I've never kept a secret from Jonathan before.

What if he hates me?

I don't know if I can tell him. Not yet.

I'm too scared.

I love him so much.

But god fucking damn it.

I'm an idiot.

Aug. 24, 2011

I wrote this in my Becki Bible right after I got off the phone with Jonathan and his best friend:

I hate this. I hate it. I can't do it, I can't keep up with this. Why am I comparing myself to Charlie? I could tell she didn't like me. I could hear the jealousy ringing in her voice, I could feel it even from so far away. I didn't want her to hear the jealousy in my voice, I hid it with the kind words and laughter. When she made an off-hand comment about my voice I was immediately self-conscious. I know I shouldn't be, Jonathan loves me and that's all that matters, right? But still. It's one of my biggest insecurities. Her possesive comments over her best friend. Her beautiful voice was definitely no match for my whiny high school voice. The viscous cycle kept on it's way, I wondered if she was prettier than me and she probably is, she's probably more of Jonathan's type than I am.

I'm not jealous OF her...I could just hear her feelings for Jonathan in her voice. Which made me jealous, and then I started the comparing and it just got out of hand for me, emotionally. After pulling myself together, I know that I'm Jonathan's bottom bitch. :) haha. And so it doesn't matter what she thinks.

Although I still have a slight twinge of jealousy, just because she gets to actually spend time with him. -_-

Oh Jesus

All I think about is Jonathan. Seriously. All I want to talk about is Jonathan. Every chance I get, I somehow hint to someone that I have a boyfriend. Just so then they can ask, "You have a boyfriend?" And then my lungs explode and it almost seems like I'm yelling. "YES I HAVE THE BEST FUCKING BOYFRIEND IN THE WORLD WE'VE BEEN TOGETHER SINCE LIKE FOREVER AND WE'RE SO HAPPY TOGETHER THAT IT WOULD MAKE YOU PUKE!"

I need to relax.

I don't want you to die.

I want you to live with the knowledge that you're a monster. You're not a man. You're a sick creature that gains the trust of women so you can violate them, rape them, beat them, hurt them. I want you to live with that emptiness. I want you to live with the complete loneliness. I want you to wake up every day just to wish that you were dead. Your black heart will pump nothing but blood. Not one ounce of love or happiness with flow in your veins. And when you go to meet Jesus when you die, you will kneel in front of him. And you will get to answer for what you did. You get to tell God why you hurt me. You'll get to meet your maker and you get to tell him exactly why you hurt his child so severely. My bruises will heal. One day, I will forgive you. One day, I might not taste the bitter blood in my mouth anymore. At least I don't have to wake up as you.

Carry On

His lying tongue scraping her teeth
He leaves violent lovers marks on her neck
And she exhales the bittersweet pain
With every struggled breath

His greedy hands grasp her bruised neck
Her head swims, spins, twirls
His hands squeeze, suffocate, twist

And after he wipes the sticky semen
From her pale broken body
He leaves a soft lie on her lips
Kisses the tears of protest on her face
Places empty promises in her heart

She doesn't know the difference
Anymore
Between pain and pleasure

Collapsed on the front lawn
Her body too weary to care
And her heart to broken to beat