don't just cut me off.


Got a case of the crazies.
I need to throw up.

Baby, the best ones are crazy.

We mean a lot to the joke. Yes, I do love you.

I'm so sorry, but not really.

Winter's creeping up on us and it's bringing memories with it.
Good and bad and I want them all back. I never thought I'd see this end.
But I think's it's coming sooner than we both expected. I will always love you, remember that.
What will we do when it's over? I don't want to see you walk away like them...
I'm not sure who I am or what I was, I just want to know who I'll become.
I'm scared to tell you the truth.
I'm scared to look you in the eye.
But I do love you, I promise.
I...promise.

On nights like these, I don't sleep at all.

Don't let this go.

We're slipping away and other people are catching us. I'm sorry.

"Let love go.

...it'll rage and then come back to you."


I painted clouds on a wall today and then imagined myself floating on them. I married a figment of my imagination because he's the only one that will ever love me. I wrote a song that I can sing and you'll never ever hear. I figured out that I'm no one and it makes me happy. I cried because the feeling is more natural than dry eyes. I let my body handle itself and my soul flew to France to meet someone else. I hugged my grandma with cancer and it was the most alive I've ever felt. I talked to someone all day about him because it makes me feel better. I forgot that you existed, if even for a minute. I laid down and watched hypothetical animals float over me. I stared at the sun until the tears dried up. I breathed in paint fumes as deep as I could and then laughed them off. I hugged a my heart and soul and he made everything okay. I have fallen back in love with the world, though it may only last a day.
"Thank you for staying steady. For never getting sick at sea."

I'm aware that you don't care, but you ould atleast humor me and pretend to.

Why can't anyone ever love me?

"You'll be free child, once you are dead."

I haven't eaten anything but pills all day and somehow I'm still okay. I tried to drown myself in warm bathwater and it sparked a thought. About how I almost drowned when I was young. I sank to the bottom and didn't come up. No one noticed, no one but another little boy. I heard him scream, but I couldn't move. And then I got pulled up. I wasn't conscious, I remember. Maybe I was, but they couldn't tell. It was then that I realized it would be a long time before I found someone who could care. I don't want all eyes on me, I just want someone to know I'm there. I'm hard to talk to. I take pills. I slip under water. I occasionally try to die. I know you mind, that's why you're not what I'm looking for. I want a glance when I do that, not a panic attack. I want a hand when I fall, not a gurney to wheel me away. The drugs don't bother me at all. You're quiet all the time just like me. We'll let the poets cry themselves to sleep and then we'll be unwell together. My ideas aren't that good, but they'll do until I get better ones. All I want is you to stick.

Let love go.

Wonder where we'll be in 10 years.
Who we'll be with.
What we'll be doing.
I want to make a plan. A goal. A detailed one.
And I want it to come true.
But of cours it'll just be hypothetical.
You in?

I want to kiss you just because I'm sure your lips are poison.

Cut my leg while shaving and just watched the blood pour into the ater. It didn't bother me and it didn't hurt in the slightest. I'm sliding headfirst back into this hole. Just cos it's that time of year. The one when all emotions except bad ones drain from me. Like a cow who's been hung up to bleed dry. The cold brings with it ice hearts and daggers. November spawns a different monster every year. And they always get scarier. Am I making sense? Please tell me I'm making sense.
I wish you were hear.
This has been said...too many times that I'm not sure if it matters.
and
The truth hurts worse than anything I could bring myself to do to you.
Both apply in this situation. Unfortunately.
I can't explain this physical pain.
Feels like I'm falling apart and I only wish you were here to hold me together.

"Anything goes when the pens almost out of ink and the midnight trainwreck fingers hop from key to key"

I'm tired of all the fighting and yelling. All I want is quiet. You here with me. Buttons and typed words aren't good enough right now. Hold my hand, please. Hold me together. I don't know right from wrong from right from left. And I know I don't make sense, but just hang in there. Stick out the rounds and wait for the count. I won't give up on you if you don't. It's not the love that I need, but it's the best kind of love I'll ever have. Unconditional. You changed my life. And so did you. And you too. Can't drop names, sorry. I might trip.
I mean every word of this. Some of it is directed towards different "you's", but I mean it all.
Hold on to every word, because some of them are actually the truth. Like when I say I love you.

"They say the captain goes down with the ship...

So when the world ends will God go down with it?"

New FOB song made me cry.

I seal deals with sleeping pills.

Can't pull it together long enough to apologize and mean it. I just want you here again.
"I'm fine."
Total wreck.
Mind over matter.
Tune you out.
Turn this up.
Washed out with no wehre to go.
I don't want to go to sleep because I won't wake up.
Tell me I'm alright, again.
Tell me you're alright with this.
Who I am hates who I was.
I still look like I did on most nights,
just with more headaches, heartaches, and tears.
And less you.
Nothing to wake up to but blurry eyes and a race to the toilet
to spill my guts.
Then back to the keyboard to do it all over.
You don't love me or you'd care.
And you don't care because you're scared.
I can here the alcohol in her voice and it makes me worry.
And it makes me know that she's human still.
Yeah, I'm really letting myself go.
Your favorite passtime is making me fake-smile.
"Trace my thoughts, please. Color inside the lines and keep me sane."

"Oh, darling, I know what you're going through."

I wish I could make everything better for you, darling. Truly. I do.

P.S.

It's currently 2:14 am and I'm not sure you're alive...

...keeping me hopeless til I wake tomorrow...

If I ever sleep.
I really do wish you were here, sis.
I know you're scared.
You tell me all the time.
It's okay, because I'm scared too...

I'm scared for you and for me.
I don't know what five years holds but I hope there's a fate better than what we expect.
If there's a fate at all.
I hope there is, but I've got this feeling...
...this empty feeling in the pit of my stomach that we're not making it out alive.

Call me crazy, it doesn't bother me anymore. I've heard it enough.
But this is what I believe.

Will you listen to my heart and tell me yours doesn't beat stronger?

I don't sleep.
It's part of not being human anymore.
I hope you don't mind.

How can I decide what's right when you're clouding up my mind?

To be honest, I love you.
It's not who you think it is.
And you probably won't be able to guess.
So don't try.
No one knows.
No one will know.

I see what you are. Who you are.
You're different just like me.
You have secrets just like me.
You want to be loved and no one ever will.
Just like me.
I want to hold you together when you fall apart.

You don't see yourself for all that you are, but I do. I want to show you your reflection in my eyes. I need to know your mind.
I'm getting closer. I am. I swear it.
I see something in you. It might kill me, but I want it to be true.

You're not like anyone else I've ever met.

P.S. I think this is it. I found what I've been looking for...

More pain.

It won't ever go away.
Feels like somethings ripping open my chest and tearing me to little shreds.
Make it stop.

WHYISTHISHAPPENINGTOME? WHYAMIFALLINGAPART?

Sing to me again.

I want to see in your mind more than I did.
I want to know what you know.
Because I won't think you're crazy.
Because they think I'm crazy.
"Sketched out."
No. I'm not.
I know this to be true.
No, I don't want to talk about it.
No, I don't want you to agree with it.
But I don't want you to call me crazy.
"To go insane you must, at some point, be sane."
Maybe I was.
Maybe I never was.

Maybe you feel just like me. Maybe no one does.
I think the latter.

I've got my hand over my heart. The beating is there, but just barely. It's too faint to be real.

The lack of blood is inhuman.

Three degrees off normal.

Lock me up and throw away the key. I know you want to.

This is only getting worse.
My mind is only getting scarier.

