Memoirs of an Insane Freshman Girl

Chapter 9: November

Chapter 9: November


With Homecoming and Halloween over, November was stalking around the corner. What I must explain is the time after Halloween. I would call it a time of disappointment. So as previously explained, Chris broke up with his girlfriend, and; therefore, he was technically available. Also, as previously said, Chris had apparently broken up with her to go out with me. I’m not saying I was the reason that he broken up with her—I’ll never really know—but that’s just what I heard from my sources. So then why didn’t Chris immediately ask me out? Okay, think Marcie. He wouldn’t want to immediately ask another girl out because that would make it seem like he broke up with girlfriend to go out with another girl—which of course, he did, but he probably just didn’t want it to seem like that. If only I had been this logical in my times of November. I hated that month. Of course, you may be wondering, what did November ever do to you? Absolutely nothing. That was the problem.

Maybe I was just assuming too much of the guy—Chris—or something, but somehow, I just thought he would ask me out as soon as he broke up with his girlfriend. Maybe I had just been obsessed over Chris for so long that it seemed like I couldn’t live one more moment without being his girlfriend. Of course, I had lived as much so far without being his girlfriend; so, obviously, it was possible. I think I was just so caught up in liking him that I didn’t step back and realize how obsessed I was with a guy that I didn’t really know all that well. When I say I didn’t know Chris all that well, that’s quite a relative term because I did know him pretty well. It was just that I had only known him for three or so months; so, I really couldn’t know a tremendous amount of information about him in that little of a time.

So basically, the point is that Chris didn’t ask me out—well, he did eventually, but not during the month of November or December or January for that matter. And it’s not like he didn’t know I liked him; it wasn’t because of some big misunderstanding or just the obvious obliviousness of guys in general. No, I know he knew. I made pretty darn sure of that and a pretty darn big of a fool of myself. But if I had never reached out and somewhat humiliated myself, then Chris and I would have never had the relationship we had, and I would be a completely different girl right now—just like if I had never experienced the things I did in eighth grade, I may have acted differently during freshmen year. If Chris hadn’t had a girlfriend at that time, I wonder if Chris and I would have turned out differently. I wonder if Chris would have asked me out earlier and if we would have broken up sooner because of that. But maybe we wouldn’t have; maybe we would have been able to stay together longer before the oh-so awful element that caused our break-up. Would Chris and I have ever broken up if it hadn’t been for that oh-so awful element? Honestly, I don’t think Chris would have ever broken up with me. He had already fallen too hard for me when we were together while I had fallen too hard for him before we were together; so, I could protect myself from the hurt when we were actually together. I never wanted to be hurt again like how he hurt me back in November.

I don’t know how I would have made it through without the help of my best guy friend, Derek. Basically, I had made this whole ordeal of Chris and I into a much bigger deal than it really was. I was so obsessed with Chris that I didn’t even really take the time to get to know him. I just knew I liked him—a lot. I never really stopped to think about how totally ridiculous the whole thing was. At one point in my patheticness, I almost thought I was in love with him. This was Chris—a guy I had barely known for three months—and I thought I was in love with him. In fact, I really was never in love with him. I just wanted to be in love. I was in love with the idea of love. I just wanted to be in love so much that the first guy that came along that I liked and that liked me was the guy I was supposedly in love with. I know now that I was never in love in with him—never even close. Yes, that sounds harsh, but it’s nothing but the truth. Those horrid months wallowing in my own self-pity only prove that I was pathetic, not in love with him. Just because I was completely and totally obsessed with him doesn’t mean that I loved him. In fact, the longer I knew him and when we were actually in a relationship, I seemed to like him less. That may not make sense, and I really wouldn’t want to admit it, especially to him—but it’s true nonetheless.

As I said that November was a dark and scary time for me, it was mostly full of my patheticness because Oh, no, a guy didn’t like me! Big deal! I had been dealing with guys not liking me for my entire life. Why did I all of the sudden care so much if this guy liked me? Even though I didn’t know this at the time, Chris did like me then. He just didn’t “act on his feelings”—those are his words, not mine—because he had a girlfriend, which kind of made me like him more because then that would mean that he would never cheat on me when we were going out. Derek was there for me when I needed someone to whine to when I was feeling depressed. Now that I look back on it, it was pretty stupid and pathetic to complain about a guy not liking me. That’s just lame if you ask me—even though I’m the one who did it, but that’s beside the point. Wow, a guy doesn’t like you. Get over it.

