11:42 pm


I’m laying on the couch, downstairs.

I can’t sleep.

It’s 11:45 now.

I just snuck upstairs and made myself a cutie and peanut butter snack. I was extra quiet, and I did it all in the dark. I accidentally grabbed Dad’s peanut butter, Jiff, instead of my regular one. I knew it was Jiff by the smell. Sweet, sweet, chemically, plastic. I stealthily crept back in the cupboard in search of my all natural one.

We have a large glass window upstairs that pretty much covers our entire wall. I could see the slough from my house, my old middle school, tons of apartments all lit up like it was Christmas, Seaworld, the moon, I could see flashing colors of cars driving by; the world at night is a lot more colorful than it is during the day, or at least I think so. I felt oddly safe eating my cuties and peanut butter with a fork in the secret cover of complete darkness. It felt like I was the only person awake in the world right now. A lovely thought.

Hello friend

It’s me

Do you remember me?


It’s 12:06 am.


From rapunzel to alice in wonderland


Higher self: Who do u think u r?
High self: U can’t post twice in a day!

HS: U annoyed the world enough today, my friend. Just go back to alternating between watching “Reign”, reading “Eat, Pray Love”, and wearing your pajamas.

Me: No I really want to blog. Because my life is just so incredibly interesting and this helps me feel less lonely. Plus isn’t everybody interested in the life of a seventeen year old girl who mostly just goes to school, procrastinates too much, does homework until midnight, freaks out about the future, can’t afford college, & worries about everything?

HS: Lol guuurl

HS: U got some problems


The other day my friends’ and I were discussing what disney princesses we would be. S would be Jasmine, for obvious reasons. A would be Ana from Frozen, E would be Mulan because she does jiu jitsu and is badass, J would be Belle, and I am Alice in wonderland.

Who isn’t a princess, but that’s kind of the whole point.

Flashback to when I was thirteen discussing disney princesses with a “supposedly” friend. We walked every morning to school together, along with our old friend Scout. This girl, let’s call her Em, said that she was Sleeping Beauty ( I remember feeling disappointment because I’d secretly wanted to be Sleeping Beauty), Scout was Pocahontas, and I was Rapunzel-because I was “locked up in my own life”. I remember letting this sink in and then-

“Wait-what? What do you mean by ‘locked up in my own life’?”

She gave me an incredibly vague answer, but I could see it on her face. Oh sweetie. You’re just so naive, not so subtle, always rambling about unimportant things, you don’t know what you’re doing honey; You just don’t get it like I do. You’re not really “here”. 

And no, this is not me assuming anything. She used to say things like this to me. That’s why she was a “supposedly” friend. Back hand compliments. Snide to point out that she was in a few higher classes than me. I didn’t know as many things as she did. I was just annoying and in the way. I know all of this, and I can’t help but say I was a tiny bit relieved when she moved away. She didn’t like me that much.

Now I’m Alice in Wonderland. Alice was also off in her own fantasy world, curious about everything, small, like a little girl, & a dreamer. I’d rather be her than Rapunzel.

It’s true, I have to admit. One foot on Earth, the other in space. I often mix my fantasies with reality-and I prefer it that way. Call me a dreamer, call me a fool, but I’d rather be ‘up there’ then ‘down here’.

What the hell does it mean to look like a jennifer ?

The school nurse keeps on thinking my name is Jennifer.

I asked my friends: “Do I look life a Jennifer?”

S: Yes

K: I can see it

M: Totally

N: Yeah

J: Nope

Hopefully we’re talking about Jennifer Lawerence right?

I saw the school  nurse later at Pure Thai. My Dad picked me up at lunch to take me home. I’ve got a stuffy nose and sore throat. No fever, but I felt oddly warm. I asked him if we could grab some Thai food on the way home, and the nurse was there waiting to pick up some fried rice. I’d seen her just about fifteen minutes before hand so it was a little awkward to say the least. We all stood together and made small talk. She’d told me she’d seen some students on her way over here, but she pretended not to see them for peace of mind. I wonder if she thought I was lying about being sick just so I could eat some Pad Thai at my house.

And today I’m home listening to Bored by Billie Eilish. Except I’m not bored. I’m enjoying Netflixing episode after episode of Gossip Girl, and laying curled up in my bed.