Tell me it freaks you out, imagine how I feel.
I'm stuck with it eating away at me 24 hours a day. 7 days a week. 52 weeks a year.
I can't get away. Ever.

I'm creating a new world. A small imaginary one with angry people. The way people look without their masks.
The way they talk without the recordings.

It's mean and angry and intolerable and I love it.

"Doesn't matter how you feel, life's just a ferris wheel."

My mind is at total peace.
Tonight was amazing.
I haven't been this content in a while.
I saw into a mind so beautiful...so magnificently amazing...I can't even believe.
Goodnight, world.
I've fallen back in love.

Tripping eyes...

Lethargic minds.
Vomit me back into the pit of God's stomach and churn me up.
Naturality in reverse and upside down.
Hold my hand until never. And then some more.
I don't know how to say what I need to without being put away.
To go insane you must, at some point, be sane.
Don't know what's left and right or up and down,
when I'm on my back at the bottom of this well.
There was a light, but someone covered it and now I can't see.
Reality hurts worst when you're sober.
Been eating pills like candy and murdering my stomach.
I thought I was seeing a brighter tomorrow, but it turned into a darker yesterday.
And I can't promise you that I'll come out in one piece this time.
Don't worry about me, because I'm fine. Or I will be someday.
Maybe.
I just want someone that doesn't only care so I care back.
Because that's not always the case.
And no, I don't love you like I did yesterday.
And I'll probably love you less tomorrow.
And so on and so forth...
Get me out of mind because I'm almost out of time,
to save myself and them before the whole game's over.
And before you're gone forever.

I don't care what you think as long as it's about me.

The best of us can find happiness in misery.


I think the world is jealous of something we have and they don't. The tortured, morbid minds that will never ever fit in. It's something they want, but it would kill them to have. We're special to have it, even if we don't want it.
Because not just anyone could deal with thoughts like these.
The constant plans to kill other people and yourself.
The neverending fear of things that don't exist.
The inability to sleep despite the fact that your mind is shut off.
What are we?
Who are we?
Are we just more kids...adults even, with messed up minds? Or are we something more.
Maybe we're a missing piece in a puzzle of billions. The ones that are there, you just can't find them.
Until everything else is in place. Then they show up...
I think that's us.
I think we mean more to this joke than we realize.
We are the punchline that no one gets.

She writes hate in big red letter cos that's all she'll ever know.

The time on these posts are 2 hours behind.
Kinda like my mind at night.

Keep Quiet.

Tired eyes hide under canopy lashes that keep you out and me in.
And you’ll never know a secret so big.
I take too many pills and don’t sleep enough.
Total wreck.
And do you ever notice.
Not as long as I smile out a “good, how are you?”
Barbie heart in the way that it can still be broken, but I don’t feel a thing.
Patch me back up and set me on the shelf.

Goodnight, stranger.

Laugh at me. I laughed at the blood on the carpet.

www.morningvision.blogspot.com

Lua

When everything is lonely,
I can be my own best friend.
I get a coffee and the paper;
Have my own conversations:
With the sidewalk and the pigeons and my window reflection.
The mask I polish in the evenin',
By the mornin' looks like shit.

Can't sleep cant sleep can't sleep.

Pain is shooting through my body and no amount of pills is helping.
And everytime I close my eyes all I hear is screaming.
All I see is burning.

Hold me tight and sing me to sleep.

I need to let this spill.

Aaron,
I miss you. I love you. I need you back.
But at the same time, I don't.
I don't know if you meant it when you told me you loved me, but I know I did. And I still do.
I'm not mad anymore. Just heartbroken.
I want to know WHY you left. Why didn't you tell me?
Was it because I wouldn't fuck you? Or maybe it was that I couldn't be with you 24/7.
Or could it have been that I wasn't pretty or nice enough.
Maybe I loved you too much.
Maybe I gave too much without expecting much in return.
I gave you everything.
My heart, my innocence, my love and attention. Everything. And you took it willingly and still wanted more.
I told you I wanted to wait. I told you that sex was a big deal to me. Why the fuck couldn't you respect that?
Why couldn't you wait a few months?
And then you convinced me. I loved you, you loved me, everything would be okay.
But I was scared and you didn't give a shit.
You held me and told me it would be okay, and I believed you then but not now.
And when I freaked out last minute, you were furious. You didn't tell me you loved me for almost 2 weeks.
Believe me when I tell you I wanted it. Just not then.

And that's what makes me believe that all you wanted was sex. Because if there was something else, you sure as hell didn't show it.
And if you loved me, you would have understood.

You were my world. I have NEVER. EVER. loved someone as much as I loved you. EVER.
And I just can't stop.
I've cried and sliced myself open for you again and again. Literally bleeding love.
And even when you saw the scars, you didn't seem very concerned. A "What the fuck were you thinking?" doesn't make things better.
Maybe a "I'm sorry. I love you." Or something.
But no. I got SHIT.

And then you were gone.
And I can't forget about you.
No matter how much I want to.
You are super glued to my heart. Unfortunately.

I need someone else.

-Bethy

The End.

Maybe.
I may do antoher chapter, but not now.
I'm watching the VMAs.

I'm infuckinglove with Russel Brand.
I want his babies.
Kay bye.

CHapter 14: If You Loved Me, You Would Be Here With Me.

"She told me something." Ryan whispered. He was sitting curled up in a sick, green hospital chair with Brendon on one side of him and Aleks on the other. Aleks could barely see through puffy, red, tear filled eyes. Brendon and Aleks both turned their heads toward Ryan as he spoke, but neither of them said a thing. "She said she wants me and Brendon to take the baby if something happens to her. She wants us to raise her."
Brendon nodded and pulled Ryan tight against him. A silent tear slid down his face as a doctor appeared in the doorway. The doctor pulled his mask down and walked carefully over to the three crying men. They knew immediately. He sat odwn in a chair across from them and folded his hands in front of him.
"We couldn't do anything to save Jasey." He spoke clearly. Almost like he was scared to mess up or stutter at all. "But the baby is fine." The three of them sobbed instantly.
"Can we see her?" Ryan choked.
"I don't know if it'd be for the best..."
"Jasey wants us," He gestured towards Brendon, then to himself "To take her."
"Then I guess you can." He sighed. "Follow me."

The three of them followed the doctor down a long hallway towards the nursery. Ryan and Brendon squeezed each other's hands nervously as they walked.
"Right through here." He stepped aside and pushed open a pink door. "The nurse will bring her to you." They stepped through the door into a relatively empty room. There were a few bassinets lined up against the far wall, but all of them were empty. A short, blonde nurse stepped out of another door at the back of the room. She carried a tiny pink bundle held close to her chest. She walked slowly to stand in front of Ryan and Brendon. Carefully, and ever so gently, she placed the tiny, squirming bundle into Ryan's open arms.
"Jamey." He whispered through silent tears.
"Jamey?" Aleks and Brendon asked together.
"It combines Spence's middle name and Jasey's first name. Jamey." He rubbed a thumb across her round, pink cheeks and smiled a little through the tragedy that surrounded him.
"Jamey..."

Chapter 13: I'm Your Mind Giving You Someone To Talk To.

/Aleks' POV.

"They said we could go back and see her." Brendon explained. "But only for a little while. She's not quite all there."
"But she's conscious?" Aleks asked. Brendon nodded.
"She asked for Ryan." Brendon continued. Aleks and Ryan exchaanged a confused glance and Ryan stammered a little bit before saying "Uhm...kay?" And heading towards the back of the hospital.

