...

When I don't type these directly into here, I write them on paper and then type them up. I throw the papers on the ground and I pick them up when I'm all done and I burn them so Dad can't read them. Apparently, I missed one. I wrote an entry a while ago in my public journal called Fairy Tales and Happiness that I had written down then typed up. Dad was looking in his calendar and flipped to the back. I saw a sheet of paper that had my writing on it and asked him what it was. "Oh nothing." Yeah, right. So when he was out, I looked. I found my Christmas list and at first thought that was it. Then I remembered I saw the word "Mommy" written on it. So I looked about 2 seconds more and found it. My writing. The original copy of that entry. He hasn't approached me about it and I doubt he will. I haven't mentioned it to him and I won't. But I can't believe he took my writing after saying so many times that he doesn't read my journals, that he doesn't read those entries I throw on the ground. At least it was one of the ones that *didn't* deal with cutting. I know he knows but if he had found one of them, I'd just die.

Gotta go. The lights are flickering and it's thundering. Time for Gone With the Wind. Oh, and as I mentioned in most of my public journals, I will be gone until the 28th. See you when I get back. Love you!

Blame

I don't blame myself. As a matter of course, when it comes to things with my parents, I don't blame myself. When they got seperated (the last time because they kept us sheltered from the first few with excuses) and when they got divorced, they made sure to tell Joey and I that it wasn't our fault. That we didn't do anything wrong. And never once did it even cross my mind that I might be to blame. But this week, from yesterday after court to Thursday, I'm supposed to be at Mom's. Well, I told the law guardian I wanted to live with Dad and Mom got that fact out of me (I could see how much it hurt her and that killed me). So when Mom called and said that Ray has to go to Jersey for a gig and the ford broke (again), I couldn't help it. She told me that "this [had] nothing to do with what [I] told [my] law guardian". Didn't matter. She could have said that for eternity, sworn on the Holy Bible, but I wouldn't have believed it. It felt like it was because of what I said. It felt like it was my fault. I choked back my tears and finished the conversation. Then I had to make my face less I'm-trying-desperatly-not-to-cry to give the phone to Dad. That night, I finished my Godiva ice cream. I've been nursing that pint for over a month. A spoonful here, a spoonful there. I ate about 3/8 of the container that night. And still felt horrible. I know that it's probably not my fault but, it feels like it.

Yeah, I got you in trouble in High School

Lindz and I decided skinny dipping probably won't happen until next year. Not because we don't want to but because there's a lot of stuff happening from now til school starts and we don't think we'll have time. So it sucks but, we'll do it when we're sixteen instead. Oh well.

I've tried two things today that tasted horrid. Get out your shotguns 'cause one of them isn't something I shoulda tried. The first is unsweetened carob chips. Carob is good but unsweetened it sucks. So I was looking for some hot chocolate or something that I could eat/drink that was chocolate other than plain chocolate chips (semi-sweet, okay but, sickening after a little bit). Eventually, I found the hot chocolate but first, I found the Jack Daniels Whiskey. I dipped my finger in and tried a little bit. Just enough to taste it. Not enough for it to do anything to me at all but, yuck. It tastes like crud. If I had to choose between a beer and a shot of that, I'd choose the beer and I hate the taste of beer. Yuck. No, I won't be trying whiskey again. For some reason I just have this growing fixation with alcohol lately. Like, it always seems to come up in conversations and when I can try it, I do. Like there was a bottle of champange in the fridge and I wanted to try it but Dad wouldn't let me and it was unopened so I couldn't sneak any. But it was cheap stuff so it probably wasn't very good anyhow. But I keep like wanting to try it and what not. I guess it's the allure of what I can't have. But I can have hot chocolate with cinnamon, a heating pad/midol, and a nice spot on the couch to read Gone With The Wind. And that's just what I plan to do.

Vickey

P.S. Scratch that. Think I might go to the school and see if that guy I just saw heading up there was cute. hehehe ^_^ Scarlett O'Hara and Rhett Butler will probably be my companions til Gramma gets back though instead of possibly-cute boys at the park.

Colleen wants to get me drunk. I told her I won't get drunk but, I'll drink. Yes, I know. I'm 15. Don't drink, don't smoke, don't do drugs, don't have sex. I won't smoke, I won't do drugs (unlike some *cough*you know who you are sug *cough*), and I won't have sex til I'm married. But I've already had 1/2 a glass of wine and I don't see the harm in getting a little bit of a buzz. I won't get drunk. I'll keep my head. But, why not drink a teensey bit? (Kay. I can hear how much I'm trying to rationalize this. Obviously I shouldn't drink. I'm probably not going to. Don't worry about me.)

Oh, and I'm posting this in here only so that Sayid doesn't murder me. I'm actually kinda excited for school to start. I want to get my schedule and go clothes shopping and get all my supplies. I can't wait to start the school year off organized. I'm anxiously awaiting that routine school brings. My days are blending together and getting boring. I don't FLY properly in the summer because "I can always do that tomorrow." The other three seasons, I don't have that luxury. Time to go do *something* productive. Oh! I'll do my new calendar thing. Yay! ^_^