You know all those times I said that I missed you on my blog recently? I was lying. Sure, maybe the time you stopped making me laugh, got all serious, and asked "We are friends, right?" is implimented in my mind and maybe, just maybe, I get out my seventh grade yearbook and reread what you wrote in it that year ("Lucian the greatest [Puerto Rican flag] have a cool summer ha ha ha ha ceral puerto rico") but I realize now that those are just memories. Nice memories but just memories. I missed you for the longest damn time, even when you made me feel sick, even when I blamed you when I shouldn't have. But the difference? I was hurting. I was always hurting. This person I was when I yelled at you? She was always there, just under a hell of a lot of anxiety and anger. Remember that, if you look back to the way I used to be. For once, I feel like a "normal" teen whose biggest worry is her Algebra test or passing Biology. I'm not worrying about how dad's going to be when he gets home or if I can handle the people somewhere. It's sort of nice. Talking to you would envoke another emotional rollercoaster and I can't handle that again. I'm finally "okay" and I don't want to screw that up.

Lilliesforme Lilliesforme
18-21, F
Mar 10, 2010