Extra

The worse part is that even now I still feel like I'm overreacting.

You made me feel so uncomfortable, Chris. But tomorrow, I'll get up and shower and eat breakfast and pet my dogs without you on my mind. If you come up in a conversation, I'll tell my parents how weird and creepy you were as usual. I'll laugh and talk about movies and TV shows.

It was just an experiment, Chris. I really didn't like you. And I feel bad for saying this but it's true.

I still wish I knew how to say no to you better.

It's sad to think that you were my longest relationship.

Even sadder to think that it barely lasted a month. 

Fuck You

Fuck you, Chris.

Yes, I'm using your goddamn name in this. There are millions of Chris's in the world. It doesn't matter if I use your name or not.

But seriously, Chris. Just fuck you. Fuck you hard and slow in the ass with a cactus. You forced yourself into my life. You guilt-tripped me into saying yes when you asked me out. You bugged me for days before I said okay. You used pretty words and lies to get me to kiss you in those woods. When I said I was uncomfortable, you took that as an invitation to kiss me and touch me even more. 

I was too shy and too nice to say no. You were just an experiment for me. Someone I can test my sexuality with. Not someone I wanted to give myself to.

Chris, you scared me. The stories you made up were weird and creepy. The drugs you did only made it worse. I didn't want to get in the back seat with you. I didn't want you to kiss me or put your hands on or in me.

But I let you. Because the uncomfortable feelings were worth the experimentation. People telling me we were a cute couple and making cute couple jokes about us was worth it. Feeling like someone actually cared about me was worth the moments of uncomfortableness.

After I broke up with you, you wormed your way back into my friend group. You tried to get back with me but claiming your love to our friends. Even then, I was too shy to say no. Even with someone I openly disliked, someone who freaked me out and scared me. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't-- I still don't-- want to hurt anyone.

I kept quiet then and ignored you until you dropped it. But you still stuck around. You made small threats, some my closest friend didn't even notice. You mentioned you knew how to make a bomb while looking at me. You came to lunch high (at least I hope you were high) and started talking about flipping the table over so it'd hit me. It scared me. I literally thought about telling the police, especially after you said you wanted to shoot everyone in the school.

But I kept quiet. Because I was obviously overreacting. I didn't want to get involved in something that wasn't true. I didn't want to hurt anyone.

You told me you were a half-vampire, and I still tell people about that. You told me you fought demons and believed you were a clone at some point. Those stories were weird, but mostly they creeped me out. They worried me about what went on in your head. If someone could seriously believe in stuff like that, what else could he do?

For years, Chris, I told myself that I didn't regret it. But thinking about it now makes my skin crawl. And, fuck, you made me so uncomfortable around men. I can't even be near my father or grandfather without being nervous or scared.

I regret saying yes to you. I regret you being my first kiss. I regret you being the first person to touch me. I would have been much happier if it was my first girlfriend, or even the first girl I ever kissed. Neither one of them pushed like you did. They never used sweet words or guilt trips.

I suppose it wasn't too bad. You helped me realize who I am. But what it did to me is the whole reason why I hate you.

The only thing I don't regret is leaving you before you could convince me to have sex. The last thing I want is to have given my entire self to you.

Next Thursday, before I leave for college, I'm going to hug my granddad big and tell him I love him. I'm going to feel uncomfortable when he kisses my cheek. When I pull away, all I'm going to think about is how much I hate you for this.

And how much I hate myself for not realizing what you did to me until now. It wasn't experimentation. It was me being too shy and you refusing to accept what "I don't want to do this" and "I'm uncomfortable with that" means.

I hate you, Chris.

Fuck you.

Purge

I wish I could just purge.

Just open my mouth and let everything spill out of me.

Because right now, I feel so full, and it's not of good stuff. There's too much stress, anger, love, guilt, fear, and everything in between inside. I just want it all gone. So I could stop this shaking and stop itching my skin and stop wishing for a better tomorrow and an emptier body.

A few months ago, all I wanted was to be full. But now I realize being full hurts. I'm full off too much feeling and emotions, some good some bad. What am I supposed to do with love that isn't returned? With fear that won't go away?

The feelings and words I want to drip out one at a time will never have the chance to. She won't listen to me. He won't stop lurking in the dark. They won't stop laughing-- they won't stop cheering-- they won't stop sharing-- they won't stop joking-- they won't fucking stop.

