EX Factor

Now that I have two exes, I can compare and contrast them. I've been taking plenty of time to think on it, and I've never been so ready to express something publicly.

Most people find the stories of how people meet to be extremely interesting. Neither of mine are noteworthy.

I met Ronnie while I was at work, in the Men's Department. I was folding jeans and I saw him walk in. I totally knew he was staring at me, and I just soaked it up. His younger sister, told me that he liked me, and asked for my number for him. I wasn't impressed that he couldn't approach me himself. I just wrote my name on a piece of paper because of it.

Stevenson and I met on Facebook. He randomly added me, so I accepted (because I accept everyone that isn't creepy). I liked one of his statuses about politics. Apparently there was a spelling error in it because about two seconds after I liked it he sent me a message letting me know he re-posted his status. I kept replying to his replies because it was so adorable how he needed an excuse to talk to me. We did have sex the first day we met in person though.

Despite my unapproachable disposition they both made a move on me. It bugs me that neither was to my face, but whatever. Stevenson wins.

"When did you meet?" always seemed to be a popular question, as well as "When did you start dating?"

I knew Ronnie for two weeks before I dated him. He asked me out (or I asked him?) on January 7, 2010 which is his birthday. It was at my house, which I didn't really mind.

On the other hand, I knew Stevenson for three weeks before we started dating. He had asked me out after I knew him for a week and a half. I then told him I'd ask him out when I was ready since I knew he just wanted to put a leash on me and I wasn't ready to lose my freedom. I asked him out a week and a half after that, May 7, 2011.

Ronnie wins, since Stevenson attempted to pressure me.

This is the one that I would would ask first about someone's relationship--"What was your sex life like?"

I'm currently having sex with Ronnie, as friends, therefore that explains itself. :)

With Stevenson, there was an issue. He wasn't as into me as I was into him. I feed off of other people's energy. And you get what you give. To be fair, I gave him more than what he gave me because he was a dead fish (and that's putting it lightly). I would just hit it and quit it. Most people wouldn't mind a sex puppet, but I'm just not that kind of girl. Like, ew.

The BEST part is, the day I broke up with him, we had been discussing our sex life. He started the conversation with "When can we have sex?" to which I replied "LOL Seriously?" Then he began with "Yea I used to have a lot of sex. It's my fault too but I need to get fucked hard, often, in different ways. We need to spice it up. I think it's very important." Well Stevenson, I'm not into necrophilia. I just replied "We need to talk" because... well that will come in the next bracket.

Congratulations Ronnie, you won the most sensitive category!

The most hesitated question when making inquiries on a break-up usually concerns how it ended. I've always hated the "Oh my God!" that generally precedes "What happened?"

I'd first like to apologize to Ronnie for not writing him a sappy, fake break-up post but that was because he actually opened up to me and we weren't acquaintances for the duration of our relationship. I broke up with him via phone call and he was heartbroken. It was within a week after the great Valentine's Day that we had. He lied to me, so I was gone.

Stevenson got an artificial break-up post since he didn't have the ladyballs to do it himself (emotions: fake; story: true). He just pushed me away until he wasn't worth the bad sex and deception anymore. I broke-up with him via text. My personal favorite part of this was his reply. All he said was "What?" And I was just like, bitch you're weighing me down, but I'm pretty sure I explained all that in my last post.

I should really win this category since I wrote both break-up stories. Stevenson wins this one because breaking up with him was literally one of the most fun things that I ever did in my whole entire life.

Everyone's a winner in this game! Especially me, since I'm getting laid, and I'm still single!

Dissatisfaction

Today I feel nearly completely dissatisfied.

I've actually felt this way for a little while.

For a period of time I mistook this for sadness. Now, it's not like I felt depressed (I'm not emo) but there was something missing. It's not that there's something missing though either. It's that there isn't enough to go around to fill the void. The void being my level of satisfaction.

When I looked in the mirror this morning I just sighed and stared. I moisturized my face after getting out of the shower and I smiled. I smiled at the slight improvement that took only seconds. Then I saw it, the recurring flaw. Teeth.

High School is now over and I've finally escaped the torment of my peers. My teeth, they torment everything in my life. I can't smile without being conscious of their astounding grotesqueness.

As I start every day, I have this reminder. So of course I'm thinking of ways to escape this and I can't. In order to do anything, I have to get ready.

What am I getting ready for? Ding! Ding! Ding! More dissatisfaction. I sit in the car for my 20-30 minute ride to the mall where I get to make a nickel for a dime's worth of work. I feel like I could be better elsewhere, not to mention, other people who are less deserving have the jobs and wages that I deserve. It's just so frustrating that I can't get something (that would be beneficial to both sides) without getting upset.

I spoke with Stacy last week and she said that she would talk to Becky and Veronica about how they've been dicking me around and using me. Well, that happened. They didn't even apologize for doing what they did, and Veronica was still really, really bitchy to me. They think they're all hot shit, counting money, and writing e-mails but they can't do what we (associates) do. They can't merchandise and fill out DERs, while ringing and folding down. They're just glorified couch potatoes.

I've been looking for a new job, but it has proven difficult.

