Oh, it is 2:37 in the morning, and I am still awake. Nervous for some reason, I'm not sure why. Perhaps some sort of mischief is afoot that I am not presently aware of but my brain is trying to warn me of anyway. Or not.
At any rate I'm still awake, it's my last night here in Kirksville, and I'm pretty anxious to get home, what with Colbie being injured. I was having nightmares of her not being there when I got home, I think my dog dying would be the worst possible pain I can imagine. Thinking about it right now makes my stomach hurt and twist up in knots. I'm pretty afraid to see her tomorrow, I think I'll probably want to cry. Her throat was just about ripped out, oh...I had been thinking about coming home early but Nick assured me everything was under control.
He's so funny, he has her back feet in socks because she keeps using her back legs to scratch her throat poor baby.

I was thinking about something else lately too. Even more so today after the dream I had last night. I talked to Rodney and Nick about it a lot, and they both agreed that they thought it was a good idea.
After the fag decided the only way to make him feel better about his tiny pencil dick by ridiculing my worst memories (but inspiring a really good conversation between Nick and Rodney about shattering knee caps), I thought about all the things I said to him, and how I wished, that when he decided to be the pussy that he is back (because no real man treats someone he loves and only wants to be happy" that way.) to me that if it hadn't bothered me I could have laughed in his face like I had been doing before instead of feeling shame. And it wasn't shame for calling him ugly and gross, but shame that what had happened was my fault, that he was right and I was crazy.
A few people have made me feel this way in my life, powerless and broke, on my knees. I hate that feeling, because it's always the people you love and trust the most, who want you to trust them completely, who try the hardest at breaking you.
I sat in on that crate in the warehouse listening to Rodney tell me that I was better than him, and how I needed to forget it all, put it out of my head, and I was pathetically saying back that I couldn't and it wasn't that easy.
But I went home and thought, it can be that easy.
Hear me out.
There are all these really good charties and stuff pertaining to my...cause, if you will. I know a lot of good women who have suffered silently in the same way, because saying it outloud brings back the shame and fear and humiliation.
But I didn't do anything wrong.
I wasn't my fault.
I didn't ask for it. I was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and no mater what you think you know, you don't.
Especially people like Fag. He didn't even know me then. He wants to tell me to take medication.
I sought help. I talked to people, I took medicine. It cause post traumatic stress syndrome.
I don't sit alone in my room wallowing in my own self-patheticness, drinking away my so-called problems.
I am making something out of my life. And I refuse to let someone like him beat me, or reduce me to tears in a warehouse ever again because of it.
I am going to rid myself of my fear and shame and blame. I'm ready for it now. I guess, in a way, I could thank the fag, if he hadn't been such a rotting person on the inside, I might never have actually done it.

I guess I feel hopeful for the first time in a while. I have my boyfriend, real, good people I can call friends, a family I love, and future that doesn't look anywhere but up. How could I be dissatisfied.
I'm honestly now. I feel so happy on the inside I could burst. It's hard to maintain the sarcastic facade lately when I kind of want to start waltzing with complete strangers.
I've never been a firm believer in fate or chance, but if I were I would say everything happens for a reason. If I had never started with el faggo I never would have realized that I can speak for myself and be free of shame, never would have known how much I love Nick, how much I want him in my life, and surely never would have known who my friends truly are.
It feels so good.
I'm grinning now.

If you still read this, G, thanks. You can burn in hell and die, but at the same time, thank you. Even though I know you don't really want me to be happy, because on the inside you are a miserable little boy incapable of feeling anything for anyone but yourself, thank you. I don't think I would have realize any of this with out your treachery, manipulativeness, and general douchebaggery. Instead I would probably be with you, just as gross on the inside as you are.
You would never have been "the best I ever could have" or whatever it was you think, because you spent the whole time trying to be with my lying, backstabbing, and being manipulative.
How would I deserve that?
And as for being single, I think you deserve to be that way for a long time. How can you hope to ever love someone if you don't love yourself? And, please, don't kid yourself, someone who drinks themselves to sleep doesn't love themself. You can deny this as long as you want, some day I'll be seeing you again in a hospital, just as sad and pathetic as you are now, and I will, beside enjoying the karma of it all, be able to show you that I was right all along.

Mmm..
I love the movie Ever After. Happy endings are the best I think. :)

-embee