But the thing was that I never did get over him. My friend Carla kept trying to help me get over him. That was our mission. It never happened. I don’t think I would have ever gotten over him if we had broken up differently than the way we had—because of the huge thing that had come between us. In fact, during physical systems, Carla and I wrote notes back and forth to each other in this notebook because she sat at the lab table behind me for a month or so. We invented something called “guy math” where we deciphered in “math terms” about the guys we were crushing on at the moment. Carla liked this senior, and her mission was to get over him because she knew he would never like her for anything more than a friend. As for Carla’s successfulness of her mission, I can’t really tell you if she was or not. One day, she came into physical systems saying she was completely 100% over the senior guy, but then a week later, she realized that she was just saying she was over him to try to make herself believe that she was when she really wasn’t, and she was just lying to herself.

In fact, I was a well-versed expert in the subject of lying to oneself because of my years of experience. The thing was that no one would categorize me as a liar because I didn’t lie to other people. It’s not because I was such a saint of a person that I could never lie, but in fact, it was that I didn’t possess the skill or ability to lie to others with them actually believing me. Of course, this may seem like a wonderful thing; so, all my friends would always know that I was telling the truth. In ways, I suppose it was, but we’ve all got to admit that lying sometimes is necessary. Okay, of course, it’s not completely necessary and essential to the point of not being able to live without it, but it does come in handy on more than one occasion in one’s life. For example, little white lies complimenting your friend’s hair or clothes when they are nowhere near particularly fashionable or cute are always acceptable in today’s world, and actually encouraged, if not mandatory in today’s book of etiquette for modern society.

Basically, if I ever did try to lie—which I didn’t often because of my obvious lack of talent at that particular field—it was a futile attempt because no one ever believed me. Yes, again, this must seem like a good thing for I must always tell the truth. Not quite. First of all, if I haven’t already mentioned as such, I am an extremely sarcastic person. Sarcasm is all good and well to make jokes, but my sarcasm goes much farther than normal harmless sarcasm would entail. There are a million witty comebacks and sarcastic comments just resting on the tip of my tongue after every phrase coming out of everyone’s mouths. Of course, if I said everything I was thinking, it would be pure chaos for my thoughts are not exactly sensitive or nice, to say the least. But I can’t stop everything that’s swirling through my thoughts from exiting through my lips; so, there are times—more than I’d like to admit—that I let my temper and my sarcasm get the best of me. Sometimes I can’t help saying those witty comebacks or those just plain perfect sarcastic sentences that cannot be described as anything other than being unnecessarily mean.

The funny thing is that I’m not really a particularly mean person at heart. Of course, I want peace in the world, and I’m not one of those girls who are always trying to bring everyone else down to boost her own faltering ego and basking in other’s insecurities. And no, I’m not one of those low self-esteem girls always searching for a compliment but never appreciating or believing anyone’s true words because they’re too busy self-degrading themselves to notice that other people actually do care about them. No, I’m somewhere in between. I must say that I’m not completely innocent in the egotistical department, meaning that sometimes I can get pretty full of myself, but I never purposely try to put others down. Hence the word purposely because I know I do “put others down” in some ways without even realizing it. It comes naturally with my sarcastic comments that I find strange pleasure in saying even though I don’t know why.

Luckily, I have found some sort of self-control over the years; so, that every sarcastic comment brewing inside my head doesn’t become public knowledge and cause pain to people who don’t deserve my dim outlook on life to obscure their happy view of the world. That’s another thing about me. I am unusually pessimistic for a girl of only fifteen years. Most girls my age care only about the next sale at American Eagle or that cute new guy in Chemistry, but I feel that I have so much more of an outlook on the world and life than any of them will ever grasp. Most girls—students in general—find school to be a challenge, one that they won’t even try at for it seems already an impossible feat; so, they figure they shouldn’t even try. For me, school is minimalistic. The thing is that I don’t learn very much and what I do learn is a very small part of what I could be learning in that some amount of time. I find myself easily bored and yearning for more knowledge—actually doing something useful or productive.

