I didn't forget about you! I just... misplaced your file in my memory.

I have a new boyfriend. He doesn't quite understand the whole depression thing.

Bryar and I don't talk any more.

Sierra and I don't talk any more.

A lot has changed.

thank God for freedom
So I've been grounded from all electronics since late January, but my parents are out of town for their anniversary and I am the oldest responsible person in my house, so nobody can stop me from using my laptop.
I am grateful for freedom. For me, freedom has been...
Walking across two highways to go to the grocery store to get salad for my great-aunt (she's my backup) and a box of cake mix with my best friend as the sun sets. Wandering around the entire store before realizing what we were looking for was right by the door we came in. Using the change to buy chocolate eclairs to be eaten on the way home.
Mixing up a cake and the mix going EVERYWHERE.
Being outside while it pours, dancing and singing at the top of our lungs and not being yelled at to quiet down or come inside before we catch a cold.
Attempting to watch a horror movie way past our bedtimes.
Sleeping in (for me) and then getting on my laptop to listen to music and catch up on everything I've missed.

I seem to have forgotten about this site, been more occupied with my blog: www.leeleesays.blogspot.com But I thought I'd come here, because I have even more James drama to report.
I got on facebook and this was the message I'd received from him:
Remember the story you wrote that i didnt like? i just realized what an ass i was by responding like i did. i just realized what genre the games i make fall into. horror. and i tried to get you to take meds for writing the same kind of book. i am an ass. i never should have responded that way, and you might not care about this, but i couldn't throw this off.

I responded:
oh, James. Thank you. Thank you so much. I mean, I was already over it and all, but... thank you.

He wrote:
i know. but i hate myself for not realizing it sooner.

I wrote:

and later:
*I'm* sorry for flipping out on you.

He has yet to respond.
I don't know anymore. I don't know if I should take him back if he asks. Of course, I won't really have to worry about it unless he does ask, which he probably won't. I just don't know. I desperately want him, but it wouldn't be fair to take him. Oh, well. I'll worry about it if and when the time comes.

Ups and Downs
-sigh- This has been a topsy-turvy twenty-four plus hours.
Last night I was talking to this guy who is my friend's boyfriend and my favorite guy friend (who I often wish was more . . .). Now, you've got to understand, Bryar is a senior (three years older than my friend and I), he's six foot five, and he's always making himself the highlight of my day. He's like a combination of "Teardrops on my Guitar" and "Stay Beautiful" by Taylor Swift. And he usually seems cheerful and he's that kind of guy that is always making girls laugh, and he's the one I can count on to greet me with a cheerful hello when I walk into health class. Sometimes, though, he has this look like something's torturing him. It only lasts for a few minutes at the most, and then he's back to "normal," but it's long enough to break my heart. I finally found out over facebook what it is that causes him to act like that: severe bullying throughout middle school. He's depressed, too, and has seriously comptemplated (spell check) suicide. I felt really bad for him, but proud, too, because he doesn't share stuff like that with practically anyone, and he shared it with me, of all people. Talk about feeling special! :D
Then today I had a complete meltdown in band class. When I say complete, I mean complete. As in, I rushed to the bathroom and fell on the ground and sobbed and held my breath hoping to pass out and bit my hand till it bled and bounced my head against the wall, hoping to break it open or at least knock myself unconscious. Anyways, Ayla, who's a senior who is usually the one to calm me down, found me and talked to me for a bit, and took me out into the hallway because I was pissing off some other band members that had to pee. It was audition day, and Kyle, a drum major who absolutely dotes on me, came up and saw me crying and said "Mr. Wittman (band teacher) is a dick" thinking that he had upset me. Ayla told him I hadn't gone yet, and Kyle stood there next to me, just hugging me and rubbing my arm, which I've always longed for for some strange reason, as Ayla continued to calm me down. He went inside the classroom when Ayla started talking about her own problems (some nuerological disorder, unexplained) as a way of "If I can do it, you can do it, and know I'm on your side and can help you out" and then came back out as she was hugging me and joined in from the back, yelling "Delaney sandwich!" And then later on, when I was sitting on the ground getting Ayla's cell number, Bryar was watching me with a "go away, Ayla" look until she did and he came over and spent fifteen minutes just trying to cheer me up. So today was . . . eventful, but I have to say I am content.

Oh. My. God.
So I made a new friend online through NaNoWriMo. This was my impression of unnamedperson:
Seventeen year old boy living in London. Extremely decent. Well educated. Funny. Crush-worthy. I started to fall head over heels for unnamedperson, or so I thought.
Really, unnamedperson is all that except the second one and the last one. Imagine my suprise when I realize . . . unnamedperson is a girl.
In my opinion, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay or lesian. However, I am 100% straight. Once I found out unnamed person is a girl, I reread all of the NaNoMails we'd sent back and forth. All the little things I thought were flirts were actually just her being friendly. I feel a little crushed, knowing that this foreign, open-yet-mysterious person is not exactly the person I thought him/her to be.
My initial reaction to finding out unnamedperson was a girl was shock. I must've reread her introduction in one of the thread three times before it fully sank in. After that, it was . . . hilarity? Is that the word I'm looking for? And embarrassment. And relief that she didn't know I thought she was a guy. At least I didn't say anything to her that would clue her in. I mean, first day of band camp my section leader found my name tag and got excited because she thought I was a guy, but she'd never talked to me before. I've been friends with this girl for almost a month now, and . . . -headdesk-

Note the differences . . .
These are the reactions of two different boys to the same video. James claims to love me, and Bryar goes out with one of my friends.
awesome. i have a youtube video, too
my rents don't know . . .
hold on, I'll send you the link
it's not funny
at all
i cried when I wrote it
and wore black the next day

uh... how long will this depress me?
whats it about?

just letting you know, i picked the names randomly
and it's part of a story i wrote
i killed my chatacter
my friends and I assigned names for each other's characters
and we swore we'd use them

uh JESUS. i look at the video for the first 10 seconds and then closed the window.
im not one for depressing things.


im sorry.

no it's fine

but tearing some one apart?
"blood everywhere"
what made you write that?

oh, they could've all committed suicide, but i decided it was more fun to let them kill each other. what do you think? i didn't write it, it wrote itself. not my fault

and i thought I was goth when i was younger!

it's not goth.

im still shaking!!!!!

won't show you my writing anymore
that's all you had to day

i offended you. im sorry. it just scared me that a girl as bright as you could write something so dark.

