ten steps

You see the people around you and you wonder how happy they are.

You see a couple holding hands and you think of how lucky they are.

You see yourself in a mirror and you whisper, When will it be my turn?


Walking around the school, you pass friends in the hallway and say hi. It's a good day. You're feeling more bubbly than you normally are, and it is fantastic. It's the first time in a while you've felt this way.

You're sharing your sweet smile to everyone you pass by, and you zoom by your french test with speedy writing, more confident than ever. Passing your good friends in the hallway, you stop and talk to them for a few minutes.

"I'm in a good mood today," you state to them, smilingly.

They all share bright smiles and look at you proudly. It's the first time in a while that you honestly have felt 100% happy. It lasts until lunchtime.


Seeing him in the hallway is always great. Second period, day two, north hall, downstairs. You've got it memorized ("I'm not a stalker, gawd!"). Today, you talk to him, but you sure as hell see the back of his head walking past you while you talk to your friends.

It amazes you, again, that all it takes to make you that much happier is to see the back of his freaking head. What is that? Honestly.

The next period is lunchtime and you don't see him at all. You wonder where he is and when he'll finally realize that the only reason you waste your time on him is because you believe in him. You don't even call it 'wasting your time'. You call it waiting.

Waiting, waiting, waiting (for something that'll never happen). And for now, even though you know, you're okay with that.


At lunch you sit with your friends, joke around, do some unfinished homework; the usual. You're still unbelievedly happy, cracking jokes here and there, even when the bastard of the group (I still love yaaa) makes stupid sarcastic comments at you.

Some of your friends get up and leave but you don't notice because you're talking to your best friends. Ten minutes later, they come back with news.

"Guess who's going out?"

I immediately guess your best friend and this super tall kid you're always telling her to go out with. She isn't there so that's your first guess to who it is. The game is fun; betting on who the next couple will be, making everything awkward for them. Things like that make your day.

When they tell you who, you're not surprised. You've heard  about their drama before (people tell you like, everything. It's awesome).

It's the fourth couple in the past three days and while you're amazingly happy for them, you're also kind of upset.

When will it be my turn?


You've known the person you like for about five years. He was your first crush in middle school (I'm talking about crushes here) and you kind of like, really love the guy. He makes you happy in the easiest ways and the things he does with and to you don't piss you off like every other guy in the freakin' world.

He doesn't like you. You're sure. The way he talks to you isn't any different from the way he talks to anyone else. No, he doesn't like anyone else, but you're just sure that he'll never like you as more than family.

The little moments with him make your life, and although you've only got one class with him, you don't talk much (the teacher is a beeeeep).

You'll always remember that he's the only guy that's ever told you that you looked pretty. It was a big leadership conference and everyone had to dress up in formal attire. You wore this pretty silky black shirt with a belt and a cute skirt. Your heels made you confident, your hair looked good. You were kind of surprised of yourself.

"You look pretty," he tells you when he sees you. He smiles and looks into your eyes.

Just so he doesn't see how flustered you are, you smile, wickedly and reply, "So do you."


In the middle of a test, you put your hair up so it wouldn't bother you.

Later, he takes the hair tie in your hair and never gives it back.

You're kind of okay with that, but you always wonder why he took it.


Although you see these couples around you, holding hands, he's always kind of been enough.

You aren't dating him, that's a fact. But just being his friend and liking him at the same time is enough for you. It's kind of weird. You've always been kind of weird.

It's just him and his cute smiles and stupid jokes and for a minute you can imagine what it would be like to be with him. It's nice, not forced at all, kind of sweet, and kind of silly. You'd love that. He would too, you think.

But it won't happen. And for now, you're okay with that.


You're fighting. You've bantered, teased, and pulled each others hair, but you've never fought.

You're screaming. He is too. The backgrounds are blurred. All you see is his his anger.

And then it stops. And everything falls, along with his words.

"I hate you."

The screaming stops. You stop. Then you walk forward, slowly but patiently.

Placing you hand on one side of his cheek, you whisper in his ear, "I could never hate you."

Soft kisses. Below his ear, the side of his neck.

His whispers. "I hate you."

His chin, his cheek. Butterflies.

His whispers. "I hate you, I hate you."

Hovering above his lips, you pause.

His whispers.  "Do it."