I have a lot of opinions about the world and life in general. I have an interest in figuring out what so many can’t decipher—the meaning of life. Sure, that sounds cliché and totally lame for a girl just beginning high school, but it’s like I’m not even on the same level of intelligence of any of my classmates. I’m not saying that to imply that I’m really that smart because I’m not. I’m just saying that I think about a lot of things that involve the years to come that most kids my age haven’t even begun to consider. In most of the students I have met, I question how they can even live without reading books outside of school. It baffles me the range of intelligence that is now deemed today’s generation that is supposed to carry us on to tomorrow to better days and technology. Students today don’t even think anymore, and it’s become a big disappointment to earlier generations but more importantly to me, a fellow student of today’s generation of growing stupidity. Everyone is so focused on taking the easiest way, not just in school, but in general. God forbid, if anyone actually took the harder way that was actually the right way. Sure, it may not seem that important to not do a couple of assignments for school because you just don’t feel like it, and it probably won’t greatly affect your grade point average, so why not? The “why not” lies exactly in the fact that that is exactly what you’re going to do with the rest of your life. Bad habits are incredibly hard to break—especially when you don’t really see them as bad habits but just being lazy.

The thing about teenagers is that they don’t think ahead. Sure, about as far in the future as they think is the party that Friday night. I’m not saying it’s necessarily a bad thing because you don’t want to always be fretting about the future and not living your life or dwelling on the past, but it’s become a huge problem. Because we teenagers don’t look ahead for our futures, we aren’t prepared for the cold, unfamiliar world waiting out there for us, and we end up falling flat on our faces, stuck in a rut with nowhere to turn for help. Apparently, today’s generation wants to be stuck working minimum wage at McDonald’s for the rest of our lives. That’s what we teenagers are saying when we refuse to acknowledge and prepare for our future. Sure, we all dream about graduating and going out into the world to be free of our parents, but it’s not as glamorous or fun as it’s portrayed in movies and books. Right now, none of us are ready to live out on our own in the real world without help. Everyone, even adults, should remember that assuming things are easy because they look that way doesn’t mean that they are. Also, even when we think we are perfectly okay and independent, we can always use a little help.

November was indeed a pretty awful time for me because I was so obsessed with wallowing in my own self-pity that I didn’t look up and realize how stupid the whole thing was. Basically, even though I refused to believe it for several months after, Chris liked me, and I liked Chris. So what was the problem? I don’t really know why, but we just didn’t click right then. I think I was still furious at Chris for hurting me. Actually, I knew I was still furious because of all the angry stories I had written. I actually have a pretty descriptive account of one day in Literature/Composition class when we were watching A Raisin in the Sun. For some reason, I decided I didn’t really feel like reading the play. So every day we read the play aloud in class, I opted to read another one of my many chick flick books that I am so addicted to and can’t stop reading for the life of me. At this time, Chris sat in the row next to me, and we were constantly texting each other and looking at each other. Of course, we weren’t communicating as freely this day or for a while, I suppose, considering my anger. So we were watching the movie, and I had no idea what was going on because I hadn’t read any of the book. Instead, I glared at Chris in the dark and scribbled anger in my little black notebook. This little experience and more insight on my life at this particular time is most accurately described in a four page email that I sent my best friend Carla later that night.

