The more things change, the more they stay the same. I'm not sure who the first person was who said that. Probably Shakespeare. Or maybe Sting. But at the moment, it's the sentence that best explains my tragic flaw: my inability to change. I don't think I'm alone in this. The more I get to know other people, the more I realize it's kind of everyone's flaw. Staying exactly the same as long as possible, standing perfectly still… It feels better somehow. And if you are suffering, at least the pain is familiar. Because if you took the leap of faith, went outside the box, did something unexpected… Who knows what other pain might be waiting out there. Chances are it could be even worse. So you maintain the status quo. Choose the road already traveled and it doesn't seem that bad. Not as far as flaws go. You're not killing anyone… Except maybe yourself a little. When we finally do chage, I don't think it happens like an earthquake or an explosion, where all of a sudden we're like this different person. I think it's smaller than that. The kind of thing most people wouldn't even notice unless they looked at us really, really close. Which, thank God, they never do. But you notice it. Inside you that change feels like a world of difference. And you hope this is it. This is the person you get to be forever… that you'll never have to change again.
~Everwood~

Now I'm in town, Break it down,
Thinkin' of making a new sound
Playing a different show everynight in front of a new crowd,
That's you now, Ciao,
Seems that life is great now,
See me loose focus, as I sing to you loud.
And I can't. No. I won't hush,
I say the words that make you blush,
I gonna sing this now (ow, ow)
See I'm true, my songs are where my heart is,
I'm like glue, I stick to other artists,
I'm not you, now that would be disastrous.
So let me sing and do my thing,
And move to greener pastures,
See, I'm real, I do it all, it's all me,
I'm not fake, don't ever call me lazy,
I won't stay put,
Give me a chance to be free
Suffolk sadly seems to sort of suffocate me,

Cause' you need me, man, I don't need you
You need me, man, I don't need you
You need me, man, I don't need you
Until, You need me, man, I don't need you
You need me, man, I don't need you
You need me, man, I don't need you
You need me, man, I don't need you
Until, you need me.
[ Lyrics from: . ]
See, I write my own tune,
And I write my own verse,
Don't need another wordsmith, to make my tune sell.
Call yourself a singer-writer,
You're just bluffing,
Your names on the credits,
You didn't write nothing,
I sing fast,
I know that all my sh*ts cool,
I will blast,
And I didn't go to brit school.
I came fast with the way I act, right.
I can't last if I'm smoking on a crack pipe,
I won't be a product of my genre,
My mind will always be stronger than my songs are,
Never believe the bullsh*t that the fake guys feed to ya'
Always read the stories that you hear in Wikipedia,
And musically I'm demonstrating,
When I perform live, feels like I am meditating
Times at The Enterprise when some fella filmed me
A young singer-writer like Gabriella Cilmi
You need me, man, I don't need you
You need me, man, I don't need you
You need me, man, I don't need you,
Until, You need me, man, I don't need you,
You need me, man, I don't need you,
You need me, man, I don't need you,
Until, You need me.

With the lyrics I'll be aiming it right,
I won't stop till' my names in lights,
At stadium heights,
With Damien Rice, on red carpets
Now I'm on Arabian nights,
Because I'm young, and I know my brothers' gonna give me advice.
Long nighter, short height and I've gone hyper
Never be anything but a singer-songwriter
The games over but now I'm on a new level
Watch how I step on the track without a loop pedal
People think that I'm bound to blow up
I've done around about a thousand shows
But I haven't got a house plus I live on the couch
So you can be the lyrics when I'm singing them out
(Wow)
From day one, I've been prepared
With vo5 wax for my ginger hair
So now I'm back to the sofa giving a dose of what the future holds
Cause it's another day
Plus I'll keep my last name forever keep the genre pretty basic
Gonna be breaking into other people's tunes when I chase it
And replace it with the elephant in the room with a facelift
Into another rappers shoes using new laces
Selling cds from my rucksack aiming for the papers
Selling cds from my rucksack aiming for majors
Nationwide til' we're just jack, soon as I get the bus back
Clean cut kid without a razor for the moustache
I hit back when the pen hurts me
I'm still a choir boy in a Fenchurch tee
I'm still the same as a year ago
But more people hear me though
According to the myspace and youtube videos
I'm always doing shows, if I'm not I'm in the studio
Truly broke, never growing up call me *Ruffio
Melody music maker
Reading all the papers
They say I'm up and coming like I'm f*cking in an elevator

Cause you need me, man, I don't need you
You need me, man, I don't need you
You need me, man, I don't need you, at all
You need me, man, I don't need you

You need me, man, I don't need you
You need me, man, I don't need you
You need me, man, I don't need you, at all
You need me, man, I don't need you

~You need me, I don't need you~
Ed Sheeran
*Genius*

"Anna,"

Oh, god.