My teacher slipped me on a note on Monday telling me to “Find my voice” during our class discussion about “East of Eden”. I didn’t say anything during the discussion. Public speaking really freaks me out. I know that I could speak up, if I really had to, but I choose not to. I feel like I’ve disappointed her. Today was supposed to be another class discussion on it, but here I am.

Also there’s a race today. J would have actually been there since her sister’s running. It would have been fun to hang out with her and A. I can’t see myself sniffing and coughing through the two mile though.

Monday night A texted me that she was coming over. It was 8:30. I sent back: Ok! You ok? Immediately she called me. She was crying onto the phone that she was with her boyfriend and they were stopping by my house. Several scenarios flew through my mind: parents getting a divorce, cat died, her boyfriend and her are splitting, something happened to her brother….

I sat outside of my house and waited. I vaguely saw them walking down the hill in the dark; I ran over to meet them. A smiled, but she had tears in her eyes. I gave her a hug and she brokenly exclaimed that Chika had died. Chika is the cat. Her first and only pet. I held her and told her I was sorry. Me, T, and A started to walk. T was holding her hand, my arm was around her shoulder. We went to the park and talked. I don’t think anything I said was really making her feel better. She kept apologizing for her eyes welling up and for pulling me out of my house. That’s my best friend for you; always apologizing for things she doesn’t need to be sorry for. It was a sad night.


This Saturday I’m going over Steve’s house for the first time. I don’t know what to expect. Apparently Saturday Steve and my Mom are dining with my doctor (her boss) and husband. So my sister and I will stay alone at his house. It’s kinda weird that it’s only going to be the second time I’ll be seeing him and I’m already “moving in” to his house. I don’t know. We’re going to some country club on Sunday for lunch? My Mom kept reminding me on the phone to

“Make sure you’re back at your Dad’s house by 12:30 because I have a very very important and expensive hair appointment at 2.” 

She keeps calling me and warning me about it. Yes Mom I get it. I will hopefully be back at 12:30 from the refugee center, but no offense, it’s a lot more important than the grey hairs you’re getting highlighted. Okay?


I’m feeling kinda lonely right now. I wish I had someone to cuddle with. That’s so cheesy oh my goodness. I’m watching too many rom coms. Help me.

Procrastination at it’s finest, The city of San Fran, & 2 am phone calls

I have math homework to do, half a book of East of Eden to read, two chapters of APUSH to read, essay questions,; to make it short: a whole lotta stuff. And I have all of tonight, and all of tomorrow. Except all of today all I’ve accomplished to do that’s even close to school related is look at my math homework. (Read: LOOK AT IT), and read 30 pages of E & E.

I hung out with M for a bit.

Last night, I swear to you, I planned on doing some actual work. Some family drama went down, I got a little dramatic, I admit, so I went over to Z’s house to vent. How many friends do you have that you can just call, and they come home to listen to you, then go back to a bonfire?

I love her.

Kahlil called me last night at 9. I was in bed, reading E of E, getting ready and cozy for an early night of bed. This entire week I’ve been waking up at 6am on A’s brothers couch, going out and exploring San Fran and colleges, and returning late at 10:45 or 11. So I was ready for a nice night of purple flannel pajamas. I looked at my phone, (the reason of my procrastination….problems, along with the computer ((the computer that I type on as we speak & Netflix on too)), and answered. We do this thing where we call each other out of the blue and catch up, not talk for many months, then do that whole thing again.

Everything we talk about is just a big soup of weird, funny, life things. I can’t say anything specific, because nothing ever was.

Weird thing: but Friday at the store I was buying some weird organic dairy free juice (wow girl, so ironic. You bought this after you had cheese and crackers, but now you’re dairy free?) and as I was walking down the aisle with my earbuds in some man saw me and said: “Clear the runway! Little girl coming through!”

Little girl? How old do you think I am dude?

According to a lot of people: young. I’ve got a baby face, and I’m short. Everybody exclaims from time to time: “You’re so cute!!!!” when I don’t even know why ? Or how?

I thought I was going to write more about San Fran and such, but I’m getting a bit tired. I will finish this episode, then I swear to God I will almost finish E of E. And maybe call Kahlil back, because he called me again.

