alecto - your little bluejay (pollytrance) wrote,
alecto - your little bluejay

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I Had A Vision Of Love... And It Was All That You Turned Out To Be.

Yes. Mariah Carey is the definition of cheese, especially 1990 Mariah Carey, but those words perfectly fit the situation now.

So I have decided the kiss should never have happened. It's not like it was some full-fledged passionate romance thing, either. It was just a little tiny kiss on the lips. But it screwed everything up. I have probably said this before, but it's how I feel and if I so desire, I can restate. I wouldn't mind just being his friend forever as long as we could hang out and have fun like we do. He should know I don't expect anything of him because if I did, things wouldn't be fun and easy. I am wondering if they are ever going to be again.

He said he would call, he didn't. Maybe it's just me being paranoid. As a matter of fact, it probably is, but I paged him two hours ago and still no response. Half of me is saying I wonder if he is hurt or dead or something bad like that and he can't call me (he's not a very safe driver) and the other half is saying, he's not calling you because he's avoiding you, just like you wanted to do to him because you are scared and because he probably regrets it.

Bah. The senior picnic was fun. I ended up burning the hell out of my cave-skin and turning pink like a chicken that's not all the way cooked with paper-white stripes from the parts of me that were covered.

Everyone (our school and the three other high schools that were there, AND the stupid park was under-staffed, what do they expect??) started rioting at Waterworld and we ended up getting kicked out. Five years ago, some seniors that were there for our same purpose died because they bum-rushed the slides and those plastic contraptions broke like an old man's brittle bones under the weight. Three or four kids fell like fifty feet or something to their death on what was supposed to be a fun day.

Wow, were they cool. *rolls eyes* Some people just don't know where to draw the line. I feel like I smell like burning flesh. It's painful to wear this cotton and to roll over in bed. I'm radiating heat. My roots are now a brilliant blonde again.

I remember now why I despise the sun and avoid it at all costs, and why I prefer overcast days. You can still get a sunburn, but it's never as bad. And your roots NEVER turn white like when you were little. I am happy when skies are gray... I don't need my only sunshine.

Speaking of which, my only sunshine is hiding behind some sort of cloud cover and I'm wondering if he will show his face for Friday, when we usually watch and tape Zim.

I don't WANT a tan. It doesn't go with me. But it will either inevitably turn into one, make a bunch of disgusting freckles, or just become a hideous peeling mass.

Well, I think I have run out of things to say. I am going to watch bits and pieces of the Green Mile and then go to bed.

To all:

Sleep tight,
Eat the bedbugs if they taste all right.


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