34600 Blog Feed: my_name_is_evy 2008-08-26 15:08:39 my_name_is_evy Your e-mail address 142887 2008-08-26 15:50:39 i feel so alone. please tell me i'm not.

]]> 132631 2008-08-03 17:24:26 FRIENDS: i bet all my friends hate me right now... i haven't seen any of them for more than two weeks. makes me tons sad. but i'm already planning something w/ my favorite twins. and hoping to get together w/ cressley and sarah bear sometime in the future. so friend life hit a dry spot, but i'm fixing it.

SELF: let's just say i'm obsessing. i can't get John outta my head. i NEED to talk to my friends. and i need a TON of sleep. my parents woke me up wayyyy too early for vacation the last week. and at camp, breakfast was at 8:30. so i'm sleep deprived. not for a normal person. but for me. i'm sleep deprived. not cool. i'm very sensitive right now too. i thought i lost one of my special bracelets from camp and i started bawling like a baby. shows what shape i'm in.

COMMENT ALL. DON'T LEAVE ME HANGIN.

]]> 132630 2008-08-03 17:22:30 ROMANCE: not so hawt. my boyfriend of almost two months doesn't really care anymore. and neither do i. i met an amazing boy at this camp i went to. who's name is John. 12 years young. super duper hair. it's basically emo hair, but blonde. all my camp buddies, and his sister, say he likes me. i figure i should just give it a shot. but he hasn't e-mailed me back yet. WISH EVY LUCK!

FAMILY: let's see. i was just holed up in a house w/ them for an entire week... i mean, i live w/ them and all... but i saw them 24/7 down there. let me be brutally honest. i thought i was going to strangle myself w/ a beach towel. or drown myself in the ocean. swim out so far i would just get lost and go away to heaven. but then again, they bought me things. so i love them. <3

]]> 132629 2008-08-03 17:16:18 my word, where have i been?
why ever have i not written in my thoughts blog?

cuz i was at the Outer Banks, North Carolina. that place is the bomb diggity. ask people who have been there. so now i'm back and will probly neglect this blog again in about a week. but for now, i'm gunna be good and give a life report.

]]> 112478 2008-06-21 15:25:15 NOTICE: I WILL BE IN CANADA FROM SUNDAY, JUNE 22 ~ THURSDAY, JUNE 26.
Date: Saturday, June 21 2008
Location: My house ; computer/living room
Time: 3:21 pm
Company: Father in kitchen, Brock in living room on couch
Activity: Watching Jimmy Neutron
Hopes for the Night: Get packed for tomorrow, read some of my book, get my swimsuit dry ]]> 111246 2008-06-18 19:14:27 Date: Wednesday, June 18 2008
Location: My house ; living/computer room
Time: 7:10 pm
Company: Mother, Father and Brock in the next room
Activity: Watching Drake and Josh and typing
Hopes for the Night: call Mike, read my book, fall asleep before 1:00 am ]]> 110579 2008-06-17 15:35:42 Date: Tuesday, June 17 2008
Location: Mandy's House ; in her computer room
Time: 3:34 pm
Company: Mandy, Brock, and her fat cat Fox
Activity: Typing and Music
Hopes For The Night: call Mike, eat some chocolate, get some sleep
Currently listening: I'm For You ~ TobyMac
]]> 109288 2008-06-14 17:08:53 i've been super quiet all day today for an unknown reason.

someone explain my life to me. please.

]]> 108539 2008-06-12 20:49:53 yaaaaaa. i'm done w/ Mickey Human. it sucks.

we had a softball game tonight. won in 3 innings. apparently our team rocks. but whatever. but seriously. i'm here. alive. so don't ditch me. talk to me. i'm not anti-social or anything. i crave conversations. so bring it. ]]> 88584 2008-04-20 14:39:35 UNDERSTAND
Will returns. He punches me in the shoulder as he comes up next to me at my locker.
Will > “Hey Mick. How’s it been goin?” he asked casually, like we just had a conversation yesterday. Our last conversation was about a week or two ago.
Me > “Will, do you still like me?” Ok, I don’t know where I pulled the guts from to ask that question. He shakes his head back and forth. I wasn’t expecting that.
Will > “I’m going out with Jenn.” He says quietly. I look up at him, not expecting that either. Will has a girlfriend? Geez. Now I feel retarded.
Will > “How’s Amen?” He asks. I look up at him, chewing on the inside of my mouth.
Me > “I wouldn’t know.” I say evenly, trying not to think about it. He looks around the hallway, and Amen picks that moment to walk up to us and put his arm around my shoulder. Did he not hear me earlier? Oh my gosh. I shake him off, and clench my teeth together, trying not to get violent.
Will > “Get lost.” He says to Amen. I love Will. He’s so understanding. He knows that Amen is being very stupid and that he should get the heck away from me. Why did I ever tell Amen? I should’ve told Will first. He can be trusted. I stand really close to Will and grab his sleeve. I start tugging and he turns to me, taking his death glare off of Amen.
Me > “I have to tell you something Will. Come on.”
NOT
Will > “What’s wrong Mickey?” he says really quietly, trying not to let Amen hear our conversation. I shake my head fast, meaning: not here. Obviously Will gets this, because he clenches his fists and takes a step toward Amen, all the while blocking me. My hand is gripping his sleeve, wanting to leave right away. But wanting to stay and see him fight for me.
Amen > “Please Will. You’ve got to be kidding.” He says with a smile in his voice. I don’t know what the smile’s about though, because Will looks like he could rip Amen in half like a sheet of toilet paper. But Will’s girlfriend, Jenn, walks up just then.
Jenn > “Hello Will.” She says stonily. She turns to me and Amen and smirks. Ah, Jenn Meyer. What a treat. She’s a snobby, bottle blonde, two-timer. No doubt she’s probably cheating on Will right now. Out of nowhere, Amen is practically drooling over Jenn.
Amen > “Hey Jenn, what’s up?” he asks. You can tell he’s in love with her. It’s pathetic. But then I wonder. Is this how I looked with Amen before? Ah crap. Jenn raises her eyebrows at him, deciding whether she wants to answer or not.
Jenn > “Amen.” She says, nodding. She keeps staring at him, not sure what to think. “I thought you were going out with Mickey.”
I look alarmingly at Will, sending him a telepathic message to tell his girlfriend to shut up.
Will > “Uh, Jenn? They’re not.” He says. He sounds scared to talk to her. I feel really bad for Will. Amen looks confused, but then you can tell a light bulb goes off in his head.
Amen > “That’s right. We’re not.” He says and looks at me in a pitiful way. My hand tightens on Will’s sleeve, and he puts his hand on my arm. Amen is still going on about the fact he’s single.
Amen > “Ya, I’m available.” He says, smiling meaningfully at Jenn. Fortunately, she seems to not be paying attention to Amen, even though he’s clearly talking to her. I wonder if Will really likes Jenn. Amen finally gives up and walks away, bidding Jenn a thousand farewells. She returns about 2 of them.