Olive Oil in my hair/Kansas City in my earbuds

Wednesday 3/22/17 11:41 am 

I’m sitting on the bathroom floor right now with a shower cap on my head and some thick sticky olive oil smothered all over my hair…

A bitch gave me lice.

I hug too many people. It’s a problem. I hug my friends, I hug my English teacher, I hug my family (sometimes). I shudder to think about how many people I’ve infected. Or how many people infected me. The ultimate question of WHO DONE IT !!?!? is impossible to answer.

Thursday 3/23/17 

I contemplated skipping school today. I know it’s paranoia and all the lice are gone (I washed my hair with QuitNit 3 times, used dishwasher soap, olive oil, an evil small comb, blow dried and straightened my hair), but my head feels itchy still. Even though there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, there. I can feel the ghosts of the dead parasites crawling on my head.

I admit. The track meet may have had a tiny, really really small, slice of a reason on the pizza of Don’t Go To School Today That’s A Good Idea.

But I did.

And I’m proud. 6:21 on the mile? Not bad for someone who’s still trying to recover from sophomore year. Freshman year I was one of the best on the team with a 6:01 mile, Sophomore year was just, well, embarrassing. This year? I’m getting there. I died a little inside on the two mile though.

My sweet friend ,Z, came to the meet. I love her. She came to my last XC race and brought me some pasta she had cooked because she knew I’d be hungry. IF THAT’S NOT TRUE FRIENDSHIP I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS.

I walked home, got frustrated at my Dad for only saying this when I came in the door (tired, sweaty, unbelievably tired):

“Go do the dishes.”

It’s never: “How’d it go?”
It’s never: “How are you?”

“How was your day?’

“Wish I could have been there!”

“Good job!”

“How was school?”

It’s either:

A) Do the dishes

B) I noticed a sock on your bedroom floor this morning

C) Get your laundry out of the dryer

He doesn’t care, and he doesn’t bother to pretend to be interesting in anything I do anyway. It’s okay. I’m over it.

Friday 3/24

I met a cat named Knives. No lie. I can imagine all sorts of fun that could be had with a cat named Knives.

(Holding Knives) “You guy’s I’ve got Knives!”

“Would you like to meet Knives?”

“I like Knives.”

“I love Knives.”

Ariel and I buried our feet in the wet sand and watched the ocean water after we had our fun with Knives. I was happy our coach sent us on a beach run. Nobody else actually went in the water but me. And when I say in I mean completely under. Everyone was worried about getting their hair wet, but I just dunked under that freezing cold water and came up for air. I feel alive in the cold. I love it as much as I love Knives.

I went to the beach a second time that day with K, J, and A. We had to cross many cliffs to get down to the water. I was wrapped up in my fuzzy red heart blanket because the wind was pretty brutal. I looked like a weird burrito type thing, but I was warm. The waves down there were a lot harder and a lot more dangerous than the ones at the other beach. We’d kneel on the sand and wait to see who’d get knocked down first by the biggest waves. We found sand crabs in the dirt. I went under the water a few times, but I was extremely cautious. The tide was high and I couldn’t see the rocks, but I knew they were around where we were.

After we got tired of this we walked 0.9 miles to StreetCar Merchants of Fried Chicken, Doughnuts & Coffee. It took us half an hour to walk 0.9 miles. That’s just sad. A and I belted out songs the whole way: “Wrecking ball”, “Don’t Stop Believing”, “Hello”, “We’re All In This Together”; J didn’t sing but K joined in. The pedestrians were highly amused, which just made us turn it up a notch.

I got a Cafe Au Lait, the only coffee I get besides a Hazelnut Latte, along with J & K. A felt like some hot chocolate (though to be honest, that girl already runs off sugar).

Saturday 3/25

I was supposed to drive up to San Francisco today with a friend, but it’s been changed to tomorrow. Gives me more time to pack though. Today at this outdoor hiking clothing store my Dad goes to to get this special grey shirt with “special buttons” (???) (even though he doesn’t even hike) the cashier man made an interesting comment. He asked us if we wanted bags, we said no (they cost 10 cents a bag, usually) and he said: “Are you sure? We have….paper bags….” (pulls out a paper bag, with flourish, and a deep voice). I blinked. He said:
“I was channeling my inner James Bond…”

Me: “This paper bag, should you choose to accept it…”

Nobody laughed.

