March 16
All I've ever wanted was to believe. I looked at Lizzie, the optimistic friend, who was so incredibly innocent and naïve to people's deceit and idiocy. She was almost gullible, she was so trusting. I was almost jealous, but I pitied her. I prayed that one day, maybe I could regain a sense of ignorance towards people; forgetting what I learned from walking among them.
An ocean of regret washed over me that night. I sat on my bed, mindlessly doodling on my homework, and wondering why. Why was it so awful to fall for your best friend, have a homosexual father, and let people know you aren't who you thought you were? Because it would mean I was wrong.
Everyone hates being wrong. It means you aren't anything but human. It means the first impression you gave is denied. It means you have no sense of control; you're just hurling down the black pit of nothingness. At least that's what Gordo told me once. And he would never tell me again.
Earlier that day, I stood with a rose thorn cutting across my tanned skin. Pain was somehow better than anger; it made you the innocent victim rather than the blood thirsty murderer. Or maybe it made you a little of both.
Gordo saw. The two words made me cringe. He saw me stab the lamb. He saw me reveal the worst side of me. He saw me reveal my worst enemy.
What possessed me?! There was something about watching the luscious scarlet curves embrace my hands as a symbol of love; it just contradicted itself and confused the hell out of me. I never wanted to feel the cool blade against my skin again, but there was something of a naughty temptation. Those darkest thoughts in the back of my head crawled like shadows, distracting me to the better good.
Without a pair of lips to caress my own or a heart to memorize mine, my body was nothing. As a strong believer that we don't need love to survive, the thought killed me. I was so confused, with half formed thoughts and prayers of what I didn't want.
The look in Gordo's eyes when he saw me, it crushed me. Such disappointment and anger and sadness; oh, such WORRY. In the back of my brain, I could hear one single thought of happiness. He CARES. Yes, cares for his best friend, but cares all the same. Warm salty tears cascaded down my face then, and only then. And then I hated myself even more. Gordo would NEVER love someone who didn't love themselves! STOP IT.
And then he reached me, and grabbed the new rose. And then he grabbed me into a rough embrace quickly, and then faced me. He asked me why. I didn't answer. I couldn't I was absolutely senseless with mind numbing hatred, I ran. I ran out of school, knocking over my English teacher on the way. Never again, I thought.
"Stupid," I muttered under my breath, doodling more. I could still feel the tear stains, though they were long gone thanks to soap and water. No one even noticed I came home early. No one really cared.
"Miranda?" A knock on my door surprised me. Human interaction? In MY house? Never.
"Yes?" I turned the page of my notebook as the door opened. Mom, of course. She sat on my bed and put the basket in her arms down.
"How have you been?," She asked cheerfully.
"Fine."
"Oh, good." She watched me doodle in silence for a few minutes. "Gordo has called several times." I said nothing to this. "The school called too." I glanced up, and she was smiling sadly. "What's the matter, mija?"
"I know about dad," I stated, looking her in the eye.
"I think I knew that you did," She looked down. "You're a smart girl, Miranda. You can see something that's right in front of your eyes."
"No," Tears blocked my vision. "I'm not smart. I'm just a good spy."
"Mija, it's not an easy fact to live with," She traced the patterns on my bedspread in deep thought. "But it IS the truth." The truth. I wasn't quite well acquainted with the truth anymore.
"I don't really mind, truthfully," I admitted. "It's just that........" I sighed, looking out the window. "I don't want people to feel sorry for me for something that isn't horrible."
"I don't want that either. But I'm not going to keep your father here; he doesn't belong here. I love him too much to lock him up," She smiled at me sadly again.
"You still love him?," I asked quietly.
"Not romantically," She sighed and leaned back. "I don't think I ever did."
"Then why did you get married?," I questioned.
"Because I thought I was supposed to," She looked down at her hands. "All my siblings got married, and I was destined to as well. But I didn't want to. Not really. No one appealed to me. Your father was always nice to me, and understood. So we got married."
"Why did you have me?," I nearly whispered. I knew that grandma always wanted grandchildren. I knew the reason.
"Because we wanted children," She stroked my head and smiled. "And we lucked out with you." It was that kind of corny line parents use on their kids all the time; loving with a touch of care, but lame. It was the kind of warmth I wanted all along.
"I don't want to get married, mommy," I pushed myself into her arms quickly, before tears streamed from my eyes.