I just want them to stop.

I want it to stop.

I constantly feel sick. I'm always shaking and stressing and want to just rip open my skin and purge and let every word they won't let me say and every feeling they won't let me stop feeling be free.

I feel so full. Full of stress and guilt and anger and fear and love.

And I hate it so much. 

I'm Free

Last week, I finally did it.

It took me almost an entire year.

But I got over you.

The first person I fell in love with. The first person I made all those promises to. The girl I planned my future around-- I'm finally over you.

I'm no longer trying to find someone to take your place. I'm not trying to fill the hole you had left. I'm no longer searching for a missing piece.

I'm full again.

It happened to suddenly. I was walking through the hallways to my locker. And I realized it. There's no longer a want to be with someone. No wishes or hopes for you to come back. You're living your life and I'm living mine.

I'm over you.

I can live with my solitude for a while. Maybe one day, I'll find someone else. But that'll be far from now.

Right now, I'm happy knowing I did it. I got over the rough feelings and broken heart. I'm going to enjoy being my single self. And pat myself on the back because I did what I thought was impossible. 

Friendships and Love

I am in absolute love with my friend.

I can practically hear you letting out a huge sigh of annoyance. Another girl claiming to be in love with her friend, you think. But no, that’s not what I’m talking about.

I don’t fantasize about kissing her or having sex with her. I’d love to hold her hand and hug her and hell, even snuggle with her. But I don’t want to kiss her unless we’re both drunk and desperate. To me, kissing her would be like kissing a sister. I know I live in Arkansas, but I’m not into that stuff.

Johanna—Or as I like to call her, Joe—is probably my closest friend. My best friend even. She knows more about me than anyone else and I trust her with all my secrets. I love her to death, but I don’t want to sleep with her. We talk about our crushes, and she has a beautiful girlfriend. I don’t get jealous over the fact that she’s with her. I’m extremely happy that they’re happy together and will kill the girl if she does anything to hurt Joe.

The worse part about our friendship is that she is thousands of miles away from me. She is literally on the other side of the planet in Finland. Ball freezing Finland.

When I’m getting ready for bed, she’s getting ready for school. It’s fucking crazy.

Somehow, in the year we've known each other, we've managed to make a routine so it works. Because of the time difference, we've saved our conversations for weekends only. If we tried to do it on school nights, one or both of us will be losing sleep. Since we’re both practically sloths, we agreed that was a bad idea.

Let’s go back to my love for Joe. We like to torture each other by sending creepy videos and pictures and fanfiction. It’s messed up and sometimes awkward and gross to do, but we feel that if one has to face the pain, the other should too and then we can go on talking about how messed up it was. We talk about sex and relationships and ex-girlfriends and our OTPs and everything in between.

I told her that when we meet, we’re going to run in slow motion into a big huge. Preferably at Comic-Con. She likes the idea, mostly because Comic Con.

Joe is absolutely beautiful, inside and out. She’s funny and is an amazing cosplayer and is great and keeping secrets and shares the same interests as me. She’s stubborn and crazy and has a bad habit of pushing people away. We’re able to find each other’s imperfections but goddamn, I love Joe so much because of her imperfections.

I don’t have an idea of her, I know her. I know how messed up she can be and the bad things she can do. Maybe that’s why I love her so much. She’s not perfect and never tried to be. From the very beginning, I've known she was lazy, reckless, and beyond imperfect.

There’s not really a point to this rambling post. I just want to share my love for Joe and show anyone who reads it that love isn't always a red string tied to your finger (See here for context). Sometimes it’s a pink or green or blue or plain white tied to the finger of you and your friend. Love isn't just something that can lead to marriage. Sometimes, it’s friendship.

It’s a different kind of love that no one gives much credit for. It’s all about romance and marriage. Why can’t we just have friends who we love with all our heart? Why can’t we tell them this without it being awkward?

Love your friends, don't fight the love, and them know how much you care about them. 

-          --  Amber.

Relationships and the Pain They Cause

So the girl I agreed to have a friend's with benefits thing with told me she can't and said she'd offer me only friendship. Friendship is great and I'm okay with it and I'll continue talking to her because we get along well, but I still feel upset that she had to call the deal off before it even began.

She found me on Facebook. Did she see some pictures that didn't concentrate on my face and changed her mind about wanting to have sex. Maybe she decided, nevermind, I don't want a fat girl. I want someone who's thinner with less acne. 