I got another Cafe Au Lait today. I drank it at 3pm at the mall. Which explains why I’m writing all this at 1:24 am on Sunday 3/26. At 7am sharp I’m being picked up to begin the drive down to San Fran. I’m bringing my notepad to document more interesting stuff.

As of now caffeine runs in my veins, Kansas city in my ears- listen to it please. I beg of you.

Juicy Thoughts


I’m too tired right now to do anything except sip some Green Easy Cold Pressed Juice in a coffee shop (how very Californian of me), stare out the window, or pick up where I left off in “Eat, Pray, Love” . I’m the master at letting all the “important” shit wait until the very last possible minute. Tonight I’ll pack it all in: AP English, Honors Chem, Math, and I’ll watch a video on the APUSH chapter I didn’t read so I can do all the essay questions.

Productive, no?

Too many things have happened this weekend, so I have to write about it before it all slips down into the forgotten memories vortex. Then I can go back to staring out the window listening to Staligia- Heaven + Mimosas and quietly observing people in their cars.

Let’s start with Friday. I was pulled out of Track early so I could get my butt home, shower, and get ready to go on a boat with my Mom, her boyfriend, the boyfriend’s granddaughter, and the boyfriend’s daughter’s friend. My Mom advised us to dress warmly, and gave us these fluffy down jackets Steve had bought for us. Mine was red. The captain of the boat was named Brock. He looked just like my best friends older brother. Those same “italian liquid brown eyes”, the crooked nose, the tan. I almost called him Noah. Their boat looked just like Ava’s too. The deck of it was white, they had a bean bag up at the bow (is that what you call it? The front?), they had a little caved in area that had seats and cup holders and steps that led to a small little cabin inside complete with a kitchen, bathroom, and little sitting area. Steve brought fancy champagne from France for Mom and him, and sparkling apple cider for all of us other apple cider addicts. There was also little cheese, cracker, and salami plates for all of us with Italian goat cheese, Italian gouda cheese, and a bunch of Italian salami. I feel as if it was a sign that for sure Brock was an Italian-just like Ava, and Noah. (Okay so Ava isn’t really Italian. But she grew up there. And she’s got the dark eyes, dark hair, and a sense of style). My Mom was embarrassing to be around on that boat. She was really playing up the whole Australian thing. She was trying to impress Emily (the granddaughter) and Maddy (the roommate), except she just came off as arrogant and self absorbed. Steve said something along the lines of: “Australians are the kindest people”. And she went from zero to a hundred (real quick):

Yes it’s true! Us Australians are so nice. I’m so nice and kind. All my patients love me. (insert really wide smile here) In fact, after meeting me, some of my patients have actually gone to Australia just because of me! Everybody loves me! I’m so kind! I’m so nice! I’m so sweet! I was captain of the tennis team in high school! 

Yeah, okay.

Her eyelashes were extremely long that day. Steve told me he had Mom go get them done. They were practically were grazing her eyebrows. Her nails and toenails were cherry red too. Steve said he needed to “spoil her” (oh sweet pickles, is it possible for her to get any more spoiled than she already is?) Her laugh was so loud too. And she kept smiling. Really fakely at everyone. With her ultra white bleached teeth. And she called everyone: “sweetie”, “dearie”, “darling” in a really obnoxious whine. I can only take so much of my Mom in small doses.

My Mom is so thin. She looks like a stick. At the restaurant afterwards she split some Ahi stack with Steve, and that’s it. She didn’t eat any of her platter on the boat because she “had a big lunch”.  I know my Mom. A “big lunch” for her would be a grapefruit or something small and silly like that.

I know, I know. I’m ranting about my Mom. How could I do this to the women who gave birth to me? Well the woman who gave birth to me is also the women who almost killed me because she was too vain to gain weight and continued starving herself during pregnancy.

Don’t get me wrong. She’s not all bad. She has her kind moments, where she’s actually “real”, but lately I have only been seeing the fake version of her.

It was a little hard to relate to Emily and Maddy. They were both kind, southern Texas girls, and Emily had interesting stories about when she went to France, but a little of the awkwardness was there. The age difference between all of us was pretty great.