"Jase?" He whispered as he pushed the heavy wooden door open.
"Ry?" She answered. Her voice was cracked and raspy. Ryan walked quickly to her side, taking her hand and sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"Ry, I want to talk to you about the baby." She whispered. His eyeborws wrinkled up in the middle of his forehead.
"What about her?"
"If something heppens to me-"
"Jase, you're gonna be fine." She shook her head.
"Just listen. If something happens to me, I want you and Brendon to take her. Take care of her."
"Jasey, do you really think they're gonna let a gay couple adopt a baby?"
"If I tell them to they fucking better. I want you guys to raise her."
He nodded. "Okay. We will. We'll try our fucking hardest to get her."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
"I love you, Ry. Tell Brendon and Aleks I love them too."
"Jase, they're coming ba- Jase?" The machine to the right of the bed started beeping faster and a nurse rushed in. She pushed Ryan away and busied herself around Jasey. Two more nurses and a tall, gray haired doctor pushed passed him.
"Mr. Ross, I'm gonna have to ask you to step out of the room, please." The doctor commanded. He rushed to Jasey who was now unconscious.
"Is she okay?" Ryan mumbled, not loud enough for anyone to hear him. He backed out of the room and into Brendon. Brendon wrapped his arms around hum and pulled him closer.
"Bren, she's not okay, is she?" He choked.

A milli a milli a milli

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.
I hate god.
Simple.
He deserves to die.


I'm working on the next chapter in my story, so it'll be up soon. Hopefully yonight, but if not then definitely tomorrow night.

Full update soon.
I need to spill my brain.
It's imploding.

Would it break your heart if I stopped existing?

Breathe in too deep and breathe me in.

Breathe for me because I want to stop right now. I want my lungs to drown in the lack of oxygen. And I want to blame it on you and everyone else. I didn't want to you or anyone else to pull that string and send me spiraling. Unraveling.
It's your fault. But you still frown and ask what's the matter.
And I can't answer you.
I can't tell them.
I drown myself in fictional pages and wish to be them. Literally dream of living on the printed pages of a novel.
A mere idea.
Because it's better than this big fucking JOKE of an idea that God had.
Because he created you and everyone else that hurts me. And he hates me. And her. And her too and him.
Hates us an punishes us with you and your equivelants.
I wish that it could be over.
I wish that I could leave you behind and never turn around.
Ever.
I wish that when you asked me what the matter was you'd already know that it was you.
I don't want anyone to tell me they're sorry or apologize for nothing. I want you to tell me you;'re sorry and you mean it.

Because I said I'd leave if you never changed and you haven't changed but I can't leave.


PS. That was all a joke. Not the above. But the thing we've lost sleep over for the past few months. But it somehow seems unimportant.

IAMFALLINGAPART

"Took a walk under Hallelujah Pink clouds
Hands in my trench coat pockets
Keep quiet out loud.
Hide your tears in the rain
Bury your sobs inside the thunder,
it's okay.
The way my lips start to tremble
really makes me wonder.
Did you ever care at all?"

Yes.

Hate to love the one's that don't love you back.

Fuck. I never thought I'd actually go through this shit.
It's like all those things your daddy tells you when you're little. Y'know, "boys are mean." blah blah blah. Are finally coming true. Not finally like "I've waited so long for this" finally like "wow, never thought THAT'D happen."
I should probably listen next time my daddy tells me something.



(p.s. I miss you and you're not even gone yet.)

I've made a list of people I will be missing by senior year,

-Jessica.
-Kasen.
-The new baby.
-Niki.
-Rachie.
-K rith.
-Daddy.
-Someone I haven't met yet.
-Me.

I always wonder if you know what it's like to lay on the floor at 4am, completely numb when you realize that you're losing everyone.

"Every time you look in a mirror you remember you are always one second away from crying or getting it right."

And when I can't sleep at all I think of you. Atleast then I have a reason for not being unconscious at 3AM. Not like anyone's asking. I could fill up a room with apologies and promises that someone didn't mean and no one kept. And all the "I love you's" Were just to shut me up and keep me smiling. Glad we both had the same intentions. I bet you love the way "you" changes. Never the same person in this sentence or the last. I'd drop names, but then I'd probably trip on them too. I'm one mistake away from giving up or being okay. Guess we'll figure it out then. I love you and I love you back can't fix this. If there's something that needs to be fixed. I can't figure things out. Can't put 2 and 2 together without getting 22. Or something else irrational. It's like praying to God, even though you've never ever been answered. It never works, but why not keep trying?
Sometimes just seeing you makes me sick. But not in that "God, I wish you'd go away." way. More like it's unfair that you're happy and I'm not. I have an obsession with sleep and smiles and happy hearts. All of the above have I faked. And then things go a little better and I don't really have to force it. But apparently, "it doesn't matter how you feel, life's just a ferris wheel." Fuck you for writing the truth. You're the reason I'm so scared.

This is terrible.
RIP.

Chapter 13: And When I Lose Myself I Think Of You.

/Aleks' POV.

"They said we could go back and see her." Brendon explained. "But only for a little while. She's not quite all there."
"But she's conscious?" Aleks asked. Brendon nodded.
"She asked for Ryan." Brendon continued. Aleks and Ryan exchaanged a confused glance and Ryan stammered a little bit before saying "Uhm...kay?" And heading towards the back of the hospital.

"Jase?" He whispered as he pushed the heavy wooden door open.
"Ry?" She answered. Her voice was cracked and raspy. Ryan walked quickly to her side, taking her hand and sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"Ry, I want to talk to you about the baby." She whispered. His eyeborws wrinkled up in the middle of his forehead.
"What about her?"
"If something heppens to me-"
"Jase, you're gonna be fine." She shook her head.
"Just listen. If something happens to me, I want you and Brendon to take her. Take care of her."
"Jasey, do you really think they're gonna let a gay couple adopt a baby?"
"If I tell them to they fucking better. I want you guys to raise her."
He nodded. "Okay. We will. We'll try our fucking hardest to get her."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
"I love you, Ry. Tell Brendon and Aleks I love them too."
"Jase, they're coming ba- Jase?" The machine to the right of the bed started beeping faster and a nurse rushed in. She pushed Ryan away and busied herself around Jasey. Two more nurses and a tall, gray haired doctor pushed passed him.
"Mr. Ross, I'm gonna have to ask you to step out of the room, please." The doctor commanded. He rushed to Jasey who was now unconscious.
"Is she okay?" Ryan mumbled, not loud enough for anyone to hear him. He backed out of the room and into Brendon. Brendon wrapped his arms around hum and pulled him closer.
"Bren, she's not okay, is she?" He choked.

"I'm the kind of kid who can't let anything go."

Spent last night curled up on the floor.
Tears overflowing in one eye and spilling into the next
again and again.
I let it soak the carpet under me and then I laid in the cold puddle and cried until I puked.

Because even if you don't know what you're doing, it still hurts like hell.
And I still hate you for it.

I want things to get better and stay better.

Chapter 12: Hand Over My Heart, Gun To My Head.

3 months later.

I rolled over to a sleeping Aleks. He'd been sleeping in my room since Spencer died. I couldn't stand to sleep alone. A wave of nausea washed over me and I jumped up and ran for the bathroom.
I felt a hand on my back as I wretched over the toilet. "You alright?" He mumbled, sleepily. I shook my head and he knealt beside me, rubbing small comforting circles into my hoodie.
My head throbbed and a stabbing pain shot through my body, starting at my stomach. I collapsed against the side of the bathtub and everything went black.

Aleks' POV.

