Saturday night was warm, and reminded me of the summer. Possibly because it is almost summer.
A ground breaking revelation.
I am so retarded.
...
Also a ground breaking revelation.
Anyway...Saturday night was a lovely almost summer night, and I was online. My parents had already gone to bed. My dog and I where downstairs, and I do believe I was the only one awake, because my loving, insane, huge dog fell asleep, with his head in my lap. Great.
I was talking to Quatre, (about...Trowa...and the movie we where going to see on Sunday...and various flavors of ice cream ...and how they must taste on the human body. Stuff like that.) and downloading a little music, and making lovely, lovely violent music videos, when he came online.
There he was. The moronic man of my dreams. Online. For some reason. To talk to Relena probably. Ah...my music video is going to be quite the violent piece of work.
I hate Relena. I hate her so much. I hate thinking about her touching the person I love, and I hate thinking about her being around him more then I am. I hate her fakeness, and her banshee-like laugh. But most of all I hate thinking about her talking to him.
Imagine if you will the conversation that plagues my thoughts daily.
"Oh Heero...I like...can't wait until prom and stuff.." Squeak squeak...neighboring dogs have aneurisms, and fall down dead.
"...yeah"
"I am so excited. I just can't decide if I should wear my hair up or down. Probably up..." BLAH BLAH BLAH. Etc...etc...etc...heavy duty bullet proof glass windows in a five mile radius shatter.
"...uh...yeah..."
"Now let's talk about dirty things."
"...whatever..." This conversation carries on late into the night.
I feel my brain imploding on itself from just thinking about it. Or maybe that's my heart. Probably my heart. Sometimes I scratch at my chest, trying to get it out, so I don't have to feel anything anymore. It's not like it would work, but the thought of not having to think or feel anything towards Heero makes me feel better.
(The thought of not having to think. I am so very, very retarded.) He makes me so insane. Just knowing he's there and I can get at him will probably be the cause of my death. I can just see my death certificate.
Cause of death: Love of hot boy.
My heart hurts. Deep, deep inside my chest cavity my heart is doing a sad little slow dance to a sad, sad song.
Stupid Heero. Stop making my sad heart dance to your cruel, cruel tune.
And he messages me.
He says 'Hello.' I reply 'Hi', and the nervous heart dance begins.
'How are you?' He asks.
Shitty thanks for asking. I am in love with you and can't tell you. You have an annoying girlfriend and the very thought of her makes me sick. Today I hung out with our gay friend and his boyfriend, I would have way rather been hanging out with you.
'Fine' Unnervingly long pause. 'You?'
'I'm fine. I went to a movie today with Wufei.'
'Ah. My dog fell asleep with his head on my lap. I can't feel my legs anymore, and he's started to drool.'
Unnervingly long pause.
'Interesting. Well I got to go.'
I signed off after Heero did. My music that I was getting stopped mid-download, and I left Quatre in the middle of our conversation.
Lovely. I wandered up to my bed, kicked off my boots, and fell asleep with my head under a pillow and my cd player on full blast.
At least I wasn't crying.
Sunday morning was infinitely better then Saturday.
We don't go to church. I don't know why. Instead my parents are usually out of the house by the time I wake up on Sundays. They do community service on Sunday. My mom makes my dad go. She told me once she bribed him. Only two things work on as a bribe. Sex and money. Must have been with money. God I hope she bribed him with money. I am going to continue believing I am a test-tube baby until I am told otherwise. Maybe that's why I'm so fucked up. I saw my parents touching each other at a young age. That's called...like...loss of innocence or something. I could sue them. But then my mom would try to bribe me...and no one wants that. Least of all me.
Anyway...I usually find twenty bucks and a note under a magnet on the fridge.
Such luck I have. My dad must have been in a very good mood that morning because he left me an extra ten bucks. $30.00 is a great deal of cash when you don't have a job or a steady income. My mind went though a mental check list of things I wanted to buy, and how much they probably costed.
The note had my dad's handwriting on it. My dad's handwriting is crazy doctor style handwriting, and only my mom can read it. My mom or a pharmacists. Instead of running down to the grocery and bugging the ladies like I usually do when I'm in a good mood I scanned the note for anything legible.
'D- Quatre called.' scribble scribble...something that I think was a nine 'He wants you to call him. Mom and I are going to be out til around six. -J'
I think he wrote be safe or something at the end, but it might have been a death threat about touching his car, his hand writing is total crap.
I scratched myself, and then got some breakfast. Cocoa puffs are probably the best cereal in existence. I could eat them for every meal. They are really the only cereal that tastes better with milk in it. Ever have milk and Fruit loops? The milk gets all fruity and weird tasting. Cocoa puffs transform the milk. One second you have normal milk and then magically it's chocolate. Amazing. A-fucking-mazing.
The phone rang, while I was getting ready to take a shower.
I had my manly boxer briefs on, and so I strode to the phone confidant that no one could see me in my man-panties, as I had pulled down all the shades, because I was in a bad mood. How I miss my under-roos.
"Duo..." It was Quatre's voice. Ah. Either Quatre is calling me or there is a remarkable robot playing a trick on me. I addressed the robot, seeing as how it's creator did such a wonderful job trying to trick me into thinking it was him that I felt the need to play along with him, because he worked so hard on it.
"Quat."
"We're having a party tonight." Oh boy.
"We?" Quatre has multiple personalities. And they are all throwing a party. At his house. For fun. I am assuming.
"Trowa and I are having a party tonight, and we would very much like it if you came."
"Kind of spur of the moment?"
"It's fun like that, anyway...it's going to be at my pad-"
"Pad? What? Is your house a feminine hygienic product now?"
"Ha. It's at my house. Uh...starts at 5." Now he's annoying me.