Oh, holy mother of fuck.

What do we do?

I don't know.

I DON'T KNOW!

STOP PRESSURING ME!

Mom stood up from the couch, her eyes flaring as she looked to me before she looked back at Jacob, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked back to Charlie whom was rubbing the back of his neck. "You knew about this!"

"I-i-well, I-"

Mom cut him off, shaking her head. "Oh, stop stuttering Charlie and get your words out right."

Charlies cheeks flushed as my mother looked back at me, her eyes narrowed. In that moment, I felt every ounce of sympathy that wasn't aimed towards my self wallowing go towards him; I mean, my mother had just ripped his balls from him and stuffed them back down his throat with them tied in a bow.

Poor man.

He'll probably kill himself when we leave.

Lets hope not.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her leather jacket creasing just by the simple action and I wondered how, even in her anger, she still looked fucking amazing. Her auburn hair, that I unfortunately inherited, was cut just below her chin and framed her heart shaped face; her violently blue eyes that I had always envied seemed to be so much more beautiful even though I was sure that at any moment she would shred her clothes and BANG! She's been the hulk all this time.

Not the time, seriously.

Oh, shut the fuck up.

"Where have you been all this time!" She demanded, stepping forward as she snarled out her words and I stepped back, almost shrinking into Jakes chest and he grabbed me by the arms - steadying me so I wouldn't fall over. "Because God knows you weren't here; where you told us!"

I nodded, looking to the ground as I ran a hand - my good hand that wasn't damaged by fucking bicentennial man behind me - through my knotted hair that seemed to entrap my fingers, making me have to pull my fingers from them and make my hair even messier than it already was. I looked up to see my mother looking at my hair in distaste, almost disgust as she looked back down to my face, shaking her head as if my not brushing my hair was a bigger crime than being MIA for the past four weeks.

What is her fascination with your hair?

I have no idea.

I'm scared she's kept my hair cut clippings for the past sixteen years.

Oh, you know she has a jar lodged in a closest with little auburn curls that had been discarded in the hair saloon and every night, she goes into the closet, opens the jar and smells the curls.

….

What did I just listen to?

I don't know - I'm still a bit high from my Tarzan lovin'.

I actually feel a bit nauseas just listening to you.

"Ma, would you calm down," I said, looking back to Jake. "It's not Uncle Charlie didn't know where I was - I was helping Bella."

Mom narrowed her eyes, shaking her head as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Why- Why would help Bella? You said you hated her."

Wow, Ma, really subtle, you know, her fathers not in the room or anything.

I opened my mouth in protest, before shaking my head. "I didn't …. hate her. I just disliked her … behaviour."

And her attitude.

And her personality.

And her, okay, her everything.

You pretty much hated that bitch.

Yeah.

Basically.

"Oh, fuck off - if you don't hate her, I'm Ronald Weasley." Mom sneered, and I looked to the ceiling.

Not making a very good argument for yourself, Jackie.

"That's not that hard to believe," I murmured, and she looked to Dad - throwing her arms up in the air as if I had just insulted the most important, in her opinion, person in the world: Jerry Seinfeld.

She took the show ending a bit too hard.

"Do you see!" Mom screeched to Dad, who nodded nonchalantly as he watched the baseball on the plasma. "Do you see how your daughter treats me!"

Dad nodded again, and Mom huffed - smacking his shoulder as he turned around. "Jackie, what do you want me to say? She stayed with her cousin and you phoned her nearly every day!"

Mom turned back around, shaking her head as she rolled her eyes and I cocked my head to the side as I analysed my mother and her form. I wondered how, even with her being only thirty six, she still struck me as someone that resembled my fathers age; someone who had lived a long life, someone who constantly, if not always, seemed more wise than witty or charismatic, and yet even with that wisdom, could be as youthful as she wanted to when she read her favourite book that had shadowed her childhood memories.

My mother was someone who interested me, not because of the never ending inappropriate stories that seemed to spiral out of her mouth when she was given a gin and tonic, or because of her ability to enamour people she had only spoke a few words to, but because of the fact that even after everything that she had been through - she still remained almost elegant in every possible thing she did, and every word she spoke.

And then there was my Dad.

I felt the corner of my lips twitch, almost as if they wanted to smile by themselves just by thinking about my father. I had never really appreciated my dad when I was growing up - not that I didn't find him fascinating, like I had my mother, but I had just found him to be … different. He wasn't fun, nor did he ever want to play with me like my mother yet when I was pubescent, it seemed that my mother became my enemy and my father became my friend.

