So you were in my dream again last night, first time in days. I was with Evan and it was after some big thing, I don’t know why we were with you, I don’t even thing you and Evan know each other. We all decided to go to your house, you were with your girlfriend and for some reason because of the dreams I’ve been having I think her name is Marissa… but I know I’m wrong. We all walked in, hung out in your room, everything in the house was different including the house itself, and it was probably the most amazing house I’ve ever seen. I felt normal there, weird as it may sound, it felt comfortable being there… it felt like I would get you back, I felt like I was the most beautiful girl in the world and whoever she is didn’t have a chance against me. As I sat on your bed I felt even more confident, I mean I was the first to have sex with you there or in your house period, an innocent smile for you and an evil smirk for her… I was on top of the world. Then I got the call, my mom of course, coming to pick me up and take me to taco bell for some odd reason then bring me back. I was pissed but I figured it wouldn’t hurt anything, I looked at you for half a second and it hurt, I saw everything… us in my back yard, us on your roof, us in the design room, us at the stop sign… I told Evan I’d be back then left. Driving in the car my mom took me home, said she had somewhere to go and was sorry she couldn’t take me back, I freaked out. She left and I searched everywhere for the keys to the Saturn, for some reason we all of a sudden had hundreds of keys scattered around the house. I found some that could possibly fit the keyhole and the keys themselves turned into puzzles, every key had another piece I had to find, everything was so difficult. I panicked and texted Evan, hours had passed but I told him I’d find a way, I had to find a way or I’d never get you back, it was the only time I’d feel so incredible… incredible enough to win. I texted you, “I have to find these damn keys”, no reply, no surprise. I couldn’t breathe, my chest hurt and I fought so hard to hold back tears, I was sweating and searching, and then finally I knew it was too late. Evan texted me back, “No, It’s cool we all left anyway”. I never felt more defeated in my life; I woke up and looked at the clock, calmed myself down then shoved my face in the pillow and forced myself back to sleep.
Before you I was nobody and I was used to it, then you came around, you made me somebody even if I was the only one to notice. When you left I went back to being nobody and you moved on, I wanted so bad to just show you I was more, to show you what you were missing out on, that I had something to give even if it wasn’t brains or athletics… something to show you I had talent and I was worth it. That’s when we started the paintings in design. I wanted to do well for my grade, sure, but the more my teacher told me how well I was doing with it the more I started to think. One night while painting I thought, “What if this is what I need, what if this will show him. If I get this into the gallery then he’d have the reminder of what he gave up for a month, and if it went up in the school like others from past years had, it’d be a reminder for the next twelve months”, I decided then to really try. As I worked I felt more at ease, when I was painting everything made a bit more sense. Yes I panicked; I needed to get it in that stupid display case, I needed to be good at something to show you. When I turned in my painting I was more scared than I may have ever been in my life, then I saw the grade I got on it, 190/200. I wasn’t sure if it was just an “A” for effort thing or not until I tool my final the next day. As I walked to turn in the first have I noticed the teachers matting some paintings, there on the top of the stack was mine, I wasn’t sure if it was for the display case but holy hell did my stomach flip. I handed Lunsford my paper and as she turned around to look at me she said, “Ashley your painting made the cut to go in the gallery”, I freaked out silently and whispered back a weak “I noticed” and smiled a sheepish smile. I have never been as happy as I was in that moment, I was holding back happy tears for the second half of the final, I couldn’t focus and for once in the past month… there wasn’t a thought in my mind about you. I finished the final then talked to Lunsford for a second, I wanted to see how she picked the paintings that went up all year. I asked her really quick, she told me that she’d pick them from the gallery and that it’d be up for a long time then asked if I’d be up for it, all I could do was smile and nod. Who knew the words “You’re in” would make me feel like jumping up and down.
I started this for you, I needed to be good for you, I wanted to be one of the best for you… but I ended it all for me. Some silly painting isn’t going to get you back, it may make you think of me when you walk by it but I’m sure that’s the most… but through that little painting, my first real painting, I learned to feel less for you and do more for me. We were no big deal even if I thought we were everything, my lyrics for you were stupid but meant for the hurt I felt. “Well I’ve got time but she’s got freedom, and when a heart breaks no it don’t break even. What am I gonna do when the best part of me was always you, and what am I supposed to say when I’m all choked up and you’re okay? I’m falling to pieces.” I might still be broken hearted, I might still be choked up when I see you, hear your name, or even thing of you, but you were not the best part of me and I’ll stand just fine on my own two feet. Someday you and that mystery girl will break up though, and I can either laugh at her because I hate her when you dump her, or laugh at you because I hate you when she dumps you, I have no clue what will happen. All I really know is someday you’ll go through this and you’ll feel as worthless as I did, and it’ll make me feel better, because as much as I’d love to have you back, I’d love to see you hurt just as much.
P.S. I know I said he was done being in my blog, but obviously I wasn’t ready. I can’t just cut him out of one of the only thing that lets me express my emotions when most of my emotions are about him. I need this blog to keep me sane and if that means I rant and write things I’ll never actually say to perfect little douche bags I will.
Last night when I had my dream with Luc in it, I had a dream with you in it. We were in school and it was like any other day, then I found out Jeremy from elementary school got shot and died for hitting on some chick, I was sad about it but I convinced myself he deserved it for being such a dumb ass… blame feels better than hurt. The next mod after I found out about Jeremy I heard about Jordan from elementary school, hit by a car and didn’t make it. It sucked, sure, but I didn’t feel as bad as I did about Jeremy. Then the next day I come to school, on the announcements they started talking about losses and suicide, apparently the night before you killed yourself… and I cried. I went to your funeral and felt nothing but guilt, I never got the chance to try and have a real relationship with you like you wanted, if I were there for you things may have ended up differently. Still I knew that it made no difference because I’d never have real feelings for you that would last up to twenty-four hours. I saw Dakota at the funeral and he was with that chick I shouldn’t talk about just in case because it’s still a secret from you, I was so pissed at him. I mean really he brought the girl he went behind your back with to your funeral; it was bad enough that he fucked the chick you liked to begin with. I made a comment, I don’t remember exactly what it was but he laughed and said “I guess I don’t have to keep this secret anymore now that he’s dead”, I looked him and said “Dakota, he was your best friend and he just died, now you’re laughing and here with the slut he liked that you fucked. You’re a dick, I hate you.” I apologized to you in my mind for letting this happen, for some reason I felt responsible, and then I left the church and woke up.
I thought about my dream for a second or two then started crying, like real live tears falling from my face. I knew it wasn’t real and I knew you were just fine, but I had to text you and see, and I couldn’t stop crying. I never got a reply to my text but then again I sent it at three in the morning and I doubt you’re awake because it’s only ten thirty, still I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t even be in my room anymore. I went upstairs, turned on the TV and tried to stop my tears with no luck. Rosanne finally distracted me. I told my mom the gist of my dream when she asked why I was up, and I started to cry again, fuck while I was writing about the dream I started to cry. I guess it’s just the fact that we may have our ups and downs, but I’ve only been without you for the first five years of my life, five years that I don’t even remember. Mason the thought of losing you makes me want to jump off a bridge a little bit, things may not be the way you want them to be between us, but as a friend I love you more than you’ll ever know… more than I knew. I’ll be waiting for you to text me back that you’re alive, those little blue pills you took in my dream were just too real for me to forget at the moment.
