I don't think I've ever missed something this much before. There was one time when I missed macaroni and craved it every day for a month, because my parents wouldn't buy it, for whatever odd reason, but I never ached like I do now, like I have all day. I miss him as if he is going to disappear tomorrow, and I won't ever see him. I feel like I should confess to him all the things I confess to this blog. I fear, though, that his heart would explode with all the love I can give, and then, he will not be able to give love anymore. I just want him to be next to me so I can butterfly kiss him, and deny his plea of no kisses on the cheek even though he smiles his twisted smile every time my lips make landing. I just want July 30th to be real today, so I can move out of this hell hole and forever be twisted in sheets with the love of my life. Today's topic, a thousand acres of love.

I've come to the conclusion that my father is very influenced by Sean Hannity. Most of what my dad says, I hear from Sean Hannity first in his 2-4 o'clock p.m. radio show. All he ever babbles about is how the government has too much control over things the people should have control over now that Obama is president. Before, he babbled about how the government didn't have enough control. I don't know what to really concern myself with anymore, so I just don't concern myself at all. By doing this, I put myself in the constant fear that one day there is going to be a nuclear warfare eminent, and I won't even know until I can hear the explosion in my front yard.

I've been handling the past quite a lot lately. It kind of feels like when you own a puppy, and he is the most adorable thing on the planet, and your heart falls for him instantly with his shaggy hair and big eyes, but then one day he runs away with no warning. A few years down the road he returns home as this mongrel, mangy dog that has obviously been sticking himself in places he should not have been and is now completely different from the loveable puppy you once knew, yet you find that he still has the little niche he created in your heart, but the love is now a little morphed. Actually, that is exactly what it feels like.

So, usually I can tell my cat everything, but lately she's been a bitch and has rubbed me the wrong way. I've even gone as far as considering giving her to a chinese restaurant down the road. She'd make a good addition to their real moogoo gai pan. This breaks my heart since I've never thought of her this way, but she has given me no other option.

I realize I sound like a lunatic sometimes, especially when the girls at my table in my 5th period give me this odd face to where it literally looks like this one -> O_o. They aren't really the only ones, but they are the ones who make it most prominent. I think most other people use the fact that I am G.T. certified to justify my oddity, since most G.T. kids have a certain quirkiness about them, but other's just don't give a fuck either way. I am here to say that I am in fact sane but just think out loud, and it never works to my advantage. I mean, sometimes people laugh, and other times people just kind of give me the above noted look. Hey, don't hate me 'cause you ain't me.

I've never believed yelling solves anything, unless you're a dog. Quite frankly, I don't appreciate it when my parents yell at me as if I were ziggy the forever annoying rattle that yips and yips all day and night, for I am not that sack of kibble, but a human being- an upsetting one, but a human being none the less. So I am now creating this tactic so that whenever they yell at me, I make this face as if I have just shit myself and am in deep distress. I plan on using this tomorrow, because more than likely, they will yell at me. If anything I hope it distracts them. In the name of science, it will work.