He was unbelievably funny, and at times I wondered where the hell he inherited his humour from because his family was kind of a … dud, Bella and Charlie as an example; really, I have no idea how they both got hot people to fuck them. My dad was the epitome of intelligence and opinions on matters of such diversity that it sometimes puzzles me, someone who knew what they wanted and understood that they needed to work to get said things.

My father was, although not a great dad to have a childhood with, was an incredible man to come to majority with; to model myself after.

Although I wasn't very good at mimicking him.

"Who is this?" Mom demanded, pointing to Jacob and I narrowed my eyes at manners, well lack of.

"This is Jake- Jacob Black," I said, smiling tightly as the name flew from my lips before I could stop it and I felt my mouth get an almost metallic taste in it as the name rolled around in my mouth, my eyes narrowing slightly as I thought of what had just occurred in the car.

Fucking asshole.

Mom nodded, ignoring his hand that he had outstretched and I narrowed my eyes. "Ma, can you just shake Jakes hand - it won't kill you!"

She shook her head, looking to Dad before she looked back at me - putting her hands over her face as she screamed into them, before going outside. I felt Jake's breath at my ear, and I looked back at him with a cocked eyebrow - as if to warn him that if he got any closer, I would, with my god hand obviously, make sure that we would never be able to have children.

As if sensing that the proximity between us was too close, he stepped back yet I knew that within the end of the day, I would be kissing those lips again.

Your weak.

Don't expect me to control myself.

"What just happened?" He asked, and I shrugged - going to sit down on the couch next to dad as I looked back at Jake over my shoulder.

"Mom has to go outside when she gets angry." I said nonchalantly as I looked to my dad - nudging him. "Miss me, old man?"

He threw me a distracted smile. "'Course. Who could I play scrabble with?"

"Ma?" I said, and he scoffed.

"Like I would submit myself to that torture."

Ah, my parents loving relationship.

The advertisements came on, and Dad looked to me - a smile spreading across his face yet he made no move to hug me, just smiled as if he was perfectly content to have that sort of contact. "How was Bellas?"

I laughed. "Don't even ask."

"I didn't want to," Dad said, patting my knee before he stood up. "I was just being polite."

I cocked a brow. "Is that a new thing you've learnt over the time I've been gone?"

He looked to me, before shaking his head as he walked over to where Jacob stood. Almost immediately, Jacob went rigid - a smile coming over his face as he offered Dad his hand, and if I had better eyesight; I would say that my boyfriend, my Jacob whom always seemed to be exuding confidence, was shaking just by looking at my father, a much shorter, much more frail man.

Oh, I was going to enjoy this.

"Sir, I'm Jacob Black." He said, and my father nodded as he grasped Jacobs hand.

"And I'm Steve Swan." Dad said as he shook Jakes hand, and with that reassurance that my dad - unlike my crazed mother - didn't hate him just by the sight of him.

And then, as if I was joining my crazed mother, the thought that I had never really paid attention to sped through my mind - overtaking every thought, every sense and instinct that I had at that moment as the thought consumed me.

My Dad was meeting his son-in-law for the first time.

Future son in law.

Right.

Right.

The thought made my stomach churn with my stomach acid infused with the breakfast that I had stuffed down my throat this morning and I looked to the ground as I wondered how my parents would feel that they were meeting my soul mate - that my parents were meeting the man that I would spend the rest of my life with.

They won't think anything of it, idiot.

I felt my lips pull into a smile as I realised tat my conscience was right; they would just think that they were meeting their daughters first boyfriend. Well, my mom was probably thinking that she was meeting her daughters first rapist but she's just, well, melodramatic.

She's an idiot.

HEY, THAT'S MY MOTHER!

And then, as if on cue, my mother stormed through the door - stopping right in front of Jacob as her index finger pushed itself onto his chest. "Have you two had sex?"

Oh, god.

Oh, god, no.

This couldn't be happening - my mother could not have just uttered the words that she had just .. uttered. Why in the world couldn't my mother be more like other mothers? Why couldn't' she enjoy the fact that her daughter was not a socially constipated idiot that seemed to have an infatuation with falling to the ground? Why couldn't she be happy that she knew, now, that her daughter was not going to be alone forever with nine hundred and fifty five cats?

Why did she have to be like me?

Well, technically, you're like her.

Oh, fuck off conscience.

"MA!"I shouted, and she turned to me - shaking her head.

"Don't even open your mouth or I will take you back to Portland right now," She hissed, before she twitched lightly. "Well, not right now - it was a long journey and we haven't seen Charlie in a while so I wanted to maybe have dinner- well, you get what I mean!"