"Shush, mija, you don't HAVE to," She cradled my head as I sobbed.
"People are too confusing," I sniffled. "I can barely live with myself, let alone others!" She patted my head slowly, the room filled only with my tears.
"Miranda," She looked me straight in the eye. "Don't ever sell yourself short. You are a beautiful person, and just by living, you are a blessing. Don't hide yourself because you are afraid. You are," She looked at me oddly, "A flower. A flower afraid of blossoming. BLOSSOM, mija." She stood up and left me to doodle. There were so many more half formed thoughts.
They (we'll just pretend They is actually a majority of people) always say your youth is the best time of your life. I still don't know what would possess someone to say that. I mean, give a person a reason to commit suicide! If you know you're childhood has ended, what's the point of going on?
Because you are a hope to other people, I realized. By not giving up, you are stronger. I'm not going to give up on myself. Not completely.
The phone rang and I automatically picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Miranda; thank god."
"Hi, Gordo," I said weakly, putting down my pen.
"Why haven't you returned my calls? I sent you about five e-mails! What's going on?" I almost smiled.
"Nothing really." I tried to pretend it was casual conversation.
"You know what I mean. Are you okay, Miranda? Did I do something to upset you? Is something going on I should know about?" He sounded so worried. How could I NOT love him?
"I've just been having problems with my parents; I'm sorry I scared you," I said. "I'm fine now, really. I've resolved something, and I'll be okay."
"You have to promise me something. Never, EVER do that again." I thought about it.
"Never again," I repeated. I held back more tears. "I promise."
"Good," He sounded semi-relieved. I doubted he totally believed me. "You know, Lizzie was worried when you left." My heart froze. Lizzie, who I presently hated, was worried about me. Of course she wasn't, damn it! Can't you see it, Gordo? She LOVES you. I LOVE YOU. Can't you just decide and kill me now?
"Really," Was all I could managed.
"Yeah. She couldn't stop talking to me about it in science," He replied. "She even called me after school. She can't reach you over there." Yeah, right. Like hell she can't! "It almost feels like we never stopped hanging out."
"I think she still has feelings for you," I blurted out.
"I doubt it," He laughed. "Didn't you hear she likes Larry?" Like hell she does! "Anyway, she says she hopes you feel better." She said that to GORDO. Not to me. To GORDO. I felt a sort of hatred towards her. My, my, how moods swing.
~@~
I couldn't concentrate in school. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, maybe a sick ying yang of love and hate, but nothing really. When did things get so complicated? The bell rang, catching me off guard. I stood quickly and grabbed my books absentmindedly.
Something led me to the girl's bathroom. I'm not sure what exactly, just an anonymous force dragging me to the filthy tile. And there stood none other than Lizzie McGuire. Oh, great.
"Hi, Miranda!," She chirped, smoothing her hair. How I wanted to rip it out of her skull. "What's up?"
"I know you left me roses," I replied, glaring. She turned around, pale faced.
"Y-you do?," She stuttered.
"Lizzie. Why didn't you TELL me?!," I screamed.
"I didn't think you would understand," She mumbled to her feet.
"Of course I'd understand, I like him too, remember?," I hung my head and sighed. "Look, you didn't have to make up some little secret admirer to take my mind off Gordo or get my hopes up or whatever. I get it."
"Did you like them?," She asked feebly. Was that some sort of sick joke? I rolled my eyes at her. "Please, don't be mad at me, Miranda. I really want you to be happy. So," She breathed, "Go ahead and go out with Gordo. I don't like him like that, really. I just wanted you to know, or at least think someone else likes you. I'm sure someone does."
"If they do, they aren't tell me anytime soon," I sighed. "Fine. It's too hard to be mad at you, anyway." I looked at her. "You're still the best friend I ever had, you know."
"Don't get mushy on me now," She smiled.
"Oh, and Lizzie?"
"Yeah?"
"LARRY?!"
A/N: Ah, yes, another chapter finished. I. AM. GOOD. This was more of a chapter of resolution, though things are no where near resolved. I'm seeing a good few chapters to go. It's been fairly successful so far, I must say. Another go hearty shout out to the following:
The Coca-Cola company-amazing fueling power
Sixpence None The Richer-great inspiration
Office Depot-comfy seats
Microsoft Word-fabulous program
AND WWW.FANFICTION.NET
Oh, yes, readers.
