the lightning strike.

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"what if the storm ends, and i don't see you?"

well i've done it before. five times, if we're going to get technical. nobody is ever there after the storm is over. i don't know if my storms have stronger winds, or maybe harder rain, but nobody can stay through them. the aftermath is always me, solo. i like it that way. it's fact.

i hate being medicated, probably more than i could explain. number one, it means you're messed up. number two, i know everyone is messed up, but that fact doesn't make it easier. don't think it does. number three, just because i take a pill every morning that you probably won't have to take until you're 40, doesn't mean i'm numb to the things 18 year olds feel. it just means i get the 40 year old feelings mixed in with the 18 year old feelings, and that messes me up. i know i need it. needing something doesn't make it easier. what's easier is when you want something, and you get it. or even if you want it, but don't get it. or needing something, and wanting it simultaneously. these are all so much easier than needing something and not wanting it. i speak from experience, so don't doubt me on this. it's fact.

get ready for the most cliche paragraph i have ever written. i just want to make it ABUNDANTLY clear that NOT ONE PERSON knows the situations i was put in last year. and the year before that. and before that. the way i reacted might not have been rational, or healthy, or positive, but they were MY reactions. and you don't know. so don't you dare judge me, because you DON'T know. it's fact.

so i hold grudges. big fucking deal. next time you go to europe for two weeks with your best friend and end up crying every single night in your various hotel bathrooms, let me know. next time you get a thousand rumors spread about you that were not remotely true, let me know. next time you get curse words and "slut" messages chalked all over your driveway and have to explain to your parents why your best friend would write that, let me know. next time you go though 2,300 photos of you and this friend and have to delete them all, because you don't want anything to do with her memory, let me fucking know. then we can talk. 

i don't want to be friends with you again.
not now.
not last week.
not tomorrow.
not when we grow up.

it's fact.

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