Oh Well.

What you did to me made me
See myself something different
Though I try to talk sense to myself
But I just won't listen

Won't you go away
Turned yourself in
You're no good at confession
Before the image that you burned me in
Tries to teach you a lesson

What you did to me made me see myself somethin' awful
A voice once stentorian is now again weak and muffled
It took me such a long time to get back up the first time you did it
I spent all I had to get it back, and now it seems I've been outbidded

My peace and quiet was stolen from me
When I was looking with calm affection
You were searching out my imperfections

What wasted unconditional love
On somebody
Who doesn't believe in the stuff

You came up on me like a hipnik jerk
When I was just about settled
And when it counts you recoil
With the cryptic word and leave a love belittled

Oh what a cold and a common old way to go
I was feeding on the need for you to know me
Devastated off the rage you found below me

What wasted unconditional love
On somebody
Who doesn't believe in this life

Oh well

-Fionna Apple

She put it better than I ever could.

Diddums Drunk, Take One.

What is it that I'm supposed to do that's going to make things normal between the two of us again? Cause I don't know how.

There's an overwhelming desire to talk to the person that I met two weeks ago, but I don't see him at all anymore and I have to wonder if he's ever going to come back.

I just see a dick.

Exscuse my bluntness.

Anyway. I will have a car on Wednesday and I will have time to give you a celebatory blowjob (Post interview obviously. I'm going to get a job because I'm amazing), and then, get out of your face because I don't think you value me for anything else.

You should take up the offer because while I am apparently ruining my undefinable friendship with you, I've recently discovered how much I do infact miss sex and well, you have a big dick.

And since all you're capable of giving me these days is dickishness and a giant dick, I think I should make the best of the situation and use what's available.

And I am unbelievably drunk and in dire need of someone to shake me senseless because you sir, are no good.

300 Reasons to Cum.

I saw 300 tonight and I have decided that my new infatuation belongs to this man.

Fuck you 19 year old! He's way hotter.

Spring Cleaning.

I walked from Donlands Station to my house today in the rain and it was awesome. My socks were soaked, my hair was ruined and I'm sure I looked like an absolute fool to all the motorists that past me, but I didn't care. I just needed to walk.
There's a giant peace that settles in me when I move. If I had a discman today, I probably would have looked like I was bouncing on a cloud; when music and fresh air hit me at the right time, I light up. I'm happy that I'm finding the time again to walk like this. I miss it.

The level of independance that I had managed to take such joy in two weeks ago has found me again. Mind, its not exactly bursting out of me like it was last week, but its there and I'm happy to be friends with it again.
All of the ill feelings that had been washing over me seemed to have vanished with a string of thought out words and what I hope was sincerity. I'm calm again. Collected. Some may say a force to be reckoned with and all I have to say about it is, "Thank Fucking God."

The fight that I got in with my sister two nights ago seems foolish.
Her perspective still pisses the living shit out of me, but the underlying fact that she is my sister seems to outweigh the offensiveness of it. No matter how much of an ass my sister is, I still manage to find my way back to accepting that, that's just the way it always will be.
I'm just waiting for the character to catch up to the philosophy when it comes to Stinky. I hope she manages to acheive it.

There are bits of me that feel guilty and ashamed for the way I've been acting. For the long and overly emotional blog entries, for the nagging and needy personality, for expecting something out of someone that owed me absolutely nothing...
I've realised that I hide myself from any type of emotional connection because I'm afraid of growing more cold and ridgid when it breaks. That childlike innocence that I used to have isn't there anymore and I'm in desperate need of it again.

I'm going out with my friend Dom on Saturday. He's taking me to the Distillery. I'm going to ruin that man in the most happiest of ways. Its time for me to start finding that innocence again.

Its Just Me and Myself Again and I'm Just Talking to the Walls Tonight.

There's this bitter pain that gets stuck in my ribs somewhere near my heart.
I can't tell if its my lungs breaking or my heart trying to repel an overwhelming sense of fear and abandonment. Maybe both, probably both. Give it ten more minutes and I'll be running to the bathroom for steam and something to puke in.

This isn't a confidence issue.