]]> 82108 2008-04-01 20:25:00 HUH WHAT NOW?
As I sit in algebra looking over my shoulders and back and forth, I think what a stupid child I was.
1 > Why didn’t I scream crazily when the man first appeared in front of me?
2 > Why the heck did I tell him my full name?
3 > Why am I so gullible?
4 > Why do I fall into traps so easily?
5 > Why don’t I talk?
Answer > Bingo. I was kidnapped. Talking got me into that mess. If I don’t talk to people I don’t know, I’ll never get to know them. And I don’t talk to people I don’t know. They’re strangers. I learned my “don’t talk to strangers” lesson the hard way.
I shiver in my seat and some unknown person next to me looks over. I give him an evil glare, but he keeps staring at me.
Him > “Are you okay?” He silently mouths. My eyes widen for a second, but then I make them into little slits. I don’t want to show him my surprise. I nod slowly. He smiles and turns back to the front of the room. I rack my brain and try to remember what this dude’s name is for the rest of the period.
HEART
Amen > “Mickey!” He screams as he runs behind me down the hall. “Amen stop. I command you.” I think to myself. But he doesn’t stop, his feet or his mouth.
Amen > “Mickey Barrett!” It’s the first time he’s said my last name. He must’ve had to do some digging for that information. Not even Will knows my last name.
Amen > “Our date…” He starts as he falls into step next to me. And I was enjoying the invisible… uh… ness. This sucks.
Me > “We’re not going on a date. Ever.” I say firmly, clutching my books tighter against my chest. It feels like my heart is going to pop out and smack me in the face. My heart says yes, but my head says no. Now I started something that shouldn’t have been started in the first place. That’s what you get when you let your heart win.

]]> 79843 2008-03-26 19:58:08 FLASHBACK
Me > “Mommy! Look at me!” I scream excitedly as I ride my new Barbie bicycle.
Mom > “I see you sweetie. Be careful.” She says smiling. She’s on the porch sitting in a plastic chair, watching me cover the length of the sidewalk. Little did either of us know, this day wasn’t gonna be so hunky dory. See, these were back in the days where I couldn’t stop talking. But what 6 year old can?
Soon enough my mommy went inside and left me for just a few minutes. She would call me back inside when supper was ready. I stopped on my bike and looked all around me. There’s a woman walking her dog, but she turns at the corner. The kitchen curtains of my house are closed, so no one is watching me right now. I’m still looking around, and I don’t realize that a man is right behind me. I turn around in my bicycle seat, and I have to turn my head upward to see the guy’s face.
Guy > “Hello, and what’s your name?” He’s not smiling, but he sounds kind of nice. His chin is full of stubble, almost he’s trying to grow a beard but it’s not working. His eyes are so dark they look black, and that part scares me. They pierce into my forehead, waiting for my answer. His hair is dark brown wavy locks and they’re all over the place. This man looks very disheveled. I wonder if he’s had access to indoor plumbing lately. I take my eyes off of him for a few seconds to look around. No one. My mommy has given me the whole “don’t talk to strangers” lesson, but this guy doesn’t seem mean. Maybe just a little tired. Like he needs a hug.
Me > “I am Mickey Michelle Barrett.” I say proudly, starting to smile. I could also recite my address and phone number. I learned how in school. My kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Lilly, says I learned the first in my class. She gave me a golden star sticker. The man bends down to my level, squatting to make eye contact.
Guy > “Well, sweetie, would you like a ride in my car?” He asks politely. The first thing that goes through my head is that my mommy told me not to go anywhere with a stranger. But then I start to feel bad, because this man doesn’t look mean. He looks kind of sad, and maybe a little bit stressed out. I don’t want to make it worse.
Me > “I have to go inside and ask my mommy first.” I say. I swing one of my legs off of my bike seat, and go to swing the other, but I feel the man’s arm on my foot. I look over and pull my foot, whimpering because I can’t get it free.
Guy > “It’s okay honey. I’m sure your mommy won’t mind.” He looks like he really wants me to come with him. But I know I should ask my mommy first.
Me > “I have to ask my mommy.” I repeat, not knowing what else to say, because that’s exactly what I have to do. There’s really no other wording for it. Suddenly his grip loosens up and moves to my arm. I try to yank myself free but his grasp on my arm tightens and it starts to hurt. I’m going to scream. The man seems to see this fact, too, because he quickly puts his other hand over my mouth. Now I have to breathe through my nose, which isn’t good because I have a cold and it’s all stuffed up.
Guy > “You don’t have to ask your mom.” He says sternly, trying to contain himself. “Nod and tell me you understand.” I nod. I don’t know what to do. I’m confused more than scared. My head is moving all over, my eyes scanning, willing someone to come outside and make this man go away. Now I don’t want to go with him. I don’t care if he’s sad, I don’t want to go. I just want to go inside, take my place and sit at the table and eat supper with my mommy and daddy.
He lifts me off the bike and carries me over to a really beat up car. I don’t know what kind it is, but it doesn’t look very nice. Not like the shiny minivan my mommy has. It’s dark blue, and the windows look yellowish. He throws me in the front seat and grabs a roll of duct tape. Now I’m even more confused. What’s the tape for? Deep down inside, I know it’s not for an arts and crafts project. He gets it over my mouth before I start yelling. He triples it all different angles, because my little fingernails are desperately clawing at the tape, trying to tear it off. I’m kicking around in the seat that I’m not even supposed to be in because I’m too little. My mommy says I could get hurt if I sit up here.
He slams the door, stomps around the front of the car, and plops down in his seat. He leans over to me, grabs the seatbelt on my right, and ties it around me twice. Maybe he thinks it will stop me from kicking my legs and clawing at my mouth. But it’s not. He takes a swig out of a dark glass bottle that I think is beer. My mommy said beer is bad for you. I want to tell him this, but the tape is still on my mouth, and I think I’m going to give up soon if I don’t get if off even a little bit. He doesn’t put on his seatbelt on, but he slams his foot on the gas pedal. The sun is going down, and this is usually when my mommy tells me it’s time to come inside, whether supper is finished or not. The tires squeal and a cloud of smoke appears behind us as we speed into the night, out of my neighborhood.

