Regrets. Part One.

First regret: my first Boyfriend.
He wasn't even a real Boyfriend.  We hung out normally once, wear he gave me my first peck.
After that, we hung out at my house. Alone.
My parents didn't even know he existed, and I liked it that way.
First time, we watched movies and hung out rather innocently, until towards the end we had our first "make out", which was five minutes long of me drowning in spit, ending it with me wiping my mouth on his shirt.
Second time we hung out, my friends were there too, but left soon after.  We were there alone, and we made out on my bed and on the couch.
On my bed, we just made out.  It was boring, and I didn't like it, nor did I dislike it.
On the couch, he reached for my ass, and I didn't care.
It's just my ass, I thought.
Well, after that, he reached for my shirt, to take it off.
I just removed my lips from him, still kissing the boring kiss, and told him I'm keeping it on.
He acted embarrassed, and I assured him it was okay, he misunderstood.
So, I kept on with the lame making out.
That lame excuse for kissing lasted for like an hour or two, and I wasn't even thinking about the kiss at all during the whole thing.
After that, I dumped him.
But, about one or two weeks later, I missed having a boyfriend.
This is where the bitchy insensitive self steps in.
He had been texting me every once in a while, I would respond once or twice.
That night I texted him, and got him back.
We didn't see each other for a week, we both didn't have any free time that week, and he called me up, and dumped me.  Three days later, he got together with one of his best friend's ex's, a girl a year older.
I was in awe.  Not because I liked him, but because it was bullshit.
A friend of mine, who I didn't know all that well, but was a friend just the same, advised me not to go out with him.  My Best Friend's Boyfriend tried to fix everybody up with his friend, but I didn't listen, I didn't care.
What I should have had done: kicked his ass out, not have let him near my ass, nor even be home alone with him in the first place.  Also, not have asked him back a second time.  And, finally, have listened to the girl who told me not to.

I Always Thought It Was Stupid.

Last year, Eighth Grade, I would laugh, or shake my head at couples who would say they love each other.
I mean, you are thirteen or fourteen years old, you can't process that at such an age.
We're fresh out of elementary school, and you're talking about love.
What's wrong with you two? I used to wonder.
Over the summer, though, I met an old crush of mine.
From years of theatre summer camp at the university, I had been crushing on him since I was eight or nine; but he never gave me a second glance.
We didn't have any friends in common, and when we did talk, he would refer to me as "shorty", me being much shorter than everybody else, especially him.  He's tall for his age.
But, every summer I'd look forward to seeing him.
The crush, like a virus, would hit me.  I'd be dazed.  I'd be in a boy-induced daze for weeks- months even.
Nothing could shake me.  Being a hopeful ten to thirteen year old, my friends would gossip about their first kisses and boyfriends, while I was still in kiss-virgin land.
Not to say I was obsessed, I didn't follow him home or keep his hair in my pocket, or anything creeper-ish as that, but every smile on my face was due to my mind living in a fantasy, one where I was with him.
But, every summer would pass with no crushing back.
We weren't really even complete friends until the summer between Seventh and Eighth Grade, when our friend groups finally combined.  We would hang out in groups, my eyes set on him, his eyes set on another girl, one who he had previously dated.
The Summer ended, and I carried my schoolgirl crush one or two months in the school year, but since we never went to the same girl, I abandoned that fantasy.
Throughout Eighth Grade, I had two Boyfriends.  One, an ugly kid shorter than me, who I only dated as long as we did, because I learned he had manic depression, and dumping him seemed impossible.
Second, a friend of my best friend's boyfriend, he went to another school.  He was okay, played bass.  He gave me my first kiss, as well as make out.  He was horrible at it though, and I let him go to far.  That's for another post, though.
Finally, the Summer between Eighth and Ninth Grade, he crossed my path again, the boy I've had crush on for years.  He came back in, not because of the camp.  He stopped going, while I did.  But, it was through a mutual friend I didn't even know we had.  Our mutual friend mentioned his friend, The Boy, and I mentioned how attractive he is.
Of course, he had to tell The Boy.
So, The Boy began to text me.  I was giddy, and we texted for what was most likely one and a half months, before we finally saw each other.
It was at a summer concert series; one that was held free in the park.
We met there every week, always crowded because of the big names that would play.
I would always bring one or two friends of mine along, he never once did, except for the last one.
We flirted every Thursday concert, and I would be on air for days.
Finally, at the third concert, he said it.  He spat out the words.
"Do you want to go out with me?"
I couldn't say yes fast enough.
Zoom ahead nearly six months later, I'm firmly in love.
And, I thought it wasn't possible.
America, I don't expect you to understand, unless you are or have been through this.
I even think I sound stupid.

