Aww. The cutest thing just happened. Cute like the end of a movie when two people misunderstood each other and finally realize that it didn't matter and there's a happy ending.
Long background story shorter: Katie had a huge thing for this guy a long time ago, and has been battling with it for just as long. Said boy had a girlfriend who Katie resented. The girlfriend wrote in an online journal, and Katie stumbled upon it. We read, and I related to something the girl wrote. Here's what Katie thought about that:
"you know..fuck this. i can't even explain. i mean, i can, but then..then i can't when i really try to. i dont know. i was just so angry and resentful (a word?) and i dont know, contemplative i suppose and then when i went to write, it all just went away. fuck..::shakes head:: without sounding lovely, or being written in the third person, or..well, without anything that someone could love and relate to and love me for, i'll just write it plainly. and it's something repeated. something i've written about before, and it's not all my fault. i swear. it's not all my fault that i do this and that i fuck up and regret and i wonder and i sit here and think and not understand everything that i did wrong, because i really did try so hard. harder than trying to be friends with missy again. harder than trying to get bobby to be emotional. harder than trying to be a good friend to gram. okay okay..not harder than the last, but..but you understand. okay okay..different comparision. i didnt try harder to do something, i just tried my hardest to please this person. more than anyone. at a certain point in time. and you know, by saying that that did nothing...that me doing all i could did nothing, and mattered not at all..shows and gives points to the side of the arguement on why i shouldnt write about this and talk about this and think abou this, but i dont care. i really thought it got to a point where i didnt think about him and i didnt care about anything that had happened and everything that hadn't happened. i was at that point. i didnt think about him. or anything. then he has to go and..i dont know..be there. and then ontop of that i have to loose bobby and be here alone. and you know, i'm just gonna let her down more and she's gonna shake her head and tell me she was right when she said that she knew i couldnt just keep it..keep it without any emotion. keep it nothing but..nothing but something to..fall back on i suppose. okay. so she was right. that was impossible. i didnt think it was. i thought i could do that. honestly. i even said that to him. he said they should believe me. he probably knew i was lying to myself and waiting for me to give in and..and..i dont know. you know, i think it's because i never got to ask questions and have them answered. stop..make that..never got to hear the truth. ha...is that too much to ask for? was i not pretty enough. am i not skinny enough. my hair? my clothes? the things i like to do? is it because i cared too much? because i'd rather look from a distance, then be up close and touch? is it because i dont dance? do i not drink enough? maybe maybe..i dont know...maybe i'm just..just not good enough right. right? or or..or maybe because i dont find all my clothes at a thrift store. and and..you know, maybe because my pearls come from my grandmother instead of a flea market. maybe because i'm no good at walking in heals. and you know..just maybe too because..because i cared too much. fuck that. fuck that. fuck her. fuck you. no. because i was good enough. i was. and that's not fair, but i'm done complaining about that. done making that excuse. it wasn't me. it was you. you. you were not good enough. you're not tall enough. or skinny enough. and and..when you're hair is short..you have nothing going for you. and you're teeth arent very nice. and your damn shoes. and dont even lie. you know you like chicken. you werent good enough. not me. because i am good enough. and i am beautiful. and there are people who love me very much. and there are so many people so much better than you. fuck you. uhhh. fuck you. all i wanted, all i wanted was..i dont know. a day. a week maybe. without a lie. without someone else. with me. with you. with no mention of love..or care..or need. just..just want and lust and and fucking infatuation. and i dont want lovely thoughts. i dont care what you fucking think. i dont want glances. your damn stares. i dont want your letters your words your fucking pictures. i dont want your damn heart. i could care less. just..just raw fucking desire. i just want you to shut up and kiss me. just let me touch your cheek and kiss you. fuck that. geezus christ katie. yeah yeah i know. but you know that's all you want and then you'd forget. wonder what he'd say to that. i wonder if he was sleeping with that damn girl of his. oh oh and i'll loose respect from a girl for this..but..too speak it crudely...i just want to fuck him. that's all. i just want to have sex. and you know..a guy should be happy about that. but he wouldnt, i know that. becuase i'm not even good enough for that. and i dont want to "make love" i dont want to "have sex" or "sleep with him." i just want to fuck. no care. no emotion. dont want him to talk. just want to feel him breath and look at his face and kiss his lips. i dont want to hold him. i dont want him to hold me. that's all i want. then..then..yes..::points finger:: then i wouldnt care anymore. ha..and it sucks to think that all of this just comes down to this. all this damn emotion. HEY! it's becuase i never got to taste him.