Nahima Tala: Aren't I though?? I love confusing people. And then I will hopefully straighten it all out, because the characters sure aren't. You're going to HAVE to review every chapter (bwa ha ha) because I love you SOOOO MUCH. Yes, that's why. I want to stalk you and be in constant contact of you. Actually, I'm using you for your reviews. Ooh, not only am I evil, I'm a BITCH. No, really. I love you truly. And I love your reviews. I love you and your reviews. lol I MADE A FUNNY. I'll update ASAP.
Love-fool: Interesting..VERY interesting. I shall continue you, I shall I SHALL. I'm going to count the reviews you've made. FIVE. YAY. Okay, I want more though. I'm very picky. Remember, I'm trying to make it to FIFTY and I'm only on like 35! Goodness people! I must be mean today. But I still love you DEARLY. Thank you for reviewing five FABULOUS times!
Sanah: ::gasp:: A NEWBIE. I LOVE NEWBIES! Hello, welcome, how do you do? I update often, I thank people, and I'm damn proud of it! Thank you MUCHO and I shall read your stuff because it is what I do to my reviewers. Thanks bunches o' nuts!
PinkPrincess: Don't we all? Addiction. I'm glad-I mean, sad. Yes. Sad I have made a person become a junkie. ::evil laughter:: MY PLAN IS WORKING!! Anyway, I believe I can give you a daily dose, because I am almost constantly inspired to write this, and I know the plot front to back and I know where I am going, for once. I KNOW WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN AND YOU DON'T. more evilness.
Keeponwritin: Oh, it's YOU. I LOVE YOU. You're a hip one. Don't we all want to be funky pink high tops inside? Oh, well. You are a............funky........something. I'll think about it. OOH. A GROOVY AQUAMARINE SANDAL. Let me count your reviews. FIVE FOR YOU TOO. Okay, here's a deal: Once you review me five times (this is to everyone) I SHALL NAME YOU. So (yes, thank you bunches again, Keeponwritin):
Another note to love-fool: I dub thee GROOVY LIME GREEN SNEAKERS. You are all groovy. I am the only funky one. Oh, I have to do some REVIEW COUNTING. Okay, several have three or four. SO CLOSE. Yes, um, I must move on and post. I LOVE YOU ALL.
All I've ever wanted was to believe. I looked at Lizzie, the optimistic friend, who was so incredibly innocent and naïve to people's deceit and idiocy. She was almost gullible, she was so trusting. I was almost jealous, but I pitied her. I prayed that one day, maybe I could regain a sense of ignorance towards people; forgetting what I learned from walking among them.
An ocean of regret washed over me that night. I sat on my bed, mindlessly doodling on my homework, and wondering why. Why was it so awful to fall for your best friend, have a homosexual father, and let people know you aren't who you thought you were? Because it would mean I was wrong.
Everyone hates being wrong. It means you aren't anything but human. It means the first impression you gave is denied. It means you have no sense of control; you're just hurling down the black pit of nothingness. At least that's what Gordo told me once. And he would never tell me again.
Earlier that day, I stood with a rose thorn cutting across my tanned skin. Pain was somehow better than anger; it made you the innocent victim rather than the blood thirsty murderer. Or maybe it made you a little of both.
Gordo saw. The two words made me cringe. He saw me stab the lamb. He saw me reveal the worst side of me. He saw me reveal my worst enemy.
What possessed me?! There was something about watching the luscious scarlet curves embrace my hands as a symbol of love; it just contradicted itself and confused the hell out of me. I never wanted to feel the cool blade against my skin again, but there was something of a naughty temptation. Those darkest thoughts in the back of my head crawled like shadows, distracting me to the better good.
Without a pair of lips to caress my own or a heart to memorize mine, my body was nothing. As a strong believer that we don't need love to survive, the thought killed me. I was so confused, with half formed thoughts and prayers of what I didn't want.
The look in Gordo's eyes when he saw me, it crushed me. Such disappointment and anger and sadness; oh, such WORRY. In the back of my brain, I could hear one single thought of happiness. He CARES. Yes, cares for his best friend, but cares all the same. Warm salty tears cascaded down my face then, and only then. And then I hated myself even more. Gordo would NEVER love someone who didn't love themselves! STOP IT.
And then he reached me, and grabbed the new rose. And then he grabbed me into a rough embrace quickly, and then faced me. He asked me why. I didn't answer. I couldn't I was absolutely senseless with mind numbing hatred, I ran. I ran out of school, knocking over my English teacher on the way. Never again, I thought.
