I don't really feel like writing.
I want to go watch Firefly and try out my brush markers and try to forget about Celeste. But I nine blog posts and a good amount of homework to do.
I don't even know what those last two things were. The poem? A love story. I don't really know. I just sort of typed words as they came.
I'm sure her phone did drop in a bathtub. She tends to break her phones. Kind of like how she tends to leave people who thought she would be there for them.
The Radioactive whatsit was a botched short story idea that I started a while ago and doubt I will finish.
I just hope she doesn't come crying to me when they have a fallout. I'll be like, where you been, brah?
The funny thing is that last year, I disclosed to her that I had a crush on someone. She wouldn't shut up about it. She practically tormented me about it, all ha-ha! You have a crush! You're such a girl! And then she goes and gets a boyfriend and spends every waking moment with him
The funny thing is that I would never blatantly make fun of her feelings. Maybe I should have known then that this friendship wasn't really going to work out.
Maybe I should have known that she tends to latch on to whoever is available at the time. Then, it was me. Now, it is him. And it's guaranteed that if her grandmother died this year instead of last, I would not have been the one by her side every step of the way, when she had to confront her family and her father and her grandmother's coffin. No. Now, it would be him.
She doesn't need me anymore. Apparently our friendship was based on when she needed me, when it was convenient for her. And now that she's found someone else - someone better - what good am I to her?
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