old spice.

nothing's worse than waking up on a fold out couch

with a voicemail from your dad saying everyone is concerned with your behavior.

my. behavior.

hmm.

i didn't want to come home this morning,

or afternoon i guess i should say.

"if you don't want to follow their rules then you can move out"

where the fuck.

i've waited all day to discuss my behavior with my grandparents.

my not-going-to-school, not-working, staying-out-late, sleeping-odd-hours behavior.

1. this has been my best semester out of my 4 years at moorpark.

2. i would love to have a job, i have tried to find a job, but i feel if i had a job i'd stop going to school. school is more important to me.

3. i never go out. ever. i'm not sure when exactly i'm staying out late, if i'm always home.

4. as long as i'm going to school i don't see why me sleeping during the day matters.

yes, i went out at midnight last night to melia's.

i left a note, i left her cell number, i told them to call me if they were worried or whatever.

so i get a call from my dad, not them, that they're worried and concerned.

i'm not following the rules.

i apologize for complaining/ranting.

i've just been waiting all fucking day to say these things

but no one has been home all day.

and they didn't even leave a note.

i left a note.

i know they're concern is all out of love

and i love them to death,

i just wish they'd let me be and let me learn.

June 29, 2004.

my mom drove me 79 miles to meet you

June 29, 2004.

we had planned to wear pink shirts & black bottoms,

pink was your favorite color.

we walked around the ontario mills mall

with my mom walking in front of us,

while we looked in stores you held my hand.

you bought chicken nuggets and a sprite from carls jr.

sitting at the table

you held my hand.

you gave me the receipt because it had pink streaks on the sides,

pink was your favorite color.

you ate mentos on the way back to your house

you gave me all of the pink ones,

because they were your favorite.

on the way to your front door

you held my hand

on June 29, 2004.

i found the receipt while cleaning my room today,

i wondered why i still had a receipt from 2004,

then i saw the faint hint of pink on the sides.

here we are 5 years later,

and all i can think about is how you hold my hand.

just that simple gesture,

not the kisses, not the hugs,

just the way you hold my hand.

normally i would be done with you by now,

deleted you from myspace, facebook, my phone, deleted pictures,

texts, everything, to get over you. to forget you.

but i can't stop thinking about how you hold my hand.

it's driving me crazy that you won't text,

it drives me crazy that i dont know what you're doing

or where you are or who you're with,

and its driving me crazy that i might be that girl,

the girl who tries to stay in your life when it feels thats not what you want.

i wish i could believe that you miss me when you say it,

on the rare occasion that you do say it.

and if we can't be together like that then i guess i'll be fine

just holding your hand.

wow.

what a day.

so God, if this is the answer to my prayer,

i'm not down.

if you knew what i know

would you try?

and

today was a day just like any other.

i didn't get my birthday kiss.

i barely even got a text from you.

what. the. fuck.