Side note: There’s a old man across the street right now with headphones on dancing at a street corner. I usually see him with the track team when we are sent on a beach run. He sings too.

I liked sitting on the bean bag though. I could look at the water all day. It may have been cold out there, but it was so beautiful too. It was a cloudy day, but my kind of day.


Mom said she couldn’t go to my end of the year Leukemia and Lymphoma Society banquet because she was too busy with Steve, Emily, and Maddy. Honestly, I was a little hurt, but I shrugged it off and told myself it didn’t matter. My Dad didn’t go either. He and my sister hit the road early in the morning to drive up to the desert and see the flowers in full bloom. It’s been the first time in twenty years that we’ve had enough rain to see them open up. He said that there was pollen everywhere-all over the bright desert flowers, in the air, and the smell. Someday I’ll see it, but I spent most of that day doing laundry, cleaning the dishes, and getting ready. I wore a dress that was grey on the top, and a cute lil black pencil skirt on the bottom. It gave me some curves. I also pulled out my high heeled shoes that lace up. Dad and Lizzy got back in time to give me a ride to the restaurant where the gala was being held.

It started at 4:30 but we couldn’t actually go inside till 6. So the team and I strolled around and looked at all the auction items. There were servers who had little trays of meatball and spring rolls. Ava loved the meatballs so much, it was cute. She wore the most adorable flower dress that was (3 dollars!!). Kiara wore her black homecoming dress and looked bomb. Stephanie wore a cute blue dress. There was a little tension in the group. Stephanie was leaving at 6:30, and for some reason thought Kiara was upset with her leaving. Kiara actually wasn’t and told  her so, but Stephanie pulled me aside and said: “Hey so Kiara’s giving me attitude and I don’t know what to do….”

Basically it was a big misunderstanding. I assured her that no, nobody was mad at her. Kiara showed me some texts that Stephanie had sent her that were a little sassy, but I just told both of them to just not let it get to them. Just enjoy the gala. We took pictures, Brian filmed us for Megan and I’s Create Something 2.0 project. He was the only dude on our team. I tried to make sure he felt welcome by trying to talk to him as much as possible. Anna and Natalie were there too. Amanda also was there, although to be honest she didn’t do that much for our campaign but it’s okay. After dinner all the candidates had to stand outside then we were announced one by one by an enthusiastic woman, and we’d walk back to our table. When my name was called I walked up and the woman commented: “Oh, look at that strut! Yes girl! You go!”

I didn’t realize I was strutting, but everybody was commenting about it when I got back to the table. Oops. I think it was the heels. Ava would have been proud if she had seen it. She’s trying to improve my “sassy”walk. There was one embarrassing moment when they pulled all the candidates up and we each would draw a question from a hat and answer it. The first few girls were really nervous and the woman whisper an answer to them. I drew question 10 and it was: What did you learn from this campaign?”

I kept it simple and short because I was freaked out. “It wasn’t easy.” The announcer followed up with: “Oh yeah! Like you call your grandma up asking for help with the campaign and all of a sudden you can’t get ahold of grandma anymore.” (Something along those lines ??) I just laughed and agreed.

We went into this knowing that we weren’t going to win, or get any scholarship money. But you know what? It’s okay. Our team still raised $2,500 dollars. That’s pretty good for a bunch of high schoolers. The winner was a girl in a gorgeous blue dress who raised $15,000. That’s pretty incredible. Her name was Zoe.

I went home with Kiara and Ana . We danced like a bunch of white girls with no rhythm, made some mac n cheese, and watched Split. We fell asleep on Kiara’s bed at about 1 or 2 am.


Cruel Youth- Mr. Watson

She sounds like Amy Winehouse.


Don’t mind me, just going through old Facebook messages for no reason.

Boy get outta my mind and my dreams please! Why do I keep dreaming about you? We don’t even talk anymore. We’re 8,767 km away. Smh.

Yet, there you are. You were in my dream when I was in LA. You were my entire dream last night, and last week you were there again.

Last night was a little different. You were there with your little brother. Except you were older and  a lot more colder. I mostly hung out with your brother.

God looking through my 2012 Facebook posts.. I used caps lock too much. Very excitable child.

It’s 3:30 am.

I took the SAT today. I slayed the English. The math, not so much. I hope I did okay.