To: Carla
Subject: everything…..*him included*
Date: Fri, 16 Nov 2007

Hey, Carla. I’m so sorry I haven’t written in forever. I know, its been a long time. My life’s been really busy lately, surprisingly enough. Well, actually, it’s not like it’s been that busy—it’s just been filled with him. Like everything we talked about today, he just hurts me. I just can’t stop feeling hurt. Like today in geometry, all of the sudden, I felt horrible and sad, and I just stared off into the distance, feeling my eyes fill up with tears. I blinked them away; so, luckily they didn’t fall on my perfect make-up *lol* *although, I don’t think either of us is laughing right now* but I wasn’t so fortunate in lit/comp. For the beginning half of the class, I did physical systems to keep my mind busy; so, I would stop thinking about him and staring at him, but the second half of the class after lunch, I gave up trying to think about physical systems, and I gave into my awaited dream of staring at him and talking to him and thinking about him. He had a pack of starbursts; so, I asked him to give me one, and he gave me my favorite flavor *cherry*, and then he moved his chair up a little farther towards the screen, and then I was sort of watching the movie and sort of watching him and then he looked back directly at me and of course, I was caught looking at him, and then he did another time, and I think I was smiling that time, but then once more *third time’s the charm* and that’s when I looked really mad and/or sad. That’s because that was right after I started crying. Ok, backing up the story. So I don’t know what brought it on *ok, I do, thinking about not having him* but I could feel my eyes starting to well up with tears *I know the feeling very well now, thanks to him* and I just gave up and let them fall *it was dark, so I didn’t mind anyone seeing me too much*. I do this weird thing when I cry, though. Both my eyes will fill up with tears but then only tears from one eye will fall down my face. I have no idea why, and it’s not always the same eye, but it’s always been that way, except when I was watching Titanic--that was a little more intense; so, the tears fell from both eyes. But there I was, crying in lit/comp class, how pathetic is that? So when he looked back the third time, I wonder if he was wondering why I looked so sad/mad because I definitely wasn’t smiling. When I’m sad/mad, I can feel the frown on my face. I mean, you would think, who actually frowns? But I can’t force myself to smile when I feel that way, not even for him because he’s the one that makes me feel this way--completely horrible. When I think about him, I shiver, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. It’s so intense of a feeling that when I’m holding my phone texting my sister or him, my heart is pounding so hard, and I’m shaking; so, that I think my phone is vibrating; so, I check my phone, but really, I’m just shivering. Whenever I so much as think his name or hear someone else say his name *today in Spanish, we were talking about our relatives and someone said the name Chris, and my heart pounded in result, like it wasn’t already about to explode out of my chest* *no, they weren’t talking about Chris, that they were related to them, just the name* omg, omg, omg. Could it be love? Ok, honestly, I’m a girl who usually likes at least three to four guys. I like to keep my options open. I’m not attached to one guy very easily. And someone asked me the other night, do you like anyone else? And I honestly said, no. I don’t. When I look at any other guy besides Chris, I don’t feel the feeling. I’m not excited, and my heart doesn’t flutter in anxiety. I don’t feel any attraction to anyone else. At all. Surprising as it may sound, it’s completely true. I can’t think of one other person I even like a little bit. All of the asshole guys who like me just make me feel like I’m going to throw up. Well, I guess ~insert guy’s name of choice here~ isn’t an asshole, but I feel sorry for him because I can’t change the way I feel about him, and I really hope I’m not causing him the same pain Chris is causing me because I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I hate this. If I send him something like a text, email, or facebook message, I get my hopes up that he’ll respond. And then when I check my email a half hour later, and he doesn’t respond, it makes me realize everything all over again, and the pain only grows. Right before I checked my email, my heart was pounding even harder before and I was so anxious he was going to send something back, and I was shaking in anticipation *words can’t really describe how excited and anxious I was, even if you were there, it’s what’s going inside my head that makes the difference*, and then I checked my email, and when I read you have 0 messages, it crushes me. He crushes me. Every time I hope that he’ll talk to me, respond back to my messages, emails or texts, or think about me, and he doesn’t, it hurts, it crushes me, it shatters me into a thousand scattered pieces of a puzzle that I can’t put back together. My heart aches. It hurts. He hurts me. Why can’t he just like me? Is that so much to ask? I know, I know. That’s the same question the rest of the guys are asking themselves, as in ~insert guy’s name of choice here~ saying, why can’t Marcie just like me? I know I’m such a hypocrite. I’m frustrated and angry that Chris doesn’t like me as much as I like him, and that every time he doesn’t pay attention to me, that he’s such an asshole and that he’s hurting me, but I don’t give any of the guys that like me the time of day. I basically ignore them because most of them are just assholes who don’t really like me because they don’t know me. What really