i guess you could say, i’m pissed off half the time. i get riled. really riled. i have ideas in my head that wont leave me alone. i want them when i want them and when i want them i dont get them. it’s a curse. or it’s just how it fucking is. either or, i still dont get what i want. and that applies to everything. do you see me happy everyday? it’s almost five o’clock and i’m frowning. i wasnt frowning two minutes ago. and then i think, maybe it’s not a frown, maybe it’s just how my expression is pulled together. relaxed. relaxed and focused. i’m a frown, in and out. are you happy all the time? good. that’s really good. he tells me all the negatives cause he knows i like them. i dont want to hear good shit, that’s for male friends. i’m the other half. i’m the other half that wont say shit. not to her anyway. and i like that. i like hearing the nasty bitch shit. it makes me feel less like a fool. more like a punk. more like an asshole, but at least i know what i am. i dont like to pretend i’m sure because what if i’m caught. confrontation is no good and people that like it make me nervous. they make themselves look stupid and uncalled for. and then i stumble into the mix. i join the grabble. and then i think i’m cool, when really i’m just being another idiot. back to reality, i dont like fake. everyone is fake. or maybe everyone is real. reality is fake. fake is reality. i dont know? fuck, i’m not a philosopher. i’m seven-teen. look at me, i’m fucked up and i’m horny. we all are. i really am. there’s stinging behind my eyes because, believe it or not, i could cry at any moment. i make the perfect actor. full of bullshit and false stamina. i’m ready to bust. i’m just bitter.i have lonely lips and a recent double chin. i’ve gained nothing from wanting him. nothing, but weight. and with each passing breath i hate her more and more. or maybe i hate myself. why are we friends? why would you want to know me? why would he want to know me? there’s the truck with the dude and the prude undergarments. shove. hug. i told myself i wouldnt look back. it’s glamorous, baby. everyone is wondering "why the fuck are you with amanda all the time?" like it’s something wrong. like we’re wrong. like the whole business of friendship is wrong. i need a fucking someone. i need a someone that wonders where i am every second. i could tell him to fuck off and he’ll love me anyway. he’ll be worried. he’d call forever just to get me to forgive him. it wouldn’t be less than four. and i'd still tell him to fuck off and he'd still love me. i am upset because i have an unforgivable sin and an incurable disease. what’s your biggest secret? i didnt have one until last month. and so it turns out, i’m trying to figure out if it’s safe to die. it turns out, what is there going for me? i can’t see past saturday. i feel something coming on. it turns out, she’s not fucking ugly. it turns out, if i had a fucking someone i’d probably feel better for a short period of time. what did it say? “i’m afraid i’m going to be lonely for the rest of my life, but i dont want to settle in order not to be.”-----lets not be fake, why deny the fucking truth? -Amanda