"Stupid," I muttered under my breath, doodling more. I could still feel the tear stains, though they were long gone thanks to soap and water. No one even noticed I came home early. No one really cared.
"Miranda?" A knock on my door surprised me. Human interaction? In MY house? Never.
"Yes?" I turned the page of my notebook as the door opened. Mom, of course. She sat on my bed and put the basket in her arms down.
"How have you been?," She asked cheerfully.
"Fine."
"Oh, good." She watched me doodle in silence for a few minutes. "Gordo has called several times." I said nothing to this. "The school called too." I glanced up, and she was smiling sadly. "What's the matter, mija?"
"I know about dad," I stated, looking her in the eye.
"I think I knew that you did," She looked down. "You're a smart girl, Miranda. You can see something that's right in front of your eyes."
"No," Tears blocked my vision. "I'm not smart. I'm just a good spy."
"Mija, it's not an easy fact to live with," She traced the patterns on my bedspread in deep thought. "But it IS the truth." The truth. I wasn't quite well acquainted with the truth anymore.
"I don't really mind, truthfully," I admitted. "It's just that........" I sighed, looking out the window. "I don't want people to feel sorry for me for something that isn't horrible."
"I don't want that either. But I'm not going to keep your father here; he doesn't belong here. I love him too much to lock him up," She smiled at me sadly again.
"You still love him?," I asked quietly.
"Not romantically," She sighed and leaned back. "I don't think I ever did."
"Then why did you get married?," I questioned.
"Because I thought I was supposed to," She looked down at her hands. "All my siblings got married, and I was destined to as well. But I didn't want to. Not really. No one appealed to me. Your father was always nice to me, and understood. So we got married."
"Why did you have me?," I nearly whispered. I knew that grandma always wanted grandchildren. I knew the reason.
"Because we wanted children," She stroked my head and smiled. "And we lucked out with you." It was that kind of corny line parents use on their kids all the time; loving with a touch of care, but lame. It was the kind of warmth I wanted all along.
"I don't want to get married, mommy," I pushed myself into her arms quickly, before tears streamed from my eyes.
"Shush, mija, you don't HAVE to," She cradled my head as I sobbed.
"People are too confusing," I sniffled. "I can barely live with myself, let alone others!" She patted my head slowly, the room filled only with my tears.
"Miranda," She looked me straight in the eye. "Don't ever sell yourself short. You are a beautiful person, and just by living, you are a blessing. Don't hide yourself because you are afraid. You are," She looked at me oddly, "A flower. A flower afraid of blossoming. BLOSSOM, mija." She stood up and left me to doodle. There were so many more half formed thoughts.
They (we'll just pretend They is actually a majority of people) always say your youth is the best time of your life. I still don't know what would possess someone to say that. I mean, give a person a reason to commit suicide! If you know you're childhood has ended, what's the point of going on?
Because you are a hope to other people, I realized. By not giving up, you are stronger. I'm not going to give up on myself. Not completely.
The phone rang and I automatically picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Miranda; thank god."
"Hi, Gordo," I said weakly, putting down my pen.
"Why haven't you returned my calls? I sent you about five e-mails! What's going on?" I almost smiled.
"Nothing really." I tried to pretend it was casual conversation.
"You know what I mean. Are you okay, Miranda? Did I do something to upset you? Is something going on I should know about?" He sounded so worried. How could I NOT love him?
"I've just been having problems with my parents; I'm sorry I scared you," I said. "I'm fine now, really. I've resolved something, and I'll be okay."
"You have to promise me something. Never, EVER do that again." I thought about it.
"Never again," I repeated. I held back more tears. "I promise."
"Good," He sounded semi-relieved. I doubted he totally believed me. "You know, Lizzie was worried when you left." My heart froze. Lizzie, who I presently hated, was worried about me. Of course she wasn't, damn it! Can't you see it, Gordo? She LOVES you. I LOVE YOU. Can't you just decide and kill me now?
"Really," Was all I could managed.
"Yeah. She couldn't stop talking to me about it in science," He replied. "She even called me after school. She can't reach you over there." Yeah, right. Like hell she can't! "It almost feels like we never stopped hanging out."
"I think she still has feelings for you," I blurted out.