]]> 79114 2008-03-24 15:19:23 BACK IT UP
You can tell Amen doesn’t know what to say to me. He’s sitting there trying to fit pieces together. Why am I so afraid of the word… well, that word? There’s basically only one explanation, and he obviously hasn’t figured it out yet. I look away from him, but his eyes bore into the side of my head. I bite my lip because I know he’s about to say something.
Amen > “Mickey, what happened to you?” He’s not meaning that in the “you used to be so awesome, so what happened” way, but the “I know something happened in your past that you’re not talking about it” way. I despise that way. I’m not ready to talk about it, but I’m obsessed with this guy! I at least owe him my trust. He would never do anything to hurt me. But who really knows? Amen could be a secret serial killer on the FBI’s most wanted list for all I know! He could be picking off my classmates one by one, storing their dismembered heads in his locker. Thinking about this possibility (and I’m dead serious, this is a real possibility) makes me shiver. He pulls me closer. Now he’s starting to remind me of Will. I wiggle out of his arms and stand up, hugging myself. He stands up too, never taking his eyes off of me.
Me > “Stop looking at me.” I say softly but sternly. My voice is so harsh, his eyebrows lower and he stares at me even harder. I try to looked pained and take a step backward, away from him. Geez, I’m gonna rearrange this dudes face very soon. He better take those big brown puppy dog eyes off of me! A minute later, you can tell it clicks for him. I’m surprised I don’t see a light bulb go off above his head.
Amen > “Whoa whoa! Back it up!” he says, disbelieving. Well that took him long enough. “You were kidnapped in Ohio.” He whispers, more to himself than to me. I’m still standing there looking at him. I wish one of my cruel jokes would come out. Something to lighten the mood just a little. But I’m speechless, and so is he.
Me > “Amen.” I say simply. I mean the prayer amen now, if anyone is confused. He reaches for me, but I run. As fast as I possibly can.
THE WAY THINGS ARE
No one has talked to me for 4 days straight. I enjoy it. Will’s probably with his gangsta posse, telling them how he’s officially ditched me, and being presented his certificate of gangsta-ness or something. Amen has probably finally started hanging out with the skaters. I was wondering how long it would take him to realize I wasn’t anything special. Nothing worth going after. Not that it was a big game of cat and mouse or anything. I melted like butter. I’m such a moron.
]]> 75724 2008-03-16 16:52:56 SCARED SILLY
As I’m walking to my locker at the end of the day, I’m trying to determine what I’ve done to deserve the dirty looks being thrown my way. All I did was yell at Will, and as far as I knew, no one here cared about Will. I guess I was wrong. Maybe it’s because he’s been here since kindergarten. Maybe they’re just protecting one of their own. It doesn’t matter if it’s Will or not, they don’t like their own being harmed by the crazy new girl from Ohio. But naturally, Amen sides with me, since he’s the only other new kid this year. Plus, he tells me Will makes him nervous. He seriously believes that I’ll leave him for Will. He thinks I could like Will more. What goes on in his head? Speaking of Amen, he runs up behind me and throws his arms around me. He starts dragging me along with him down the hall. I have no clue where we’re going, and I’m really not in a position to ask because his small hand is over my mouth. Actually, I don’t blame him. Any normal person would start screaming. For a second, I’m actually flattered that he thinks I’m normal. But I don’t like being normal. I grab his hand and yank it off my mouth. I need some air and I think my nose is permanently clogged. Even though it’s not a major thought in my head right now, I can’t help but feel a spark of electricity run through my fingers as I pry his hand off my face. I start to say something, but he sticks him palm back over my open mouth. This guy has to let me speak if we’re going to be in a relationship. Or something like that. Maybe a demented version of the thing called a relationship.
Amen > “Shut up Mickey, I’m kidnapping you for the rest of the day.” My breathing really does stop for a second, and my heart skips a beat. I’m silent as he lugs me through the almost empty building to a door. I don’t say another word for half an hour. We’re sitting in the middle of the school’s soccer field, taking advantage of the fact that the soccer team doesn’t have practice today. I sit with my knees huddled up to my chest, my arms wrapped around myself. Almost like I’m trying to hold myself together. He’s prompting me the whole time, but I can’t speak. That word. Finally, I have to say it, so he won’t slip up again.
Me > “Don’t say that word again.” I whisper. He leans in with puzzlement in his eyes, trying to hear me.
Amen > “What word?” He says, obviously not knowing what I’m talking about. Moron. Why can’t you read my mind or something? I didn’t want to have to say it. It’s one of the worst words in the English language. I never want to hear it ever again. Yet I have to say it? I clear my throat multiple times. I blink. My eyes are damp. Crap. I look up at Amen. He’s staring at me intently, like he really cares. He probably doesn’t though. He probably just wants to get on with his day. I take a shaky breath, trying not to let the tears brim over. I say it so softly he has to get even closer than he already is. So close that our noses are touching. I lean against him, letting his arms wrap around me.
Me > “Kidnap.”
]]> 74163 2008-03-11 21:28:35 NOTICE ME
Will is no longer a part of my life. The next day in school, he comes to my locker. I ignore him. Not one word. He’s used to me not talking to him, but when I don’t acknowledge him he gets very nervous.
Will > “Come on Mick, I know you’re still mad at me. Talk. For crying out loud, talk to me!” His voice gets louder every single word. I can’t even begin to comprehend how angry he is. It’s worse than I thought it would be.
Will > “MICKEY!!!” I leap straight out of my skin. It seems like a billion people turn our way, and for once, their eyes stay facing us. I don’t know what to do in the public eye. I look back and forth from the floor to Will’s face. I don’t spend a ton of time on his face though. It really scares me. I hate it when things scare me. He’s doing what I never wanted him to do. He’s doing what I trusted him never to do. He leans in very close to my face, and I don’t pull away, which makes me wonder about myself. I’m too frightened to move.
Will > “Why don’t you talk?” he whispers to me, his breath that always smells like Juicy Fruit gum washing over my face. Everyone has turned away by now. They probably thought it was going to get mushy when he leaned in like this. The school may have a rule against public displays of affection, but that doesn’t mean people follow it. All of a sudden, this thought gets me steaming. I want to rip all of their faces off. I want Amen here so he can beat Will up for me. I want somebody to help me. But for once in my life, I want somebody to notice me.
Me > “GET OUT OF MY FACE!” I scream, as loud as my vocal chords will let me go. Every head in the hallway turns in our general direction, every eye picking us out and not leaving our faces. The hall goes dead quiet. Some papers are on the floor, but no one dares to bend down and pick them up, for fear of missing the action I guess. Nobody turns to look at one another, no body part moves. It even seems like no one breathes. But I make up for the silence, with my heavy panting and my blazing eyes. Will. When I screamed, he jumped about five feet backwards. But now he was slowly inching his way back toward me. I swear, if he gets within 3 feet of me…
Will > “Mickey…” he says gently, not wanting to upset me. I know that Will really cares about me. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have asked me the questions he did. But that’s exactly what I don’t want. If I get any closer, I’ll have to tell him. I’m not ready to tell anybody. People are still staring, trying to determine who I am without asking their peers.
Me > “Leave me alone Will.” I say evenly, turning on my heel and walking away, everyone’s eyes following me.

