It's hard for me to let go because I am so sure of what I hold.

So, Amanda found someone else. This is not a good time for me. I know she will probably read this, so I won't go too much into detail about her business, but I just want to keep you all equally informed on the situation.

She broke up with me about two months ago. I was being mean, not treating her right. I was angry and bitter a lot of the time. She broke up with me during a triple date with some of our friends. (Right after a 25 dollar dinner, I may add.) I drove her home, being a jerk in the car, like usual.

Fast forward. She meets this guy in her English class, and they start hanging out. I of course accuse her jokingly and seriously about it. EDIT :: Apparently she hasn't pursued anything with anyone. He pursued it and she didn't stop him. Sorry Amanda. ::

I sit and watch, I try to stay out of it. I occupy my long long days by learning guitar and crying. During the Epic Scavenger Hunt, he was in her car. I told her I would try not to text or call her. She acted like that wouldn't be hard for me. She said she would call me when they got back. I waited at home for six hours doing nothing. I can't stop shaking the entire time. After six hours of shaking, I couldn't stand up well, I felt sick and I felt weak. Most of the time I sat at my desk and wrote her a letter. It was a full four pages and explained everything about how I felt, and about how I wasn't going to stalk her, because I don't want to be like that. I just wanted to be her friend and always be here if something should go wrong in her life. I try to write a song about it, but everything I pen down turns out lame and poor quality.

I take a bath, which I fell asleep in for an hour. I almost threw up three or four times. She was supposed to be home at 11. I called her first at 11:30 and then at 11:45. At midnight, one hour after she said she would call me, I went to her house after calling her again. I heard them near the pool, because that's where I parked. (I'm sorry Amanda, I wouldn't say this part because it's not my business, but I was there, so it is part of my life.) They were sitting in the jacuzzi, lights off, and she had her head against his shoulder. My stomach dropped, my heart beat quickly and heavily. I couldn't think. I didn't know what to do, so I went up to the gate, about 100 feet from them and called her name until she turned around. She wouldn't get out of the jacuzzi because it was cold. I asked if I could come to her, but she didn't hear me. I went in anyway. Him, her, and I made a little awkward small talk, I saw the scavenger hunt list, and then I asked if she had kept her promise she made me, she said yes. (She said she promised she wouldn't kiss him that night.) I trust that she hadn't yet, but I think I made her mad by going to her house and finding her, so she may have done it later. I told her to call me when they were done and she said okay and I left.

It was hard to drive home when I couldn't see and I cried so hard that I couldn't keep my head up to look at the road. I was sitting in the same car she used to sit in. She told me that she loved me in that car. We had said time and time again the three words that seemed so true with me sitting right where I was, and her next to me, where now there sat only air and memories.

I went home and talked to my parents, who convinced me that I needed to tell her not to call me, which is the last thing I want to do. If I'm not a part of her life, how will she ever see me change? She called near one o'clock, and I told her. I asked her to eat lunch somewhere else so that I could live my life without this sorrow and pain. She said no.

I got angry because she won't let me die, she won't let me have any rest or peace. I thought she would call me the next day, and she didn't. I think she will call me today. She won't. She won't call me and that kills me.

I prayed and prayed for hours. I prayed that God would kill me. I asked him to let me die, I begged him to pick me off of this world, I am not suited for life here. I can't understand humans, I can't believe anything, I don't trust, I am mean, and I am weak. I am too weak to kill myself, but God isn't. I'm still alive, you see, but the offer is still solid.

I slept on the couch that night so that i could watch TV and not think about anything. I don't want to remember. I don't want any of this to ever happen. It kills me that she is actually pursuing relationships with other guys. When I think about her lips, I remember them clearer than I remember what food tastes like. When I think about her and him... This is why I prayed for death. I hope you understand, friends, why I did that, I can't bear to think about things like that. It hurts more that broken bones, it hurts more than burns or cuts, or anything I have ever felt.