"I doubt it," He laughed. "Didn't you hear she likes Larry?" Like hell she does! "Anyway, she says she hopes you feel better." She said that to GORDO. Not to me. To GORDO. I felt a sort of hatred towards her. My, my, how moods swing.
~@~
I couldn't concentrate in school. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, maybe a sick ying yang of love and hate, but nothing really. When did things get so complicated? The bell rang, catching me off guard. I stood quickly and grabbed my books absentmindedly.
Something led me to the girl's bathroom. I'm not sure what exactly, just an anonymous force dragging me to the filthy tile. And there stood none other than Lizzie McGuire. Oh, great.
"Hi, Miranda!," She chirped, smoothing her hair. How I wanted to rip it out of her skull. "What's up?"
"I know you left me roses," I replied, glaring. She turned around, pale faced.
"Y-you do?," She stuttered.
"Lizzie. Why didn't you TELL me?!," I screamed.
"I didn't think you would understand," She mumbled to her feet.
"Of course I'd understand, I like him too, remember?," I hung my head and sighed. "Look, you didn't have to make up some little secret admirer to take my mind off Gordo or get my hopes up or whatever. I get it."
"Did you like them?," She asked feebly. Was that some sort of sick joke? I rolled my eyes at her. "Please, don't be mad at me, Miranda. I really want you to be happy. So," She breathed, "Go ahead and go out with Gordo. I don't like him like that, really. I just wanted you to know, or at least think someone else likes you. I'm sure someone does."
"If they do, they aren't tell me anytime soon," I sighed. "Fine. It's too hard to be mad at you, anyway." I looked at her. "You're still the best friend I ever had, you know."
"Don't get mushy on me now," She smiled.
"Oh, and Lizzie?"
"Yeah?"
"LARRY?!"
A/N: Ah, yes, another chapter finished. I. AM. GOOD. This was more of a chapter of resolution, though things are no where near resolved. I'm seeing a good few chapters to go. It's been fairly successful so far, I must say. Another go hearty shout out to the following:
The Coca-Cola company-amazing fueling power
Sixpence None The Richer-great inspiration
Office Depot-comfy seats
Microsoft Word-fabulous program
AND WWW.FANFICTION.NET
Oh, yes, readers.
Nahima Tala: Aren't I though?? I love confusing people. And then I will hopefully straighten it all out, because the characters sure aren't. You're going to HAVE to review every chapter (bwa ha ha) because I love you SOOOO MUCH. Yes, that's why. I want to stalk you and be in constant contact of you. Actually, I'm using you for your reviews. Ooh, not only am I evil, I'm a BITCH. No, really. I love you truly. And I love your reviews. I love you and your reviews. lol I MADE A FUNNY. I'll update ASAP.
Love-fool: Interesting..VERY interesting. I shall continue you, I shall I SHALL. I'm going to count the reviews you've made. FIVE. YAY. Okay, I want more though. I'm very picky. Remember, I'm trying to make it to FIFTY and I'm only on like 35! Goodness people! I must be mean today. But I still love you DEARLY. Thank you for reviewing five FABULOUS times!
Sanah: ::gasp:: A NEWBIE. I LOVE NEWBIES! Hello, welcome, how do you do? I update often, I thank people, and I'm damn proud of it! Thank you MUCHO and I shall read your stuff because it is what I do to my reviewers. Thanks bunches o' nuts!
PinkPrincess: Don't we all? Addiction. I'm glad-I mean, sad. Yes. Sad I have made a person become a junkie. ::evil laughter:: MY PLAN IS WORKING!! Anyway, I believe I can give you a daily dose, because I am almost constantly inspired to write this, and I know the plot front to back and I know where I am going, for once. I KNOW WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN AND YOU DON'T. more evilness.
Keeponwritin: Oh, it's YOU. I LOVE YOU. You're a hip one. Don't we all want to be funky pink high tops inside? Oh, well. You are a............funky........something. I'll think about it. OOH. A GROOVY AQUAMARINE SANDAL. Let me count your reviews. FIVE FOR YOU TOO. Okay, here's a deal: Once you review me five times (this is to everyone) I SHALL NAME YOU. So (yes, thank you bunches again, Keeponwritin):
Another note to love-fool: I dub thee GROOVY LIME GREEN SNEAKERS. You are all groovy. I am the only funky one. Oh, I have to do some REVIEW COUNTING. Okay, several have three or four. SO CLOSE. Yes, um, I must move on and post. I LOVE YOU ALL.