Anyone who's a fan of Will, sorry. I'm sorta being very mean to him right now. And if you're also wondering where Amen is during all of this, don't worry. He'll be back very very soon.
]]> 73764 2008-03-10 20:47:06 SIGH
Sigh. Sigh. And sigh again. Welp, as if yesterday wasn’t bad enough, my history teacher, Mr. Something, had to give us this HUGE project to do. He gave us more time to research than he did to actually do the project. Then he complains that everyone else’s projects in past marking periods were totally crappy. Oh gee, I wonder why. Our groups. Now there’s a treat. The group I “belong” to consists of:
Maya Gordon > Probably the nicest girl in the group. She’s the one who sits next to me in language, and told me that there was homework. Not that I did it, but whatever.
Sammy Crater > Some super geeky girl who runs around freaking out because she needs to get a perfect grade on this project or her motto of 100% or bust will be foiled. She’s convinced that she’ll go to the hot and fiery place below if she gets anything lower than a 90%.
Jon Ruett > The quarter back of the school’s suckish football team. Just our luck that we’d get some moron who doesn’t know how to count up to 10 and won’t help us because he has to go to practice. Honestly, that’s just an excuse. I may be a social outcast, but I know the football team doesn’t practice on Saturday, when we’re trying to get together to finish this thing.
And me. So if Sammy keeps flipping out, I figure she’ll finally just crack and take the whole project home with her to finish. So I just sit around and attempt to irritate her. I spill glue on the floor, and then make sure I spend the rest of the period cleaning it up. Even if it means going slower than a snail. Like it matters anyway. The history classroom looks like the inside of a dumpster as it is. The desks are really old and falling apart. There are ripped up books hanging off the shelves, and the window shades are faded yellow. The teacher is always blabbing on about how the school board won’t give him any money. The office tells him new textbooks are on their way, but we all know that’s a lie.
THEM
Ya, that history project? We failed. Sammy Crater was just about lying on the floor, choking from the non-passing grade she saw on her paper. Mr. Something sent her to the guidance counselor. I was laughing the whole time. Everyone glared at me, and my group has made it clear they will never forgive me for screwing it up. Jon says he’ll throw me in a trashcan. I mean, he probably could, because of my being so small. But he never would. He wouldn’t want to be seen with me, and throwing me in the trash wouldn’t be worth the social humiliation. Maya is pretty ticked too. She’s never gotten a failing grade, but she’s not freaking out near as much as Sammy. Basically, she can deal with it, but she’s not happy about it. She’s the only one I sort of feel sorry for. I mean, she was never really a jerk to me. But she’s part of them. And they were jerks to me. I don’t give any of them a break.
IT’S A DATE
I cautiously stalked down the hall, looking sideways for either Will or Amen. I didn’t want to find either one of them, but I did at the same time. I saw Will hanging out with some of his gangsta buddies near my locker. Well, that made up my mind for me; I wasn’t going to my locker before next period. I saw Amen walking toward me, talking to some guy that I vaguely knew was on the wrestling team. He looked around, and I ducked behind a group of girls who were laughing. I heard something about Jon Ruett being so hot. I almost puked. Anyway, I turned my attention back to tracking the guys. Will was gone, but Amen was standing straight across the hall from me, still searching. Wonderful. I walked the way I had come, hoping he wouldn’t see me. Before I know what’s happening, Amen is breaking off from his conversation, walking my way, and yelling my name.
Amen > “Mickey!” Crap. Options.
Option 1 > I could stop and see what he wants. If he asks me out again, I could just answer him. Can it be that hard?
Option 2 > I could keep running, dive into a rolling trash can, and hide in the janitor’s closet all next period.
I liked the second option better, but that would be just a little over the top. I mean, it’s not like he chasing me with a machete, his goal to chop my head off and use it as a decoration in his home. He just likes me. But honestly, that’s a lot more intimidating than the machete thing. I turn around to face him. He’s right in front of me, closer than I thought he would be.
Amen > “Hey Mickey,” he said, “You seemed really nervous before when I asked you out. I mean, when Will was there. That must be hard, being his friend when he’s totally in love with you. But he does a really crappy job of hiding it. Anyway, I’ll ask again. Would you wanna go out sometime?” Geez, that boy can really talk! I could hardly keep up with what he was saying.
Thought 1 > Of course I was nervous you idiot! You are so wonderfully perfect, and beautiful, and sweet. Who wouldn’t be nervous when you asked them out?
Thought 2 > William Porter, my only friend, the only person that risks being seen with me, likes me. He likes me. Amen says it so casually, like the whole entire world is aware of this fact.
Thought 3 > Is the whole entire world aware of this fact?
Thought 4 > Is this a trick?
Thought 5 > If I say yes, what will Will do?
Thought 6 > Does this boy really like me?
Thought 7 > My answer is yes.
Me > “Ya Amen, I’ll go out with you.” Ever since the first time I said his name, I just want to say it over and over. It’s like an addiction.
Amen > “Cool Mickey, I’ll call you.” He smiles like a stupid clown, and practically skips away. I’m surprised he’s not doing cartwheels to his next class. How is he supposed to call me when he doesn’t have my number? Ok, I guess that’s why they invented phone books. So your crazy stalker who you just agreed to go out with can contact you. I’m sure that makes tons of sense.
PROTECTION
All right, I’ve been thinking. Ever since Amen and I saw each other that day in the hallway, I feel bombarded. I’ve never had this much attention in almost all my life. It’s very tiring. Maybe this is why I enjoyed being invisible. Well, maybe not enjoyed, but didn’t care. Ever since Amen asked me out, Will has ditched the gangsta posse and spent every single waking moment with me. I’m 14. I don’t need to be babysat. But I guess Will seems to think so. Speaking of Will babysitting me…
Will > “Mickey, there you are. Come on, let’s walk to class.” Here he is again, coming out of nowhere, controlling everything I do in any given day. He takes up all my time at school, and all my time at home. Sometimes I don’t even get my homework done because he invites me over to play video games. (Not that I mind, my grades are beyond repair.) I didn’t want to give in to this fact, but it’s so evident. Will is trying to keep me away from Amen because he likes me. He’s not used to sharing me. Not used to other guys invading his territory and asking me out. He feels like he has to protect me. At times I find it a little bit sweet. At other times, my desire is to rip his head off and give it to Amen as a present.
MOVE
On the walk to class with Will, I don’t say a word. This feels like the old days, because he doesn’t say anything either. We’re back to out old motto: The less words, the better. Will seems to feel the tension spilling off of me, because he doesn’t try to say anything to make it better. He offers me a stick of gum and keeps walking. I’m aware of the fact that he’s gradually moving closer to me, and every inch he moves, I move an inch the other way. He attempts to make the ultimate move by putting his arm around my shoulders. I grab his wrist, twist it as far as it will go without breaking a bone (which I know how to do), look at him, my eyes burning, and walk away as he stands there motionless. His arm is still slightly out, reaching for nothing. His mouth is somewhat agape. I don’t see why he would try this now. Does he think my personality has recently changed? I never liked physical contact, and I trusted him. I can’t trust Amen either.
1 > He doesn’t know about my strong dislike for physical contact.
2 > He’ll most likely try to do the same thing Will just tried to do on our date. After next period, Will is waiting for me outside the classroom. He offers me gum again, and I open my mouth to let him examine the gum from before. He winces, getting a breeze of my anger, and nods, putting the pack back in his pocket. We walk down the hallway. He stays as far away from me as possible, yet still making sure people know we’re walking together. But they don’t care. If Will weren’t beside me, they’d probably run me over.
Will > “Uh, listen Mickey. I’m sorry.” He starts. I look away, down at the floor, anywhere but at him. “You know I like you, don’t you?” He asked quietly, almost whispering. I hesitated for a second, then figured what the hey! I gave a small nod. He stopped, and I stopped next to him by some abandoned lockers that were reserved for transfers.
Will > “Do you really like him Mick?” he asked, catching me off guard. I didn’t expect him to bring Amen into this conversation. Ok, I did, just not so soon. I nodded firmly, making it clear that I did. Then he distracted me with a question that had nothing to do with him or Amen or anybody. It was personal.
Will > “Mickey, why don’t you talk?” I was shaken. Why would he ask that question? He’s known me for a while. Besides, if he likes me that much, why should he care? But just to make a point, I think I better say something instead of shaking my head.
Me > “I talk.” I say quietly. I don’t care if he didn’t hear me, because I’m not repeating myself.
Will > “You know what I mean. Mickey, five words a day doesn’t count.” He knows me too well. I hate this. Why did I let him in? This is why I don’t let anybody get close. They eventually end up asking the questions I’m not so fond of answering. He’s waiting for an answer, and I’m waiting for him to forget about it. But he’s not going to. He’s going to get it out of me whether I want to tell him or not. Will can’t be my friend anymore. He just crossed the line.
START OVER
Will is persisting with his question. Why don’t I talk? It is a good question, but it doesn’t have such a great answer. No one here knows anything about my previous life, back in Ohio, and I don’t plan for them to find anything out. That’s why my family came to Pennsylvania. To start over.

