no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no.

Dear Bonnie,
I know you probably won't read this one. I know you probably feel like shit. I know that I felt like shit after I read your messages on Facebook. Well, the ones I decided to read, anyway.
You really hurt me. Especially after I told you that the only reason I wanted to break up was our financial status. Note how I explained our financial status. You were having problems with your insurance, you had to pay for school, and you were getting paid to do your sister's homework. I only work a certain number of hours a week, and the income is certainly not enough to pay for all of my necessities. As a matter of fact, my parents have to help me out, and they resent me for it, as I resent them for making me go to school, then making me pay for it myself.
Bonnie, I really did love you. I don't know how it happened, but I really did. I felt like shit after those things you wrote to me in the messages I did read.
I feel bad. I feel bad because I wrote that previous post to you. I feel bad because it had to end this way. I feel bad, but not sorry about you reading the entry about you. I am not going to take it down. I know you deleted your account because when I went to re-read the message I wrote you, your handle had a line through it.
I don't want to read about your life. I don't really want to know how you're doing. You are probably doing fine. I hope you are. I'd prefer not to know. I'd prefer to just make it up in my mind that you are doing well. But also in my mind, you are not doing well, because I suck. But I don't suck because I made the decision I thought was right, and still think is right. I just want to be there for you, and be your friend. But it is too soon, especially from that very stern message I wrote you on livejournal. Maybe that's why I feel bad. Maybe I feel bad because I was insensitive. I still mean everything I said, from the "I think I'm falling in love with you" to the "you're making it easier for me to hate you." I only hate those I love. I really do. If I didn't love you, I wouldn't care about what you thought of me.

But I do.

And I don't know why.


Sincerely, yes, sincerely,
Francesca

I really did like you.
You started sending me hate mail, and although you probably took a lot of time to type it, I only looked at the first line and deleted them without reading them at all.
Yet, it made it easier for me to hate you.
I'm pretty sure you didn't hate me.
I'm pretty sure that your "anxiety" caused your "unkindly words" as you put it.
I never intended to make you anxious.
I never intended for you to like me so much that you would hate me so quickly.
I never intended to like you so much that I'd have to choose right over wrong.
I never intended money to be the right thing, but from your recent behaviour, I sure as hell don't regret the decision I made.

When I explained why I felt it was right to break up, you said "yeah, this relationship is kind of a burden."
I was saddened, yet relieved, that you felt that way.
I never intended for this to happen.
I never anticipated you resorting to childish behaviour.
I never anticipated not wanting to remember you for who you were, instead of now, as you are.

You had a beautiful smile. And now all I see in my mind is a scowl.
You made me feel wonderful inside, and now all I feel is resentment.

I am glad I met you.
I am glad I met you because I feel as though I'm a better person.
I am glad I met you because I feel as though I'm a better person who knows what not to do in the future.

Everyone makes mistakes.

I do think you fit this shoe.

I have so much to say but right now I am picturing a beach and sitting on it, wondering why the stars shine the way they do. Yes, one may say it is the sun's reflection. But you know what? I want there to be a purpose. I want there to be a purpose. I want there to be a purpose.

The earth is dying.
I'm not being paranoid. It's true. Have you ever heard of the Gaian Theory? Basically, we (humans specifically) have affected the homeostasis of the earth, so to speak. The earth is an organism, as we are. When a virus enters our body, our cells try to fight it off. Well, sometimes the viruses spread and we cannot fight them off, thus, resulting in our deaths.
The earth is dying.
It's saddening. We multiply. Such as antibodies in our blood stream. She can't fight us off because we've invented so many tactics. Earth's population isn't controlled as it was before science entered the scene. The climate changes back in the "caveman days" would affect the growth of plants, thus, affecting the health of animals, who in turn become scarce, and ultimately, gave the cavemen no food, having little chance for survival. We were under control then.
The earth is dying.
We, now, have other ways of harvesting. Keeping animals on specific farms so we may have any piece of meat off their bones. We have pesticides for plants to grow "healthier." * We are multiplying because of our vaccines.
The earth is dying.
I'm not saying kill off the humans. I'm just saddened that the future generations... well, they won't give a shit what the past generations have done to the earth. What do I do? I put my cigarettes down on the concrete. Concrete aligning every fucking tar-paved street, methane polluting the air. Sometimes I can't even drive by with my windows rolled to down because I smell the gasoline and become immersed in black smog. I'd rather smell manure. At least then I'd know the earth wasn't dying as quickly.

I haven't ever seen a lightning bug.

* See: Monsanto

i'm having writer's block.
it's definitely not the best thing for me right now.
i don't even know what to write about my life in my fucking journal.
using the f-bomb emphasizes things greatly.

Ah!

 I finally gave Tony the ol' FUCK YOU.

no one wants to go to the movies with me and i'm sort of aching to go see one. she tells me she will go with me but i don't want her anymore. i still love her i don't want her anymore.
i had some things to say and now that i'm looking at this screen i am staring at this screen with no idea what it was that i had to say except i don't want her anymore.
everything in my life seems like it's a waste right now. i go to school and not pay attention, then i party hard. i just miss enjoying school.
i'm also not very productive. i sleep when i'm not awake. when i am awake i do nothing so i sleep. that's just how it is.
and my doctor still has my lars and the real girl.

it's kinda getting on my nerves.

i'm not alright. can't stop writing poetry about T. in class today i think kyle wrote on one of the copies. i think he thought it was him.
polar opposites don't push away.
never ending math equations that never even end in the end.
i don't know what is wrong with me. i just want to fly. fly off a building and break my wings till i plummet.
but not in a death sort of way. i hope you understand.
T and i are hanging out on friday. or at least that is the plan. i don't know.
she is pissing me off.