and i um..i cried today, not because of that, but because a girl that i love, a girl that i love very much related to a girl that i hate, instead of me. and i hate that very much. not because she related to her. but because she can't relate to me. and you know, it makes me feel like i did a while ago, maybe a year ago..when i started to feel like i wasnt even good enough for her anymore. when i felt like i couldnt tell her everything because she'd get this view of me and not like it and not like me anymore. and i'm just not good enough. because i cant write lovely and i can't say these things and..fuck this. i usually dont get like this unless i'm drunk. i'm not even graced by big v tonight. fuck this. i'm gonna stop. ::shakes head:: i just had horrible flashbacks. flashbacks from the night i felt this way a year ago. when i was really drunk. but so was everyone else. last time we were all together. only time i ever saw her cry.
fuck this. i'm just gonna go to bed. so my attempt. my attempt to be lovely. ::shakes head:: such a failure with beauty.
she hadn't seen me crying
i had turned the camera away while i was writing
i was wondering to her, how much i meant
when she said she was going, and blew kisses before she went
when she closed to the box, there was a loud ding
her face was replaced by mine, my eyes red and weaping
the video was lost and she disapeared
i wondered about when i come home, if she'll still be there
so much life to be lived, and what a waste to be away
from one of the few who make me glad, that i wake up every day."
Right now I'm responding with a comment in her journal. I know it won't be the perfect one I want to give her, but I'll try...
Here it is:
Two tears for you, because you're lovely, and your words are lovelier still. I would post a picture as proof, but I don't know how.
I started to read this and I wondered why the last was harder than the first two. And I was, I don't know... sad or angry that you thought that, until I read more and understood what you meant. I didn't know it bothered you that much. I'm sorry I made you cry, but you misunderstand. I relate to a paragraph of words that she wrote down, and she probably didn't mean it the way I would take it. I relate to YOU all the time, and I don't hate your face dispite it. I relate to your love of pool and tennis and frisbee and big v and dark chocolate and carrot cake and wanting to take the calories out of food and wanting perfect abs and dancing in kitchens and good conversation and flagstaff hill and dressing up and pretty boys with shaggy black hair + tight pants and going to shows + ALWAYS getting stage and listening to good music and drinking wine and marylin monroe and good books and keeping photographs, notes, + memories and Davey FUCKIN' Rhodes and watching Charmed but always missing it and non-existant romance and sometimes I wonder if I'm good enough for you, too.
I hate that you're so far away and won't come back, but...
I love that I can see your face and hear your voice even though you're far away, that we spent a Saturday night just making faces at each other, the way you sing all the time no matter where we are or who's around, your perfect hair ego, your fears and conspiracy theories, your boxes of memories-- because nothing can be thrown out, the way you look vintage but don't call it that because you don't need people to notice it, that you're cool even though you don't shop at thrift stores.
And oh so much more.