]]> 71943 2008-03-06 17:14:32 THE MOUSE IS MINE
Amen > “Hey Mickey.” He says, the syrup (a.k.a. his voice) flooding those choco chip pancakes. What is up with this guy? I walk down the hall, approaching my locker, and find Amen. What, he knows my name and all of a sudden thinks we’re best friends? I don’t think so. This boy frightens me. A lot. He’s standing there waiting for me to say “good morning” or “how are you?” or something cheesy like that. I can see it in his goofy smile. I sigh.
Me > “Hi Amen.” It’s the first time I’ve actually said his name, and it startles me. It’s crazy. My heart skips a beat as the word comes out of my mouth. It sounds kind of weird. We stand there in silence. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks on his heels. I hope he doesn’t expect me to initiate conversation. If he expects to have a chat session with me, he will be very disappointed.
Amen > “So, I’ve been watching you…” Watching me? What, is he a stalker or something? Ok, I’m starting to wonder about this dude a little.
Me > “Ah.” I really don’t know what to say, but I figure he won’t continue if I don’t say anything. Besides, I want to know what he saw while he was watching me. It could be anything.
Amen > “You seem really cool.” He finished. Hold up, hold up! Who thinks I’m cool? Ya, that’s an easy question, I know. Apparently Amen thinks I’m cool. But more importantly… WHY? He ends my rant (or makes it worse) with his next sentence.
Amen > “Would you wanna go out sometime?” WHAT THE—“I really like you, how ‘bout it?” Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh. My. Gosh. This boy is CRAZY! Ya know what? He can come to that mental institution with me! His highlighted hair is hanging over his eyes, and I can’t see them clearly. I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been asked out before. Well, except when I was in 1st grade and Tyler Muin held my hand in the Halloween parade. He thought we were on a date. Moron. But anyway. This is not right. Out of nowhere Will bounds down the hall and I turn to watch him. He barges in between me and Amen, making my uncomfortable moment go away. I love you Will.
Will > “Mickey!” He yells, loud enough a few people turn to look, and when they realize who he’s with, turn back to their own conversations. Huh. He got here at just the right time. Was he listening somewhere down the hall or something? I glower at him, sending him a mental message to shut up and get me out of here. Now. But leave it to Amen to fill the silence.
Amen > “Will, hey. Um… I was kinda talking to Mickey.” He says, obviously telling Will to go away, yet trying to do it secretly. In code or something. What, does he think I’m stupid or something? He could’ve just cursed at Will, pushed him out of our little circle, and turned back to me, pretending like nothing happened. Man, I couldn’t decide which one I wanted to stay and which one I wanted to go. All I knew was, they could not be here together.
Will > “Uh, not anymore.” He says defensively, grabbing my wrist. I just look back and forth between them, wondering how I ended up in this position.
Amen > “Come on Will, be cool.” He declares, locking my arm in his small hand and slowly but surely, pulling me the other way. Did these guys think I enjoyed being yanked around? I didn’t know what to do. It took me a minute to realize that these two were fighting over me. ME. I just about started choking when I figured it out. They both jolted their eyes to me, looking panicked.
Me > “I’m okay.” I stifled out; making it clear so they would quit reaching for me. They both looked like they were ready to give me mouth to mouth. This thought made me shiver. They took that the wrong way, too.
Will > “Mick, are you cold? Come on, you can borrow my sweatshirt.” Ok, this was getting frustrating. I had to get the heck out of here! My eyes darted around hysterically, searching for an excuse I could use. But there was nothing. The warning bell rang. So glad neither of them were in my homeroom! I snatched my arms back from them, and ran. I didn’t plan to look back.