And you wonder how you got to be that weird?

YOU WERE RAISED IN A HOUSE OF LUNATICS!

*Lunatic

My dads okay.

Not exactly sane, but not insane.

Borderline, I say.

I looked to Jake in a panic, and I had never seen him in all the time I had known him, look as pale as he did now. All the blood was drained from his usually happy-go-lucky face, and his eyes were shooting around the room, as if he was looking for something to focus on - for something to distract him for the situation at hand.

"N-no!" He stuttered out, before looking to me. "We haven't done - not, we- no! We haven't- no!"

Please don't ask him any more questions.

Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please.

FOR THE SAKE OF MY SANTIY, FUCKING DON'T SAY ANYTHING!

Mum turned to me, her eyes narrowed as she slowly, painfully walked over to me and flicked my forehead. I yelped, my hands going up to hold my forehead while still keeping in mind that my hand was still fucking hurting because I punched fucking Iron man while I was in the car before. "Mum, what the futon!"

"You better not get pregnant or I will hunt you down and kill you," She sneered, before she smiled, pulling me into a hug. "But if you don't fuck him, I will."

I pulled back, my face contorting in disgust. "Mom! You have a husband!"

She shrugged, and Dad turned around from where he was standing - his eyes narrowed as he loked at Mom. "And I can hear you!"

She shrugged. "Nothing new, Steve."

I didn't even want to ask.

I was scared they might say something about 'swingers' or 'open relationship'.

I supressed a shudder.

I have a new found respect for your mother.

Isn't it our mother?

Oh, well I'm a figment of your imagination so I doubt I would be mothered by anything.

You are on strange little person.

Once again, figment of your imagination.

I ran a hand through my hair, before I winced as I realised - in my stupidity for not avoiding using the hand in the first place - that this was the hand that I punched fucking metal man over there. I was actually scared that when we would, well, I guess fuck would be the appropriate word, that I would accidently flick a switch that was on his neck, hidden by his hair and BAM! Turns out he's an indestructible robot made by the Chinese to infiltrate the American Government.

….

I don't even know how you're not in a mental asylum.

Neither do I.

I'm slight worried.

I think we should get you checked.

Remind me, will you.

Sure will.

"Anna, how is your hand?"

My head snapped up as I heard Jakes voice cut through the room, and I narrowed my eyes as Mom turned back to me as she looked down at the floor - her eyes wide as she saw my hand, which had now swollen to twice the size and was starting, if possible, to bruise in a way that looked like it had been attacked by paintballs.

Almost immediately, Mom started freaking out like I had just revealed to her that during the time that I hadn't seen her, I had happened to grow a penis.

I don't think that would freak her out as much as telling her that you actually got imprinted on by a werewolf and helped deliver a half-human, half-vampire mutant that just so happened to be the reason why your cousin is now a vampire.

Good point, conscience.

I'm full of good points.

Is-wait, was that meant to be sexual?

I will never reveal my sexual innuendos.

I shook my head as I tried to rid myself o those thoughts as Mom looked to my hand, her eyebrows furrowing as she took the hand in her hand and like she knew everything, started rambling on how it looked like I had fractured it. I narrowed my eyes as I listened to her go on about how the swelling and the bruising seemed to indicate a fracture.

"Okay, what?" I asked, cutting her off mid-ramble as she looked to me - her eyebrows furrowing as her face contorting in confusion.

"What?" She asked, as if there was nothing wrong with what she had just said.

I raised my shoulders slightly, taking my hand from her grip gently. "Ma, how would you know it is fractured?"

Her cheeks, if possible, reddened slightly and she licked her lips nervously. "I just do, okay?"

"Your mother was watching re-runs of Greys Anatomy when you were gone."

I closed my eyes. "Ma, that's a TV show!"

"An educational TV show." She retorted.

I shook my head, rolling my eyes. "It's not fractured."

"I don't care - we're going to the hospital," She hissed, looking to Dad who seemed perfectly content in watching the rest of the baseball with a silent Charlie who seemed to have learnt his lesson in trying to interact with my mother.

I truly did feel sorry for him.

I wonder if he has any masculinity left.

I'm sure he's got enough for Sue to handle.

She's weak.

"Steve," Mom called, going to the table as she grabbed her bag and she eyed Jacob who came to stand next to me - trying to grab my hand yet I wouldn't let him touch it.

I still wanted to be mad at him.

I knew it was ridiculous to try and be angry at him for what he had said. I mean, it was his opinion and I knew how hard it had been for him to have to endure watching Nessie grow, watch the woman he once loved be killed by Nessie. I knew he despised the little girl, and the only reason he made any sort of effort to try and be cordial to the little girl was so that we could keep a happy relationship going.