You do.

And then you wake up.


You think about the dream for weeks.

You try to make sense of it, but it doesn't work. You've asked all your really close friends, but all they say is, "Dreams are weird." You agree.

I mean, who says, "I hate you," then says, "do it." ? It makes no sense.

You eventually give up on it, knowing that if you dwell too much on dreams, you'll only lose even more hope in the end. You liked hoping; it gave you a sense of security.

It kept you happy.


By the end of the week, you're bubbly again. You've made it through the entire week, and to be honest, your mood wasn't even that bad. You didn't snap at your friends or drown in alcohol; you were just off. But now you're okay again!

You see him in the hallway and you decide that it wouldn't hurt to talk to him, but then his friends decide they want to leave. Another day without seeing his face.

As they're walking you away, you find that you don't really mind waiting longer to talk to him. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?

You turn to walk away from the scene, but soon he catches your eye. He waves his hand in greeting, smiles, and walks away with his friends.

Why do his small gestures make your day?


One day in math class he sits next to you in your table and you smile. Him and you are kind of inevitable like that. Even though you may not date, you'll still be really good to each other.

As you reach for his pencil case, you don't bother asking his permission to use his protractor (c'mon, like he would ask you). Leafing through the pencil case, you see it, but grab the wrong this as you pull it out. It's your hair tie from grade 8.

"Holy shit, you still have this?!"

He looks embarrassed, then says, "I was planning on giving it back, but I didn't know when."

You stare at it. It's your favourite lucky scrunchy. It has sequins and beads all over it, and your brother gave it to you as part of his Christmas present three years ago.

"Why did you take it from me, anyways?" You ask with more bravery than you thought you had.

He stares at you, then looks at your hair. You've put it down today, but it's usually up anyways.

Shifting uncomfortably, he says, "You look good with your hair down."

Oh, love, you've got my heart on restart all over again.

And even though you're still waiting, you have just a little more hope for the end, and that makes you happy.
  • Current Music
    deck the rooftops - glee cast
  • Tags

make a change

The words you speak can have a profound effect on the people they reach. Are you encouraging or discouraging? Are you building up your children, your spouse, your friend or even the stranger you pass on the street? Or are you tearing down your own family and friends with words of criticism, bitterness and judgment? Are you causing the destruction to the self-esteem of your peers by speaking ill suited words?

Written or spoken, words are continuously propelling us through life. They lift us up, drag us down, wound us deeply or heal our hearts. Words have the power to break confidences, build life long alliances or start wars.

The urge to destroy something beautiful is so powerful. That's why I've always had to concentrate on the fact that people are not my personal playthings, because I know that if I forgot it in anger and spoke the words that I know would affect them, they might never be the same, and I would by no doubt lose them forever. I would feel vindicated with wrathful anger for all of thirty seconds, and then I would be crushed with guilt for possibly the rest of my life.

Words can destroy. What we call each other ultimately becomes what we think of each other and ourselves, and it matters.

- - - - -

Unfortunately, there are also those that just don't give a shit. They speak their mind, they just say things that hurt peoples feelings, and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it.

It hurts, though, when you try to be a good person and inform those people that what they're saying is wrong; that what they're doing in the process is only killing the souls of their surroundings.

People care about you. They want to build you as a person, make you better. They're trying to solidify the fact that in the end, your life will be better, and you will progress in a positive way as a person.

But you don't care. Apathy is a sickness, you know. Not caring about whether or not you're hurting someone is wrong. Not caring about the people that are trying to help you is horrible. Not caring about the entire situation is sad. Because not only have you failed to live as a good person, but you've failed to make the people that matter proud.

But you don't allow them to do that. You make it so fricking hard for them to help you. You think, "Oh, it's alright, I don't need help. I'm fine the way I am, hurting other people without a conscience."

If you think, even for a second, that what you say doesn't have any kind of effect on your peers, you are very ignorant. People as close-minded, selfish, and arrogant as you make me sick.

Take a minute of your life and open your eyes. Everyone lives differently. People have different pasts, experiences, and views. They all come from different families, cultures, and religions. Just because you think that it's okay to use such foul words, descriptions, and phrases; that doesn't that everyone else does.