God, I feel so selfish for thinking this way, but I can't help but think I did something wrong. Maybe I was too forceful when I asked if the deal was still one? Maybe she thought I was something else. 

I don't even know what I was thinking. 

I agreed to try being FWBs with two girls and both ended badly. One turned out to be engaged and hasn't texted me in weeks, even though she was so excited about it. Maybe she realized it was a bad idea. Who knows. But I lost a friend with that and never even got the chance at benefits with her. 

Amber getting what she wants? That's a crazy thought. I want a cool friendship with casual sex involved. I thought I had finally found it when Logan but then she changes her mind. Every hope I seem to have for relationships always seem to get crushed or twisted in some shape that I can't even recognize. 

Every girl I like turns out to be straight or in a relationship.

Everyone I kiss have a different idea of what it could be. 

Even some friends don't seem to care for me. Sure, I'll buy you lunch, listen to all your problems, and tell the teacher you're here even though you're still stuck in traffic. But heaven forbid you do the same, or even tell me the homework we had the day I was absent.

I feel like a selfish prick for saying this. I can't help how I feel though. I want to feel important sometimes. I want things to go my way for once and for the relationships I've agreed to actually work. 

Sometimes I just want to have casual sex. Sometimes I just want to cry on someone's shoulder. Sometimes I just want someone to give me my homework so I don't get behind in class. 

Is it selfish to want that?

Life With a Lisp

Life with a lisp is speech classes and people laughing at the words you say. It’s staying quiet to avoid people repeating your words and laughing. It’s people asking if you have or ever had braces when you never have or an overbite when your teeth are just fine.

It’s people asking you to say ‘Sally sells seashells’ and ‘six slippery snails slid’ so they can get a laugh. It’s never calling Sarah, Sierra, or Sam by their names because you don’t want to disrespect your friend who puts up with you with that drastic letter of the alphabet. 

It’s giving an oral report and losing points because you didn’t speak clearly enough. It’s being told you’re speaking wrong and feeling like you didn’t grow up right because most children with lisps grow out of it. 

But life with a lisp is giving the perfect snake impersonation. It’s letting your mind wonder and create because rather than speaking, you go on an adventure through your thoughts. 

Having a lisp means finding special people who find it cute and never laugh at you when you say ‘someone said I smell like sunflowers’ or ‘sleep keeps us from seeing stars’. It’s being able to figure out which friends to keep close and who’s best left behind.

Life with a lisp has hard times and painful moments but it means you’re different and special. The way you speak doesn’t have to be a speech impediment. How you speak can sound however you want it to be. It’s your voice, your accent, and you can change it however you’d like. 

It’s your voice and it can sound however you want it to be.

GAY

I AM GAY

I AM A LESBIAN 

LESBO 

DYKE

QUEER 

I ENJOY BOOBS AND VAGINA

I AM NOT A CHALLENGE

I AM NOT TRYING TO GET ATTENTION

I AM TRYING TO LIVE IN MY LIFE IN A JUDGEMENTAL SOCIETY THAT SHOULD NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOUR DICK

I AM A WOMAN

WHO LIKES WOMEN

AND WILL NEVER LIKE YOU OR YOUR SHRUNK UP DONG

SO GET AWAY FROM ME AND LET ME LIVE IN PEACE WITH MY GAY THOUGHTS

Driving in the Night

I drove to Wal-Mart the other night to pick up a binder. At first, it was comforting to drive through the darkness. Very few street lights shined the roads and no cars passed me. There was no noise, just the soft sound of my radio and the wind outside. Driving there, I was comforted and relaxed in the solitude of the night.

I hurried in and back to my car, ready to leave the brightness of the town and the chatter of the people and go back down the silent road. There was no one in my lane in the parking lot. No one coming or going. So I pressed my foot on the gas peddle.

Harder.

And harder.

I was speeding in a parking lot, nearing almost thirty miles in just five seconds. It was too fast, but I didn't step on the breaks. My eyes locked with the end of the road, at the McDonald's in front of me. And I wondered as I sped up, what would happen if I didn't stop? What would happen if I just kept on driving...

I slammed on the breaks before I could hit the short road that would lead me to the main road. I realized what I was doing, what would have happened if I didn't stop.

Oh god. What was I doing? I thought.