]]> 71617 2008-03-05 19:23:10 WATCH OUT FOR MICKEY MOUSE
I’m Mickey. They laugh because they associate me with the big mouse at Disney. I’m not a mouse; I’m a human being. Mickey Human. Since Mickey’s girl is Minnie, they constantly ask me who my girl is. I am a girl, don’t they know this? I might skateboard, dress in baggy clothes, and eat jumbo-sized bags of potato chips in 10 minutes. But I promise I’m a girl. That’s what the doctor said. SEE THROUGH ME
So then when I walk down the hall at school, I find signs on my back when I get to my next class. Embarrassing, right? Ya, if I had feelings, then I suppose it would get to me. But lucky for me, I really don’t. How do you think I survived 14 years of life? I don’t know how normal teens do it. People leave those little plastic mouse ears on my locker. One time someone super-glued a set on, and I had to ask the janitor to get it off. They’re all so heartless. They don’t even know me. But in a way I can’t blame them. Even if they did know me, I doubt they’d like me.
HATE ME
Welp, after that annoying as hell bell rings, I gather my stuff and waltz out of class. On my way to the lunchroom, I do a million good deeds that go unrecognized by society. Some jerk in my gym class knocks some pint-sized child’s book onto the floor. I don’t have any feelings, so I don’t care either way. But I just figure picking it up is the right thing to do. The nice thing to do. Some kid 2 grades younger than me sticks a sign on a dorky 8th grader, and I pull it off as I walk by. Etc. But by the time I get to lunch, I’ve gotten evil glares from just about every clique for ruining their pranks and such. But “pranks” is a nice word for what they do. Harassment, maybe? Ya, that’s better. I inch through the lunch line, picking up the most disgusting foods I can seem to find. I don’t plan to eat any of it. Sure, half of the school’s population (or anyone in the building who’s aware that I’m alive) would mistake it for starving myself. But I’m just simply not hungry. I like to make people think I’m crazier than they already suspect. It’s not like one magical day the most popular guy in the 8th grade will walk up to me and tell me he absolutely loves to eat the cafeteria’s mystery meat. Or at least mean it. I might as well give the caf ladies a scream. Trick them into thinking somebody likes the food they make.
SEEN
Will > “Mickey wicky fricky word.” He raps as I trudge to my locker. I look up at the sound of a singe voice breaking through the never-ending silence of my life, and lower it again when I realize it’s him. William Porter. Ah, what a guy. He’s the only “friend” I have. As far as I know, he just pretends to be my friend. But who knows? Maybe a real person actually does like me. He thinks I’m losing it when I tell him this thought. I roll my eyes and think; there go his colorful lies again.
Me > “Will.” I greet him. Not really greet, more like acknowledge that I heard him and assure him I’m not deaf. All that in one word. We’re not a conversation pair. Our motto:::: The less words, the better.
Will > “Locker Mick.” He says, pausing from the struggle he’s having with the combination lock. I turn to him, smack the hard, cold metal with my bare hand, and pop, it opens. I’m skilled like that. His eyebrows go up, then he grabs his binder and his history book.
Will > “Whatcha doin’ tonight?” he asks. He blows a bubble with his gum, and then starts gnawing on it again.
Me > “I’ll be over at 6.” I say. See, those five words are basically my conversation for the day. I never really go past an 8-word limit. I hear a thud behind me and turn around, almost dropping everything I’m holding. A boy I’ve never seen before is on his hands and knees, scrambling to collect papers that have spilled out of a notebook, as people walking by kick them all over the place. His dark jeans and baggy black shirt swallow his small frame and it makes me look a second longer than usual. His dark hair, streaked with highlights, fall over his eyes, and he pushes it away as he makes an effort to get everything back in his control. He looks around frantically, and his eyes haphazardly meet mine. I jump. His eyes are like pools of dark chocolate as they focus on me, taking me in. As gorgeous as they are, I’m more amazed by the fact he’s looking at me. Amber Hunt, the girl every guy is currently drooling on a little ways down the hall, is a much better person to fix your astounding gaze on. But no. This strange boy, who I've never seen before, chooses me. All of a sudden, I posses a feeling that I never knew I had.
SEARCHING
After that day, something actually bounces around in my head as compared to the normal nothing. I haven’t seen the boy since that day in the hall. I always look in the same place at the same time every day, but he’s never there. It’s like he blends into the crowd. It’s like no one pays attention to him. No one talks to him. No one helps him when he drops something. He’s the target of nothing and everything. He’s like me.
LEFT OUT
A week later I’m still searching for this guy. How hard can it be to find one person in a school as small as James Hully Jr. High? Our 8th grade class alone is made up of just 90 students. That’s why everyone is so tight, and in their retarded little cliques all the time. I came here from Ohio last year. Ohio. Ohio to Pennsylvania. Not very far, I will admit. But I was very far away from the people in this school, metaphorically speaking. Everyone here has known each other since kindergarten. I just plain don’t fit in. Will’s been in this district since Pre-K too, but just claims he doesn’t like anyone in our classes. But I know he lies about that. I spy on him without him knowing. He likes to follow the gangsta posse around. I guess I’m just not enough.
HOME SWEET HOME
Ah, my home life. You’re gonna love this. My mother is a lawyer. Any regular teenager would hate this, because every time they’d fight with her, they’d lose because she’d cheat. You know, use the lawyer skills to win the argument. My method is better. I just don’t talk to her, like everyone at school. She gets angry with me. But she never grounds me. She encourages me to go out in public. The mall, movie theater, park, rec center. But I don’t go. I corner her. She hates it. My father is a writer. I almost like him better, because he never makes an attempt to have a conversation with me. He sits in his office all day, on his HP desktop, writing his latest book. None of his books have ever been published, but he still works on them. He’s got about 5 going right now. Dinner is interesting. Or scheduled, because the same thing always happens. My mom makes a main course that is crusty around the edges, so we all pick that part off. Then she makes a bowl of noodles, pasta, etc. It’s oddly colored, so I move that aside. Last but not least, vegetables. What can I say? The green beans are brown, the corn is green, and the carrots are yellow. Those don’t look so appetizing either, so I suppose I do starve myself. There’s nothing to eat on this planet. At home, the cafeteria, and everywhere else the food is drowning in fat. So maybe it’s better I don’t eat. “Bedtime” is nonexistent, and I’m thankful for that. I mostly just sit in bed reading anyway. My parents do care, too much in my opinion. They come upstairs every 2 minutes to check if I’m finally asleep. I have to resort to using a flashlight while I read, which strains my eyes, and turn it off whenever they come up. It may be stupid, but it works.
PICK IT UP
I hang around my locker before the bell rings the next morning. Standing in the hall is better than sitting in homeroom. But only by a little bit. Will walks past me to his homeroom. He holds a stick of gum out to me, and I take it, and he’s still walking. No smile, no wave, no form of acknowledgment. The warning bell sounds and I sigh. There can’t be a more annoying sound on the planet. Who made that sound? I’ll strangle them. I shift my books around so I can get the gum in my mouth and the wrapper in my pocket without dropping anything. When I see the highlights poking out from the crowd rushing to classrooms. His striking eyes dart around and land on me like a bouncy ball hitting a wall. Oh crap! Not again. Those pools of brown drown me slowly, and I know I need to move. He’s stopped too, and people are walking around him, throwing dirty looks over their shoulder as they pass. Someone hits my arm, and all my books spill out of my trembling hands. Why did this have to happen? This is not my day. Now he’s walking over toward me. I can’t take this. I pick everything up, stuff the papers into the wrong folders (pretending I actually have an organization system for all my junk) and grab everything. And when I stand up I find none other than his face less than 2 inches from mine. I can’t speak, I can’t move. The whole world has stopped. On the floor at my feet is one lone paper that I missed. Ha. Just my luck. He bends down, picks it up, and drops it on the top of my pile. I stare and stare, not even thinking about what I must look like. Then again, who cares? This perfect, wonderful boy would never like me. Before I can grasp what’s going on, he’s out of sight. Into homeroom with everyone else, and I’m alone in the hallway. I have to trek down to the office and get a stupid late pass because apparently I missed the bell. I didn’t even hear it. I thought I didn’t have feelings.
CARE
