Dear Ms. Leading,

I regret to inform you I've fallen out of lust.
It must be so hard to understand.
Did you really think me a fool enough to play along?
And make believing everything you said was true
Push your pouting lips on other unsuspecting lovers

The Dear Hunter


Flamingos are pink. How cool is that?

If I told you that I was a selfless saint, I'd be a ridiculous liar.

If I told you that I love adjectives, you can find evidence in this wretched blog to support the statement.

Is it too late to realize how horrible you've been to your life's potential?
Not to yourself. Not to your life.
You've been horrible to your potential; meaning you've been careless, thoughtless and negative when it came to opportunities that would better your life.
Content with losing*, for a lack of a better term.

Is it too late to start being the selfless person your Mr. Narcissism always wanted for your life?
Or are you too far down the road of wanting to be selfless so that you come full circle to selfish as you expect the world to owe you more than what's been given to you?
Selfless often teeters on selfish.

Is it too late to realize that you make absolutely no sense when you type a blog post or write in a journal at 4AM?

And fortunately for my writing's sake, No.
I'm not sure it's ever too late to fix these sorts of things.
No one is that far gone.

* Underoath song reference?


Strange & Beautiful

It's New Year's Eve 08-09.

9PM- You walk into your best friend's house and take off your snow-covered boots as unfamiliar people walk passed you. Your best friend welcomes you. You realize right away that you don't know anyone there and wish you were somewhere else. You give her your coat.
You put your bag in her room and look at yourself in the mirror- jeans, tank top, cardigan. Next to cocktail dresses, leggings and high heels, you're under dressed. You grab your liter of Captain Morgan and head to the kitchen.
More unfamiliar people you smile at and shake hands with. You pour yourself a drink, getting complimented on your liquor choice by some meathead with a name like "Brad" or "Ray."

Smile, drink. Smile, another drink. Sit, pretend to care about the conversation at hand.

10PM- People you know show up. You are now 3 drinks into the night even though you've only been there for an hour. You and the familiar faces isolate yourselves from the unfamiliar and play Rock Band. You're surprised at how coordinated you can be on the drums after the rum & cokes you've been drinking out of a plastic wine glass. Classy.

More drinks, jello shots, Rock Band, singing Paramore.

11PM- More familiar faces finally show and you relax a bit. You tell them that if they didn't show up, you would've kicked their asses. You get dragged into a room and you cry. Talk about anti-depressants. Drink Cap'n & coke during the lulls.

Drink and nod and cry. Hug. Wipe face. Walk downstairs.

Conversation, smiles, laughter, introduction to someone who you'd get along with because he's "also sarcastic," but you barely get to talk to him because you just don't care. His hair is pretty awesomely long but he stands in the corner, text messaging for most of the night. Whatever.

11:59:57PM - 3,2,1 HAPPY NEW YEAR.
Chug a glass of champagne, get tackled by friends, move awkwardly through kissing couples.
More rum & coke. Flip cup. Conversation you still don't care about.

You hear a rumor that someone is having sex in your best friend's room. You run upstairs to ask them to open the door. Meathead opens the door and laughs at you a bit, assuring you nothing is going on. He promises to keep the door open. You go downstairs.

?AM - Blur. Time passes. More blur.

Couple making out on the couch disappears. You hear another rumor about sex going on in best friend's computer room. You bang on the door, demanding they do not disrespect her house. Your best friend's roommate from school opens the door and screams about how she has a bloody nose, okay? She just has a fucking bloody nose and nothing's going on, slamming the door in your face. You ask politely to come in, the boy with her says to come in. She has her face buried in a pillow, you apologize and tell her you heard something and wanted to settle it and ask if she needs anything. She yells at you to get the fuck out. You take your best friend away from beer pong. She goes into the room.

??AM- 8 rum & cokes into the night, you run outside, leaning on your best friend's car in the snow and you cry. Cry. Cry.

You try to find the downstairs bathroom. Someone's in it. You collapse onto the floor as you're crying. You say sorry over and over. Your best friend tells you to stop as she gets cleaning supplies and places the bloody pillow case in the washing machine. A familiar voice asks you why you are crying. You don't respond. Another voice from behind you sums up the situation to the first voice. You're getting patted on the back. One person leaves the bathroom and another one of your friends is sitting on the floor facing the toilet. You go in and shut the door.

Voices outside the bathroom. Crying. Crying. Consoling.
Your friend vomits, you sober up.
Hold her hair back, wipe her face, get her a glass of water.
She's crying, crying, crying. Unrequited love talk- you're the queen.

4AM- The rest of the night you play mom.
Clean up vomit. Carpet cleaner. Kick someone out of the bathroom for a vomit emergency.
Someone calls you a "saint." You think about him and the day you stayed with him while he vomitted. He called you a saint that day.
No more thinking.

You beg your best friend to just let you clean.
Scrub the floor.
Get your mind off of him.
Put people to bed, making sure that your friend does not get molested. You drunkenly admit that you've been molested.

Awkward laughter, voices, music, more friends vomiting.

5AM- Everyone's in bed. You're on the bathroom floor with two of your friends, while your best friend sits on the sink and apologizes for picking at her toenails. Talk about the night. Laugh.

You put your friends to bed. You sleep with your best friend in her parents' bed.

6AM- You wake up to someone sleeping on top of you. You wake him up and say, "Get off of me." He calls you by one of your friends names. You kick him out of the room. Back to bed.

7AM- You have a headache and a rash. Terrible. What is this rash from?

9AM- You stir. Voices. Everyone is up. You still have a rash. What is this from? Headache is unbearable.
Friends are awake. You see the bloody nose girl. Awkward. Grab your things. Realize you drank 1/2 a liter of rum. Get a ride home.

Find your dad's keys still in the door. Down some Benadryl and Tylenol. Pass out until 3PM.

10PM- Sarcastic long-haired boy friends you on facebook. Why.

All you can do is laugh at how terrible New Year's always turns out for you...