Nothing really seems to get easier.

I got my nose pierced. And it looks nice. I mean, it's a really really small stud. Which is awesome. Because it's subtle, which means it isn't in your face, which can often look trashy, depending on who it's on. But, seriously, I've been complimented by some of the most stuck up individuals I know, who think it looks nice. So, yeah, that's usually a good indicator of if you made the right decision or not.

I don't know why I'm not happy though. I mean, nose piercing aside, I just don't feel great. Heck, I even forgave my sister, who I hadn't spoken to in months. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm still extremely pissed off at her (although I won't let her know this), but I'm actually acknowledging her now. The whole forgiveness thing was more for closure on myself.

And, even with that guy. I mean, things are okay. I haven't spoken to him (he hasn't been in church, and there's no opportunity at school whatsoever). But... obviously, he's interested in some way, shape, or form. I'd go into specifics, but... let's just say that I can tell.

But I'm not happy. Maybe I just don't feel good because I'm worried. I'm really freaking worried that I offended my best friend. Terrified, in fact. She wrote something on her blog about a hypocrite, and.... naturally, I assume it's me that she's talking about (I'm paranoid). I really hope it's not me. I don't think that if it was me, that she would put it on there, but.... rage can inspire people to do insane things. I really don't want her mad at me, because the tone of that post was pissed. So, now I've got a queasy feeling in my stomach, and I doubt that I'll get any sleep tonight, because I'm so freaking worried that she was talking about me. I don't want her to have been talking about me.





....... I'm worried.

Walk out the door and up the street…

…look at the stars beneath my feet.

Life has been life. Boring, for sure, but life, none the less.
Crazy came home from the nut house. I didn’t want her to come home, but she did. I’m not sure the last time I posted on this site, so that might be redundant, but… whatever. I don’t particularly care if it is.
If my formatting became randomly weird this time around, it’s because I’m attempting to use something that came with all of the Windows Live stuff built into my computer, called Windows Live Writer. It’s a pretty nifty blogging program, although it doesn’t work too well with Livejournal. It does, however, make blogging a lot easier on the really tough sites, so it almost makes me want to give Wordpress another go. Almost. Wordpress has given me some issues in the past, so I’m not exactly sure if I want to put up with its crap again. I think that a lot of stuff on that site is more complicated than it needs to be, but, whatever.

So, I guess now I have no option but to enable comments. Not that I really give a fuck. I mean, it’s my blog. If you say something I don’t like in my comments, I have the right to ignore you. It doesn’t really matter what anybody else thinks. I’ve said this before: I do this blog for me, not for anybody else. I don’t care what you’ve got to say, because… this is my thoughts and opinions. And you don’t have to read. So… yeah. If you don’t like it, ignore it, and all that jazz.

Anywho. This weekend, I went to the International Festival on the other side of town that happens every year. I’ll give you one guess as to who was there with his regular crew, performing.

If you couldn’t figure it out, you’ve got some serious problems.

Anyway, I swear, I almost spoke to him. Almost.

Yeah, not really. I’m too much of a coward to speak to him.

Well, aside from that, he acted kind of weird. I mean, he acts weird anyway, but… I think that I caught him and his friend talking about me, as when I was coming up the sidewalk with my dad, they got these goofy looks on their faces and turned around abruptly.

But. I don’t think he thinks I’m creepy, because later that day, he walked right behind me (within a few feet). Which he didn’t have to do, because there are a lot of other ways in the park. Yeah. So, if he thought I was a creepy stalker (which I’m seriously not trying to stalk him, by the way. All of the situations where I’ve appeared in the same place has been a coincidence, no joke), he could have taken a different route as a means to avoid me.

I take it as a good sign that he didn’t. Next time, I swear with God as my witness, I’m going to speak to him, when I get the chance.

After all, what do I really have to loose?

There were some.... issues last night.

That afternoon had been fine. I was so content. Everybody seemed at least sort of happy.

It went downhill from there.

I was looking for a game to play with my sister and her friends on the Wii, which I just couldn't find. I asked my dad if he knew where it was, not in any way demanding an instantaneous response. Well, he kind of snapped at me that he didn't know where it was, and that he was busy, which kind of hurt my feelings, but, whatever.
A couple minutes later, I tried to ask him something again (I can't remember what), but I guess he was on the phone (which I didn't know), and he snapped at me again. By this point, I was irritated, especially since I hadn't done anything aside from ask him questions. Which doesn't deserve that kind of retaliation.

So, I went upstairs so I wouldn't get yelled at, saying that I was tired of being scolded to everyone downstairs in general (which I guess was my big mistake).

Well, he gets mad, and he stomps upstairs, cussing at me and telling me that I need to get downstairs, which I, of course, don't want to do, because he's cussing at me.

Now, let me just say something about my dad. He's one of those men who rarely cusses. He doesn't like cussing, and he thinks that it's inappropriate. But last night, I heard words coming out of his mouth that he hasn't said for a long time, horrible words.

Yeah, so, then, my mom tells me to come downstairs, so I do, and I sit on the couch. So then, my dad comes back downstairs, and, what do you know, he's still cussing at me.

So I get up and try to leave the room, because it bothers me that he's cussing.

In an attempt to grab me around my chest to hold me back so that he could "talk" to me, he ended up grabbing my shoulders, which was way to close to my neck for me to feel comfortable. And he pulled me backwards towards the chair where he was.

I actually feared for my safety, and I started screaming and trembling. I managed to slide down onto the floor, and I kept on asking my mom to help me. All while he's swearing at me in anger. And I'm screaming "Let me go!" over and over again.

Finally, he just gets sick of me crying in fear, so he goes "fine, I'll just go upstairs, and then you won't have to deal with me, and you can go in there and play games with them." So, basically, he thought that I'd still want to play on the Wii after all that.

Nope. I run into the dining room, and I curl up in a corner, and since I'm right by the door, and it's got like a cloth cover on it, I pull that over me to "protect" me. I'm claustrophillic, so when I'm in a dark, enclosed place, it makes me feel a lot safer. Thus the reason that when I'm stressed, I will go and hide in my closet.

My grandmother comes in, since she was watching to, and she's screaming "Listen, listen!" and I don't want to hear it, I'm still shaking and scared. So I just tell her to shut up and go away, and she leaves. My mom then tries to come in and get me, but at this point, I unlock and subsequently open the door and go out into the backyard barefoot, even though the ground is wet and there's probably dog shit out there. My mom eventually comes out, even though I'm still out there and crying, and she brings me shoes, and we walk down the street. I was still sobbing and upset, and basically, all we went over was that I didn't do anything wrong, and that nothing that I did required that kind of backlash.

He was waiting on the porch for us when we got back, and I refused to go up there for the first couple of minutes, cowering into my mom and telling her that I was scared, which I was. He eventually says that he'll just go away to the back porch if it'll make me want to go up the stairs, but it ultimately wasn't necessary, as I just got my mom to walk up first as I held onto her behind her. We went upstairs into my room, and I was finally able to change into my night clothes.

About an hour later, he came upstairs, calm, and he apologized profusely. He said he just wasn't handling this whole situation with my other sister well, with her being in the nut house. He said sometimes he was angry, or sad, or happy, or okay, and that it just fluctuates. And that I really didn't do anything wrong, and that he shouldn't have acted like that. And that I didn't need to fear for my safety, that he would never have hurt me anyway. Both of my parents stressed that point.

So I forgave him, even though I was really upset. It just wasn't a nice evening at all.