My third level of dissatisfaction roots from money. Fucking money. FUCK money. I never have enough, it's inconsistent, and is the only way to get or do anything. I used to not mind looking rich but always being extremely broke, thinking "things will get better". Delusional... right? I'd rather look poor and feel rich than this. I can't enjoy a damn thing without it either.

On my way to school the other day, someone won a brand-new car. I didn't smile. I was jealous. I hated her. Good things don't come to those who wait OR those who go after them. Everything's just luck of the draw and you just have to hope that you won't end up dissatisfied.

Cheating

While the word cheating may indicate many different things, I think it is very obvious that I am not talking about my last Pre-Calculus test.

A few days ago I found myself thinking about how I would feel if I were to be cheated on. I thought to myself that I wouldn't care if I never found out and I didn't get an STD. As you can see, my iron exterior is starting to convince my subconscious that my emotions are composed of iron also.

For a while now, Stevenson has been telling me about an internet friend of his. I guess he lives in the backwoods of some retarded conservative state that won't turn blue any time soon. They've been friends for a very long time, of course. His friend submitted photos to Ford Models out of a recommendation. After multiple trips to New York and whatnot he was informed that out of thousands who submitted, he was one of the very, very few selected. So this kid has to be pretty damn attractive, right?

Stevenson told me that his friend was moving to New York last week. He wanted to visit him before he got famous. He didn't want his friend thinking that he only wanted to become his friend once he got famous--if he gets famous.

He made plans with me for yesterday, Tuesday, and therefore wan't going to go. He also said that he didn't really have the money anyways.

On Saturday night, Stevenson informed me that his friend had found more affordable tickets for him to come to the city. Stevenson made it sound like a day trip, so I didn't really give a fuck. As it set in, I came up with that half-baked notion of how I would feel if I were cheated on.

The next day I found out that it wasn't a day trip. It was an overnight trip. Stevenson was going to go on Monday evening. I figured he was going to be home on Tuesday night. I still wasn't worried because I still had myself convinced that what I didn't know wouldn't hurt me.

This morning I found out that the trip was taking course over three days. He had stayed over for two nights. I felt like there was so much that I wasn't filled in on. I know that Stevenson is a little dense but why wouldn't he tell me how long the trip was. He was vague about the whole thing.

Today at school, I had a lot of quiet time to think to myself and I don't feel convinced that I have security anymore. Now I know that we've only been together since May 7th, but that doesn't mean that I shouldn't be peeved. Being in a relationship means that you're exclusive.

I got to thinking about why people cheat. I could only come up with the idea that people get bored of their sexual relationship. I had other ideas but I don't think that I have the right to question the mental sanity of others.

Am I a bad kisser? Am I bad in bed?

I couldn't see how this could be possible because whenever we're alone the only thing he wants to do is fuck and shit. The only time we seem to ever talk is when we're with other people. He's politically retarded and stubborn so he just talks crazy sometimes. It's like when we're having sex is the only time that I feel like he's enjoying my company.

So do I think that the last-minute, shady trip to New York City to see a long-term friend that he's never met, who's becoming a model was a booty call?

Why wouldn't I?!

I'm not going to say anything, or act different. I only have my suspicions.

It's not a judgement on my character. As long as I'm a good, honest person, I can live with myself. I don't have skeletons in my closet.

Different Kind Of Fame

As I sat in the assembly I heard name after name being called. People with great academic performances and selfless resumes walked before me. I was so glad that someone could fulfill the cookie cutter mold that was created for them. Unfortunately I was too small in their eyes to fill this mold.

I remember a day when I wanted to be that person. I wanted the recognition and the fame of sorts. On the other hand, I wanted something to show for my work that was tangible. Unlike the other people, I was self supported, wealthy for my age, had a killer wardrobe, and a life. I wanted people to see what I put my time into when they didn't even know my name. I didn't want one day of all the glory that I receive during the year.

It may seem foolish, and it occasionally sounds foolish to me too. I gave up academic greatness and the societal future that I could have had for material possessions. I just hope that the route that I chose will come with the same prosperities, if not more.

She announced their accomplishments as each individual walked across the stage. I thought to myself... I have no accomplishments. Then I really thought hard about it and I do have an equal number of accomplishments if not more. Mine are also of equal or greater stature.

I realized that my accomplishments aren't ideal. Yes, people admired and respected them but they weren't about to give me a scholarship for it or a title.

With a puss on my face, I sat in silence as the National Honor Society inductees got what they worked for.

I used to get chills as the qualities were announced. I used to be impressed. This assembly was my fourth. It had gotten old. I had heard the same speeches reiterated year-after-year. I heard the flaws in their speaking and saw the weakness in their eyes.

What does it take to be one of them?

It takes being the student council president that smokes weed. It takes being the horny jock that sends out dick pictures. It takes being the president of the class of 2011 who talks about people behind their back. It takes being the wallflower who has no social life and lives for school and volunteer work. It takes being the student of the month that pops pills in school. It takes being the ex-fat kid who got a girl to hook up with him in exchange for driving her home.

My fame may be based off of some shameful facts accompanied by achievement that shadow them, but it most certainly NOT based off of lies and deception.