I noticed some lights behind me and forced myself not to stop right there. I drove the short road, still connected to the parking lot. I went to the emptier side, the spot where mostly the workers and garage attendants were.

And then I tried again. Faster this time. No cars, longer road, a fence at the end that could stop me. Don't stop, I thought.

I stopped close to the curb. I couldn't do it. I was such a coward, but I'm fucking happy to be a coward. I don't want to be brave if bravery involves crashing.

I had to leave the darkness. No matter how comforting it was, it left me wanting to drive faster and see what would happen if I happened if I didn't stop. It left my palms sweaty and butterflies float in my stomach.

The night time has always left a subtle sense of fright that I found interesting. But at that moment, I didn't need the fear, I needed the comfort and the relaxed feeling I got while driving with the radio turned up loud.

I drove home quickly, not too fast, yet not too slow, avoiding all the cars around me and keeping a close eye on the speedometer.

I didn't enjoy the night time. I didn't enjoy driving.

I didn't enjoy anything on my ride home.

Now is not the time to allow those kinds of feelings back into my life.

Dreams

I dreamed about you last night. 

We were at school and in the journalism room. You were sick and sad and wanted to talk to me. So we stood in the ad room, talking about Attack on Titan and laughing. Everyone who was in the room suddenly disappeared and you looked at me sadly. Your nose was red and your voice was horse as you talked.

"Just because we aren't dating doesn't mean I can't kiss you." You said. And those words keep circling my mind, long after I woke up. I keep wondering, could that happen? 

And then you kissed me. I felt how warm and chapped your lips were. I didn't care about getting sick, it was just a dream anyways, and dream-you didn't seem to care either. My eyes were open during the kiss and I saw how stressed and worried you seemed to be with your eyes squeezed shut. 

I pulled away in shock, surprised at what you had done. I'm pretty sure the kiss was really just my dog licking my face, but that didn't matter. I woke up shocked that my feelings and thoughts were still there. At the same time, I was happy that I got to experience one last dream of you.

I have no idea why you were sick or why I had to dream about kissing you right then. Maybe the face that it was the night before Valentine's Day brought it up. Maybe my still-there feelings for you decided to show me that this could happen, if things were better. Maybe this is a farewell to my feelings for you. Maybe my brain just wanted to laugh at me for how I felt. 

Whatever the reason, it happened. I hope I don't see you today because I probably won't be able to say a word without blushing and stuttering. Maybe if I'm lucky, you'll run through the halls without even glancing at me. 

I hope you enjoy the candy gram I got you and hope you have a great Valentine's Day as well.

-- Amber

Good Girl

I've been a good girl.

I've held my tongue. I've avoiding saying anything that could sound even slightly flirtatious. I've avoided giving compliments and telling you you look nice even when you say you don't. I kept my word and stayed your friend, never trying to advance from that or hint that I'd like to.

I was upset that I became the girl you disappointed. I hate that that's what I'm referred to as. You never disappointed me. I was incredibly upset, but I was happy to return back to friendship. The feelings, I thought, would eventually fade away. I can do it.

I thought I was doing great. I thought I managed to push back the feelings. I've managed to talk to you without trouble and enjoyed talking to you about everything. I was doing great. Your occasional blog post where I was mentioned sometimes hurt. Sometimes they brought back the feeling I've been trying to hide. But I kept them down like a good girl should.

Then you made a joke about how you were going to break my heart. And I knew that it was a reference to my friend breaking my heart with a ship and that you were going to do it with another one. A part of me wanted to type "Again?" but I held back. I didn't want to ruin what we've managed. I didn't want to hurt you.

It wouldn't even be true. I'd be telling a lie if I said that. I wasn't in love with you and I wasn't heartbroken. Not really. I know what heartbroken feels like and that was not it. A broken heart shakes your whole body and makes everything hurt. Every step you make alone hurts and even thinking of a word they said at one point makes it hurt. It makes you not wanting to do anything except drink until the pain becomes numb. It's pain and it hurts like crazy and you just want to fix it but there's no way to do it. There is no special glue or tape that can fix up a broken heart. You can't think of anything that can fix it so you just cry and lay down and read through the last messages you sent to them.

I didn't go through that with you, my dear. I got drunk the night it happened. I had a video chat with my friend who disapproved of what I was doing. But to me, drinking was a much better than laying around and crying. I passed out in my bed and woke up on the other side. Then I avoided you. I went offline on Skype and refused to send you any messages.