I cry about every two or three hours. I bawl every day. I can't get in my car without crying, and I can't sleep in my room. I only sleep for six hours, (on the couch) and for 5 hours a day, I shake uncontrollably. Talking helps, but not very many people actually mean that they "are here for me to talk to." I have found only two people willing to talk for hours. Thank you two, thank you so much. You are the only reason I'm making it through this.

I feel ready to throw up every half hour. I check my phone every thirty seconds. I think about her all the time. My mind won't give me peace, it refuses to turn my thoughts towards anything else. I refuse to act on anything, though. I won't let myself turn into that creepy guy. I won't let that side of me win this fight. My life is my own, and if I keep breathing, I will keep living. That's my motivation for getting off the couch in the morning: Inhale, exhale. Repeat.

I told her not to call me, and I don't know what to hope. Amanda, do you understand? If you call me, I will only want to talk to you, but all I can say is that I hope things are going well and that I'm okay, I'm fine. At least if you read this, you can see what my definition of "fine" is.

I need some favors of you guys. Can you:
Pray for me?
Send me text messages? I need to stop thinking it's going to be her when my phone vibrates. I need to want it to be someone else. It needs to always be someone else.
Not tell me anything about Amanda? It's none of my business, and though it kills me to say it: Even if I beg, don't tell me anything. It feels better when I know, but only for an hour.
Not tell me you are here for me if you aren't? I totally understand you not wanting to sit and hear an overly emotional stressed out 17 year old boy talk about his anxiety. Seriously. You aren't going to hurt me more by just saying you hope I feel better soon, and not offering your consolation whenever I need it. It's enough for you to even read this huge entry.

Pray

I am not even close to getting over you

happy birthday Kyle. I hope you won last night.

Amanda, you don't have to let my emotions tangle yours anymore. You can live your own life without interference from me.

Anyone feel like writing music?

Edit :: I took her drawings off my wall, so maybe I'll be able to sleep in my bed again. I also burnt the letter I wrote her, lyrics I wrote for her, and some various notes I took in order to gather my thoughts. I don't want to be tempted to give her them, and I don't want to see them. ::

" You're a mystery novel
Habitual
Deceiving
Youthful and quick
Running yourself in circles
Too focused on the details
Unable to patch them together
And develop a lens through which you can see me.

You're a clown
A heart behind a mask
Jolly yet lonely
A performer
An actor
Playing for a selective audience
Who laugh and giggle
But they don't see you struggle like I do.

You're a gypsy,
Unconventional
Passionate
Playful and jaded
Searching for another winding road
For strange and wondorous places
That you'll write books about when you're old
And I'll miss you.

You're hamlet
A poet
A genius
A lover
A pursuer
Once a mixed up boy
Now a man misunderstood
And I've loved you."

Kinda feels right.

WAS IT ALL FOR THE BEST?

"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be." -Kurt Vonnegut

Who am I? I'm the kid who retypes a word if he catches himself misspelling it, and uses punctuation. I am alone with all my friends. I am busy by myself. I do a lot of things I don't want to do, I do a lot of things I am ashamed of. There are things that I like to do that I don't, can't, explain to other people without being mocked or judged.

In the book Catcher In the Rye, Holden walks down the street, feeling he is sinking into the ground through every intersection. His brother, his dead brother helps him. This is what I'm talking about. Is there anyone out there who feels the same way?

If there was, would I really want to know? I like my feeling of singularity. I don't want to be one with the crowd, but at the same time, I wouldn't feel comfortable knowing that I was running away from conformity. I would rather toil away endlessly under the garb of conformity while being an individual on the inside. Invisible to all, inconspicuous.

"If you are lonely when you're alone, you are in bad company." -Jean-Paul Sartre

"What's it going to be then, eh?"

Do you feel lonely when you are alone? Alex was so lucky to be a test subject in A Clockwork Orange. His "education" was not one of a mechanical society. He alone was individual. Through force, yes, but some people have greatness thrust upon them.

WAS IT ALL FOR THE BEST?