My head cleared it's self as soon as she hit the floor. "J-jase!" I managed to choke out. I ran to get my phone, grabbed it off the bedside table, and dialed 911. After about five minutes of studdering and yelling, the ambulance was on their way. I lifted Jasey and brought her to the couch, laying her down just as I heard the sirens. I met them at the door.
They lifted her onto a stretcher, strapped an oxygen mask to her face, and loaded her into the back of the ambulance. Tears met my cheeks as the door slammed closed.
I ran back inside for my keys, found them, and raced out to the car. The truck was already gone. I drove straight to the hospital, calling Ryan and Brendon on the way. They had been out on the date, but I'm sure they didn't mind being interupted for THIS. The closer I got to the hospital the harder it was to breathe. "What if's" and "How come's" filled my brain. I didn't know what was happening or what was going to happen. I parked in the first open parking spot I saw and ran to the Emergency Room doors.

"Jasey Smith?" I shouted out of breath at a nurse behind a cold metal desk.
"Uhm...are you a relative?" She questioned."No, I'm her best friend. Is she okay?"
"We can't release any information to non relatives." She explained.
"She doesn't have any FUCKING relatives," I growled. "Tell me if she's oh-fucking-kay."
I didn't notice Ryan and Brendon come through the sliding doors until a firm hand grabbed my shoulder.
"Aleks, go sit down. I'll take care of it." Brendon whispered. I nodded and followed Ryan over to the pukey green chairs."I'm Brendon Urie, I'm Jasey's brother. Can you tell me if my sister is okay?" Brendon lied.
Ryan and I exchanged a look as the nurse began to answer.
"We can't be sure of anything yet..."

"...where summers lasted longer than, longer than we do."

I can't believe it's almost over.
The sneaking out and the sneaking around.
The smiles and the sweat.
The hugs and the laughs.
And the love.
Walking four miles at one AM just to lay on the gravel and watch the stars with someone else.
Making friendships that won't last forever but I'm okay with just now.
Sleeping in the heat.
Talking to the dead.
Crushes and getting crushed.
Living and learning or maybe we didn't.
Busted lips and blistered skin.
Staying up all night and sleeping all day.
Being a mom and not having a kid.
Living for nights like the ones that won't happen again.
Dancing in the downpours and sleeping in the streets.
Being scared to sleep and scared of the dark.
Loving a heart that doesn't love you back.
Growing up.
Missing every second of it.

Someone somewhere said some things.

"I then decided that if I couldn't even keep the interest of an insignificant, pestilent little...beast boy, then there was absolutely no HOPE for me. I was losing...I felt so alone. Always alone....the cycle had spun on the blackest pits of hell...I decided to stop it where it was. So it wouldn't have another chance to turn.
I thought there was nothing in life that I valued, and I didn't want to feel this BIZARRE pain I'd been experiencing, I mean it was PHYSICAL.
Like something stabbing my heart over and over and over and over and over and over, digging deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper, turning and twisting inside. I just wanted it to stop....I was on my way. I could have done it. I told my mom I was staying with a friend....I was headed to the cemetery to do the deed- it's dark there, quiet, no one would come around for hours at least...
but i knew i was hurting you. even as i gathered everything i needed, i thought of you and i knew i would never do that to you.
i couldn't ever...
Cos when I say 'I love you', I mean it. :]"

And now I know everything happens for a reason. And we are best friends for a reason.
And I love you for a reason.
I'm not going anywhere and I'll never ever stop loving you. Hand over my heart, gun to my head.
If you go to hell, I'll go with you. Even if there's nothing there.
When you said it'd only hurt for a little while I knew it'd hurt forever cause it'd hurt the whole time you're gone.
And I have a low pain tolerance.

I'm not afraid.

You said hell and heaven aren't real.
And God is only kind of there.
And I believe because you would know.
And you are there.
And you are here.

Earth is just a culd-a-sac in this Universe we call home.
And I don't want to be here any longer than I need to be.
You're scared and alone.
And it shouldn't be that way.
You miss being alive.
And we miss having you by our sides.

I'll tell Jon whatever you want me to tell him. Tabby. Nita. Whoever.
I want you to move on, baby.
Don't stay here.

I love you too, Tana.
<3

God must be a mean and lonely man.

I need Tana more than God does.
Matilda needs Heath more than God does.
Jessica needs MeMe more than God does.
HH needs Casey more than God does.
David and April need Ethan more than God does.

I want him to stop taking people away. It hurts too bad.
He's selfish.
I hate him.

This is my 100th post.

Head on over to www.cantsleepever.blogspot.com

Insane.

The Joker taught me something.

Don't take yourself so damn seriously, no one else does.


I'm going to write a story from the mind of a mad man.
Realistically from my mind, but no one needs to know that.
If they did they'd probably lock me up and throw away the key.

I may start a new blogspot especially for it.

Keep your eyes open.

60---
We're getting closer.

I could bleed my heart out to you, and I don't think you'd care.

Because "every teenager feels like that"

That makes me hate you. You don't FUCKING care.
I won't let this go.

I could waste forever and a day telling you how much it hurts, and you'd shrug it off as normal behavior.
This is not normal.
I am not okay.

I am nothing like you or anyone else.

I don't believe what you believe.
I don't have faith in God.
I don't love everyone.

I do believe things will get better, because the day is darkest before the dawn and no matter what happens, the dawn will come.

That is simply why I haven't ended it yet.
Because for once I'm looking on the bright side.
I'm not taking you so seriously.

I'm loving only the ones who will love me back.
And caring only about the ones who care back.

I'M PUTTING A SMILE ON MY FACE.

I like to deal with your problems.

Truly. I can probably fix them better than my own.

I'd much rather deal with yours than mine.

I want to live in third person.

Like a book character so I can makeup my own story.

60---
I don't get it.

I can't sleep ever.

There's nothing but lightbulbs to keep you company at 3 AM,
when you realize that it ain't getting any better than it is.

Makes me glad I am the way I am.
Because I still say things that aren't sincere,
the kind that you want to hear.
And I'll still turn my back on you if given the chance.
And I want to change, but I really can't.

Like how I only love because it hurts worse when I forget to.

I want to change that and who I am,
and who you want me to be,
and who I should be,
and what I'm going to be.
But I have no idea how
or who
or what.
So I just won't.

"You're gonna figure something out, you always do."

I MEAN THIS

I can't stand to lose someone else.
I'll be here for you no matter what.
Hand over my heart, gun to my head.
I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL BE HERE.

Because remember, sissy. Seasons change...

People don't.

There will always be someone out to hurt you.
And there is always someone that's going to love you.
But you can't let the bad outweigh the good.

God's a sadist. Things will always suck.
You've got to take it in your own hands to make them better.

Things are more than alright if you just let yourself know it.

Keep telling yourself: You are good enough.

It was so easy to let me go down on you, but so hard to say "I love you" back. You absolutely refused.
And I still loved you.
When I couldn't stand to look at you, because you didn't look at me the same.
And when I'd stay awake because your voice drove me insane.
In a good way. I thought.

"Best friends" was defined different in your dictionary.

Guess things aren't always what they seem.
Smiles are just commercial for "I'll love you, but only if you fuck me."
Hugs were just meaningless embraces to pull me closer.
And we were only okay if you wanted us to be.
I've been lying to myself about everything.

And I said I'd never speak a word of it, but I lied.
That was not love and I guess I'm gonna have to live with that.
I can live with that.

Because I'm finding love in everyone but you.
And I'm hopping back on the life wagon and forgetting everything about you.

I have to get over it and open up because not everyone is going to huirt me.
And if they do, then it was a chance I had to take.

He's got more love now than you EVER had.