creeps me out is about David. Sometimes in geometry, I catch him just staring at me. For some reason, it seems like he’s trying to read my mind and figure out what I’m all about. I don’t know if he still likes me or not, but when I look at David, I don’t feel anything--no rushing wind, no nervous flutter, no pounding heart, no nothing. But honestly, I don’t really care. That’s why I don’t really feel guilty about not caring about the guys that like me because I don’t really care about their feelings. I’m so wrapped up in myself that I don’t really consider how everyone else feels. All I think about is him and him and him and him and him forever more. I can’t help it. I know that’s not an excuse, but I can’t stop thinking about him. That’s why I’m writing this email. I can’t write a good story showing the hurt and pain he caused me because I know it won’t be fiction because I’ll be talking about myself. But I don’t want it to be real. If I write it down, it will turn into reality and I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. I want to keep believing my fantasy, I want to keep falsely hoping and setting myself up for heartbreak after heartbreak until there’s nothing left of my heart to break because it’s shattered into a thousand pieces. Okay, I’m going to go into some other stories of my past that I think you should know because that’s where my guy history comes from. Ok, so there was this guy named Rick who I knew from Kindergarten, and I liked him from when I started liking guys. Then at the end of 5th grade, our school closed and he went to a different school. I never told him I liked him, and I regretted it almost every day for at least a year and a half. Every night since the middle of 5th grade or so, I had this dream where he saved me, the details are boring, but basically he saved my life, blah, blah, all romantic and stuff. But the sad part was that if I didn’t dream that dream, I couldn’t go to sleep; so, I dreamed the same dream for almost two years or so every night. I never told anyone until about a half a year ago that I was that obsessed with him. The thing was that I didn’t really know him that well. I didn’t know his secrets, and it was a 5th grade thing, but I was hooked on him, and I thought he broke my heart. Eventually, I did get over him. From time to time, I run by his house. I used to hope he’d be out there, and I could talk to him, but in the two years I’ve been running by his house, he’s only been outside once, and I talked to him for like five minutes; so, I really wouldn’t call that progress. When I used to run by his house, as I passed his house, my heart sped up, and I looked longingly at his house into the windows, hoping that maybe he would see me. But now, I am honestly over him, I am glad to say that. And then at the beginning of 6th grade, I met this guy named Matt, and I really liked him. But it wasn’t as much of a one-crush thing back in middle school--I liked at least five guys at any given time. It wasn’t even an I-like-him-for-his-personality type thing. It was more of a he’s-hot-and-popular-and-he’ll-probably-never-talk-to-me-but-I-still-like-him-anyway type thing. That’s what I did in middle school. I liked all the “hot” guys that never talked to me. For some reason, I was obsessed with Matt, and I thought I was in love with him for a while, but I got over it when I realized I really didn’t know that much about him. Like I knew stuff about him, but I didn’t know the important stuff. Like his middle name and what he did when he thought his life was hell and the walls were closing in on him. I guess the middle name thing isn’t important, really, but I like knowing.  *except we both know I’m not smiling* *but I’m not crying, I haven’t cried the whole time I’ve been in here, my eyes welled up once, but the tears never fell, I’m sure they will eventually, but right now, I don’t think they will* I’m actually not typing this in an email right now. I’m sitting in my sanctuary, my special place where I feel safe. My friend Chelsea and I built a castle out of cardboard boxes and tape, no joke. It actually stands up, and it has a door, and it’s decorated with pretty fabric in the inside. We painted it blue, and we call it the blue castle. It’s at my house, but one night, we were like, why don’t we build a real house? *one night, we wanted to stay up and watch the sun rise, so we decided to do a craft to keep busy, so we cut up some cardboard and made little doll houses, we spent 12 hours on them that afternoon and night, lol* *another night when we wanted to watch the sun rise, we made wigs out of yarn, lol* and so we taped together a bunch of cardboard boxes *my family had just bought this table and chairs set so we had a big box to start with* *and when she came over another time, I had the brilliant idea to try to sleep in the box and so me and Chelsea smushed ourselves inside the box and then eventually somehow wiggled around and ripped the box apart because we fell against the sides of the box, lol, I actually just laughed out loud, I’m so proud of myself, it’s just that the last time I really laughed today was when I laughed at Chris in geometry for thinking a flowchart was a flowerchart. Because our teacher was like, so you make a flowchart. And he’s like, don’t you mean a flowerchart? And everyone was like, no, it’s a flowchart. And he was looking in his notebook and he was like, oh, I wrote down flowerchart. And then he was like, can I call it a flowerchart? Lol, and then I made fun of him later in lit/comp, because we were talking about our geometry quizzes that almost everyone did bad on and I was like, I got a 60% and he’s like, I did better than you, and I was like, at least I didn’t think a flowchart was a flowerchart. Lol.