OK, sitting in language class, in the very back seat, excluded from everyone else and the teacher’s lecture, I think. This is not right. Why should one random person make my head spin in circles? I don’t have feelings. I concentrate on making everyone believe that. It feels like everyone can see what I saw this morning. Like I’m making everything I feel so obvious. Then I remember. None of them would waste precious eyesight on me. The prep that sits uncomfortably next to me starts to groan. What did I miss? I turn to her, my face like stone.
Girl > “He just announced a homework assignment.” She elaborated. I decided she was decent. Some other person wouldn’t have told me that. I didn’t even nod, just turned away. She shrugged and went back to doodling on her notebook. I don’t care. I don’t care. I chanted to myself. This boy I’ve only seen twice means nothing to me. But who am I kidding? He’s the only one I do care about.
YOU’RE SO GANGSTA
I wander aimlessly around the school after hours. I’m supposed to stay here to make up work, but ditching suits me fine. It’s not like my life is just overflowing with potential. I found Will a minute later, walking out of the auditorium. He was in stage crew, so he stayed after school a lot to work on tech stuff. Or whatever it was he does in that booth above the seats.
Will > “What’s crackin Mick?” he asks, trying to sound gangsta. It’s very entertaining.
Will > “Ditching again?” I nod unenthusiastically. He walks away. I watch him go, not even look back, and barge into the gangsta posse without so much as a care. I guess that whole gangsta speech paid off. Hanging out with me didn’t ruin his reputation too much.
WISHING
The next morning when I ambled through the double doors of the school, the first thing I saw made me want to run back home. (Not like I didn’t feel like that every day I walked into this prison-like building) He was just standing around, waiting for the bell to ring. I desperately hoped he wouldn’t look at me, but I secretly wished he would. Today his stick figure of a body was covered in skinny jeans that were still baggy on his minuscule legs. On the top half of him was a loose-fitting purple t-shirt with a colorful design on it. He was doing nothing but standing there and surveying his surroundings. Again, the eyes landed on my face, and I froze. Maybe this was how I survived. When people didn’t look at me, I moved fine, behaved fine, no problem. Now this odd boy starts burning holes into my skin with his stare, and my brain is suddenly not functioning correctly. Being invisible was my secret. It was my cover. I depended on the invisibility. And now it’s gone. He walks toward me. He’s walking toward me. Why is he walking toward me? My eyes get wide and in the next two seconds before he reaches me, I have to figure out my options, and, horror of horrors, choose one. Let’s brainstorm, shall we?
Option 1 > I could stand here, plaster a smile on my face, have a conversation with this mystery boy, and possibly even learn his name.
Option 2 > I could decide to duck my head, pretend I’m extremely late for class, and run off, my hood whipping behind me.
Option 3 > Think of more options.
He’s still coming. This is torturous. Yet pathetic. Why am I so scared? He’s just a boy. A regular boy. But if he wants to talk to me, obviously he’s not so regular. Does anybody know how to shut my mind up? I almost want someone to walk by and knock me out with a book. I’ll black out, I won’t remember any of this, and I can go back to my emotions made of stone. Wishing doesn’t make reality go away.
AMEN
Him > “Hey.” Oh boy, that voice. He sounded unexcited, yet enthusiastic in some way or another. His voice is straightforward and hard, like a softball pounding the inside of my glove as I catch it. So firm I have to take off my glove and shake my hand out to get the hurt out of it. But there’s a sweetness to the voice too. Like tons of syrup smothered over top of chocolate chip pancakes. My favorite food. In that moment, all I want is to hear that voice. Then it occurs to me, he’s waiting to hear my voice. Oh crap. My voice is ugly, and will most likely crack and squeak in front of this guy. A lot.
Me > “Hi.” I barely manage to pipe out. Well didn’t that just sound horrible. We still have five minutes before the bell rings. Huh. I thought it had been longer. Like, I don’t know, four decades or so maybe.
Him > “I’m Amen, what’s your name?” Ah! The name is revealed. Amen. Isn’t that what you say at the end of a prayer? I’m not religious or anything, but I know that much. So he’s a prayer? Is that it? Is God playing some cruel, sick joke on me by sending this perfect boy to pretend to be interested in me, then randomly start to hate me, and become like everyone else in the school, and not bother to lay eyes on me? Hopefully not. But after playing that plan out in my head, it seems very likely. Boy, that would just suck, wouldn’t it? I can’t help but notice, this guy is very strong-minded. Who in this world would just walk up to a stranger and introduce themselves? Apparently, Amen would. Did I really have to say my name? Could I just make something up? Like a real name? Not a mouse’s name?
Me > “Mickey.” I said, regretting it as it spilled out of my mouth. I could’ve just punched him in the nose or something. That would’ve saved me. I think.
Amen > “Well Mickey, see ya around.” I just stared at him, mouth gaping.
Amen > “Ya know, gotta get to class?” He explained, eyeing me weirdly, wondering why I was silent. I just nodded. He flicked a little wave with his hand, if you could even call it that. More like a salute. And he was gone, through a doorway and out of sight. He’s a freak. That was my first thought. He comes up to me, asks me my name, and walks away. But I suppose it satisfied him. And when he said my name. Again, like the chocolate chip, syrupy pancakes. Only better. But thinking about that, I wonder. What’s better than that? I must be going insane. Mentally insane. There it is. I have a few mental issues and I should leave this school and check into an institution for mentally ill people. That would solve my problems.
SAY IT RIGHT
Before I go on and say anything else, I must inform you of the pronunciation of Amen’s name. It seems important that people know I’m not ending a praying every time I mention it. It’s not Ā-men. It’s not Ah-men either. Those are the prayer amens. His amen is Āmen. Not like the first one. Shorter. The first one is more stretched out. Between the A and the men, there’s a break. No break in Āmen. It’s just all mashed together. Say it very fast, and you’ll get it right. Amen.
AMEN LIKES THE MOUSE
Teacher who’s name I didn’t find it important to learn > “Mickey, do you know the answer?” I simply shake my head. I didn’t even hear the question. I glare intently at him, willing him to pass over me and move along to the geek next to me who has his hand shot up in the air. His glasses are sliding down the bridge of his nose, and he looks very distressed when he has to put his hand down to fix them. What a dork. Anyway, the teacher who’s name I am unaware of passes over me like the death angel himself and finds a new person to agonize. I walk out of class two minutes later when the bell rings, and find Will waiting. Someone every once in a while might think Will and I are dating. But if anyone approaches us, we’re sure to set them straight. In other words, their face ends up uglier than it was to start with.
Will > “You were talking to Amen this morning.” He said casually. I had no clue why he was saying this, but I just nodded. No point in lying, was there?
Will > “Seems like he likes you.” He says, looking scared. Why Will looks frightened by this fact gets me, but I’m more intrigued by what he said, not the way he said it. Amen likes me? Ok, what just happened? Did this boy have his head knocked off a wall by one of the jocks lately? Did a football player dunk him in a trashcan? Did he just recently have surgery, having had an overdose of anesthesia, making him not realize that I’m the ugliest person on Earth? All of these explanations, none of them lead back to the fact that maybe he really does like me. But why would they. He doesn’t. Does he? No, he doesn’t.
WORK OF ART
Art class. Mr. Finch teaches this class. I learned his name, because he’s basically deaf, and you have to scream his name really loud across the room to get his attention. He must be blind too, because you could be raising your hand, and he’ll walk right past you. Move along to someone else, and you’re right there, raising you’re hand higher. It’s extremely irritating. Anyway, I’m working on some sort of painting project. Honestly, I don’t know what it’s supposed to be. But Mr. Finch told us we could paint anything we wanted. So I’m making… well, nothing. I haven’t thought of anything to make yet. Everyone tells me to make a Mickey Mouse head, but if I hear that suggestion one more time so help me… I won’t finish that thought. Ya, illegal things brewing inside my mind. Pay no attention to my outburst. But I just can’t paint a stupid mouse with big ears that somehow stand up straight when they should fall over his eyes. The world doesn’t make sense.
]]> 70449 2008-03-02 19:19:29
Hay there this is my diary. As you know I was killed in the previous story (Blind Battles- Journal of the King). Now I’m alive again, thanks to some people that complained to the author about me dieing *coughs* Evy *cough, cough*. You are most likely way confused now. You are probably way more confused than you need to be if you didn’t read the first one. You know you can read it on the author’s blog under blind battle-journal of the king 1-end. Just a tip cause you will be completely lost.