Chapter 11: Doesn't Matter How You Feel, Life's Just a Ferris Wheel.

Everything in the closet still smelled like him. Every hoodie, every t-shirt, every pair of jeans. I pulled out a black skirt that I hadn't worn in years, and a black sweater and held them to my nose.
"Jase...are you ready?" Brendn asked, pushng the door open and sticking his head through.
"Uh...not really. Hold on." I changed quickly and finished my makeup.
Everyone's eyes were bright red and no one looked particularly amazing. I took front seat next to Brendon. Aleks and Ryan sat quietly in the back. Their canoodling had pretty much been put to a stop. I slapped the power button on the radio and Counting Crows flooded the car.

Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog, where no on notices the contrast of white on white.
Between the moon and you, angels get a better view of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.

I walk in the air between the rain, through myself and back again.
Where? I dunno.

Maria says she's dying. Through the door I hear her crying.
Why? I dunno.

I sang along the entire drive, tears pooling in my eyes and eventually splashing down onto the cotton of my skirt. The blood drained from my face as we pulled into the funeral home parking lot.
"C'mon..." Someone whispered, taking me by the arm and helping me out of the car. It was Aleks. I let him lead me through the double doors and to the front of the room filled with people and pues and a coffin. I just stared at the cherry wood and cried some more. People approached me and attempted their condolances, but I ignored most of them. They weren't sincere. No one was. An old man stood behind the closed coffin and rambled about Spencer's accomplishments and family and friends and he'd be missed and God, but I didn't listen. Nothing was bringing him back. No amount of words or "I miss you"s.
I blocked out everything until we got back home, then I crawled into bed and curled up with a blanket. It smelled like Him too. Brendon laid down beside me and began to sing.

You know I don’t like you
But you want to be my friend
There are bodies on the ceiling
And they are fluttering their wings
It’s ok, I’m angry
But you’ll never understand
When you dream of Michelangelo
They hang above your hands

"We only made out, you never kissed me."

You ruined me.


And I miss you.

Our smiles are commercial for how normal we are.

Stay up with the rising sun and hope it raises my mood. Even though I couldnt care less. Fight over goodbye or see ya later. Even though they usually mean the same thing. Forget to sleep for memories and our sake. Whatever that means. Fall in love with him again. Even though you never really got up from the first time. Apologize even though its too late because goodbye is already gone. Hurt the ones you love. Love the ones you hurt. Give up. Stop giving a fuck. Pretend like you never did. Walk out. Just like them. Im tired of life. Must be tired of something.

Chapter 10: She Said She's Tired of Life. She Must be Tired of Something.

I woke up in a quiet room, the only noise coming from two beeping machines beside me. I opened my eyes and immediately regretted it. The light that flooded my vision was blinding. I groaned a little and sat up. The only other person in the room was Brendon. He was asleep in a chair across the room. He stirred as I reached for the small, pink cup of water on the table beside me.
"You're awake?" He mumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "I should go get the doc-"
" No," I cut him off. "What happened?"
"You passed out in the bathroom. You've been out for almost two whole days." He paused. "We...we made funeral arrangements..." He added, throwing his glance to the floor as a tear raced down his cheek, splashing onto the tile. My eyes teared up and I wiped the salty drops away quickly as a nurse came through the door.

"Mrs. Smith. It's nice to see you awake," She smiled. "How are you feeling." She grabbed a clipboard from the foot of the bed and wrote something down.
"Like shit. Mentally and physically." She adjusted something on one of the monitors. It beeped then went silent.
"Baby seems to be doing fine. And aside from a little bit of nausea, you seem to be doing alright too. Should be able to go home by tomorrow." She pushed a few more buttons on a machine before leaving.
"Where is everyone?" I asked.
"Ryan went to get food. Aleks went home for a few hours to change and get a shower. He's gonna bring you some clothes too."
"Have you left at all?"
"No. I told the doctors I was your brother. They let me stay."
"Sweet." I whispered and leaned back against the bed.

"We're back!" Aleks squeaked as he and Ryan came through the door. Ryan was carrying a McDonald's bag that was radiating a freshly burnt grease smell and Aleks had a blue duffel bag over his shoulder that I assumed contained clothes for me. They both hugged me before Ryan began distributing the food to everyone. We ate in silence, except for the constant beeping beside me, indicating the baby's steady heartbeat.

"This probably isn't the best time to talk about this, but...uhm...we made funeral arrangements," My stomach twisted and I had to work hard to keep my food down. "It's this Friday...at noon." Brendon explained. I sighed.
"I'm not ready for that..."

Chapter 9: There's Not a Pill That Can Keep You From My Mind.

And his back to me, walking out the door, was the last time I ever saw Spencer alive.

A knock came at the door about two hours and 4 phone calls to him later. It was a police officer and he was holding his hat to his chest. I knew immediately that it was either Spencer or Ryan. More than likely Spencer since they showed up at our apartment door.

"Mrs. Smith?" I nodded and my heart sank, nearly to my feet. "I'm sorry to inform you, but your husband was in an accident." Brendon and Aleks were behind me. Brendon grabbed me under my arms as I slinked down onto the tile in font of the door. "He died on the scene."

I couldn't hear anyone or see anything. All I could hear was Spencer laughing and all I could see was earlier that week when he had his head in my lap and was patting my belly. Our baby. A silent tear tread down my cheek as Aleks closed the door and sat down beside me. Brendon had his arms around me and was rocking. We were all crying.
"He can't be dead. Two hours ago...he was fine. No. It's not real." I whimpered into Brendon's shoulder. It was barely audible, but Brendon seemed to have heard.
"It's real, Jase." He whispered. Aleks was rubbing comforting circles into my back. He'd only known Spencer for a few hours, but it was enough to set him crying too.

"Ryan...he...we have to find Ryan." I murmured. Brendon just nodded. I could feel a warm spot forming on my shoulder from Brendon's tears. It was oddly comforting.
A sudden urge to spill my lunch washed over me and I ran to the bathroom, barely making it in time. Brendon held my hair back and cried into a towel. My whole body felt empty. My head spun and I wanted yesterday back more than anything. Spencer was my life. I wanted my life back.

The door slammed and I knew immediately who it was.
"Guys?!" Ryan called. Brendon jumped up and ran for him. A few minutes later, Ryan was sobbing. It made me cry harder. The room began to spin and flashed black, then everything was blurry. Then completely black.

You know how sometimes you read something and picture an exaggerated version of it?

I was reading Peter's blogs and he said something about sleeping in airport lobbies. I imagined him asleep in some packed full lobby with a 14 year old girl wearing a Fall Out Boy shirt curled up in the seat next to him asleep. Except they don't notice eachother ever because they're both dreaming. Because they're both normal people.
Her hero and his hero.

TRUE FUCKING LOVE.

"if i bashed your head in how good would the secrets be that poured out.

sometimes i am just letting you shine.
even with all the greens and honey in these eyes.
growing up became growing old.
ive learned to keep myself quiet.
to be a stow away in this life.
to not make waves but sometimes scream and fight over nothing so great at all.