And when school started up, I prayed you wouldn't come in during lunch because I couldn't deal with being in the same room as you just yet. But when you didn't, I held back from having an attack or crying in the middle of class. I ruined a friendship and that was horrible to me.

But we've made it. We've worked it up. Now you're my friend who I trust enough to tell about my favorite pair of underwear and my sexual experiences. I'm happy about this, you know. I'm happy to call you my friend.

Sometimes, I miss you. I wish I could call you my girlfriend and go to your classes and walk you to your bus and kiss you again. But I'm more okay with bumping into you in the hallway while you're leaving and sending you messages and pictures. I'm happy with friendship.

So I just wrote, "ok" and continued watching the show.

Yesterday, I realized I haven't logged into Skype on my phone in a long time. And when I did, I remembered why. The messages haven't loaded since December. We were still called each other cute and perfect and it made me so sad.

I deleted Skype from my phone.

Because I am a good girl. I leave the past in the past as I should. I ignore feelings and concentrate on other's rather than myself. For you, I would do anything you asked of me.

For as long as you want me to be, I will be your friend.

-- Amber

Untitlted

I've imagined how your moans would sound

And how your hair would look tangled and messy--

The slight sweat covering your body,

The gasps you might make,

The smile you would wear when you had finished--

How sad it is,

That I'll never be able to experience such a wonderful sight.

244 Days

On February 1st, right before I changed my calender, I stared at the number 244 written on January 31st. 244 Days. It seems almost unbelievable to me. Just a little over eight months ago, I was a sobbing mess with bleeding hips and a blank areas in my brain. When I wasn't crying, I was scratching until I broke the skin or wishing I was dead.

244 Days. The number is so unreal. I remember reaching 100 days and being happy I managed to do it. I had the strength and willpower to keep myself from doing anything dangerous to myself. There were moments I started to miss her and wished I could relieve the stress by opening my skin. But I held back and wrote my feelings out on paper instead. I drew on my skin with pens instead of knives and drove my car straight instead of sharply turning.

I wrote the numbers on my calender for every day I made it. I was asked often what they meant and I told lies. It's seeing how long I've been a vegetarian, or how many days there are in a year. So many lies, it's almost cruel of me.

244 Days. It took me over 244 days to stop missing her. I haven't marked the day off my calender since February started. I enjoy driving my car around the curves on the cliff. My X-Acto is used for only crafts. I'm smiling more. I'm planning. I'm working hard. I'm trying and I'm succeeding.

It took me over 244 Days to get to where I am. I'm still going to be confused as fuck and probably hate myself many times in the future. The horrible feelings will come back but I'll have experience and people around me to help me through it. I'll live. I'll make it through.

244 Days. That is the number I stop counting.

I turned my calender to February and marked out the first box. I didn't write a number. I turned my back and crawled into bed for a comfortable and relaxed night of sleep.

February is a new month. And I'm ready for whatever it throws at me.

-- Amber

Fluff Hurts

It seems so fucking pathetic to cry while reading fanfiction.

I don’t even cry over the sad fanfictions where the lovers are torn apart by an unfaithful accident or disease. Stories of my favorite character having their loved ones run off and their hearts broken can make me cry but not give me an unbelievably hard tug in my heart and cause me to sob uncontrollably.

It’s fluff fanfiction that makes me cry. The ones with young lovers stealing kisses and holding hands, picturing their futures together but being too shy to talk about them yet. 

The ones where they wake up early on cold mornings and cuddle next to their love. Where they play like children and kiss like hungry lovers. They draw on each other’s faces and jump on the bed at three in the morning. They make pancakes and noon and get flour everywhere. Where they ride the Ferris Wheel and kiss in front of the city, too high for anyone to see. The fanfictions where they go into town, run down the streets holding hands, in and out of shops looking for nothing because they already have all the would want. 

Those are the ones that make me cry.

Why should such happy and lovely fanfictions bring tears to my eyes? Why should they make a sniveling mess and sob into my pillow until my lungs ache and my throat is raw? Why do they leave me with such an empty feeling like my heart had just been pulled out?

Because I am a pathetic fool who gets jealous of fictional characters.