You are probably wondering how I was resurrected, I know Evy is. It’s a long story, but Evy’s going to bug me for eternity and since I died and the only way I can die is being in the sunlight and since there is no sun on earth any more its going to be a long long time till eternity ends.
So here goes nothing. Let’s start from the beginning shall we. Fang that stupid idiot put me in the sun and I crumbled like a grape and became a raisin. They barred me at the side of the mote that Fang made the vampires build around the castle were he lives. They got the water from the Pacific Ocean, the ocean were the Edge started. Little did they know that I enchanted that water a hundred or two years ago with some cure I was trying out to bring the dead with out turning them into zombies. So if your go at predicting things you can tell what happens next. For the slow ones out there I was resurrected from my grave. O was he in for a shock!!!!! *insert your favorite evil laugh here*
]]> 69971 2008-03-01 14:51:05 indeed. ya know, every once in a while i just loathe everything and everybody. i think it's one of those times. i don't like it when i hate people for no reason.

it's sort of sad. agree? here is my random outburst session that only a few people know what any of it means..... (you know who you are)

Ducky
CAUTION H-O-T (for alyssa)
FW (the thumbs down applies to me, but this (()) is for laura)
mango (again, this is for alyssa)
solid~liquid~gas~water cycle
"I like corn. I do."
MAC N' CHEESE

and that's it. hehe anywayz........ i went to songfest on Friday. (that's what most of those r from) and we spent all day rehearsing and learning 9 of the worst songs i've ever heard. but actually some weren't too bad. check em' out if ya haven't heard them. BECAUSE WE BELIELVE RIVER IN JUDEA HIST'RY ya, they weren't half bad at all. peace my friends. i shall type again someday.

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