What is up my Cöven? I needed to put that in there. Sorry about not writing. Anyhoo, here be my interpretation of Twilight and what I think about in my spare time that you, dear reader, have decided is the most important thing to do at this point in the time-space continuum. And I thank you. Don't judge, it's not cool.

At the airport (and beyond!)

After quickly disposing of my jacket in the nearest trashcan, I was ready and willing to take on the world. Then I remembered where I was. In Sporks.

"NOOO!" I cried to anybody that would listen. Surprisingly, no one did.

A part of my soul died right there and life felt meaningless and horribly empty. If only there was something, OR someone, who could make me feel alive again (IRONY! Because vampires are kinda dead...). As if by a miracle, I saw my father standing by the door with a smile plastered on his face.

"Daddy!" I yelled as I flung myself into his arms, trying to fill the hole in my chest with a male role model. All of a sudden the entire world melted away and I felt safe and warm and... getting pushed away?

"I said, Get off of me, Crazy Bitch!"

Another part of my soul, another useless part, died. Without looking up, fearing I would start crying if I stared into the eyes of my heartless father, I asked, "What, Daddy?"

"For the last time! I am not your "Daddy"!"

Risking my sanity (maybe) and my trust in all life forms (more irony, maybe?), I looked up at my cruel father, the one I used to love.

It wasn't him

"Oh..." I murmured.

Turns out he wasn't my dad, and his real daughter was standing right behind me, with an angry look on her face that could only mean she wanted to be friends with me.

I let go of the father that wasn't mine and patted his daughter on the head.

"Sorry about that... AH! Don't hate me! I won't be able to take it, my meds aren't strong enough!" I cried, bawling now.

And the father just stared at me! Like I was some kind of freak! My self confidence was slowly dying in a very dark and deep hole. It seemed like the moment I stepped off that plane my life was going from insignificant to just another Dr. Phil episode. Or would it be a Tyra Banks' one?

As I contemplated the cliche my life was, a strange man with a very 80's porn star mustache was approaching me. Depending on those self-defense classes I had taken with my mom, I reached into my carry-on and threw my taser at the offender. He caught it and looked relatively unharmed.

WHAT? That's not supposed to happen!

"Bella? How the hell did you get a taser on the plane?"

Wait... how did this strange man know my name. And even my "nickname" despite "Bella" being a perfectly good name instead of nicknames like "H2O" or "Bill"?

I saw the man continue to walk towards me even though I had done a pretty, excuse my french (where did that phrase even come from?), darn good job of intimidating him. Strangely, I was only able to look at his chest instead of at his face. Who was this man? A mugger? A rapist? The fact that this was a well-lit, public area continued to elude me.

"You know you're supposed to hold the pretty blue lights against your "attacker"?"

I was nearly crying in fright.

"Wh...Who are you?" His chest was very manly and intimidating.

"Uh... Bella, it's me... Your Dad...? Charlie...?"

I looked up and it was Charlie.

"Oh... Let's go."

I flipped my hair in a very aloof manner, but it flew in my face and I tripped over a tragically placed trash can. Luckily, Charlie came rushing to my rescue.

"Bella, get your ass of the ground. You'll look like a crack whore. I should know..." He said that last part kind of hushed but overall his voice was warm and reassuring. I jumped up and skipped after him.

"I taste carpet." And I did. It's not as bad as people think.

"I told you, you crazy bitch, get away from me!" Charlie's voice wasn't as fluffy and plush as it was a minute ago.

"Charlie..." I growled after him, feeling something very close to homicidal tendencies rise up within my soul.

"Dear God, what are you on?!" He yelled and then turned around. It was the same man I had ran up to and hugged. It was the impostor Charlie.

"Oh! Sorry... Teehee." And I skipped back to the real Charlie. feeling rather giddy inside.

"Okay Bella, you've had quite a day. Let's go home." Charlie, the real one, put his arm around me.

As he did that supposed act of reassurance, I couldn't help but feel a crushing damnation come with it. And we walked out the doors but yet another, just as insignificant, part of my soul died as we walked outside into the AWFUL, WET, DISGUSTING and ALIEN/BEAUTIFUL green landscape of Sporks, Washington.

This was my new life. In Sporks. With a distant but loving father. And me, a psychotic teenage girl on the verge of mental breakdown.

Where are my meds?

Where are her meds? Where are my meds? HA! I don't have meds! Yep, Quina, you might smell crack but I smell rainbows and muffin-shitting unicorns. It should be unihorns but that sounds provocative and racy. See yall next year!