Yeah, I relate to some words that she put out there, but I wouldn't trade you in for her... I'd look too short. :-P
Oh, the girl loves you, too. :-D
Long background story shorter: Katie had a huge thing for this guy a long time ago, and has been battling with it for just as long. Said boy had a girlfriend who Katie resented. The girlfriend wrote in an online journal, and Katie stumbled upon it. We read, and I related to something the girl wrote. Here's what Katie thought about that:
"you know..fuck this. i can't even explain. i mean, i can, but then..then i can't when i really try to. i dont know. i was just so angry and resentful (a word?) and i dont know, contemplative i suppose and then when i went to write, it all just went away. fuck..::shakes head:: without sounding lovely, or being written in the third person, or..well, without anything that someone could love and relate to and love me for, i'll just write it plainly. and it's something repeated. something i've written about before, and it's not all my fault. i swear. it's not all my fault that i do this and that i fuck up and regret and i wonder and i sit here and think and not understand everything that i did wrong, because i really did try so hard. harder than trying to be friends with missy again. harder than trying to get bobby to be emotional. harder than trying to be a good friend to gram. okay okay..not harder than the last, but..but you understand. okay okay..different comparision. i didnt try harder to do something, i just tried my hardest to please this person. more than anyone. at a certain point in time. and you know, by saying that that did nothing...that me doing all i could did nothing, and mattered not at all..shows and gives points to the side of the arguement on why i shouldnt write about this and talk about this and think abou this, but i dont care. i really thought it got to a point where i didnt think about him and i didnt care about anything that had happened and everything that hadn't happened. i was at that point. i didnt think about him. or anything. then he has to go and..i dont know..be there. and then ontop of that i have to loose bobby and be here alone. and you know, i'm just gonna let her down more and she's gonna shake her head and tell me she was right when she said that she knew i couldnt just keep it..keep it without any emotion. keep it nothing but..nothing but something to..fall back on i suppose. okay. so she was right. that was impossible. i didnt think it was. i thought i could do that. honestly. i even said that to him. he said they should believe me. he probably knew i was lying to myself and waiting for me to give in and..and..i dont know. you know, i think it's because i never got to ask questions and have them answered. stop..make that..never got to hear the truth. ha...is that too much to ask for? was i not pretty enough. am i not skinny enough. my hair? my clothes? the things i like to do? is it because i cared too much? because i'd rather look from a distance, then be up close and touch? is it because i dont dance? do i not drink enough? maybe maybe..i dont know...maybe i'm just..just not good enough right. right? or or..or maybe because i dont find all my clothes at a thrift store. and and..you know, maybe because my pearls come from my grandmother instead of a flea market. maybe because i'm no good at walking in heals. and you know..just maybe too because..because i cared too much. fuck that. fuck that. fuck her. fuck you. no. because i was good enough. i was. and that's not fair, but i'm done complaining about that. done making that excuse. it wasn't me. it was you. you. you were not good enough. you're not tall enough. or skinny enough. and and..when you're hair is short..you have nothing going for you. and you're teeth arent very nice. and your damn shoes. and dont even lie. you know you like chicken. you werent good enough. not me. because i am good enough. and i am beautiful. and there are people who love me very much. and there are so many people so much better than you. fuck you. uhhh. fuck you. all i wanted, all i wanted was..i dont know. a day. a week maybe. without a lie. without someone else. with me. with you. with no mention of love..or care..or need. just..just want and lust and and fucking infatuation. and i dont want lovely thoughts. i dont care what you fucking think. i dont want glances. your damn stares. i dont want your letters your words your fucking pictures. i dont want your damn heart. i could care less. just..just raw fucking desire. i just want you to shut up and kiss me. just let me touch your cheek and kiss you. fuck that. geezus christ katie. yeah yeah i know. but you know that's all you want and then you'd forget. wonder what he'd say to that. i wonder if he was sleeping with that damn girl of his. oh oh and i'll loose respect from a girl for this..but..too speak it crudely...i just want to fuck him. that's all. i just want to have sex. and you know..a guy should be happy about that. but he wouldnt, i know that. becuase i'm not even good enough for that. and i dont want to "make love" i dont want to "have sex" or "sleep with him." i just want to fuck. no care. no emotion. dont want him to talk. just want to feel him breath and look at his face and kiss his lips. i dont want to hold him. i dont want him to hold me. that's all i want. then..then..yes..::points finger:: then i wouldnt care anymore. ha..and it sucks to think that all of this just comes down to this. all this damn emotion. HEY! it's becuase i never got to taste him.
and i um..i cried today, not because of that, but because a girl that i love, a girl that i love very much related to a girl that i hate, instead of me. and i hate that very much. not because she related to her. but because she can't relate to me. and you know, it makes me feel like i did a while ago, maybe a year ago..when i started to feel like i wasnt even good enough for her anymore. when i felt like i couldnt tell her everything because she'd get this view of me and not like it and not like me anymore. and i'm just not good enough. because i cant write lovely and i can't say these things and..fuck this. i usually dont get like this unless i'm drunk. i'm not even graced by big v tonight. fuck this. i'm gonna stop. ::shakes head:: i just had horrible flashbacks. flashbacks from the night i felt this way a year ago. when i was really drunk. but so was everyone else. last time we were all together. only time i ever saw her cry.