In a way, the fact that he was trying was enough to appease me, and cancel out any anger I had at him yet I couldn't forget how angry, how infuriated he seemed to be when we spoke about Nessie. How he spoke her name like she was dirt that was stuck at the bottom of his shoe; the way he called her ít was enough to make me wonder that if he had not met me before Nessie had been born, what he would have done.

He would have killed her with his pack.

I know.

I breathed out a rattled breath as my common sense tried to make me see through Jacobs perspective, try to tell me how difficult it must have been for him to split with his pack; with his family. He had broken away from his family, his own kind to protect Bella and in extension Nessie for me, for my happiness.

That was crazy.

Yet I still had the right to be angry at him.

Do you?

Yes.

Yes, I did.

I threw him a glare that almost told him not to follow me, or my mother as Mom gave up on trying to get my Dad from moving from the couch, and I sighed as she grabbed me by the other arm - pulling me out the car as she opened the door for me. "Ma, I can open my own door."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm just helping - why do you always have to be so unappreciative."

"I am not unappreciative!" I bellowed as I slammed the door of the car.

The car ride was filled with 'how the hell did you do that to your hand' and 'oh shit, where the fuck did that cat come from? It just ran out from nowhere! How was I meant to not hit it'. Yes, that's right, in the small journey to Forks hospital that consists of literally driving for ten minutes to get to the building that had a huge, bellowing neon sign ahead of it's entrance, my mother hit a poor, innocent cat that was just trying to cross the road.

I couldn't help but laugh.

It seemed that she hadn't changed in the month and a bit I had been away - she hadn't even seemed to have changed her hair; which when I was with her for the last sixteen years, it seemed that her hair was never right so she was continuously changing her hair = the length, the colour and the style never seemed to stay the same for more than a month.

Cost my dad a fortune, of course.

Waiting in the waiting room of the hospital, I wondered how long I would have to wait in these uncomfortable chairs. I mean, seriously, did someone just think: "Oh, hey, these people that will sit in these chairs will be experiencing huge amounts of pain - lets make it worse for them by giving them the cheapest, most uncomfortable chairs we can find".

"Anna?"

My head snapped up as I saw Carlisle standing in front of me, clad in his white coat and holding a clipboard, I was once again struck by his beautiful face. I pulled my lips into a tight smile as I nudged Mom, who immediately looked up at Carlisle and all the colour drained from her face as she looked at him.

I think she's having an orgasm.

"Mom, this is Doctor Carlisle Cullen - Bella's adopted father-in-law."

She stood up, shaking his hand and he flashed her a smile as she introduced herself before Carlisle turned back to me - his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down at my hand and shook his head, a small smile overcoming his features and I knew that eh knew how my hand as in the state it was in.

Which is fucked.

Well, yes.

"Looks like you've fractured your hand."

Mum turned to me, a broad smile spreading across her face.

Shit, we'll never here the end of this.

Fuck.

Heres another chapter for you all,

Okay, I'm going on a mission.

Not to like conquer the world or anything, I'll leave that to Ellen Degeneres and Justin Bieber.

We all need to face the facts - it's going to happen any day now.

1000 REVIEWS!

I don't know, nor do I care how long it takes, I am bent on acheivijng that magic number. To me, it will just be the fact that I've suceeded with this story on reaching the man people I wanted to. It seems strange because I never really expected this story to be as, well, well receieved as it has been and I'm so glad it has because it's been able to give me the experience of being able to make hundreds of people laugh and I guess that's a great achievement; making people laugh.

I actually just found out that even though this story is not even a year old, It's been viewed over 120,000 times. Isn't that insanely amazing? I can't believe that number, it's just amazing.

But it kind of makes me a bit sick at the same time.

IN OTHER NEWS:

I'M PUBLISHING A NEW STORY!

A new baby for me!

Now it is JacobXOC again, yet thiis story - although contains a bit of humor - is not in the same league as crazy as I guess this story is, but its still, I believe, a great read.

I hope.

Please read.

Anyways, heres the summary-blurb-thing:

Everyone secretly wants to imprint - they want to be able to have an assured soul mate, someone that they know would be the one person that was compatible to them in every way. But what happens when your soul mate is engaged to someone else; is in love with someone else? Well, you're in a bit of a shit, aren't you?

It's called Schadenfreude, and should be available in the next week or so - I'm planning on writing ahead on this one.

Oh, and by the way - I just realised that we're half way through 2012. Love the rest of the year, because apparently were fucked after the 21st of December.

Anyways, REMEMBER!

1000 REVIEWS!

PLEASE!

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