Have you ever been hurt? Have you come from a past where everyone picked on you for some small, insignificant thing, just to feel better about themselves? Oh, honestly, don't lie. Everyone has

- - - - -

I'm going to use a horrible example of how hurtful words can be.

Someone in class makes fun of you because you say something stupid. The person next to you laughs, as well as everyone else, and calls you a fag. What do you do? You roll your eyes, laugh, and continue on in life.

As you grow older, more and more people use this term to describe you. When you learn what the true meaning of this word is, you begin to wonder if they are right. Are you a gay? Are you? You question your own orientation.

That should not happen. People shouldn't wonder if this, or if that, without being pushed in that direction. No one deserves to learn such a foul word and wonder what they did to make everyone think that about them. You have the right to question such a thing in privacy, and not be exposed to it in public, in front of people you care about.

You have a right. A right which has been destroyed.

- - - - -

Another example.

Since a young age, probably 7, people have made fun of you for how you look. You were born this way, you had no say in whether you could have brown, blue, black, or even purple eyes. Yet people judge you for that.

They call you ugly. They make up horrible words, like crusty and fugly and even rainbow face. These words do not seem horrible at all. In fact, they seem extremely childish and quite hilarious. How could someone be offended by things like that? Easy. You were not there to see what context it was used in. You weren't they to hear the tone they used when saying it. You don't know the type of person they were saying it to.

After going through this from age 7 to 11, you begin to believe what they say. You are ugly. When you look in the mirror, you see ugly. And for the rest of your life there will always be a small part of you that thinks that, no matter how many people have called you beautiful in the end. For the sole reason that that is what you've been told for so long.

You're never the same. That alone shows how badly words can hurt.

- - - - -

If you've gone through things similar to this, and the reason you're hurting other people is to get revenge, you're no better than those without empathy.

If you're doing this to change people's opinions about you, or because you think it's funny, or for whatever stupid reason, you're just shattering their hope for you. The people care about you will not be impressed. They'll be disappointed.

If you know how we all feel, don't be part of the problem. Make someone feel like someone cares about them, make them feel better than you felt when you were going through it. Don't try to make them feel like you did. You of all people should realize that no one deserves that kind of treatment.

We've all done it. We've all hurt people with words to somehow benefit ourselves in the process.

There just one difference though: people who are trying to stop, and people who don't care enough to.

- - - - -

Written or spoken, words are continuously propelling us through life. They lift us up, drag us down, wound us deeply and heal our hearts. Words have the power to break confidences, build life long alliances or start wars.

Words can make or break us, both as individuals and as a society. What have you been saying lately?

Let me be your hope.



Note: The thing that got me to write this was this random thought that I wrote out one day, just out of the blue. I was thinking for a while about this fanfic that I read, and then I re-read Hate to Remember and I just felt the need to write something like this. The base of this entire thing is based off of a comment that was randomly thrown about in a conversation some of my friends were having at lunch one day.

I always want what I can’t have.

It honestly is not my fault; I just can’t stop when it happens. It’s something about the you can look but can’t touch thing that’s always appealed to me. Why? I don’t really know. And yes, I know that it makes me seem like a total bitch.

But the real bitch? The fact that the entire situation sucks me in like a black hole, and doesn’t bother with spitting me back out when it’s finished with me. That is the only part that gets me. It’s cruel. It’s just plain sad. It’s also karma working in its finest form.

They didn’t say it to my face, but I got the message. In the end, it’s always what other people say that influences my outlook on myself.

They told me I deserved it all.

I believed them.


In the beginning, it was all about the want. I just wanted, wanted, wanted.

All that I wanted was that one thing. I had everything else. Just to complete it all, I wanted you.

For a while there, you were almost mine. So close to being mine to love; mine to look at without feeling guilty. A while never lasts though; it’s only there for that long.

And then the chance was over. You moved on quickly (oh so quickly) and then all I had left was friendship. And I loved that. I loved your friendship.

But I wanted, wanted; I just wanted.


I was completely obsessed. I have no idea why, but I was. Something about you, something that I don’t remember now but I was sure of before, made me love you.

Maybe it was your stupid jokes, or our stupid, pointless, late night talks, or the fact that we knew all the little details about each other that other people would find totally stupid but you actually cared to find out. I don’t know what it was, but something made me love you the way it did.