I was dressed up in a little black dress tonight, with high heels-walking in the dark trying to get to a birthday party because my Dad would rather eat dinner and let his daughter walk around late at night in a dress than drive her. Thank god E picked me up. I felt really out of place at her party. I’m not close to any of the girls there except for K and C. I dropped my knife and it made a long ringing sound. C and I died a little inside. “Mr. Sir Man: can you please cut my bread?” “Oh I’m full I inhaled a big gust of wind on my way in.” “Wanna split an ice cube?”

It sucks to be the ugly friend sometimes. My skin isn’t the best. I have braces. I’m short. My hair is frizzy. I’m surrounded by my super model friends with their perfect skin, eyes, and hair. It’s an injustice.




California rolls are for the low class- Steve

My first impression of my Moms new boyfriend was that he looks like Hershel from the Walking Dead. If  Walking Dead Hershel had a southern Texas accent he would be a dead ringer for Steve.

More first impressions?

-Old enough to  be my grandpa

His house was huge. It had a whole Spanish-American look going on. Before we could even drive into the house we got checked by a security card who had to confirm our names and the exact time we were coming. I find it highly interesting that the first thing my Mom had us do when the introductions were made and we were inside was show Lizzy and I the guest bedrooms. “In case we want to spend the night.” We’ve just met the man, she’s only been going out with him for a few weeks, but it looks like she’s already planning on moving in.

He had a huge walk in closet, a cowboy style bedroom with a giant painting of two Mexican girls waiting for a bus in pastel, and he likes to collect different brands of wine from all over the world.

He also drives a Tesla.

Side note: I do not care for cares. Not really. I don’t know much besides- Truck, Jeep, Honda, Ford Focus, Mercedes, Mustang, Sports car, and Tesla.

Tesla’s drive themselves.

The only other time I’ve seen one is at the mall. Dad and I sat in one and thought about how damn expensive and freaking cool they were.

The car drove itself to the Sushi restaurant.

I was sort of freaking out the whole way. It steered, it stopped, it was so quiet and smooth. I never would have ever dreamed of sitting in something like that.

For some reason Mom told Steve that I was interested in journalism and so Steve talked to me a lot about this granddaughter who is studying journalism and spent a semester abroad in Paris. I said: “That’s great, but I actually want to be a nurse practitioner, not a journalist.” The granddaughter and a friend are coming up on Thursday, and he offered in a few Fridays to take us all out on a Yacht.

I’ve never been on a Yacht before either.

Clearly my Mom has a type: rich old white guys. I’m okay with it though. He’s nice, and kind. Even if I have a feeling that my Mom is mostly in on it for the money. Money is a biiiiiigggg deal to her. The whole time I was giving him questioning looks and in my head thinking can’t you see that my Mom really really likes money? That she’s self absorbed, vain, and spoiled? Maybe he was too wrapped up in her Australian accent. He talked about how wonderful the Australian people were-as business men. He went on about how sweet and kind my Mom is and how they had a connection and how she is a role model. If only he knew her like I did. Yes my Mom can be kind, considerate, sweet, and generous. She’s also crazy.

He’s been to Japan a lot and he told us some stories. He was once driving to a hotel and he saw a vending machine in the middle of nowhere. He had them stop (and at the time he didn’t realize) if they were late than the taxi man would lose his job. He saw the vending machine was full of beer and wine. Loose money was in there too. He asked the man why loose money was in the vending machine, and the Japanese man responded with: Oh. It gives too much change.

Too much change. So the people put back the extra they were given so that they have the right amount.

Who does that? People in America would take that extra money, they would take the entire vending machine, but these people would never even think about doing that.

The legal drinking age is 18 in Japan. There is no card or identification on those vending machines either so Steve asked how they kept underage kids from drinking. The Japanese man looked at him like he was crazy and said: Why would they drink? They’re not 18.

Apparently though the Japanese like to put unborn baby eels in your food to see how the “round eyes” will react to it. Steve kept his cool and earned mad respect, while his other “round eyes” found it disgusting.

As we walked into the Sushi restaurant Steve remarked that California rolls were for the low class. I love California rolls. I guess I’m trash then. I didn’t take it seriously though. We had Bluefin, Monk fish liver, and a very fine piece of salmon from the belly. Green tea ice cream too. It was good.

