Well, it's been a while since I've been on here.

Everything has changed.
I lost the one person I thought I'd always have and I'm pretty sure she doesn't care at all.
I messed us up when I was trying to fix me.
Why does this always happen?

"So no matter what I do from now on with my time,

you will always stay here in my mind. I'm certain of this and I'm not certain of anything."

Today, I woke up and got ready for the day. I took the kids to school and dropped Jess off at work. I went to Wal Mart to get a few things, then to Jobs Plus to find a job. There are signs every where that tell you to turn your phone to silent or vibrate. So I did. I sat down and filled out my information. My phone kept buzzing. I ignored it. I had to be professional.
I got back to my car, pulled out of the parking lot, and opened my phone. There was one text message that I got 6 times. From Libby. "Ricky killed himself this morning."
I knew he'd been fucked up the night before, so I assumed it was a joke. Like "I drank so much last night I think I killed myself."
She called me crying.
It wasn't a joke.
It wasn't a rumor.
It was real life and my world ended.
I pulled over and talked to her, begging her to tell me it wasn't true. "Don't fuck with me like that, it isn't funny."
I drove by his house and there were so many cars in the driveway.
There's never any cars there.
I sat outside and screamed at the windshield and cried on the steering wheel until I couldn't see or breathe.
I called Niki and begged her to tell me it wasn't true. She didn't know.
I went to the school and looked for Ricky. I wanted more than anything for him to come around the corner and smile "Hey Snookums!"
But then I saw Vickie and she was crying and Mr. Dunn had announced it to the whole band.

So this is it. My best friend is dead.

He took too many Ambien, freaked out, and hung himself.
Just like that.

I don't think I've accepted it yet.
Accepting it makes it too real.

So many times, I thought my world was ending.

I thought I'd lost everything.
I thought I couldn't go on living anymore.
I thought "This is the worst my life will ever be."
I thought I knew what it was to lose someone you loved.
I was positive I knew what it was to be given up on.
I thought I'd experienced heart break.
But none of it compared to my best friend telling me she didn't care anymore and it was my fault.
That's when I saw my world explode.
That's when I gave up.
She was the only one who ever cared, no matter what.
The only one I trusted when they said forever and always.
The only one I could rely on for anything at any time.
And now she's gone, just like everyone else.
I've pushed her away.
A thousand promises, broken.
Everything, meaningless.
All because of these stupid moods.
And these goddamn addictions.
And these fucking illnesses.
And everything I can't control any more.

"Nothing is static. Everything is falling apart."

I can't tell you how many times I've written about change. Good and bad.
But this is different. This isn't just change. This is everyone going in different directions.
We're all becoming who we promised we wouldn't.
Even me.
I don't know if I should try to fix it or just let life evolve.
I mean, this is what happens, right?
We all go our separate ways.
Some of us get boyfriends and fall in love.
Some of us hate our families or everyone.
Some of us move away.
Some of us die.
And some of us get addicted to being a mess.
I never thought there would come a day when you didn't mean the world.
But I've realized that everything changes.
Everyone leaves.
No promise goes unbroken.
We all fall in and out of love.
We all get hurt.
And eventually, we're all forgotten.

When things get weird,

I come here.

I'm kind of getting the whole being too dramatic thing. It isn't worth it anymore.
I just want to love and live and drink in peace. Do you get it?
I miss people.
I wish some of them would change.
And I still love them.
But I'm meeting new people and I like this.
They're brand, shiny new.
I think it's what I need.

I'm looking back,

at the old posts about Jeramy that were exactly a year ago. It's weird how much the same I feel. I thought things had changed, but they haven't. Not really. I think I'm just better at dealing with them. Maybe not even that. I still love him, despite everything he's done. It's true and unjustified and I can't have any of it. But I'll be okay. It isn't so bad.

Incidentally, I hope things clear up, soon. I can't handle seeing you sad like this. It isn't normal. It isn't the you I know.
I promise you, best friend, things will get better. Simply because I can't see them getting any worse. And you're too wonderful for them to stay this bad.
Don't think you're an awful person, because you're not. You're absolutely lovely. You made some mistakes, but you learned from them.
And I swear that I'll always be here. At the other end of the phone, or, if you need me bad enough, at your front door.
It's gonna be okay. <3

Well,

I haven't blogged on here in a while.
Things are changing.
Every time I turn around, something's different.
But I'll be here for a while: heyheybethy.tumblr.com

I'm falling back in love with life.

I just hope it sticks.

Seems like every time I get to be around you, I get happy for a time.
I think I'm being stupid.

"I've found the cure to growing older."

These past few weeks are the most alive and infinite I've ever felt.
And I'm not lying when I say I finally feel okay.
I stopped faking it when I realized it was getting me no where.
I don't want to stop doing what we're doing because I'm scared of how I'll feel.
Winter's coming and you know how I always get when temperatures drop and skies clear.
November spawns a different monster every year.
And I'm trying to keep it inside me this time.
So I'm gonna keep drinking until I forget things.
And I'm gonna keep smoking my breath away.
And I'm gonna keep skipping classes I don't want to go to.
And I'm finally going to live like I've wanted to for so long.


Yes, I'm scared of where I'm going, but I'm even more scared of where I know I'll be if I stop.

Something about what we did

Feels so wrong.
But so right at the same time.
It wasn't what I expected, but I'm not sorry.
And I can't bring myself to regret my decisions.
They were bad, yes.
That I'll admit.
But I wouldn't take it back.

We didn't plan this, but I hope it works out.

Best friend.

I've never felt closer to anyone than I do you right now.
I fucking love you and trust you with my life and so much more.
Don't ever leave me because promise I won't ever leave you.
I love you.