Hurt the ones you love. Love the ones you hurt.

death is a circle
that keeps closing in on all my friends
hit the brakes
dodge the bends
"gum drops and chimney tops"
this is the minutia of city flats
i want to paint the sun on my wings
than you can have it back
hell is having your choice of anyone or anything
this band that plays just for youi
singing "fuck you" turnpike blues
spiritual mediums just scratching
at dull sentimental backs
declawed memory itches
break your leg in the generational gap
wells vomit childhood wishes
the midas touch in reverse
and could it get worse
the crabapple doesnt fall far from the tree
tin man syndrome
you got big dreams, watch me break them
and for everything ive seen
and all ive had
god must be
a mean lonely man

honey is for bees, silly bear
besides theres jelly beans everywhere
its not what it seems, in the land of dreams dont worry your head just go to sleep
doesnt matter how you feel
lifes just a ferris wheel
its always up and down, dont make a sound
when you wake up the world will come around
its just sweet weather and peacock feathers
in the morning itll all be better
dont worry your head just go to sleep.

im exploding just too slowly for anyone to take notice.

life is more than alright when you let yourself know it. theres not a hole in your head or your heart if you dont want there to be. its funny how people get nostalgic for the worst times in your life. people sometimes seem to miss the person i was when i was just in a self hating haze or fantasize that i miss or should miss someone who made me feel as worthwhile as a pile of dirt and spent their entire life decieving me. thanks to my friends who have let me grow into something new. i am listening to blues. i am having great conversations with friends. i am writing. i am walking the dog. i lying in the sun. i am riding a motorcycle. i am lauging. i am being in love"


You've read it before.
Read it again.
I love him.

"dont for a second think i have forgotten you or the way you make me smile on gray days or in stormy weather"

For a second I thought you did.

You could trade mistakes for sheep and count me away forever at night.

I've learned to keep myself quiet because talking is of no use if no one listens.
Persuasion is only another word in the dictionary if the persuaded plugs their ears.
Put me down or fix me.

I won't tell you to stay anymore because I know you can't.
I won't cry when you leave because it's not goodbye.
More like see ya later.
Kind of.

I miss walks and no sleep and you.

I have a love/hate relationship with laying in the floor at 4am when I realize I'm losing everything.

My friends aren't really my friends anymore.

It's okay to break down.
It's okay to let yourself go.
It's okay to forget to eat or sleep for days on end.

It's okay. Except it's not.

Letting go isn't worth it and forgetting doesn't fix anything.
Makes things hurt worse, really.

Sometimes I wish I could fast forward through everything that we're gonna go through, but other times I'm glad we have to go through those things.
Because pain lets you know your alive and I don't like feeling dead.Even thought it's easier.

I'd like to think there was a time when I actually gave a fuck, but I can't promise anything.

It's funny how everything- from the dog across the street, stuck out in to rain, to the TV that I don't really watch -makes me know how alone I am.

I guess I've kind of accepted it.

Don't try to argue with manics.
You only waste your breath.

I can't wait to find someone who will always be there.
Never ending.
Never leaving.
Because I need consistency.

I have been deprived of the vitality of it.

Keeping your eye on the clock doesn't make anything but your brain run faster.

The truth about loneliness it never gets better.
It's either there or it's not.

And right now it's in full bloom.

Seperated at birth.

Y/Y?

I vote yes. Cept I'm chubbier.

HAY THERE LONG LOST BROTHER!

Tana Marie Hayes

Left: Tabatha Hayes.

Right: Tana Hayes.

That was their last picture together.

I remember something. Everything about it. What we were wearing. What we said. You making me wear your jacket because you didn't think mine was thick enough. About 8 months before the accident. It was Christmas. You came to Florida to visit. We went to the beach the night you got there and it was the first time you had ever been. I remember you laughing at how you couldn't see anything because it was so dark, but you really wanted to collect some seashells. So we did. We spent hours on the beach laughing and stuffing seashells in your purse. It hurts so bad to go to the beach and think of you. Only because I know we can never do that again. I miss you so fucking much, Tana. Every day. Every single day I wake up and think about you. Think about how you'll never get to swim in the ocean, or dance in the rain, or sit and watch the clouds.

It hurts so bad. Everyone says it'll get better with time, but it hasn't. It still hurts just as bad to see your picture on the entertainment center or to here Mom and Mamie talk about you. It hurts to see Jon cry and miss you. It hurts to see Tabby alone when you should be with her.

I miss you, Tana.

Chapter 8: You're still the good-for-nothing I don't know.

NOTE: YES, I'M AWARE THAT I SWITCHED BACK TO PRESENT TENSE.





When we get back Spencer is asleep and Aleks and Ryan are cuddled on the couch. There's a movie playing, but I don't recognize it. I nudge Brendon a little towards Ryan and Aleks. They need to talk.

"Bren." I whisper. He lets out a pitiful whimper, but doesn't say anything. "Aleks, can you help me in the kitchen?" I ask.

"Can't Brendon help you." Ryan cuts in.

"Aleks is taller." I state and Aleks slides off the love seat. "Can you get me a powerade off the top shelf?" I ask once we're in the kitchen. He nods happily and reaches for it.




"Fuck you, Brendon!" I hear Ryan yell before the door slams.

"Shit." I whisper. Aleks moves quickly back to the living room. Brendon's sitting on the love seat with his head in his hands, obviously crying. I rush over to him, grab his hand, and pull him behind me towards the bedroom.

"What the fuck happened?" I whisper urgently.

"I don't know, Jase. I don't fucking know." He breathes. He's pacing and wiping at the corners of his eyes.

"What did you say? What did Ryan say?"

"He told me I was being a bitch and I told him that he hurt me. I didn't tell him how. I should have fucking told him, but I didn't and he left. He fucking walked out." He's close to hyperventilating.

"Brendon, calm down. You need to breathe. He'll be back."



Spencer is awake when we reemerge from the bedroom. He looks utterly confused. So does Aleks. And on top of Aleks' confusion, he looks heartbroken.

"Spence, can you go get Ryan. Just tell him he needs to come back here. We need to talk about this." Spencer nods and leaves, still looking confused. And I tend to Brendon's very near breakdown.

Turn this up, I'll tune you out. Another night alone in the city.

I'm
losing
everyone.

Chapter 7: My Insides Are Copper. I'd Kill To Make Them Gold.

Ryan and Aleks had seemed to hit it off. They were on the love seat, surprisingly close, talking and laughing about god knows what. Brendon was dancing around to some unwanted, particularly aggravating music that he refused to turn off.
"Brendooon." I whined. "Please. Put on some good music. That shit's making me want to kick babies." He pouted as he rummaged through a CD case.
"How about Counting Crows?" I nodded in approval and he played the CD. He took a seat on the floor in front of the couch, "When are you gonna have that baby? I'm tired of you being so cranky."
"You've got about 4 more months of it, Bren. I'm not due 'til December." I laughed.
"Shit. Those things sure do have to cook a while, huh?" Brendon had always been like my little brother, despite the 3 months he had on me.

"Hey! Lovebirds! Not on my couch, kay?" Spencer said, tossing a pillow at Ryan and Aleks who, at the moment, were pretty close to jumping each other's bones. They laughed nervously and slid apart. Brendon didn't even look in their direction, just stared intently at the floor between his legs.
"Bren?" I nudged his shoulder.
"Hm?" He looked up at me. He looked kind of aggravated and I could tell he was trying to hide it. I gave him a questioning look and threw my glance over to Aleks and Ryan. He just turned back to picking at the carpet. I looked up at Spencer who looked completely uninterested, then over to Aleks and Ryan who were back to canoodling.
"Hey. Bren. Do you want to ride up to the store with me? I need Pop-Tarts." I asked, rolling off the couch and grabbing my keys off of the coffee table. Spencer started to protest, but I gave him that look and he shut his mouth.
"Uh. Yeah. Sure." He answered.