I wanted so badly to be alone.
There was this level of happiness that I was maintaining all by my lonesome. It sat there like a happy bird, singing its praises of my future ambitions, dreams and desires and it was so content to live without a partner and I do believe she refused to have one, so many times.
How many instances does one need to scream, "NO" before it sinks in? How many times? And when does the realisation that you fucked with something you shouldn't have come into play? When do you start to feel bad? Oh wait, you have a new girlfriend already. You won't feel bad. Because you played me and I was stupid enough to let you.

When am I going to smarten up? Blayne said that I was the exception to the Heliocentric rule, perhaps to a fault. Its about time someone noticed.
But this is how people are supposed to be. Basic rules learned on the first day of Sunday School. You treat people the way you want to be treated. A concept that has been lost in the midst of text messages and parents' credit cards.

My glazed over eyes and aching sides can't take much more of this.
I don't like being fucked with. I don't like pouring my heart out only to have it evaporate. I don't like finding solace in a stranger that turns into a demon. I don't like this indifference, this forgetfulness, this giant fucking handprint left on the side of my face...

STOP FUCKING WITH ME.

You fucking idiot. You mistook my empty and broken insides for a lack of confidence. I'm sad, I'm lonely. I miss having a home and I miss having a steady income of affection and love. You fucking tard, you DON'T MESS WITH THAT. I'm not OK and you knew that, but you don't care and I'm wasting my time typing this because no one will ever get what you did to me and how badly it ruined me.
It was worse than the wrath of ten mothers calling the police on her terrified daughter. It was more heart breaking than hearing a father call his daguther a whore, on repeat, like a broken record. It was more insulting than having a sister who wouldn't defend my honour by refusing to speak to someone so disgustingly empty.

How such a simple thing like sex could make my insides so complicated.

But by the end of this confession someone else has made me smile and thinking about you isn't so difficult anymore. Its just those moments alone when I'm sitting and thinking of your face when words make little sense and I'm suddenly lifted to a different level of comprehension, where all I can do is cry.

I am so tired of you.

Doormat.

I don't know what to say to you anymore and I don't know if I should even begin to try to suss it out because I'm under the imrpession that you can't possibly care to hear it. I'm going to try and whether or not you read it is your decision. I just need to say this stuff.

I don't care anymore about what happened between us. I struggled with your decision, and there are times when it still pulls me in the wrong direction, but I understand it. That isn't what this email is about.

I promised you the first night that we talked that I would stick beside you no matter what. And despite your rudeness and indifference, I plan on living up to that promise because I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't.
I unfortunately don't know you well enough to decide if you're just a flat out asshole, or really do have so much baggage that you can't handle people accordingly. I don't get why you're so short with me now, or why you're rude, and unkind and generally uninterested in me, but whatever, its your decision and I'll live with it because if that's what you want, that's what you want.

But I'm not going to piss off.

I have no intentions of persuing you anymore though. My existence is here for you to use. Its not a fuck toy or an emotional and verbal punching bag. If you need me, you know where to find me. I'll help you with whatever I can because I said I would and because I want to.

I think I'm doing this because I don't want you to have an exscuse to be so miserable anymore. You told me you didn't feel loved, or that you didn't feel like you had a sense of home. I'm offering you my friendship. I want you to have a place to go that makes you feel welcome, and positive, and full of good things. Perhaps I'm being presumptious in assuming that you don't already have that. All in all, I just want you to smile.

I'm not going to be like everyone else in your life. Whether you want to acknowledge my presence as something you want, is up to you.

To quote Mr. Folds again,
'So freak out if you wanna and I'll still be here. Don't call me for years and when you do, yeah I'll still be here. I'm not sayin' the effort is a waste of time, but I just love you for the things you couldn't change, though you've tried. These hours of confusion they will soon expire, like everything does."

I hope to see the Andrew I met at Peaks around again some time and if he doesn't want to see me, at least he knows now that someone cares about him unconditionally.

Fuck You Cocksucker.

You're right, I was wrong about you.

I wonder if its actually my problem, this seeing the good in people when its not actually there.

I obviously know its not his fault. Shit happens, but he handled it poorly and he seems uncaring and indifferent to the fact that I'm puking because of anxiety attacks. I can't help this, it comes with who I am. Its not like I WANT to puke.

But its not your fault. I get that.

I haven't eaten anything for the past week. Its too difficult to chew and swallow and food is sincerely grossing me out. I've managed to keep down fruit, vegetables and rice and that empty feeling that's sitting in the bottom of my stomach makes me feel comfortable, nothing else. Just comforting.

