Rant

If you want to rate this, keep in mind that it is a rant, and has not been perfected in any way from its original form, because it would therefore cease to be a rant.

Basia and other people that know me personaly. I don't want you judging me as a person from my rant. PLEASE! Out of respect for me as a person. I love you all.

I'm sorry if my "potty-mouth" offends anyone. keep in mind that this is after all a rant, and i wrote them because i thought them, and i thought them because i felt them. In all reality, it's really not all that bad, and I know that, but there are people a lot more conservative than me, and they can just go away.




Call again. call-a-fucking-gain! Two weeks! You don't not call me for a week! If this fucking thing would underline, i'd be underlining! do you have any idea how fucking lonely i was?! and it was only a week! I hate myself for that. I know it could be a hell-of-a-lot longer. 3 weeks in reality really isn't that long. im such a juvenile dumbfuck. But you had 20 minutes every night that you could have talked to me, and did you call me? 2 or 3 times. grrrrrr.... 2 or 3 times? not good enough mister. not good enough! Why won't the fucking underline work. i wanted to underline fucking in 'why won't the fucking underline work?' but i couldn't. stupid computers.i wanted to talk to you. more so, i wanted to feel you. i wanted your shoulders. your body warmth. oooh, your hands. your body next to mine.... NOT DOING JACK-SHIT!!!! Why wont you fucking do anything???? BE FUCKING ASSERTIVE!!! I don't want to have to do it! it would tickle my fancy more if you did it for me, to me, whatever. 1 week and all i hear is "Aly?... hey." and then you got cut off. Why?! call again. CALL AGAIN. I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF IT WAS YOU!!! it could have been fucking sean for all i know!! GOD!! But i hope it was you, because if it was, you sounded happier than i've heard you sound... ever. please let it have been you. Please call again so that i know you are happy. You really did sound like it. My heart hurt for 5 minutes while i waited for your call. i'm still waiting, and it's not coming. I hate the pettiness of all this. I feel like a fucking retard. A young, un-lived, un-experienced, stupid, petty, dumbshit teenager who thinks she knows anything until someone asks her if she knows what "________" means. And of course i should, because every-fucking-one does. But i don't because i forgot. And then they tell me, and i feel even more like a dumbshit, because it was so obvious, redicuously obvious, and it was one of those words where you knew the word, but you couldn't tell someone what it meant if your life depended on it. ugh...dumbshit. Why do i have to be stuck with me. There's so much that other people don't know. There's so much that i don't even know. i have wounds from childhood that have scared over, but are cut open everytime someone doesn't want to give me a hug, or dosn't smile back. It hurts. And i'm THAT fucking sensitive. THAT sensitive!! GOD DAMNIT!! i hate it with a passion. Why the hell can't i except the fact that some people aren't going to like me. Why do i give a damn, when i so desperately don't want to? It's not right. And another thing. i can't controll my own thoughts, and that drives me batshit. I find myself thinking all the sour-ass, retarded, shallow, two-faced things that i hate *underline*so much about some people. I can't stop it. i want to even more than i want to be less sensitive. Because i hate it about myself, and i am so fucking tired of hating myself. I did relentlessly for two whole fucking years. I hate the way that i hated myself. I have come to accept it though. But barely. Its just one of those kinda-sorta scabbed over wounds, except the wound left from these two years is like a knife wound, and the scab can be picked off quite easily, and the blood will start flowing. It's all there, under my shell. Which is a pretty shitty shell considering how easily broken it is. oooooh, the pain. I haven't felt it for too long, and the only one who can point it out is my sister. she knows more than i do. This is one of the only times i have admitted to myself how fucked up i feel. She knew better than i did. I went over to Jeff's house one in a shitty mood. I told him that i was mad at myself for being fucked up. He told me i was the least fucked up person he knew. It felt good to hear. He asked me why i was mad at myself, and i tried to explain, but failed miserably. It was a pitiful attempt, because there was just too much to tell. To much that even he doesn't know. Nobody knows. Not even my sister. Hardly even me.I hate it. And i am tired of saying hate. I have said it too much, and i'm sick of it.

please give me a review; i want to know what you think!