No I Will Not Sleep In This Bed of Lies
Dear… Whoever. No wait. Dear Alex. And all my best friends:
I’ll first get out my thoughts about my friends. I was in psychology the other day and the teacher asked me to define normal. I thought about how, to me, there is no normal, no set definition.
But I thought: it’s different for everyone. Why am I sitting here criticizing everyone around me? All of them view normal from a different perspective.
And sometimes, I criticize my best friends, and I feel so bad about it. I realized that normal for Chelsea or Lana or Laney or anyone that I feel is close to me is a completely different thing than what I think of normal as. And I think now is the opportune time to apologize, but like I’ve said before, I don’t apologize because it shows regret. Without criticizing you all, I would never have come to this realization. So I don’t regret it, therefore, I am not sorry.
Secondly… Alex. What can I say about Alex? Let’s start here… Roman told me to stop thinking about him because it isn’t my biggest problem. That my homework was, so I can graduate and make a better life for myself. And I think… wow, he’s so right. Why am I thinking about Alex?
Wasn’t I the same person who said relationships were overrated? And I realize why casual flings are so much better than relationships… After a casual thing, you never literally hurt. You’re never in so much pain, you can’t say one sentence. You never want to cry and laugh at the same time. Cry about the fact that he’s not yours and laugh about how he WAS yours. Once upon a fucking time. For a casual thing, you never have to love the person. I wouldn’t have dated him again unless I loved him. That egocentric, blonde, pain-loving freak. I loved him once. Hell, I think I’m going to have a little love for him for all time. Because… it just seems wrong to forget your first love.
Ergo, I shall not forget you, Alex. I do love you, and hey, you want to be friends again? Nah, I don’t know if we’ll be the same. I wish we could. Truly, I do.
But if you do read this letter, will you tell me something? Why?
Why’d you cheat? Why did… why me? Why did you want me? Because I was one of the only people you knew that wanted you? Did you use me? Because I ask myself these questions everyday. Why did he pick a psychotic feminist over me?
What did I do wrong?
Or better yet… What was wrong with me in the first place?
Maybe I didn’t do anything. Maybe I was just a fucked up person in general. Maybe he took me because I wanted him and realized halfway in that I’m a fucking crazy person. Is that it?
Tell me why… a person with no heart can love? Or cry? Tell me why I’m fucking crying, will you? Because I can’t figure it out.
And while I’m sitting here, wondering if I’ll have enough credits to pass high school, crying, not believing how my life has changed in the past 3 years, you’re out there being happy with Whore… I mean, Morgan. So what if your parents know you smoke pot? Fuck it. You have who you love. Think that over.
Lay in your comfortable bed tonight with your Scooby and think… about how good your life is. How good you have it.
You’re so selfish.
Fuck I sound bipolar in this fucking letter.
Fuck this.
-Miranda Jade
(Mood: Can’t Be Explained)
I’ll first get out my thoughts about my friends. I was in psychology the other day and the teacher asked me to define normal. I thought about how, to me, there is no normal, no set definition.
But I thought: it’s different for everyone. Why am I sitting here criticizing everyone around me? All of them view normal from a different perspective.
And sometimes, I criticize my best friends, and I feel so bad about it. I realized that normal for Chelsea or Lana or Laney or anyone that I feel is close to me is a completely different thing than what I think of normal as. And I think now is the opportune time to apologize, but like I’ve said before, I don’t apologize because it shows regret. Without criticizing you all, I would never have come to this realization. So I don’t regret it, therefore, I am not sorry.
Secondly… Alex. What can I say about Alex? Let’s start here… Roman told me to stop thinking about him because it isn’t my biggest problem. That my homework was, so I can graduate and make a better life for myself. And I think… wow, he’s so right. Why am I thinking about Alex?
Wasn’t I the same person who said relationships were overrated? And I realize why casual flings are so much better than relationships… After a casual thing, you never literally hurt. You’re never in so much pain, you can’t say one sentence. You never want to cry and laugh at the same time. Cry about the fact that he’s not yours and laugh about how he WAS yours. Once upon a fucking time. For a casual thing, you never have to love the person. I wouldn’t have dated him again unless I loved him. That egocentric, blonde, pain-loving freak. I loved him once. Hell, I think I’m going to have a little love for him for all time. Because… it just seems wrong to forget your first love.
Ergo, I shall not forget you, Alex. I do love you, and hey, you want to be friends again? Nah, I don’t know if we’ll be the same. I wish we could. Truly, I do.
But if you do read this letter, will you tell me something? Why?
Why’d you cheat? Why did… why me? Why did you want me? Because I was one of the only people you knew that wanted you? Did you use me? Because I ask myself these questions everyday. Why did he pick a psychotic feminist over me?
What did I do wrong?
Or better yet… What was wrong with me in the first place?
Maybe I didn’t do anything. Maybe I was just a fucked up person in general. Maybe he took me because I wanted him and realized halfway in that I’m a fucking crazy person. Is that it?
Tell me why… a person with no heart can love? Or cry? Tell me why I’m fucking crying, will you? Because I can’t figure it out.
And while I’m sitting here, wondering if I’ll have enough credits to pass high school, crying, not believing how my life has changed in the past 3 years, you’re out there being happy with Whore… I mean, Morgan. So what if your parents know you smoke pot? Fuck it. You have who you love. Think that over.
Lay in your comfortable bed tonight with your Scooby and think… about how good your life is. How good you have it.
You’re so selfish.
Fuck I sound bipolar in this fucking letter.
Fuck this.
-Miranda Jade
(Mood: Can’t Be Explained)
posted by breatheme @ 10:31 AM
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