I think Steve liked my sister a lot more than me. She’s smaller than me and more child like. I’m more quiet and thoughtful.

Steve makes cabinets. Mom’s old ex made cabinets too. I couldn’t help but think of him and wonder how he was doing. He was kind, a little arrogant, but in a different kind of way. Steve talked about how he was with a billion dollar company. something like that, he’s met George Lucas, Pink Floyd, The Rolling Stones-he’s super well connected. It struck me kind of then that when men talk about success- how intelligent they are, how much money they make- it doesn’t sound like bragging. It’s impressive. But when woman do it then we sound conceited. Maybe I’ve got it wrong though? I don’t know. Just something I’ve noticed.


Milk & Bone- Coconut Water


I’m the second child in my family. I feel like today was the day that the realization of: holy shit I am the unvalued one hit me. Mostly, from my Dad. It’s the way he spoke. He praised my sister high and low and spoke very little of me. He described her as a baby, her first words, what time she was born, but with me-nothing. Doesn’t remember what I first said or when I was born, there were no cutesy little baby stories about Katherine. I find it slightly frustrating that someone who does worse in school than me, mostly just Netflixs, never does anything, is a nervous wreck, is twenty years old and just learned how to drive, still cries on the freeway, still lives at home/stays at home, is given a better rep than me. I know, I know, I sound jealous. Maybe I am a little. It’s just no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, my Dad could care less. I run Varsity on Cross Country for two years and my Dad never went to any of my Cross Country matches. Not one. He went to my sisters, and she walked all the time and eventually quit. I’m campaigning for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, my Dad won’t help me out financially when I’m trying to set up events, all the money comes out of my pocket and I don’t have a job. If my sister was doing it, he would definitely help her out. He bought her a car for her eighteenth birthday, a new one, before she even learned how to drive. I’m trying to learn how to drive and he’s refusing to pay for my insurance and obviously isn’t interesting in teaching me. I’m getting my Moms old car. I get all As in school and it’s “Okay. Good job.” My sister gets some As, a couple Bs, and a few Cs and he’s all: “Very good!”

He doesn’t push me. It frustrates the hell out of me. It’s like: come on, give me something. I’m trying here.

It doesn’t help when my Mom reminds me: Your father didn’t even want another baby. He only wanted one. 

Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.

Ava gets how I feel at home. She told me: “I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re kinda on your own in stuff. My Mom will totally help you out though if you need anything.” Which is a sweet offer, but I won’t take it. I don’t want to impose on another family that has their own children to take care of.

When it comes to college Dad’s all: “I’m only paying X amount. (It’s not enough for four years at any college). So you can go to a community college for two years and live a home, then transfer to a university for your last two years, and live at home.”

Hell no. I’ve been waiting to get out of here since I was in the seventh grade. I am not staying at my house when I’m eighteen. I just can’t. I’m so tied down here. This house is toxic. My family is toxic. Thinking about wasting two more years of my life here makes me want to cry. I can’t, I can’t I can’t. I need to go out and be my own person. To live. That’s NOT going to happen here. Ava understands it, why can’t my Dad see it? Why can’t he understand the importance of leaving the nest and going off on my own. Figuring out who I really am. Really really am. Too many bad things have happened here. I need to start fresh and as always, alone.

After thrifting with Ava, Camille, Anna, and Jessica I went to Uncle Richards 80th birthday party. All the second and third cousins that I’d never met or even heard of were there. I think  I was allergic to the chicken shiskabobs because when I had a bit my whole face started to just heat up. Uncle Richard and Aunt Wanda are our only relatives where we live, strangely I’ve seen more of my family in Australia and Alaska than I’ve seen of them. There was a four week old baby named Colette. I guess she’s my third cousin. I don’t know what it is with me and babies but they usually cry in my presence. She was so cute and small. Her eyelashes were incredibly long. I didn’t hold her. I don’t know much about babies. I was studying Uncle Richard’s house and I noticed just how cozy and family oriented it was. There were pictures all over the house- wedding photos and baby photos. Our house only has baby photos of my sister. I have one photo in the house, and it was taken in 8th grade. My heart broke just looking at there wall. Everything screamed family that actually loves each other ! Yeah, that’s not how things fly between me, my Dad, and Lizzy. Uncle Richard has had a hard life, but he’s one of the kindest men that I know. When he was seven he lost his Dad, and when he was thirteen he witnessed his Mom run over by a drunk driver. He lived alone as an orphan when he was seventeen and joined the Navy. He loves to build model boats and planes. He described our grandpa (we never met him, he died before Lizzy was born) as a kind man who took him under his wing for a little while after his Mom’s death. Being with family just made me shut up and retreat within myself even more. I just felt more empty. Sorry, I’m not trying to be depressing. Just honest. I don’t even know what I mean or how I’m feeling most of the time so goodnight.