He said that one of the reasons why he wasn't attracted to me was because I didn't have any self confidence.

Sure. I get that too, cause I don't.

Not when it comes to him anyway? Why should I? He also said he'd give me a list of reasons as to why I suck. That was like getting beaten with an emotional 2x4.
When I tell people that the reason he doesn't want to date me is because I'm not confident, the look of absolute shock spreads across their already horrified faces. They say, "You Anna? YOU? That makes no sense." And I tend to agree, but the indifference is weaving its way into my comfort zone and I simply don't care enough to be bothered anymore.

The only good thing that came out of this was the conversation I wanted to have with my sister for ages. I'm tired of not having a connection with her and he brought us together in a way that I think only he could do. Good for him. At least he got something right.

People have asked me why I look so miserable. I say its because I'm tired, but the comforting feeling of an empty stomach is overshadowed with enormous pangs of disgust, self loathing and the most atrocious anger I've ever known.

The first stage of separation goes as follows: Desperation. The powerful stench of confusion, bent emotions and words getting caught in the middle of your throat, It burns throughout my mind, constantly reminding me that once again I have been fucked.
The second stage balloons into an aggressive complex that makes me want to spite the bastard and everything and anything that's close to his heart. I want him to regret ever knowing me, I want him to regret not being able to have me. I want him to cry because he missed out on something that was more than he could ever possibly handle.
The third stage is indifference. I just don't care anymore.

Chelsea said the reason why I liked having him around was because he belched out positive energy. She's probably right because he is the epitome of sunshine, but the more I think about him, the idea of dating him becomes absolutely asinine; my heart just needs to catch up with my brain.

And I need to stop chirping.

But I still feel like a god damn dumpster.

I should have known when he went online to talk to my sister after we fucked that it never would have worked. I should have been mad when he didn't get up the next morning to drive me to the bus stop. I should have been sly enough to turn an oblivious shoulder to his conclusion of our short-lived romance, but that's not who I am.

I can't not care. But I definitely can break his nose the next time I see him.

Mountain Goats.

"On the morning when I woke up without you for the first time, I felt free and I felt lonely and I felt scared. And I began to talk to myself almost immediately, not being used to being the only person there, in the room."

Stunningly simple lyrics. I enjoy them immensly.

My sister was talking to this kid for the past little while.
She told me that he was so cool because they were into all the same stuff. I must admit, the theories that my sister bounces off of me from time to time are a bit insane. I've failed many times to wrap my brain around such intricate philosophies of life and forestry and wholism, but then, it was never my bag. I like to dumb it down. See the forest for the trees, not the trees for their spectacular auora.

Anyway, Stinky wouldn't date him for a lot of reasons that she listed off to me in the car on the way to drop me off at the bus terminal. She summed it up with,

"He told me that he doesn't want to talk to me anymore because I won't date him."

Sometimes Chelsea is quite skilled at hitting my stupid button and when she's on, she hits it with the weight of a bag of two thousand pounds of concrete bricks.

"What are you talking about Chelsea, that's not selfish."
"Yes it is. He's not letting me have a friendship with him."
"You think its fair to him to continue seeing you when all its doing is hurting him? Thats not being selfish, that's him removing himself from a situation that will do him nothing but harm."
"I guess, but I still think its selfish."
"Well, you would."

Two days after that conversation took place, he added me to his face book.

I don't generally enjoy talking to my sister's friends.
They tend to be selfcentered little snots who do nothing but drink and belittle eachother. A lot of her friends have unhealthy relationships with a lot of different people and I find it hard to believe that they can all call eachother friends when they all seem to cause nothing but drama for eachother. But whatever, they're not my friends for a reason.

I ended up talking to this Andrew fellow on Wednesday night.
I was overly hesitant. Usually when males message me (when they're dating, or trying to date my sister), its to hear about how to impress her and believe it or not, talking about my sister isn't exactly the most thrilling type of conversation for me.
But he was cool and by midnight that evening, he had told Chelsea that he didn't want to talk to her again and so I was put in an awkward situation because I genuinely like the kid, but know that my sister will blame the downfall of their relationship solely on me. Because that's what Chelsea does. I'm her older, evil sister.