Maybe it’s not weird to get jealous over fictional characters. Everyone does it. They get the life we want, whether it’s full of adventure, money, or love. They get the happy endings we long for. Fictional characters have more fun than anyone could ever wish to have. The best part is everything ends on a good note for them while we keep on going and reach for another book and watch another show.

It’s probably not unusual to want the relationship two fictional characters have together. But crying over it and longing for it is something else. 

I don’t want to be in a relationship with those characters. I don’t have that big of a crush on one of them that I cry whenever I read about them with someone else. No, I just want what they have. 

I want someone to fall asleep next to and hold her all night and all morning. I want to make pancakes or waffles with her. I want to play in the snow with her, throwing snowballs at each other’s faces until we fell on the cold ground. I want to steal kisses from her in the middle of Burger King and leave hickies in places only she’ll be able to see. 

I want to text her at three in the morning and go to Denny’s in our pajamas because why the hell not. We’re young and crazy and in love. We’re planning our futures but have no idea where our lives are heading or what will happen tomorrow, let alone five years from now. 

I don’t just want a first love. I want someone who can make me feel loved and I can return the feeling to. I want to treat a girl like a princess and let her know I love her and care for her more than I have every cared for anyone. I want to cry into her shoulder and kiss her face and feel so lucky that I have someone so amazing in my life.

I want a relationship that feels like a first love even though it may not be. Where every kiss always feels like the first with the butterflies and the tingle that stays on your lips. I want one with promises that stick and hope that doesn’t fade. I want it to always feel young and crazy even when we’ve settled down and started doing taxes and looking for a dog. 

I want what fictional characters have. I want their relationship and they’re promises that always stay. So when I read fanfiction about two characters falling in love it makes my heart tug and wish for something like that. 

I may still sound reasonable. Although when I start crying over smutty fanfictions because the characters feel so loved and happy while they’re being pounded into, that’s when I really feel like I have a problem. 

-- Amber

Let Me Be the Bad Guy

Let me be the bad guy.

I will be more than happy to be the one to wreck havoc on the city. I'll fight for evil and try to rid all the good from the world. I'll build death rays and make plans to destroy and rule the world. I will tease and torture people. I'll steal candy from babies, have a torture dungeon in my basement, and hurt the innocent without an ounce of guilt.

I don't want you to regret what you did because I was good to you. Stop thinking of me being nice girl you hurt. I keep reminding you of what you did, I keep making you feel guilty. Don't trust me. Don't care for me. I hurt you and I continue to do so by separating myself from you. Think of me as an evil demon, scrolling through the woods and killing all the goodness I find.

Stop picturing me as a beautiful creature with love in my heart that you hurt. Let me be evil, a monster under your bed, feeding off innocent screams. Make me a monster in your mind. Think of me as juts that-- an evil villain who treated you as just another victim.

Don't be guilty because you hurt me. Be mad I made you feel guilty. Let all of this be my fault. I'm more than happy to take the blame.

It won't be so bad being a villain. I can wear a cool cape and inventions. I can work in secrecy until I start to gain control. I can change the rules for the better. I can make the world a better, happier world.

Let me be the villain in your mind. You can be just another victim I hurt. You can be my enemy. You can be my friend who you have suspicions of. You can be anything you wish as long as you stop feeling guilty for hurting me.

I hurt you. I tried to make beauty ugly. I tried to hurt the good. I'm not forgiving, I'm not beautiful, I'm not someone you can feel guilty for hurting. I hurt you with no mercy and will do it again to every new beautiful person who enters my life.

That's what villains do.

-- Amber

Death

I've planned my death.

That's an absolutely depressing way to start a post. I don't mean I have everything planned. I don't know when I'll die, or what exactly will kill me. I have no idea where I'll do it. I just know how it'll happen. 

I know that, most likely, I'm going to die in a car accident. I don't know whether this will be on my own terms, someone else's, the weathers, or alcohols, but I know that I'll die this way. I've known this since last year when I had to fight every day not to drive myself over a hill or into another car.

What stopped me from doing it then? Mostly, I worried about what my parents would think. Would they think I was weak and killed myself? Would they get upset for having to pay for insurance? What would my little brother do? 

I don't even want to think about my little brother having to live without his big sister. He looks up to me so much. If I died, I feared what he'd do.

Even though I stopped having to fight an urge, I still wonder sometimes when I'm driving. 