I realized that I'm more recognized on a daily basis. I'd rather have my details splashed across page 6 frequently than have my face on the front page for one day.

I've never really been a cover girl but I have been a hot topic these years passed.

I'm Miss. Bad Media Karma, another day, another drama.

Decision

This is the part where I have to make a choice.

There's so much competition in my head.

I just don't know why I can't hear the voice.

I have no idea which way I'm being led.

My life continues to be unclear.

But I still have to budget my time.

My final decision is coming near.

And I just don't know if I'll do fine.

Here's the part where I stand on edge.

I'm looking east and west.

But it's north and south that have me wedged.

Going this way, I'll do my best.

The circumstances have me in quite the bind.

Nothing can restrict me or make me fade.

Something great is what I hope to find.

Time is up; my decision is made.

Familiar

I was walking down a busy road in a populous city. There was the back to what seemed to be a factory to my left, with a large fire escape with several turns. Aneta and a few other familiar people were walking to my right and behind me.

A loud and disconcerting noise plagued the air. I could feel it getting dark. I could feel the world caving in. I looked to the sky for an answer; that was when I saw it approaching. I ran to the fire escape as quickly as I could. Climbing several steps at a time, I headed for my escape. Familiar and unfamiliar faces followed as the shadows quickly swept in. I hurtled over a locked gate leaving everything I knew, and everything I had yet to know behind.

The powerful wave touched down and cleaned the streets. I couldn't hear it, nor could I feel it. When the iron door shut and I was considered safe I began to walk around inside the dark, seemingly empty building.

I came across machinery for stuffed animal assembly. I thought this seemed to be random since the building advertised that a new aquarium would be coming soon. Despite the irony, there were no signs of an aquarium. Inside it was dry, and safe.

I had been removed from the building without my knowledge. I woke up in a neighborhood that was forested despite it's many homes. I was clothing-less, walking up a steep curved road.

I was comfortable. The air was soothing and the breeze wouldn't be noticeable if it weren't for the trees swaying. I came across an older woman, who came off eccentric yet easy to talk to. Nothing about the way she looked was familiar but the way she felt was very familiar.

She and I walked very slowly to the end of her driveway, which was of moderate length, and back. She did all of the talking. Her words were heard although I cannot recall what any of them were. She spoke with ease and elegance. It were as if she were reciting something she had kept inside of her for eternity.

I was in her home sitting in the couch for a period of time. I was in clothes that were my own, and that she must have found and given me.

She was later standing in the dining room, which was also the kitchen, with me. A tall young woman came in. She was wearing a long cloak-like coat and large, rounded sunglasses. She was looking in the direction of the old woman in a way that felt evil. The old woman looked through her thick spectacles at the woman in a way that indicated she was notorious for her all-around good reputation.

The naive old woman was unable to make the connection to who the woman really was. I found myself eye-to-eye with her as she held a large staff in her left hand that stood as tall as she was. It had a round top, with a sharp, pointed end.

She raised her staff to me, going in for the kill. I gained complete control of the weapon with threatening vengeance. I raised the tool and guided it into the middle of her forehead that was completely exposed by her pulled-back hair. With that I pulled the staff down the middle of her face. She was without reaction through disarming her and experiencing her demise.

The old woman had disappeared. I was alone. Her sunglasses were removed through the ordeal yet she still remained unexposed.

I released all of the demons inside of my soul in one swift swipe yet I could feel them still running through my veins.

I Am Caesar Smithe

Late last night I decided that I really am Caesar Smithe, all of my qualities lately have owned up, quite fully, to the more outspoken qualities I possess.

Last night, I told off Alejandro, who hasn't quite reached the point of dead, like she who must not be named. I have been a very good friend to Alejandro, and his complete lack of effort in our friendship has been pissing me off for a little while now. He can be such a sweetheart, but such a whore.

Alejandro isn't the only one who's been getting on my nerves lately. One of my co-workers, Nigel. Nigel is a know-it-all. He is a men's specialist, and feels overly-entitled as such. He does great work, don't get me wrong, but he thinks he's such hot shit. He's just your typical, black faggot, who think's he's fashionable and has snaggle teeth. His boyfriend is ugly. I've also been informed by other mall employees that he's known as "The Slut of Gay.com" here in the area. You must be proud. Just remember Nigel, I've been Employee of the Month before, and you haven't... I'm better than you.

He told me in confidence, how many people he has slept with, so I will not expose that truth, even in anger. But let's just say it's more than 10 people (I'm choking laughing).

The third person to fill me with rage lately is my Mother.

A few days ago, my half-sister added me on Facebook. I haven't seen her since I turned 10. I haven't seen my Mother since then either. I would love to see the both of them. But why should I after they allowed Potter (the douche my mother is engaged to), to dictate who they spoke to. I guess I was a little too VIP for the list. Why now? Am I finally good enough? Was it my mother's idea, or my fat, half-sister's? Regardless, I'm still hurt, and I'm not pleased.

And with that said, I don't just feel, I act. I really people think that I'm an ass who curses too much. I'm honest, and I don't lose any sleep.

And I'm going to get what I want... as Caesar Smithe.