Always.

I was, and still am, a loner. A sole operator. The quiet observing girl in the corner, who, whenever she does open her mouth, happens to say the most odd things that make everyone laugh directly at her, in the wrong way, and then she feels like shrinking. It still is the way. It always has been.

In grade eight, we were made to play this game where you start on your own. If you are tagged, you link arms with a partner (the person who tagged you) and you were meant to tag other teams and they have to join your team. Well, I was made to link arms with Alex (not his real name), a guy I previously didn’t really notice too much. I dunno, something just connected between him and I and I was sure it was something he felt too. Thus began my infatuation. I began hanging around him, being generally a stalky little creep, trying to get his attention. He often told me to go away but I was certain he was hiding his true feelings.

In Grade Nine, nothing much had changed. It was beginning to really get me down as he never actually told me why he said no. So I pulled apart every aspect of my personality, examined it and tweaked it a little to see if anything’d be different. Nothing ever changed. At my wit’s end, I started getting very depressed. I figured to myself, because he was a bit of a nerd, I’d have much more of a chance with him. I was thirteen for Christ’s sake. I just wanted a guy’s attention. Any guy, at all. I wanted to know what it felt like to actually be wanted and ‘loved’ by someone, anyone. I had no idea what was so bad about me.

So by this point I was very depressed. I’m convinced I’dve been a cutter if it weren’t for my absolute hatred of sharp foreign objects and blood. I thought of many things to do to myself; each one more grim than the last. It never got any easier, him tearing down any semblance of self-worth I had that I had carefully cultivated up again. I never understood why it was, he didn’t have any other girlfriends. Till one day when I was 15.

Our mutual friend pulls me aside.

“Alex is gay.”

I just feel completely blank at this point. Completely. No happiness, no sadness. The sadness of having lost him forever is cancelled out by the happiness it wasn’t something to do with me personally. Then almost immediately I feel angry. How long had he known? Why hadn’t he said anything? He knew me well enough to know I don’t tell anyone else’s secrets, hence why I’m using the fake name here. Nobody I know in real life even regularly reads this blog, presumably because it’s under a fake name and that’s how I like it. How long did he even intend to lead me on for? I felt ill and that night, confronted him on MSN. He confessed to knowing since he was a little boy. Well, I was in a world of pain after that.

But that’s why these moments are life changing. Although I was left completely bare of self confidence, I knew this event would make me a much stronger person. If I could survive that, I could survive…well, not anything, but most scenarios. So whenever there is an issue I feel will get the better of me, I just put myself in the shoes of the physically identical young girl and channel the truthfully false hope I got sometimes when I was around him. I hold no bitterness towards him now and haven’t for many years; it’s a huge step to admit you’re different, especially in a small town. But I still can’t help but feel so sorry for the little ugly duckling who really didn’t have many friends till she pushed her way into Alex’s group. The mutual friend who told me is now one of my best friends. He has been for a very long time. I spent an hour just now remembering almost everything about my first real broken heart and I just cried my eyes out. It’s therapeutic, I suppose. But God knows it was life-defining. The very next day was a fresh start.

And fresh starts are good to have once in a while.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I were more sane. I wouldn’t be me. Merely a shadow of insane me. Maybe a glimpse of what could be. I guess trying to find myself isn’t really going to happen. I know who I am, I just don’t get why I am. Some people know who they are in an instant. Some take a little more time. I’m probably the type who’ll never really know because I change too quickly to figure myself out.

God, this is egotistical. Nobody’s going to care about this entry but me and I’ll probably delete it some minutes after posting and berate myself for being a whiny little bitchface. But that’s what I do. I do it…because I can.

Resolutions are crap anyway.

I juggle and I am less than important. Almost redundant. I suppose one may consider this to be less than important. While I search for enlightenment, flaming clubs in the air twirling around prettily, I seek the answers as to why I am not important.

The answer is always, because I am a shitty, horrible juggler.

But nachos have this certain musty tang to them. Might be the corn chips. Might be the melted cheddar. Might be the wafting aroma of awesome. But anyways, the point is, this musty tang is like a net. A long, incredibly strong net strung up between deliciousness and perfection and it seems, dear reader, I am caught smack bang in the middle.

As I eye them thoroughly, I wonder to myself, have I ever seen such beauty? Such grace, such…flavourful sin? Perhaps not. It is one of only hundreds of servings I have had in my lifetime of this Mexican delicacy, but something seems different about these nachos. Is the texture of the chips crisper than normal? The sour cream mixing into the salsa more? One cannot tell, but all I know is this is going to be orgasmic.

Goodnight, sweet prince.

“It reminds me of a homosexual barcode.”

I smile to myself as this is almost exactly what I thought of it when I was making it. It’s bright and it makes me rather joyous, I must say. It’s very lower-intermediate as far as Photoshop is concerned, but it’s there until I can think of something better.

I had myself some Meatlovers pizza tonight, leftover from the trip away my parents forgot to invite me on…Well, that’s not exactly true. They were bathroom shopping and to be frank, I was quite happy to stay at my grandmother’s and play my 360 in the spare bedroom until all hours. When I wasn’t doing that, I was talking to my boyfriend on the telephone. A good two days had by all, in hindsight. The brother looked after the house, but because he and I argue we cannot be left alone together.

And now I have an itching sensation on my back. I must go and scratch it. Adios, amigos!

But I do anyway.

End rant.