Everything that’s wrong with me

My friends threw me a surprise early birthday party today.

I never even suspected it, though maybe I should have. Anna kept asking me in French what I liked, what my favorite movies were, favorite foods, stuff like that. Leslie asked me if it was my birthday today, little things like that. Ava wanted to get Boba after school and we spent some time at the Thai place before going to my house to “watch a movie”.

When I came through the door Zarinna hid under the table. I only saw a grayish shape and was wondering if it was one of my sisters friends trying to scare me, but it was Megan, Kiara, Zarinna and Ava.

They’d set up balloons, glow sticks, little paper red hearts everywhere (technically…my sister set it up, but…they organized it). It was the sweetest thing.

I should have known though. My Dad agreed too easily to me bringing Ava over to “watch a movie” usually he gives me grief for being so “last minute” (okay it’s true. I am. So what).

We danced a lot. We played Dancing Queen of course: only seventeen… 

Some trap music was played.

Some twerking happened.

Not from me though.

I can’t really dance I just sorta flap around.

And in the midst of all of it: I wasn’t happy and I wasn’t sad either.

Here’s whats wrong with me:

I never feel anything. Ever. Never. I feel hurt of course, disappointment, ect, all the bad things, but I cannot recall a time I felt a warm glowing happiness in my chest. I say “I am happy,” when I don’t even know what that even really truly feels like.

How shitty is that?

To be surrounded with loving, happy friends and to feel..absolutely nothing. Nothing!

We went to the beach for a bonfire. Ava’s boyfriend Trevor was there, he invited some of his friends over. Her boyfriend is a little distant. I don’t really think he likes me at all. I think he thinks I’m really stupid and annoying. Just silly and a waste of space. He thinks I don’t like him, probably because I get so so distant around guys. When Trevor’s friends came I just went into awkward silent mode. Around boys I don’t know I shut down. It’s my thing. I don’t know why I do it. It’s purely instinctual. I feel bad. I offered them nothing, barely talked to them, and didn’t sit with them either. They probably thought I hated them. When we were all dancing in a circle I feel like I was dancing really really badly and that they were laughing at me. I kept seeing them looking at me, and one of them kept going to Ryan (who was playing the music) and saying, “This is awkward to look at.” Megan, Ava, Pat, and everyone else are good dancers, I never know what to do with my feet or anything. I just sorta…I don’t know? So I felt awkward. And I felt like they were laughing at me.

Pat came a little late. Anna, Megan, Kiara and I ran over to him at the park. For a while we all went on the swings and down the slide and stuff. Just kid stuff. It was nice. He got me “Milk and Honey” and Cheezits (because I love Cheezits and hardly get them). Kiara bought me a gallon mason jar filled with Cheezits, so if that doesn’t tell you how much I love them I don’t know what does.

I feel bad because Trevor left early, and I feel like he was pissed off, and I felt like it was directed at me. Is that selfish? I always feel like anything bad is my fault. Ava and him looked like they were arguing when he said he was going to leave. I feel like it’s my fault, like maybe he felt like I was excluding him and had gotten exasperated or just wasn’t having any fun. Just…if it had been my girl friends I would have been so much more comfortable. I feel bad for the boys who came tonight. They kind of had to for “protection” (Ava’s mom’s idea).

I think I’m depressed. Because all I want to do is cry. And I feel like it was terrible, nobody had any fun, I was making a big deal out of nothing, I’m being too paranoid, or I’m completely right and all those boys hate my guts, or I was too rude, too cold, too distant, they all think I’m a bitch. I don’t know. Why am I ruining something so perfect?