It’s just too bad half the things that were said between us stuck with you and every little detail stuck with me. It’s too bad half the time we (apparently) loved each other you were lying half of the time, loving her.

It’s just too bad I loved the whole way and you loved half.


You broke me, plain and simple. Just the way you told me that you (really truly honest to god) loved me at one moment and then casted me aside the next was the best part.

I wanted to talk to you, you wanted to do this. I wanted a moment with you, you wanted to do that. I wanted to be in the same squared kilometre as you and you wanted to fly to the fricking moon.

Everyone said opposites attracted. For a split second, I thought so too…

Now I’m not sure.


It all made sense in the end.

You loving her the entire time, and only (kind of sorta maybe) liking me when you had the time; the heart. You ignoring me like the plague and become BFFS all of a sudden when you started ‘loving me’.

Right now, you’re sitting next to her on the dried out grass, holding her hand like you (didn’t bother) never held mine. You’re talking to her just like you (didn’t have the time) didn’t want to do with me. You’re loving her like you (never even considered) never did with me.

Everything just works out in the end for you, doesn’t it?


It started with me wanting, wanting, wanting, and stopped the moment I realised.

I wanted to feel wanted. Why I picked you, I have no idea. The thrill? The way you would probably never want me? All I know is that in the end I really did care about you; it wasn’t just me being selfish anymore.

And you didn’t care about me, not really. Everyone knew. I was wasting my own time through it all, waiting for someone to want me the way I wanted them; the way it only happened in fantasies.

She knew I was wasting my time. I know she did. Even if she was super nice to me afterwards, it was probably only because she knew that he would always go back to her. It was always her.

They didn’t say it to my face, but I got the message. In the end, it’s always what other people say that influences my outlook on myself.

They told me I deserved it.

(I believed them.)

All I wanted was you,

All I wanted was you.


hate to remember

hate to remember


Note: Not based on any events that have taken place in my life; don't judge.

Dedication: This story, although emo/very/slightly depressing, is dedicated to [info]apoisonedfacade . One day, Dhuper! Yay! Happy Early Birthday to one of my lovely best friends. ♥


It’s been too long.

You’ve grown a few inches and I’ve grown none. You obviously haven’t gotten a haircut in what seems like a year; your hair long and shaggy, hiding your deep brown eyes. You see me, smile and ask how summer went. Fine, thanks, and you? I ask. You don’t elaborate much; you never have, it’s just your nature. When you’re finished you tell me that you need to go, but that you’ll see me around.

I get it. You always go.

- - - - -

The next time I see you is in South Hall. You’re walking down the only staircase there (the school really needs more staircases…) and laughing at something one of your friends said. I love it when you laugh; there’s always something about that pure joy on your face that gets me.

I’ve missed you. It’s been about three weeks; we’ve got different lunch periods, no classes together.

You see me, smile, wave, what’s up?, and then inform me that you’ve got your next class and you’re super busy, but you’ll catch me later.

I know. You always catch me later.

- - - - -

It’s been a month, now. I’ve thought about you occasionally. Not always.

This is a good sign. An wonderful one, according to my best friend. I see you playing soccer. You were always good at soccer. You made fun of me the only time that I tried to; you said all my goals were flukes.

You see me. I predict you’ll give me that handsome smile, wave that hand that would fit perfectly in my own, and then move those soft lips that could be on mine. Could.

I wonder if I should consider becoming a fortune teller.

- - - - -

Shockingly, it’s only been a week. I see you in the library. You’re next to her, sitting on the windowsill, just talking. I don’t know her name; I’ve never seen her before. She’s pretty, I decide. I’m fairly sure you’ve decided that as well.

Then you look up, but you don’t catch my eye. It’s her that has caught your eye, only her.

You move in closer to her, and I feel my world moving in on me. Your lips—they collapse on hers. It’s a sweet kiss. She presses her lips against yours, and then you place your hand, the one that would fit perfectly in mine, on her cheek.

I’m fairly sure that you’re both wondering what that deafening thump thump is. It’s my heart, taking its final beats before it shatters.

I wonder if you love her. As I watch you kiss her, I remember what it was like to have you do that to me.

I hate to remember. It means I’m not forgetting, even though you evidently have.

  • Current Music
    come on get higher by matt nathanson
  • Tags