This kid is an excellent soul.
I'm dumbfounded that my sister would throw away such an opportunity to be with someone so kind and comforting, but then Chelsea always has been rather bad at dating the right type of guy and I know that if they would have dated, it only would have lasted a month; he's too nice.
But I like him and sometimes I wonder if its alright for me to like someone my sister had her claws in first, but I've gotten to a point in my life where I don't care anymore. I just need to be able to get over the fact that he's nineteen and I need to meet him and of course, both factors are almost nearly impossible.

Chelsea did elaborate on the reasons as to why she couldn't date him and at the time, I could only accept them because this Andrew wasn't tangible. But now that I know him, these reasons seem so ridiculous and unfounded that it makes me think my sister is a vain little bitch, but then she always really has been.

It seems that I am collecting an interesting group of friends for when I return to Niagara and after hearing that it is more than possible that I will be hired at the casino to make pastry for seventeen dollars an hour, life seems so much more liveable.

Pitty Fuck.

Chef Gallacher found me three apprenticeships in Niagara. In two more months I will never have to live in this God foresaken city again. In two more months, I will be gaining my 4000 hours that are necessary to become a chef and in two more months, I'll never sleep in the same bed as Andrew again.

I went home for my break and had an awesome fucking time.
I hung out with some friends, met some new friends, did a lot of baking and just enjoyed the use of a car, a house, the lack of responsibility and the massive amount of time that seemed to tick away in the most happiest of ways. I didn't miss Andrew in the slightest.
But coming home and seeing the mess that he's gotten himself into just made me feel bad for him and now there's this overwhelming surge of guilt ripping through me that keeps mouthing, "You fucking bitch. He's useless. What is he going to do without you?"

Ah Zut.

Two days ago I was so disgusted with him that just looking at him made me miserable. Now, I feel so much pitty for the stupid man that I almost burst into tears every time I think of leaving him. Yesterday I threw out milk in the fridge that was two months old. I didn't even know it was there 'cause Andrew stuffed it behind the meat and cheese bin. The fucking bastard can't even clean out the fridge properly! *sigh*

I'm too nice, but I'm not stupid. Staying him to take care of him is not something I'm willing to let myself do. I need to move on, but its difficult and I'm amazed that I've managed to be brave enough to persue a future without him this far.

I am excited for it though.

I'm All Perogied Out.

I'm sorry to have consumed all your minutes. That was evil of me. And I won't be offended if you don't respond to me. You don't owe me a response, so no worries.

I was thinking about this weekend and our conversations today at work. I'm probably being a bit overwhelming and more than likely, a bit overbearing and so I'm sorry for that. I just dislike wasting time.
I never expected to like you and I definitely did not expect you to return the feeling. I find it hard to believe that you could like me as more than a friend, only because of the way you hold yourself. I've always prided myself on being able to read people decently and your mannurisms, comments and characteristics don't exactly emote anything close to being romantic, and that's fine, I just want you to tell me that. You're not doing me any favours by being too nice.

I know I'm a good person. I know that I'm a decent listener and have a good heart and a whole world of other things that mean absolutely nothing to men. If being good inside meant anything to your gender, I would have millions of males breaking down my door, but that's not the case. And if men would date women because of their beautiful eyes, then again, I'd have thousands of suitors, but I'm not so lucky.
This is what I meant when I said, "I don't want to meet you, because you won't be attracted to me and I'll feel awful." If I hear one more person tell me how excellent I am, and then have them continue the sentence with something along the lines of, "but that doesn't warrant a relationship" I sincerely think I'll loose my mind.

So to acknowledge my overbearing side, I realise that you want to be single and appreciate it and understand. I don't want to date you, I don't want to sleep with you and I don't want to be anything more than a good friend to you. I just have a crush on you and I am more than wanting to push it aside so I can just be a friend. I just wanna hang out and be two good people, enjoying good times, and encouraging eachother to do stupid stuff for ten dollars (You should have tempted me, I need the money).
If anything develops over the x amount of months that we have to look forward to, then excellent. For now though, I'm just your friend Anna, because I know that's what you want, and I'd be a shit friend to not respect that.

So, no more flirtatious conversation from me. We'll chat, I'll listen, we'll walk and I'll finish some sort of painting for you to put on your bare walls.

It will be excellent.

I hope you enjoy your flick. Try to ignore the celly phones.