"So, what's going on, Brenny?" I asked once we were in the car.
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"You're not very good at playing dumb, ya know. What's up?" He just sighed and looked out the window.
"It hurts to see him with someone else." He mumbled.
"Ryan?" He nodded. "Have you told him how you feel?"
"No. It hasn't exactly come up."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I don't really see him all over another guy very often."
"Oh...well maybe you guys should talk. He's not gonna know how you feel unless you tell him."
"It doesn't matter, he obviously doesn't feel the same about me."

Spencer Smith: Jasey's baby daddy.

OMG ROFL.
SPENCER SMITH: MAKING MAN CURVES SEXY SINCE 1987.

I'd TOTALLY do him.

Just saying.

Bare Me New Bones.

Elizabeth Bathory
Countess of Transylvania, vampire: Born 1560/61; died, August 21, 1614.
In order to improve her complexion and also to maintain her failing grasp on her youth and vitality, she slaughtered six hundred innocent young women from her tiny mountain principality...
The noble Báthory family stemmed from the Hun Gutkeled clan which held power in broad areas of east central Europe (in those places now known as Poland, Hungary, Slovakia, and Romania), and had emerged to assume a role of relative eminence by the first half of the 13th century. Abandoning their tribal roots, they assumed the name of one of their estates (Bátor meaning 'valiant') as a family name. Their power rose to reach a zenith by the mid 16th century, but declined and faded to die out completely by 1658. Great kings, princes, members of the judiciary, as well as holders of ecclesiastical and civil posts were among the ranks of the Báthorys.
Adopting an exalted name did not alter some basic familial preferences among lesser lights however, and in order to consolidate more tenuous clingings to influence there was considerable intermarriage amongst the Báthory family, with some of the usual problems of this practice produced as a result. Unfortunately, beyond the 'usual problems' some extraordinary difficulties arose (namely hideous psychoses) and several "evil geniuses" appeared, the notorious and sadistic Erzsébet the most prominent of them.
Truly, she was evil enough to be recognized as one of the original "vampires" who later inspired Bram Stoker to write the legend of Dracula -- but unlike Stoker's story, she was real.
Unusual for one of her social status, she was a fit and active child. Raised as Magyar royalty, as a young maid she was quite beautiful; delicate in her features, slender of build, tall for the time, but her personality did not attain the same measure of fortuitous development. In her own opinion her most outstanding feature was her often commented upon gloriously creamy complexion. Although others were not really so equally impressed with the quality of her rather ordinary skin, they offered copious praise if they knew what was good for them, as Erzsébet did not accept unenthusiastic half-measures of adulation; and she was vindictive.
She was only 15 when she was 'married off' for political gain and position to a rough soldier of (nevertheless) aristocratic stock and manner. By reason of the marriage, she became the lady of the Castle of Csejthe, his home, situated deep in the Carpathian mountains of what is now central Romania, but which then was known only as Transylvania. Located near no exciting urban center, the castle was surrounded by a village of simple peasants and rolling agricultural lands, interspersed with the jagged outcroppings of the frozen Carpathians.
While the picturesque setting embraced a bucolic tapestry of ideal small fields, meandering stone walls, quaint cottages, a few satisfied brown cows, and goats with tinkling bells about their necks scampering amongst the chickens, life here was uneventful. The castle was typical for its day and place: cold, dun, gloomy, damp, dark; unlike the cozy thatched houses of the peasants below.
While her husband was pursuing his passion, the soldier business, and off on various campaigns, for Elizabeth -- who did not wish to amuse herself in the out-of-doors where those loutish peons were grubbing in the mud -- life became poundingly boring in very short order. Being an energetic teenager, although one with a view and experience of life which was 'special,' she set about finding novel amusements to occupy her days.
Her tastes were of a certain slant, and consequently she began to gather about herself (as her ample financial resources readily accommodated) persons of peculiar and sinister arts. These she welcomed into her presence, affording them commodious lodging and lavish attention to each of their most singular needs and interests. Among them were those who claimed to be witches, sorcerers, seers, wizards, alchemists, and others who practiced the most depraved deeds in league with the Devil and too painful to mention even in a story such as this. They taught her their crafts in intimate detail and she was enthralled. But learning such unspeakable things was not enough.
War in the 16th century was a brutal affair. While fashionably fighting the Turks and attempting to gain information from prisoners captured, her husband employed a horrid device of torture: clever articulated claw-like pincers, fashioned of hardened silver; which, when fastened to a stout whip would tear and rip the flesh to such an obscene degree that even he, a cruel man, abandoned the apparatus in disgust and left it at the castle as he departed on yet another heroic foray.
Elizabeth was not alone in her 'unusual' interests. Aware of Elizabeth's complex preoccupations, and amused by them, her aunt had introduced her also to the pleasures of flagellation (enacted upon desolate others of course), a taste Elizabeth quickly acquired. Equipped with her husband's heinous silver claws, she generously indulged herself, whiling away many lonely hours at the expense of forlorn Slav debtors from her own dungeons. The more shrill their screams and the more copious the blood, the more exquisite and orgasmic her amusement. She preferred to whip her 'subjects' on the front of their nude bodies rather than their backs, not only for the increased damage potential, but so that she could gleefully watch their faces contort in horror at their most grim and burning fate.
Her husband died in 1604 (some say 1602) of stab wounds imposed on him by a harlot in Bucharest whom he had not paid, and Elizabeth immediately dreamed of a lover to replace him, since she never cared for him in the first place -- so much for her mourning. However, the mirror showed her that her prurient indulgences, as well as time, had taken their toll on her appearance. Her 'angelic' complexion had long since faded to something less than perfection; she had reached 43. Her desire for a lover did not fade; she raged deep within, cursing time.
Such a simple interest as a new husband was not to rule the day, it was merely a detail. With the demise of her husband, prowling highly placed men began to smell a ripe opportunity to seize the power and influence encapsulated in the Báthory name; likely by acquiring her and then eliminating her. As well, she was next in line to become King of Poland, and she wanted the job. This seeming anomaly was possible within the governing constructs of the time, and the office of queen held no political weight. At the same time, she was educated beyond all those around her, reading and writing four languages while the prince of Transylvania was an illiterate boor (who bathed regularly -- every year on his birthday).
Maintaining her youth and vitality became central to this developing plot; the absolute divine right to power she understood was hers to keep and protect would be essential to the attainment of all that she sought. Vanity, sexual desire, drive for political power all were seamlessly blended into a central primordial passion. If she lost her youth, she could forfeit all.
Her mood deteriorated markedly and one day, as she viciously struck a servant girl for a minor oversight, she drew blood when her pointed nails raked the girl's cheek. The wound was serious enough that some of the blood got onto Elizabeth's skin. Later, Elizabeth was quite sure that that part of her own body - where the girl's blood had dropped - looked fresher somehow; younger, brighter and more pliant.
Immediately she consulted her alchemists for their opinion on the phenomenon. They, of course, were enjoying her hospitality and did not wish to disappoint, so, fortunately, they did recall a case many many years before and in a distant place where the blood of a young virgin had caused a similar effect on an aged (but generous) personage of nobility and good grace.
With such clear evidence at hand, Elizabeth was convinced that here was a brilliant discovery; a method to restore and preserve her youthful glow forever, or at least until she got what she wanted. The advice of her 'beauty consultant,' a woman named Katarina, concurred that her clever realization was most surely sound.
Elizabeth reasoned that if a little was good, then a lot would be better: she firmly believed that if she bathed in the blood of young virgins -- and in the case of especially pretty ones, drank it -- she would be gloriously beautiful and strong once again.
For years, Elizabeth's trusted helper in her various secret pleasures had been Dorotta Szentes. Now with her, and other 'witches' to help carry the load, Elizabeth roamed the countryside by night, hunting for suitable virginal girls as raw material for her difficult quest.
When back in the castle, each batch of young girls would be hung, alive and naked, upside-down by chains wrapped around their ankles. Their throats would be slit and all of their blood drained for Elizabeth's bath, to be taken while the heat of their young bodies still remained in the thickening and sticky crimson pool.
And every now and then, a really lovely young girl would be obtained. As a special treat, Elizabeth would drink the child's blood: at first from a golden flask, but later, as her taste for it increased, directly from the stream, as the writhing and whimpering body hung from the rafters, turning pale.
Although she had held off her political foes, after five years of this enterprise Elizabeth at last began to realize that the blood of peasant girls was having little effect on the quality of her skin. Obviously such blood was defective and better blood was required.
In early 17th century Transylvania, parents of substantial position wished their daughters to be educated in the appropriate social graces and etiquettes, so that they might gain the 'right' connections when ripe. Here was an opportunity.
In 1609, Elizabeth established an academy in the castle, offering to take 25 girls at a time from proper families, and to correctly finish their educations. Indeed, their educations were finished.
Assisted by Dorotta Szentes (known also by the graceful diminutive "Dorka") these poor students were consumed in exactly the same beastly fashion as the anguished peasant girls who preceded them. This was too easy, and Elizabeth became careless in her actions for the first time in her dreadful career. During a frenzy of lust, four drained bodies were thrown off the walls of the castle.
The error was realized too late, for villagers had already seen, collected, and begun to identify the girls. The disappearance of all those young women began to be solved; the secret was finished.
Word of this horror spread rapidly and soon reached the Hungarian Emperor, Matthias II, who immediately ordered that the Countess be placed on public trial. But, her aristocratic status did not allow that she be arrested. Parliament at once passed a new Act to reverse this privilege of station (lest she slip from their hands) and Elizabeth was brought before a formal hearing in 1610. Interestingly, no authority seemed inclined to offer any form of attention to these matters when merely peasant girls had been the subject of Elizabeth's blood-letting for five years previous.
By the final count, 600 girls had vanished; Elizabeth admitted nothing. Dorka and her witches were burned alive, but the Countess, by reason of her noble birth, could not be executed. Katarina was somehow seen as another victim, and was set free.
So, Elizabeth was damned to a death while alive. Sealed into a tiny closet of her castle -- and never let out -- she died four years later.
Elizabeth did not ever utter even a single word of regret, or remorse.
A note of interest: When Elizabeth was 25 years old, Stephan Báthory (a prince of Transylvania and her uncle) was elected King of Poland.
The last regularly scheduled trans-Atlantic passenger ocean liner ship in operation was named the "Stephan Batory" (a typical spelling variation.) It ceased operation in 1991, and its ports of call were Gdansk, Poland, and Montréal.
© Jerome C. Krause

