The Blood

" . . . Right all of my wrongs; what's done I can't redo. I'm just looking in my rearview . . . "

Yet again, I've succumb to pop culture and modern day society, and I created another social networking account: Facebook. *cues spooky action thriller music* My natural voyeuristic instinct told me to start adding all of the people I don't necessarily like or care for but whose lives I would like to know more about. Number one on that fateful list is a person who is near and dear to my heart in the most impractical and unfortunate of ways. Reason being, he could care less about me as long as he knows I don't "belong" to anyone else. He is the motivation for the blog but hardly the main idea.

This blog is about a quest for love. A love that I'm sure that I've found.

Brace yourselves . . . actually, brace yourselves Darnell and Tiara and Robert. You're the only ones who read these God forsaken things anyway :)

The Past:

A young girl with a heart of gold and a desire to be loved more than anything found herself in the most unlikely of places: Altamonte Springs, FL (Orlando, FL Network--> add me on Facebook) lmao. I had to do it. OK, serious again. It was unlike any place she had ever been before. Every other place she had lived in was place no one cared to live in or visit. This was Orlando. The mecca of tourism and popularly associated with parasitic, pompous partygoers with money growing on non-existent citrus trees grown by hopeless parentals. (That was extensive, but I like it.) No more rambling. She wasn't ready for what she was about to learn, receive, and/or explore.

Her first year was acceptable. She was the nerdy little freshman that everyone expected her to be. She did her work except for Brody's class. She stayed out of trouble but only because she couldn't find trouble. She had her love. She had her phone. She had her pictures. She had her videos. She had her mistakes. They didn't seem like mistakes at the time, but they were. The year passed as they all do, and in the end she lost her phone. She lost her pictures. She lost her videos. And she gained her mistakes. The mistakes she lived with for quite some time.

She had love too but not for herself. She loved this boy...these boys with all of her heart. They didn't love her, but that didn't matter. They molded her into whatever it was that they wanted for the moment and like clay she eventually hardened. The soft shell she had created to be pleased became the biting topcoat she stumbled upon to please.

She was looking for love and she had it in particularly noteworthy abundance from a young man who also did not love himself. In short, it failed like all of her relationship, but she learned a valuable lesson: Love is hard to find, but it's even harder to sustain . . .

End.

She cooled off in the love department and moved onto much better experiences. She moved onto what she thought were bigger and better things and lived to regret them. She was a beautiful little thing. Well, maybe not so little, and she used that to her advantage. Hair from the Newland, skin from the Homeland, and a body so supple and firm from the collarbone to each and every one of her phalanges. She played all of the parts too: the lover, the fighter, the pleaser, the teaser, the teacher, and the student. She played all of her roles so well, and her fans stood in awe and were always in need of an encore. They worshipped her, or so she thought, and she naiively came back every night for an encore performance. Still not enough, though . . .

End.

It didn't really matter what was good enough in her mind at this point. Her mother had come to the conclusion that it was time for an intervention. This intervention came in the form of a woman with the proper certifications to make her feel better. The only problem was she didn't feel better, so she found a way to ease the pain. She found Girl.

She felt strange. The hormones that raged in her earlier years when she saw a female suddenly came oozing out when she fell in love with Girl. Every desire she ever had to control her life was fulfilled by her ability to control Girl. Every desire she ever had to be loved was fulfilled by Girl's undying love for her. Every desire she ever had to be different and controversial and racy was fulfilled by her relationship with Girl. And, just as quickly as she thought she had been healed her open wounds were drenched in the salt of infidelity. A second chance was in order but it didn't last very long.

End.

So, there she was: broken and battered, confused and used, dirty and disgusting, nothing and everything . . . all at the same time. She figured at this point in her life it was about time she started living for herself. She got counseling but not for her mother or her father or God or her raging hormones. She attended counseling for self-improvement and that she received. She started living her life according to the Scripture and seeking assistance from Christ above all other beings or objects.

...

Today she's OK. She loves herself. She's loved. She knows how to love. Feelings of anger, resentment, jealousy, and frustration frequently pass through her mind and her heart, but they know that they are not welcome and quickly depart. Now, when she's says she's fine, she really is fine.

Beginning :)

Now, I digress.

Suffix -less

I never promised you a rose garden...or anything else in that case.

(I was just about to write an extensive blog about how much I hate my relationship with my mother, but then I changed my mind. Besides, nothing gets people's attention like bullet points with parallel structure.)

I love the fact that my mom accuses me of being without etiquette when I'm one of the most polite teenagers I'VE ever met.

I love the fact that my mom's definition of being "smart mouth" involves me disagreeing with her.

I love the fact that all of my immediate family members left us on our own and neither of them give a damn about us.

I love the fact that they left my mom with all of this pain, and I have to deal with it everyday.

I love the fact that I sound like the most stereotypical troubled teenage girl right now.

I love the fact that I feel like no matter what I say nothing gets through to her.

I love the fact that I've grown into such a confident young lady, and somehow this woman still manages to make me feel the way I did at my lowest of lows.

I love the fact that I have to be so strong emotionally that I sometimes have to remind myself that I'm human and it's OK to cry.

I love the fact that I have every avenue in the world to do "bad things," and I choose not to take them because I care so damn much about what they think, especially her.

I love the fact that I miss my sister more than anything in the world, and she won't just pick up the DAMN phone and call me.

I love the fact that every time I see a father and daughter together I get teary-eyed because it's not me and my dad.

I love the fact that every time I hear one of those cheesy "father daughter dance songs" I break down because it reminds me of everything I'm missing everyday.

I love the fact that my dad is all the way in Japan for what? for an iPhone, for Emory, for Belize, for me to be alone.

I love the fact that all of this pain and frustration and resentment and anger won't just go away.

I love the fact that my mom probably feels the same way about all of these topics, and we can't just talk it out because everything is a fucking argument.

I love the fact that I hate all of these facts.

Now, I digress.