So What if I do?

So what if I like you? So what if you're all I think about? So what if you're the only person I really want to talk to all day? So what if it irritates me that you haven't responded? That I'm struggling to accept that you're not avoiding me (though I'm convinced you are), that you're just busy? So what if I'm obsessed?
That's my personality. I assume the worst and freak out until proven wrong. If you don't like me and I was right? If you really are avoiding me? Well I'll get over it. I'm not in love, I'm not fantasizing about love, I just want to talk to you. I admit that I obsess, I admit that I'm not totally confident.
If you don't like me, tell me. If you do, show me. I need to be shown, I need it proven.

The Truth the Whole Truth...And A Few Bonus Features

So after embarrassing myself and telling this guy that I liked him (in the funniest way possible), he said that he'd like to take me 'for a night on the town'. Except he gave me some general statement, and no round about date...and he hasn't talked to me since. Mayhaps he hasn't had time to text, but in my 'writer' mind I've already come up with a thousand reasons why, and only two of them are good. Here's the list of possibilities;

• He dropped his phone in the toilet
• He ran over his phone
• He was just being nice and he doesn't actually want to go out with me***(winner)
• I somehow managed to change his mind at my response to HIS response.
• I've already annoyed him to death
• This is all some game, he wanted to see if I'd admit I liked him and he's in cahoots with Brandon.
• He is actually secretly married/dating someone.
• I'm not his type.
• He decided we're way too different to make it work.
• He overdosed on drugs and no one has thought to tell me.
• I'm over reacting and he just didn't have time (I do not think so, but everyone else seems to want to give him the benefit of the doubt).

Those are the reasons I have come up with...so maybe I'm not as self-confident as I should be...not my fault. Also, I lied to him about my sister eating all my milkduds...there's still a box left. But I couldn't exactly say, "My sister ate ALMOST all of my milkduds" could I?

Outsmarted by the Master

So I've been trying to save my money so that I can get this year of college paid for, but I've been spending said money like mad. I had $12 in my pocket this morning to buy matches for class, but then ended up mooching some off of dad. I thought, 'Hey great! Now I can buy lunch!' And then as I was getting out of the car to rush off to class, I took the money OUT of my pocket because I decided the temptation was too strong, and I really should save the money.
Three hours later, I walk out of lab, walk into the union, grab a bagel and milk and head for check out. Only of course I don't have my money because I knew beforehand that that would happen. I can't believe I fell for that...

Those Damned Depressing Thoughts Again

They've come back again, not that I should really be all that shocked. Those thoughts that everyone has, that everyone worries about...probably. What happens when the years pass and I'm still by myself? I don't mean that I don't really enjoy hanging out with my friends, or that I'm faking it when I'm smiling and laughing with them, I mean that there are still things that I want to experience and they're not happening.
No one shows interest, and if they do (I can think of like two) I panic and back away like they have some horrible disease. Granted, I didn't really see myself with those guys anyway. I'm having those panicked thoughts that I'm going to settle because I was to scared to voice my admiration for the guy I really liked.
Are you picking up what I'm laying down? (Sorry, I felt like no one uses that phrase anymore and it's a damn shame.) I want someone to come show an interest. To show me I'm not some whacked out psycho and that guys really can like me. Please.

If owning a pencil makes you a writer, then this football makes me a football player

I try to be supportive in everyone's dreams and ideas, but I hate when I tell people about an idea I have for a story and all of the sudden they're writers and they have a great idea for a book too. Writing is the one thing I've never grown tired of. The one think I work at, take classes for and stress over. You can't just walk up to me and say, "You write? Me too! Or well...I have an idea for a story, I just haven't had time to write it out, but I have a great idea for one!"
When you tell me you're going to be a surgeon, you don't hear me saying, "Yeah? I happen to be a very good sewer, I could sew people up too." To assume that what I do is child's play is like saying you think I'm of little importance.
I read, I learn and I experiment constantly. My stories are never finished and I'm constantly looking for a way to dive into a different genre. Everything I do is to help me with my next story. Point of view, plot formation, folklore, popular culture, foreign language, television viewing, chemistry...eventually it is all tied into something for me.
These people don't do this stuff. For most of them, their knowledge on point of view doesn't go beyond first person and third person, the stuff we learned in third grade. And the idea of plot is simply rising action, climax, and falling action. Second person may as well be non-existent, metaphors and alliterations belong in poetry, and as long as they have character dialogue and throw in as many descriptive words as possible, the story's going to be great.
Subtlety is lost on them, metaphors aren't used and their description of anything is in list format instead of sprinkled throughout the story like chocolate chips in a chocolate chip cookie. no one wants a cookie where all the chips are concentrated in the middle. We call that a screw up.
Granted I tend to take metaphors and alliterations for granted. As always, alliterations are just things that happen in whatever I'm writing (and if you caught that I used it in the beginning of the sentence, then congrats).
The point is, I know how to use them and I'm fairly certain that I use them well when I do use them. Writing is an art form. You don't just pick up a brush and paint a Monet, and you don't just pick up a quill and write like Shakespeare.

When the Hell Did I Cross to this Parallel Universe and How Do I Get Back?

I was followed today by a man with a beard and he wore a dark cloak that went down to his ankles. He was whistling 'It's a Small World' and eating cherry pie. After about five minutes I finally got fed up and turned around to confront the creeper whose name turned out to be Alex...what an un-stalkerish name to have. Now Jason...that's a good stalker name. I'm just saying.
Ha ha, I'm just kidding. I haven't been stalked of late, however there had been a woman walking behind me while whistling creepily and I felt as though she were stalking me. She wasn't of course, but that's paranoia for you isn't it?
Now me, I'm the Stalking Queen and so I am insulted when someone is trying to out stalk me. Granted that was not the actual case because she was not, in fact, stalking me. Well whatever, it was fun while it lasted.
Mom's getting along with me now and I feel weirded out. Between her and Brandon I'm just not ready for this. Brandon's being nice now too and I can't for the life of me figure out what that punk wants. Mom seems to be making an attempt to take an interest in my life and I just don't know how to handle the situation. I just keep waiting for something blow up or overflow, but she just keeps saying nice things and I want to ask in the most polite way possible, "Who are you and where is my real mother?"
But hey, maybe I changed too and just haven't noticed it much. Either way, I hope I get used to these nice people because if I don't I fear I'll go insane due to paranoia.

Play It Like a Movie

I couldn't wait for college. All summer I was just waiting impatiently to jump into the college life and take my college classes, but now I just want everything to freeze. Class starts Monday, it's opening weekend and I just don't want to take the next step anymore.
Don't get me wrong, I've had my reservations about the future all summer, but I've gotten over them and moved on because I always figured, 'Everything's going to work out, don't sweat it.' Except what if it doesn't? What if I'm not driven enough to get a story published? What if I'm not good enough to become a writer? It's all I've ever really wanted, and I just can't see myself doing anything else.
Well hell, why can't we just freeze it like I said? I'd stay here, my friends would stay here, I'd continue writing with the hopes for tomorrow and I'd never have to risk having my heart broken when it didn't happen.
Sometimes I feel like life would be better if it were a movie.