Chapter 6: You Can Take Your Time, Take My Time.

The next few days seemed to drag on but when Saturday was finally there it went by too fast. I was pacing back and forth in the kitchen waiting. Spencer wasn't back from the studio yet. On top of the normal being pregnant sickness, I hadn't been able to keep anything down all day from nervousness. The small apartment smelled strongly of Febreze. Or maybe it was just my highly inclined senses. I rested my hands on the bump protruding from my hoodie. No one knew. No one but me, Spencer, and a few of our friends. I was about to walk a hole through the floor when the door bell rang. I stopped in my tracks and stared at the door. It rang again. I pulled my hoodie around me and walked shakily towards the door. The boy who stood on the other side was a slightly bigger version of the one that left 4 years ago. His hair was styled in relatively the same manor and he was still tall and skinny. He still wore the dark wash skinny jeans and ridiculous t-shirts. And he still had that same pitiful, crooked smile.


"Hi." I murmered, my eyes welling with tears. A smile spread across my face and he leaned in to hug me. I felt at home. It was a familiar embrace that I had desperately needed for 4 years.
"Wow." He said, pushing me back at arms length and looking me up and down. "God, Jasey. I've missed you so fucking much." He pulled me back into a hug. I was crying. We were still standing in the doorway.
"I've missed you too, Aleks." I took his hand and lead him inside.
"Well...what's going on with you?" He asked as we sat down on the couch, highschool style.
"Uh...a lot, actually. I've got a boyfriend, you talked to him on the phone the other day, his name's Spencer. I'm pregnant." I patted my stomach and a look of shock washed over his face. "Haha. Yeah. We've got a bun in the oven."
"For real? That's uh...not what I expected."
"Yeah me neither." I laughed. "So...what's up with you?"
"Not too much. I've got a place upstate and I'm going to school to be a writer. Nothing major." Just then Spencer came through the door.
"Oh! Spence's home." I got up to go meet him at the door. "Hey baby."
"Hi." He smiled.
"This is Aleks. Aleks, this is Spencer."

"Oh my god. It's so nice to meet you." Aleks squeeked. He was apparently familiar with Panic! At The Disco.
"It's nice to meet you too. I've heard a lot about you in the past few days." Spencer laughed in response to Aleks' reaction.
"You never mentioned you were dating Spencer SMITH." He whispered as he turned around. I just laughed.
"Anyway. Uh. Are Ryan and Brendon coming over tonight?" I asked. A huge smile spread over Aleks' face. Spencer nodded and tossed his jacket over the back of the recliner. I grabbed it and scowled at him, taking it to the bedroom. I heard him chuckle as I walked off. Right then. That's when everything was perfect.

Chapter 5: They Call Kids Like Us Vicious and Carved Out of Stone.

4 years. 4 fucking years and he finally calls. Wow. I didn't really know what to say. I mean, you're best friend disappears for 4 years and then out of the blue calls you one day. What was I supposed to say?





"Aleks...What happened?"
"Jasey, I'm sorry. I just...I couldn't come back."
"You could have fucking called me." I was trying my best not to cry. Spencer looked more and more confused by the second.
"I couldn't...I couldn't risk getting caught." I could hear the tears in his voice. He sounded just as pitiful as he had 4 years ago.
"Well...where do you live?"
"Upstate New York." He sighed. "You?"


"Manhattan. My big city rock star dreams never really came true. You need to come visit me."


"I planned on it. God. You don't know how long it took me to find you. I've been trying for almost two years. I've missed you, sis."
"I've missed you too, kid. I really have."





Our conversation continued for a good hour and Spencer eventually gave up on trying to figure it out. I had to explain everything about my past to him after I got off the phone.
"He's coming down this weekend." I explained.

"Good. I'm glad you guys finally found each other, Jase. This is one of those tragic Lifetime movie stories that never actually happen in real life." He said apologetically.

"Yeah. Except this one is real life. We need to clean and shit. Make the apartment presentable." And I was right. There was no way I was letting anyone in here in it's current state of chaos. There was clothes everywhere and nothing was in order. I stood up quickly and grabbed a pile of laundry and carried it to the washing machine. Spencer went to work on the bedroom. It wasn't too bad, but it wasn't exactly neat either.

A little over 2 hours later the apartment was spotless. I collapsed onto the couch and Spencer did the same beside me, resting his head in my lap. I ran my fingers through his dark hair and sighed. I wasn't sure if things were getting better or worse. I was ecstatic to have found Aleks finally, but I was scared. He disappeared for 4 years, things don't just immediately go back to the way they were. So much had changed. We weren't 17 anymore.

"Heyyy babbyy." Spencer whispered, caressing my stomach. I smiled down at him. The baby kicked at the sound of his voice. Another thing Aleks wouldn't expect: I was about to be a mom.