Rad Rayna's blog: "*le sigh*"

I can't help but feel that my life is at a permanent mexican standoff. No matter what efforts I put into moving forward, I get dragged back to a previous behaviour. Why can't I just find one normal person out here? I just want one friend, one that doesn't obsess about poor dead Heath Ledger and his postmortem love child, one that doesn't think being drunk every second of every day is awesome, and most importantly, one that doesn't take out her frustrations on those around her. Is this so much to ask? I just want one friend, one that wants to drink occasionally but reserves it for weekends only, one that wants to watch democratic debates and subsequently talk about the candidates, one that has E news blocked from her television. I don't want to shop. I don't want to talk about Tom and Katie and their crazy religion. I don't care! Is that really so bad? Should I care? Should I actively read gossip magazines, and pray to the gods that Paris Hilton will get another seasonal show? It scares me that maybe I'm the weird one. Maybe all the other girls here are the normal girls, and I'm the anomaly. I don't want to be stuck in the high school dramatics state of mind for eternity. I'd rather a nice healthy shotgun to the face. I can't deal with the same old fighting, or the constant attacks. It's not about last words, rebuttals, or getting even. It's about acting your age, letting it go, and getting over it.

Srsly. I got two shots in my ass, one was penicillin, which I'm used to getting it shot in my ass, it's something I had to have done a lot as a kid cause I get strept so damn much, but this other shit...oh my god... ...this other shit...was like thick yogurty acid and it took the bitch a whole minute to get it all injected. Not to mention, the needed was HUGE, and I don't think I ever need to actually get stabbed to know what it feels like. I can't sit. I can't lay down. I can't stand up. God this sucks.

Now, I've accepted that no matter what else happens to me, I will always have this curse of bad luck over me. But sometimes, I feel like I just can't take it anymore. Let's start at the beginning. From the moment I walked in the door Saturday night. There was a party going on, and for those of you that already know, that's not unusual. I would have been more freaked out if the house was clean with a dinner prepared. Romantic shit was never his forte. Anyway, Everyone was over, all the usuals. It wasn't one of the best parties, because I was jet lagged and just wanted to go to bed, but couldnt, because Jordan didn't wash the sheets after the cats decided to piss on it. Heh...yea...*sigh* Moving on. Well, I finally get to sleep, and I kept waking up all night. My throat is killing me, and I guess it's from coming from Florida's humidity to Nevadas desert. Well, Everyone in the house eventually wakes up, and a few clean up for me, so I wouldnt have to on my anniversary, which I thought was sweet. I kept having to lay down and pass in and out occasionally because I was just feeling so shitty. Then, Jordan's phone rings. This is where it goes from shitty to unbelievably insanely terrible. Appearantly, ever since I left, shit has been getting stolen from random girls. Someone has been going through purses and such, stealing money or pills. And appearantly, Karma had 50 pills or some shit. And it got stolen. And how is she handling that, you ask? By calling security forces on everyone at the party. ...la;ksjdf;lkajdfjkAJSFLJKLDFAKSJFHDFSF; I understand that she needs her fucking pills, but if for the past three or four parties, shit got stolen, WOULDNT YOU THINK TO LEAVE VALUABLE THINGS IN YOUR FUCKING CAR?!?!?!?!?!?!!? I'm so pissed off at them, I can't even explain it. And what's worse, is that we all kinda already have a mutual hunch on who took it. And yet, instead of being a fucking man and going over and confronting his ass, he's going to call security forces, and get every single person in trouble. Well, I hope that they've realized what they've done by making this threat. Because, I damn sure know that at the next party, their asses WILL NOT be on my motherfucking invite list. I get that they're pissed, but fuck them for taking it out on us and everyone else. We do this every weekend. We party every weekend. I don't want someone here that will call security forces at the drop of a hat. Because, that's a career ruiner. All for fucking pills. If he cared so much, he would break his damn hand to get her ass more painkillers. Not fuck over friends. He even came over saying that its not intention to get everyone in trouble... ...it may not be his FUCKING INTENTION, BUT THAT'S SURE AS HELL WHAT THE FUCK HE'S DOING...

...she had to walk into mine... And to think, if only I had stayed asleep and skipped nine ball league, she wouldn't be on my mind right now. The way her hair still doesn't move when it's up in that bun, no matter how angrily she storms off. The way her eyes shine as they creep over to the corner trying to catch me looking at her. The way I feel as she turns her back on me and tries to slip out without saying a word, thusly not allowing us to neither fight nor make up. I miss her. And I didn't want to miss her. Not now.