"No, I'm not real. I never was."

Physically and mentally, I've been constantly sick.
Dying with every chance I get.
Losing it.
If you knew half of what I know, you'd lock me up for good.
All promises moot.
You can't begin to sympathize.
Punching pillows, sweating bullets, and fighting back screams.
Skipping sentences because I think you're in my head.
"I can't rhyme.
I can't breathe.
I can't write.
I can't be.
There's terms and conditions to keep me from speaking.
Words and religions to keep me from living."
You think it's funny.
The way none of it's funny.
And the way nothing makes sense.
And you can't get it through you're pretty little head that I'm fucking sick.
And I hate the way you look at me like I'm faking every bit of this.
Like "it's all your fault."
You don't even understand how much it is.

I just wish you could be wrong about one thing.

"You're already the voice inside my head."

I miss you.

The door closed, forever changing her perspective of love. Every touch, kiss, hug, laugh was suddenly meaningless. It didn't make sense. Her head spun and her knees threatened giving up. Hate? Not possible. She raised her fist to knock again, but couldn't do it. Heartbreak on repeat. She moved her left foot back and then her right. A whole step away. Two more. One more step and she'd be out of the light. Out of his life. Is that what he'd said? She couldn't comprehend recent events. It didn't make sense.

"Medication for the kids with no reason to live."

I can't begin to explain my reasoning.
There is none.
Method to my madness? Nope.
You're just not what I want.
But I'm in too deep to turn it around.
I've got to find my way out.
I've never lied about "I love you," more than I am now.
Or maybe I just can't yet.
I can't give love that I don't have.
But you've given me too much to take care of.
I'm trying.
Really, I am.
And that's why I'm still in this.
But everything's too familiar.
You are a cliché.
You're in love with the idea of love. Not me.
I can't see it being serious.
"Denial."
It's a possibility.
I know I can't love you like I loved him.
Not now, not ever.

I don't know what to do.

I've got nothing for you to gain.

I've been trying to talk myself out of "I want to die" and back into "I'm just glad I'm alive."
I can't convince myself none of it's a lie.
Your words are pretty, and laced with sincerity, but I can't believe you mean it.
I don't see that it's possible.
We're on opposite ends of the spectrum.
You want everyone to know,
but I'm not so sure.
This isn't what I expected.
Automatic bliss, like before, maybe.
No more worries,
frowns,
breakdowns.
So maybe this isn't it.
Maybe you're not what I need.
Maybe I need someone to explain it to me.

"I wanna be your happiness."

I don't know what to do anymore. I've spent so long pretending I knew what to do and how to take care of this and myself and how to balance my brain, but this...this is terrifying. I don't know how to tell the ones who need to know because I don't know how they'll handle it. "You're a teenager." Yes. "You're crazy." Quite possibly. I'm tired of hearing it. I'm tired of hiding it and getting frustrated with myself for not being able to control my brain. I want to rein it in and make it behave but it runs rampid and destroys every good thing. I want to feel okay. Not manic or depressed or scared. I want to be normal. I want to function normally with normal people. I want to be able to look you in the eye with out being afraid of you seeing it. I want to do things and not get upset. I want this not to be me. I just want it to all go the fuck away and leave me alone. And sometimes I want to not be alive anymore, but I know that's not an option and I could never.
But mostly, I want you to be able to look at me without seeing some psychopathic maniac behnd a shell of a girl.
Because that's all I see anymore.

I am Jack's restless mind.

"You can't fight the tears that ain't coming."

I've spent the past few nights curled up in the corner, ripping my hair out, and screaming through my fucking teeth trying not to disturb anyone. It's never been this bad. I've never been this downright fucking perplexed at my own brain. I don't know when or why it started again. But it's worse now. I haven't cried because I'm sad. I've cried because I'm pissed off at myself. Nothing makes sense. Nothing fits. Nothing is right. My moods are constantly swinging and I want to stop it but I don't know how. I want everything I had two weeks ago. I want to be happy and not angry all the time. I feel like that mouse standing on the flower pot in the water. If he sleeps, his falls in. He suffers. He has to stay awake to survive. Maybe that's overdramatic, but it's what I mean. Nobody FUCKING understands and I'm sick of being told they do. I'm sick of people trying to tell me how to handle it when they don't know what they're handling. I can't just go to sleep. I can't just be happy. It won't be alright. I don't want your pity or help. I just want to be left the fuck alone. I want to wallow and rip my hair out on my own. I don't want comfort or a pat on the back. It's not FUCKING helping. No one can help me. Of that I am convinced. I'm sorry. I'm really fucking sorry.


Back to wallowing.

Things have changed for me.

Maturity is necessary for the way we live.
Emotional rollercoasters.
Up and down and down and up and upside down then right side up again.
Parents teetering on the edge of sanity, threatening to take us with them.
Unfinished plans we keep remaking.
And "You're only 16 once." But also "Grow the hell up, kid."
Not sure where we go from here.
How do we decide what to do with what we've spent so much time doing and redoing?
I couldn't stand to walk away from everything I've put so much time, love, and care in.
Maybe I speak for myself only.
Can't leave it behind but it's not really a question.
Mandatory, maybe. But more like a request.
Like "I want you to clean your room."
Responsibility on our shoulders that we can't stand.
That we didn't ask for.
That we don't WANT.
The solution is simple, really, if you think about it.
GET OUTTA TOWN.
Incidentally...we don't know how.


Ps. I don't think it's a question of knowledge, I think it's more to do with gut.



Sorry, this wasn't poetic or pretty. That's something that I seem to have lost touch with. It's just something that's been on my mind lately.