Little Insecurities

Dear America,
Fuck.
I'm a pretty wholesome chick, comparatively, m'kay?
Like; all my friends have gone way far with their significant other, from handjobs to actual sex.
All I've done is mackin' out.  I know that's still gross for fourteen year olds, but it's better than most.
Like my boyfriend of four months, he still apologizes if he accidently touches my boob.
Even though it's not always on accident, but it's not like he groping me.
I knew he has gone farther, at least some tit action.  He's a good-lookin' dude, with a colorful girlfriend history.  I'd be surprised if he hasn't.
But, it's been bugging me for a while.  How far as he gone?
So, I asked him, and he told me has had a handjob.
So, what does your cool-headed, calm Fireplay do in this?
She fuckin' laughs.
This laughter was not because it was funny, but because I didn't know how to react.
Knowing another girl has done that, been all over him like that... Well, I couldn't handle it.
He told me not to worry, it was his girlfriend back in April, the one he dumped after she went to Vegas with her family, and slept with some random dude.
And, not to worry, because he was just using her.
I was dumbstruck.  Of course, I acted like it was no big deal, but I didn't know what to think.
What if he is just using me?
Of course, after he said that, he assured me he wasn't.  I believe him, but by his actions, not his words.  He always puts me first, treats me with equally and with respect, as I do him.

Even with all this reassurance, the moment I came home, my family was out, I blasted My Chemical Romance, as I crumpled to the floor, crying.
Because, another girl has been that close to him.
Because, that haunting fear that he doesn't love me.

Goddamnit, America.

America, why don't you read my whiny blog, and comment on it to make me feel better about myself?
I know my blunt, cliche teenage life isn't that interesting, but hey, throw me bone.

So what if I love him?

It's stupid.
I'm fourteen, and I'm in love.
Is that even possible?
He makes it all feel right.  Not in the sexual way you're thinking, you pervert.
He's become my life.
At first, I couldn't understand how he could love me.  I didn't believe him when he said it.
But, now, I'm just as deep in this shitty emotion called love.
I know it sounds crazy, and when I heard couples our age saying "I love you", I remember thinking how complete idiotic they must be.  I mean, we're fourteen.
That they have delusioned themselves into thinking it's love, but it's really just the thrill of it all.
Am I in love with the thrill of being in love, or actually in love with him?

Best Friend Betrayal?

I hate how she doesn't miss me.
I hate how even though we were best friends for nine years, she can just get up and leave easily.
I hate it how I meant nothing to her.
She was the rock in my life.
She was the constant.
Then, we she decides that I'm not cool enough for her, she ditches me.
I hate it how I have to see her smug bossy face everyday.
I hate it how I actually miss her.
Even after all her betrayals.
I hate it how she's thinks she's more popular than me,
when I really am.
I hate it how I let her rule my life when I was BFFs with her.
I hate it how I hardly stood up to her.
I hate it how after every betrayal, I took her back.
I hate it how she still controls my life in a way,
I hate how I think about her everyday.
I hate how I'm crying now because of her.
I hate how I hate her, and how it doesn't make a difference.

Quote of the Year.

"You know, somewhere deep under all that sarcasm is sweetness.  Actually, you're the sweetest girl I know... Even though you can be a real bitch.  But, that bitchiness is used for good, know what I'm sayin'?" said my probably Best Friend at this point.

I am honestly shocked by this.

But, it made me happy...

Even if won't admit it.