What would happen if I drove my car off a cliff on the way to school? How long would it be before they found me? Would my journalism class continue as normal to finish before deadline? Would the crash even kill me or would I just be injured and forced to pay for the damage? 

So many questions, none of which can be answered unless I try it.

Don't worry though, I'm not going to try it. If I tried now, I'd miss so much. Graduation, my first day of college. I'd never marry a pretty girl or be a mother. I'd never get the chance to have a baby girl who I can remind every day is beautiful and strong. I will never have a book published, I'll never live to be a starving artist. I'll never travel the world or visit my internet friends in person. There's so much I'll miss that I can't bare to.

One day, I will die. Everyone dies one day, so it's not like that's a surprise. Although I hope it could be in my sleep with no pain, I know it'll be a car driving into something. I just hope that when the day comes, the only person to be injured will be me. I want no one in my car with me, just me with death in the passenger seat.

Such a scary way to die. I hope it'll be like a roller coaster, but with a drop that never ends.

-Amber

To You

I'm sorry. Things are over, done with, and I keep bringing up in.

In my writing, my words, my posts, I keep reminding you that I'm not happy about what happened. I wish there was a way I could turn back time. I wish a little blue box will come by and take me back in time so I can warn myself not to do it.

Don't fall for the girl obsessed with video games. Fight the urges you have to talk to her all the time. Let your feelings grow on the girl who tastes of cigarettes, not her. Enjoy the friendship of the girl you met on tumblr. Don't grow attached to her.

But I did. And unfortunately, there is no way to turn back time.

And every time I mention even once that it's hard to go back to just friends, you somehow end up hearing it and I continue to hurt you and guilt you without wanting to. It's the last I want to do.
I'm so sorry for everything.

From this day forth, I plan to continue as your friend. I'm not moving on, although I know there are people who can help me do it. My feelings will still be there, but I will not dread on them. I'll ignore them as best as I can, just as I did for months.

I've done it before. I can do it again.

I'm sorry for hurting you. For guilt-tripping you. For everything I have ever done.

- Amber.

Questions I Could Never Ask You

How have you been? Are you feeling well? How are your grades? Math still causing you problems? Are your parents well? Have you seen any great movies lately? 

What have you done since I last talked to you? Anything interesting? Have you been on any adventures? Read a good book, stolen a street sign, gone skinny dipping? Have you kissed anyone since you kissed me? Have you wanted to? 

Did you have a good Christmas? Did you get everything you wanted? Were you planning on getting me something? Do you know I was going to give you candy and a painted picture from your favorite movie? Did you know I ate all the candy and tore up the picture?

When you broke up with me, did you cry about it? Or did you feel better? Did you feel bad for not calling or telling me in person? Did your fingers slip on the keyboard as you wrote out the letter? Did you hate yourself for ending what I hoped for months? Did you cry the days leading up to it? Do you regret what you did? Do you regret even saying yes?

Did your hands tremble and your eyes water when you wrote the apology note? Or was it a last minute idea that you wrote at the end of the class period when you finished your work or while the teacher was giving a lecture because you felt guilty for just saying goodbye and then going back as if nothing had happened? Did someone give you a full bag of Skittles? Did you feel it was necessary to give me half a bag of candy when you gave me the note?

How would you feel if you knew I crumbled up the note? That I tossed it in my backpack and threw all my books on top of it? That I nearly cried at my locker while reading it? That I did cry in my car once I finally made it? That any hope I had of it being fixed was gone after that?

Do you know how much I miss you? That I can’t bear to be around you and act like things are normal? How could things be normal after I told you all my feelings? How can you expect me to go back to being friends with no feelings for one another?  

Have you noticed I don’t talk to you as often? That I hardly reply to you? That every day, I talk to you less and less because I can’t get over everything I feel for you and that you know it? I can’t take my feelings back or every word I ever told you, so how can you expect me to go on as normal? Do you hate me for doing it? Do you wish I’d talk to you more? Are you worried I’ll ruin this friendship?

Do you know how much I regret everything? That I regret asking you out and telling you how wonderful you are and how much I care about and how long I’ve cared. I regret kissing you and trying to help you and feeling horrible when you didn’t talk to me.  I hate that when I see you in the hallway or you talk to me, I get angry and sad and won’t talk to you.

Are you going to read this? If you do, I regret writing this. I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have. I don’t want you to hate me more than you do.

-- Amber