* wow, that was a whole other story within my little **** stars *I don’t mean that to be blotting out a bad word or anything, I just use those kinda like paretheses* omg, I have written so much. This is jst bordering on three full pages of 12-point times new roman font in Microsoft word. Oh ya, we made this table that’s actually very useful for putting my laptop on. We just glued two boxes together and painted it blue, lol. We had extra blue paint left over from when we painted my sister’s room; so, we just used that to paint the outside, and we were like, how many houses has the furniture inside painted the same color as the outside of the house? Lol, it’s actually pretty big. Well not that big because it has to fit in my basement. I’m actually surprised that my parents let me keep it in my laundry room. We were gonna not tape it up at first because we were somehow gonna fold it up; so, we could transport it, but then we just started taping it up, and we used like a whole roll of duct tape. So once we constructed it all, we were like, it’s not going to fit through the door, is it? Oh well, we’re just going to have to leave it here, lol. This is good, talking about having fun with Nicole because I’m not sad anymore *right now anyway* and it gets my mind off him and other stuff related to him and I’m smiling, so yes, this is good. Ok, I really think I should stop writing now because this is already past three pages and you are probably getting bored from reading all of this, and I have to go upstairs to send it anyway, and I’ll probably watch a movie on my laptop in my room after I finish reading my book. I’ll probably finish my book first. I’m actually listening to Taylor Swift right now. I listen to her songs all the time, especially when I’m on the computer. I have her Christmas CD, too, it’s really good. Ok, thanks so much for listening *or reading* to all of my problems that aren’t really that important problems when I think about how so many other people have it so much worse off than I do. I’m very lucky, I have a lot, I mean, my family’s not rich, and we’re not poor, but we get by, and I don’t mind not shopping for $75 t-shirts at Hollister or $40 jeans at American Eagle. Honestly, my family can’t really afford expensive clothes like that, but I do have a lot of clothes, lol, and I don’t mind not having all the extra luxuries. Oh and before I go, I have one more story to tell. At youth group, omg, that was so awkward. Ryan talked to me a lot and I felt like saying, leave me alone because he is just so much of an asshole. He is. He like stalks every single girl he meets. I swear, that’s why I don’t feel guilty when he calls me and texts me and wants me to go to a movie with him and I say no. Because I know for a fact that he’s asked like four other girls that same night, so I don’t feel bad for him, and I would never in a million years go out with him. He’s a disgusting player, and I don’t want to have anything to do with him. But I don’t exactly tell any of this to him. I just play along like everything’s okay and I don’t mind him being such a sleazebag, but I know I really need to stand up to him and tell him how I really feel, that I don’t want him within 100 feet of me *lol* *of course, I wouldn’t exactly say that, but you get my point* and then ~insert two girls’ names here~ were there, but it was kind of awkward because I hadn’t talked to them in a long time, and I didn’t really hang out with their friends, and I didn’t really talk to them. And then ~insert girl’s name here~ was like, are you okay? You look sad. *of course I was sad, he didn’t show up for youth group that night. I think he might be grounded or something because he was saying how he couldn’t text and then I heard Mrs. W telling him how his mom wanted him to bring his lit/comp book home that night, I know he was doing kind of bad in lit/comp, he would never let me see his papers, no matter how hard I tried to snatch them, but I know he wasn’t doing great, I hope he’s doing better now, I was almost going to ask him if he needed help in lit/comp or geometry or physical systems *he’s not in my physical systems class, but he has the same teacher, Mrs. K 4th hour while I have her 2nd hour* but then I really couldn’t help him w/ lit/comp because I have no idea what the odyssey is about, I mean, I know what it’s about, but I haven’t done any of my work yet, I’m doing it tomorrow and Sunday. And I’m going to the play tomorrow night so I’ll see you as an oompa loompa, lol. Omg, this is seriously like three lines away from being four pages long. Wow, okay, I really need to go now before you die from boredom or whatever you’re feeling right now. I know I’m not a very good friend because I don’t really listen to other people’s problems because I’m so obsessed with my own, but I hope you can forgive me for that. Oh crap, I feel like I’m going to throw up now. I think it’s only partially about him, though. I should probably take this hoodie off because I’m getting really hot. Ok, now I’m going, so I will ttyl!!!!!

you always,
Marcie

P.S. just another thought on me and Chelsea’s blue castle, we both slept in it, it’s like as big as a twin size mattress but a little wider and shorter. Lol, you can laugh at me and Nicole, we slept inside a box on my hard laundry room floor, that sounds like fun, like right now for example how my back is killing me from leaning over typing this in the blue castle, lol.

P.P.S. I’m exhausted from weightlifting, did I tell you I did weightlifting? Well, if I didn’t, now I did, lol. Yea, it’s very exhausting, I just thought you should know that, lol.

P.P.P.S. now I am off to finish reading my book and then watching a pointless movie, sounds like fun. :D