fuck this. i'm just gonna go to bed. so my attempt. my attempt to be lovely. ::shakes head:: such a failure with beauty.
she hadn't seen me crying
i had turned the camera away while i was writing
i was wondering to her, how much i meant
when she said she was going, and blew kisses before she went
when she closed to the box, there was a loud ding
her face was replaced by mine, my eyes red and weaping
the video was lost and she disapeared
i wondered about when i come home, if she'll still be there
so much life to be lived, and what a waste to be away
from one of the few who make me glad, that i wake up every day."
Right now I'm responding with a comment in her journal. I know it won't be the perfect one I want to give her, but I'll try...
Here it is:
Two tears for you, because you're lovely, and your words are lovelier still. I would post a picture as proof, but I don't know how.
I started to read this and I wondered why the last was harder than the first two. And I was, I don't know... sad or angry that you thought that, until I read more and understood what you meant. I didn't know it bothered you that much. I'm sorry I made you cry, but you misunderstand. I relate to a paragraph of words that she wrote down, and she probably didn't mean it the way I would take it. I relate to YOU all the time, and I don't hate your face dispite it. I relate to your love of pool and tennis and frisbee and big v and dark chocolate and carrot cake and wanting to take the calories out of food and wanting perfect abs and dancing in kitchens and good conversation and flagstaff hill and dressing up and pretty boys with shaggy black hair + tight pants and going to shows + ALWAYS getting stage and listening to good music and drinking wine and marylin monroe and good books and keeping photographs, notes, + memories and Davey FUCKIN' Rhodes and watching Charmed but always missing it and non-existant romance and sometimes I wonder if I'm good enough for you, too.
I hate that you're so far away and won't come back, but...
I love that I can see your face and hear your voice even though you're far away, that we spent a Saturday night just making faces at each other, the way you sing all the time no matter where we are or who's around, your perfect hair ego, your fears and conspiracy theories, your boxes of memories-- because nothing can be thrown out, the way you look vintage but don't call it that because you don't need people to notice it, that you're cool even though you don't shop at thrift stores.
And oh so much more.
Yeah, I relate to some words that she put out there, but I wouldn't trade you in for her... I'd look too short. :-P
Oh, the girl loves you, too. :-D
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
You should post some more pics of yourself... You're much too pretty to just have a profile pic...
WVU plays Pitt this coming week. Are you into football at all? I am, to a small extent. Post-game drunken riots are a blast (and retarded, but hey, so is pretty much everything else that people do when they're drunk). I got started to get into football after living through the last WVU football riot/couch-burning block-party. But, since there hasn't been any good post-game debauchery lately, I've been slipping back into the "I don't really give a fuck" category. Still, I hope WVU whips Pitt's ass. Of course, if you don't care at all about football, or about the college-in-your-hometown's team, then that last comment won't mean shit...
That was a pointless little meander. Anyway...
I've been meaning to ask... What's "sqxcm" stand for?
Also... I was reading through your profile... What about voyeurism gets you hot? Have you watched anyone do anything with someone else when they didn't know you were watching? Tell the truth now. Oh, and mirrors, what do you think is so hot about mirrors? Now, I can use my imagination and come up with a few ideas (very nice ones, too), but I want to know what you think even more...
So I should post more pics? I'll think about it. The compliment was enough that I might have to... possibly just to prove you wrong.
Not into football in the least. The comment was wasted on me. But Pitt should kick WVU's ass, just on principle.
Square Centimeter. It's what my uncle calls me sometimes, because... okay, this is a weird thing that I do. When I'm making like a sandwich or a bagel or... something else when I use condiments and have to spread them, I take forever because I have to spread them evenly. And when I make a baked potato, I have to mix it evenly with butter and sour cream until it looks like mashed potatoes. See, weird.
Voyerism is hot, but no. I think I like voyerism because it's completely not me, if that makes sense. Mirrors, voyerism. I like to watch myself and other people. Not necessarily in a sexual way, actually usually not. Your imagination probably would have suited you better.
[Edited on Nov 19, 2004 3:04PM]