Vanessa the Magnificent: Don't worry, Miranda's not about to kill herself. She won't die in this fic, but someone else might.. I'm sorry I've made you wait for more, but I've been impossibly busy lately and haven't had the time to write. Bonjour-french-bread: I definitely think that saying this story reminds you of Secluded and Obscured is a compliment, that's my favorite Lizzie story EVER! Funny-giggler: Whoah, you submitted seven times. Interesting. I totally forgot about the ceiling in the beginning of Secluded and Obscured, so don't think I copied or anything. I'm glad you think my work is original, I try to make it that way and not just like everything else! Funky-pink-high-top: I am so honored that my favorite fanfiction author of all time has taken the effort to review my story! I'm glad that one line stood out to you, writing it stood out for me. It is true, isn't it? I got the inspiration from a real life couple I know. Laine likes you: I think we all love Miranda angst stories. They really are more deep that other stuff, aren't they? I also think Miranda's absolutely gorgeous, but I bet she doesn't think that! We all think we're ugly, but only the vast minority of us is. Kris: Don't worry, the cliffhanger isn't that bad. Thanks for reviewing! Starcraze: I think every adolescent girl can relate to what Miranda going through. I'm getting a lot of the inspiration for what she's going through from my own experiences. Baby-angel AKA LaLa: Thanks for reviewing again! Lizzie does get everything, doesn't she? Have you seen the movie yet. totally unfair what she gets! Serenityblossom: Miranda is also my favorite character. To bad she wasn't in the movie and hasn't been on the show in forever! If she doesn't come back on soon I think we should boycott everything Disney till she comes back, don't you think? Nahima Tali: I also find it hard to imagine Lizzie-angst. I'd like to see some poor, but brave, writer attempt it just to see how it would turn out. I'm sorry for leaving you with a cliffhanger, those are evil!

And now what you've all been waiting for..

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"Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez, we strongly suggest you take your doctor to some sort of counselor or psychologist,"

He keeps on talking, but I'm not listening. I'm too entranced by the potential eighth wonder of the world that is my chipping dark blue nail- polish. I think about switching to black all the time, you know, really expressing my deep, consuming angst but its not like anyone would care anyway, so why should I waist ninety nine cents on a new bottle?

Apparently I fainted in the girls bathroom after Gordo dropped that little bombshell that could easily give Hiroshima a run for its money on me and some eighth grade bimbos found me lying on the ground unconscious and had a screaming fit, as if an unconscious fourteen year old girl was going to hurt them in some way. Total blondes.

I let out a faint laugh at this thought and everyone in the room gives me the evil eye, as if to say "we all hauled our asses in here for fifteen minutes to pretend that we give a shit about your 'emotions' and 'self esteem' just for you so why the hell are you the one laughing?". Any you know what? I bet you ten bucks that's exactly what they were thinking.

The meeting obviously ended when my parents stood up and shook hands with the principal, thanked him for his help (with what, exactly?) and started to leave the room. My backpack and other books were waiting for me right outside the room so I assumed that I would be going home, even though it was only halfway through fifth period. I wondered who had brought me my stuff when I suddenly noticed Lizzie standing just outside the front office.

"Miranda, are you okay? Gordo said."

"I'm fine, Lizzie. I'm going home now though, okay?"

She had hurt look on her face. She was probably thinking, "I was only trying to help!"

Boo freaking hoo.

Who cared about what Lizzie was trying to do or not? Who cared what Gordo said or what she saw or what she was concerned about? No one. No one cared about what Lizzie McGuire was thinking or feeling right now.

And, with that thought, walking out to the car with my parents in silence, I felt better than I had for a long, long time.

"What are you smiling about? Was this all a plan to get out of school early?" My mother looked at me and said sternly. She had me sort of taken aback there for a minute, all she ever seemed to say to me was "how was your day?" in a sugary-sweet voice that must have taken her years of voice lessons to perfect. Seeing her angry, accusing, showing some freaking emotion other than fakeness was so...

Refreshing, actually, would have to be the right word. Maybe she was human.

"Uh.no. mom." I said flatly. Everything I say to her I say flatly it seems.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mija, you've just got me so worried!" She gave me a light kiss on the cheek and continued walking, with more silence.

She wasn't human after all. A huge major breakthrough in my deluded relationship with my mother was down the drain.

Why the hell am I putting so much thought into one stupid conversation with my mother she probably doesn't even remember? I do that all the time, obsess over things no one else gives a shit about or even bothers to notice.

I, Miranda Sanchez, don't think normally. I don't. Honestly. No one else thinks about stupid little offhand comments people make while walking out to the car for days on end. I swear, some little offhand comments have shaped my whole life.

And, as I sat in the backseat of my parents station wagon in silence looking out the window at the exact some town that I've grown so familiar with to a degree that only comes with time I decide something.

I am going to tell Gordo I love him today. Today, May 8, 2003 is going to be a day to record in my little blue fluffy diary, because today is the day my life either begins or ends. Gordo'll get to decide.

I keep playing that sentence over and over in my head "I'm going to tell Gordo I love him today, I'm going to tell Gordo I love him today," until I get home where I can really contemplate it.

Finally we pull into our freshly-leaf-blown driveway and I thrust open the door so that I may lock my self in my room for hours on end and stare up at the ceiling, except this time I really have something to think about.

I plop myself down on my un-made bed and contemplate what it would be like to tell him. I was going to tell him on his birthday, but screw that. Today would be such a better day.

I'm half excited half terrified. You know, there really isn't that much difference between being excited and being terrified. As I lay on my bed the terrifying factor begins to take over.

I know in my heart that he loves Lizzie, now. He doesn't love me. He never will, doesn't, and never has. Telling him will do nothing but ruin my friendship with him AND Lizzie (though I wouldn't really mind having Lizzie out of my life for good) and I'll probably publicly humiliate myself in front of the person I love most in this world and end up having to leave the country, but its just a risk I'll have to take.

"Why do I do these kind of things to myself?" I ask out loud, not caring who hears me. I mean I know its going to end badly. I know I'm just going to fuck up my life more than it already is, why can't I resist the temptation?

I'm just not that strong. I'm setting myself up for the worst pain of my life, and doing it totally and utterly out of my plan too.

"Well Miranda, I dare you to find one person out of the billions on this earth who actually, truly, genuinely gives a shit." I say out loud again, and must I really explain about the not caring who hears thing again?

I glance at the clock out of habit, 2:45. I decide I'm going to tell him at exactly 6:45, in exactly four hours. Me, Lizzie, and him usually talk at about seven, so I know he won't be on the other line with her while I'm spilling out my heart and soul to him.

I stare up at the ceiling, waiting with all my life for four hours to pass.