"Hold on." I hang up.
A ground breaking revelation.
I am so retarded.
...
Also a ground breaking revelation.
Anyway...Saturday night was a lovely almost summer night, and I was online. My parents had already gone to bed. My dog and I where downstairs, and I do believe I was the only one awake, because my loving, insane, huge dog fell asleep, with his head in my lap. Great.
I was talking to Quatre, (about...Trowa...and the movie we where going to see on Sunday...and various flavors of ice cream ...and how they must taste on the human body. Stuff like that.) and downloading a little music, and making lovely, lovely violent music videos, when he came online.
There he was. The moronic man of my dreams. Online. For some reason. To talk to Relena probably. Ah...my music video is going to be quite the violent piece of work.
I hate Relena. I hate her so much. I hate thinking about her touching the person I love, and I hate thinking about her being around him more then I am. I hate her fakeness, and her banshee-like laugh. But most of all I hate thinking about her talking to him.
Imagine if you will the conversation that plagues my thoughts daily.
"Oh Heero...I like...can't wait until prom and stuff.." Squeak squeak...neighboring dogs have aneurisms, and fall down dead.
"...yeah"
"I am so excited. I just can't decide if I should wear my hair up or down. Probably up..." BLAH BLAH BLAH. Etc...etc...etc...heavy duty bullet proof glass windows in a five mile radius shatter.
"...uh...yeah..."
"Now let's talk about dirty things."
"...whatever..." This conversation carries on late into the night.
I feel my brain imploding on itself from just thinking about it. Or maybe that's my heart. Probably my heart. Sometimes I scratch at my chest, trying to get it out, so I don't have to feel anything anymore. It's not like it would work, but the thought of not having to think or feel anything towards Heero makes me feel better.
(The thought of not having to think. I am so very, very retarded.) He makes me so insane. Just knowing he's there and I can get at him will probably be the cause of my death. I can just see my death certificate.
Cause of death: Love of hot boy.
My heart hurts. Deep, deep inside my chest cavity my heart is doing a sad little slow dance to a sad, sad song.
Stupid Heero. Stop making my sad heart dance to your cruel, cruel tune.
And he messages me.
He says 'Hello.' I reply 'Hi', and the nervous heart dance begins.
'How are you?' He asks.
Shitty thanks for asking. I am in love with you and can't tell you. You have an annoying girlfriend and the very thought of her makes me sick. Today I hung out with our gay friend and his boyfriend, I would have way rather been hanging out with you.
'Fine' Unnervingly long pause. 'You?'
'I'm fine. I went to a movie today with Wufei.'
'Ah. My dog fell asleep with his head on my lap. I can't feel my legs anymore, and he's started to drool.'
Unnervingly long pause.
'Interesting. Well I got to go.'
I signed off after Heero did. My music that I was getting stopped mid-download, and I left Quatre in the middle of our conversation.
Lovely. I wandered up to my bed, kicked off my boots, and fell asleep with my head under a pillow and my cd player on full blast.
At least I wasn't crying.
Sunday morning was infinitely better then Saturday.
We don't go to church. I don't know why. Instead my parents are usually out of the house by the time I wake up on Sundays. They do community service on Sunday. My mom makes my dad go. She told me once she bribed him. Only two things work on as a bribe. Sex and money. Must have been with money. God I hope she bribed him with money. I am going to continue believing I am a test-tube baby until I am told otherwise. Maybe that's why I'm so fucked up. I saw my parents touching each other at a young age. That's called...like...loss of innocence or something. I could sue them. But then my mom would try to bribe me...and no one wants that. Least of all me.
Anyway...I usually find twenty bucks and a note under a magnet on the fridge.
Such luck I have. My dad must have been in a very good mood that morning because he left me an extra ten bucks. $30.00 is a great deal of cash when you don't have a job or a steady income. My mind went though a mental check list of things I wanted to buy, and how much they probably costed.
The note had my dad's handwriting on it. My dad's handwriting is crazy doctor style handwriting, and only my mom can read it. My mom or a pharmacists. Instead of running down to the grocery and bugging the ladies like I usually do when I'm in a good mood I scanned the note for anything legible.
'D- Quatre called.' scribble scribble...something that I think was a nine 'He wants you to call him. Mom and I are going to be out til around six. -J'
I think he wrote be safe or something at the end, but it might have been a death threat about touching his car, his hand writing is total crap.
I scratched myself, and then got some breakfast. Cocoa puffs are probably the best cereal in existence. I could eat them for every meal. They are really the only cereal that tastes better with milk in it. Ever have milk and Fruit loops? The milk gets all fruity and weird tasting. Cocoa puffs transform the milk. One second you have normal milk and then magically it's chocolate. Amazing. A-fucking-mazing.
The phone rang, while I was getting ready to take a shower.
I had my manly boxer briefs on, and so I strode to the phone confidant that no one could see me in my man-panties, as I had pulled down all the shades, because I was in a bad mood. How I miss my under-roos.
"Duo..." It was Quatre's voice. Ah. Either Quatre is calling me or there is a remarkable robot playing a trick on me. I addressed the robot, seeing as how it's creator did such a wonderful job trying to trick me into thinking it was him that I felt the need to play along with him, because he worked so hard on it.
"Quat."
"We're having a party tonight." Oh boy.
"We?" Quatre has multiple personalities. And they are all throwing a party. At his house. For fun. I am assuming.
"Trowa and I are having a party tonight, and we would very much like it if you came."
"Kind of spur of the moment?"
"It's fun like that, anyway...it's going to be at my pad-"
"Pad? What? Is your house a feminine hygienic product now?"
"Ha. It's at my house. Uh...starts at 5." Now he's annoying me.
"Hold on." I hang up.
