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7/8: I'm homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I hate crying and I hate letting anyone see me cry, but it starts to hurt when you're holding it in. And then you start crying after you can't help tearing up, after you have to leave and make yourself as alone as you're discretely able, and at first you break down because after being strong for all the time in between this very moment and the time before right now, something usually smaller was enough to tear through the wall I felt I so carefully constructed, but then crying becomes sobbing, and that minuscule crack grows into everything you should've cried over, months ago. Nothing makes sense anymore and you spend endless minutes over-analyzing everything, and trying to figure out the reasoning behind the reasons you're crying over in the first place, only to discover later, are efforts in vain, because in the end you get back to where you started and force yourself to be content with the unknown, at least until the next time my life falls down on me. And afterwards, the usually small start, being homesick and finding that I really belong nowhere, is still there, and everything else, you neglected tears for in the past, goes back to being meaningless and trivial within your existence as of now. And this would be the act of staying positive, right? I don't feel like I was keeping a big secret to appearing outwardly strong and at times, even heartless, but everybody's got to learn some time, even if it's just that no matter how happy you are or think you are, life is hard and sometimes the worst things happen to the least deserving of it, but life is all we've got either way.
7/10: I don't like waiting this long to type in my Livejournal, therefore, I've been writing in my notebook(s); always more-available than a computer and/or internet. Right now I'm at my grandparent's house in Marlette. That's somewhere in Michigan's thumb I think. It's all farmers and hicks that go to church every Sunday up here. No offense to my grandparents, but I can't say I'm looking forward to church early this Sunday morning. I'm almost positive it's the tenth. Friday. I guess the date's unimportant, it's summer. This is the first time in some years, me, my brothers (Gregory and Timothy), and my cousins; Nathan and Connor, have spent days at a time up here, without our parents. I don't have any cousins, or much family at all on my mom's side, she was an only-child (which may explain why she had five of us, not including the four abortions and my dead sister). I seem to have a problem getting gross and dirty, until I'm in my grandparent's backyard with the boys, and there's plenty of field, forest, marsh, farm, pond, and brush to lose yourself in. Although I'm no longer a child technically, pretending to be a wild and free animal is enough to entertain me for hours. The day ended with Grandma Bettie digging a splinter from my knee, five showers, and an early bedtime. I'm expecting to be up early tomorrow to either venture to the city pool or just step outside the house to catch some sun. I love summer, I'm addicted. I still kind of wish Nathan was able to ditch sleeping in the next room and come out here to chill out, but Grandma's Grandma, and we're still five. Nathan's a year younger than me and Connor's Gregory's age. I've always really loved Nathaniel and never got to know Connor, because even at the youngest I remember, I was always with Nathan. There's honestly stories and stories to fill that out, but you'll never get to hear them. Nathan did end up in the chair across from me, moments later.
Summer's practically half-way over already, isn't it. I neglect to wear makeup or brush or straighten my hair. My tan darkens daily and I've been ever-so-slowly lightening my hair. The friendship bracelets collect around my wrists, and I only remove necklaces to 'lay out'. I feel something, living like this, and I don't welcome September, when I have to shed my summer skin. I fail to remove even the, meaningless now, hemp bracelet, and not-so-long ago, forced it back on. No significance, just carrying around my past, looking for some of it in my future. It lets me feel connected and in control of something, seeing as it's already over and done with. I'm exhausted.
I spent the fourth of July at Patrick's, after sun-bathing with Haley all day. I met countless new people and a majority of Pat's family I had forgotten about. It's cute when I think about it, but he introduced me to everyone with, 'she's with me' or ended things with, 'we're getting married'. Oh, how I missed him. After 10:30 or 11 some time, I can't describe anything to it's fullest, because my boredom led me into emptying a Faygo red pop, and replacing it with strawberry vodka, and becoming more drunk than I had ever been before. It might not have been boredom, I'm never bored. Nobody told me not to. I no longer have somebody to tell me not to, or to care enough, right? I hope that that makes sense. Just think about it. From then on, it was laughing hysterically and falling all over the place, to sobbing uncontrollably on the couch, with Eric Choelos rubbing my back and Pat in my face with, 'it's because he's a child, Brianne. It's because he's a fucking child.' Then John Riggs and Lauren showed up and probably forgot what my name is, because it was 'sweetheart' and 'hunny' the rest of that night. No matter how drunk or stupid I was, I insisted on going clubbing with everyone else, even though they were clearly talking behind my back (in front of me), as to why I was not going clubbing. John and Lauren got me into his car, planning on taking me back to John's, and about five houses down from Pat's, I lept out of the moving vehicle, screaming, 'stop treating me like a baby! You're all liars! Everyone!' And it was back to sobbing, this time on Patrick's bed, and him sitting by me, trying to shut me up, because his parents would 'kill him'. And this is the part I wish I could remember the most, because I started crying over previous relationships (unfortunately pathetic if I were sober), and he was scowling, saying he didn't want to 'hear that name anymore', and I'm sure there was something else he said, I could've handled so much better if I wasn't fucked up.
I sobered-up enough for the club, and it, being my first time, was enthralling. It was just me, Pat, and his two friends; Justine and her guy-friend. Before I knew it, me and Justine were dancing against an over-sized, fake palm tree and I was asked to dance by some suave hot-shot. He wasn't bad, but he wasn't my type either. He was twenty-two. The whole time we were dancing, he was talking about himself, and I was thinking up the dialogue I would've really enjoyed saying. He wound up putting his tongue in my mouth and I was thinking about the way other people kiss, and that to be a 'good kisser', you're supposed to kiss the way you're being kissed. And when 'Jay' was done with that, I could put my head on his shoulder and watch Patrick make-out with Justine. At 2AM, it was time to leave, and Jay wanted to buy me a drink and take me home and kept begging and promising I'd 'be okay', but I just wasn't drunk enough to go home with someone that could die tomorrow without me shedding a tear, and fucking them. Jay wrote his number on the inside of my hand, because the outside was taken, and I smiled and left to catch up with Pat, and I was never planning on calling him. "I saw you kissing Justine." "I saw you kissing that guy." "Was that just to make me jealous?" "I'm not answering that." I was dropped off at John's for the remainder of the night, woke up with John licking his finger and wiping names and numbers off of my hand. "I was so worried about you last night. I didn't want you going home with anybody that'd take advantage of a drunk girl." "I'm not drunk." I think John just chuckled, shaking his head, and I gave him that little kid's grin I pull when I know I'm getting away with being all the fucking trouble in the world.
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