-laughing- as bright as me. yeah, right

you dont wear black and cut yourself do you?

i hate wearing black unless im grieving for something or someone

it just... imagine I wrote that. what would you say?

i would say it was very emotional and very well written and i probably would've cried if I'd gotten attached to Senko like I got attached to Simon in Lord of the Flies

your not dark by the way. i have met a girl who tried to slit her wrists and commit suicide. she had black hair, a pale face, dark eye make up, black lipstick.... you aren't dark.

just because someone doesn't wear dark clothing doesn't mean she's bright
and even if she is, it doesn't mean ONE PART of her story can't be dark
i am sorry to have to suggest this, but if you arent obligated to continue NaNoWriMo you should back out. you need to cut out ALL the stress you have right now. Im not gonna force you, but I would seriously consider it.

no no no
that's my stress relief

oh. write happier things then. may help more.

that happens to be my output, my relief. look at it this way. kill characters, or kill people. which would you rather me do?

BUT THERE ARE OTHER OPTIONS!!!!! you dont need to kill anything!!! if you are driven to this kind of stress i cant help you. You NEED to see a therapist, and you need medication. i know people who were sent to mental hospitals because they denied treatment. then they lost their choice.

im sorry... you dont need to respond.

no, i don't NEED medication just because i killed off a character. stop trying to act like you know me, because you don't. stop trying to act like you know what i need and what i don't, because you don't. you don't know exactly what I'm going through. i can do this. i have my support group, and i have my counselor. if SHE, who has actually gone to college, says i DON'T need meds, then i don't need meds. so just stop, and leave me alone. i have to go, anyway. we're going out to eat soon. and i swear to you, i'm not suicidal or homicidal, so I'm not in danger, so i don't need meds

And now Bryar
ok. and ty
u kno what he told me yesterday?
he told me i need meds
just cos I killed a character in my story
by ripping him to shreds
anyways, any special reason ur happy?

imlistening to styles of beyond <3 lol
and that means nothing

k . . .

i would have loved your story delaney
='( that was kinda sad tbh

i know
i cried writing it

is it finished?

the story?

yeths ma'am

not yet

just wondering

k . . .
wanted to read it or something?

yeths ma'am

not sure i would let you anyway . . . it's really bad . . .



you wrote it
it should be good


you know im nice
atleast with you


sorry, i gotta go. my mom's friend is here with my second favorite little boy in the world. :D
thanks for the help, and the praise, and the conversation. ttyl

see yah deedee



And James wonders why I talk to Bryar and avoid him.

Never, Ever, Ever, EVER . . . .
I'm TRYING to explain to my ex-boyfriend why reading an Ann Rule book (true crime) about a mother who was killed by her ex-husband and found by her twelve year old daughter makes me cry, but I'm perfectly fine writing about my MMC ripping his brother's murderer to shreds.

is this the same story you showed me?

obviously . . . it's november. only work on the 1 story

i remember you talking about someone being ripped apart, and you cried. months ago. i didnt get involved because back then when i tried to calm a girl it ended up with me in large amounts of physical pain

. . . say that again?


nvr mind

that was real

and she wasn't a murderer

and it wasn't of my making

and she hadn't just killed Senko

what? im lost...

nvr mind me

did you know me when you first started this story?

-sigh- my NANOWRIMO story?

that isn't allowed to be started until Nov 1st?

the one on the video.


my nanowrimo story

how come i remember you crying months ago and i heard about a vampire who got ripped apart then built himself back up again?

back at guager.


no clue what ur talking bout

the only time i remember crying in front of you for something like that was when I was reading an Ann Rule book about a mother who was murdered. is THAT what you're talking about?

i have no clue. it was during the twilight rave.

nope. never cried during twilight

except . . .

but that doesn't count

ok, instead of delving down bad memory lane, why doesnt it count?

im begining to think i was having a premonition.

the only time I've ever cried during the Twilight was when Edward left Bella in New Moon. Not because of the fact that he left her, but because of her reaction to it. she became apathetic and reckless and passive suicidal, and I cried because I saw me in her. and I cried in Breaking Dawn when she and Edward and Bella were discussing baby names because it was tearing Jacob apart and Jacob is . . . well . . . -blushing- u prolly don't wanna hear it. OH! and I cried in Eclipse when Bella told Jake that she chose Edward and Jake was pulling the same "don't feel guilty" card you did. but those don't count because nobody died

tearing jacob apart!!!!






that's FIGURATIVELY! you had me thinking i had had another one of those stoooooopid repressed memory times. -gathering up hair and trying to reattach to head-

Oh. My God. And he won't leave me alone!!!

The Adventures of Mr. Ian Woon- Volume One
A confused looking man walked into the club.
“Hello, Mr. Woon,” the man behind the counter said.
“Hello, Jerry. Have you seen my-”
But he never finished his sentence. Instead, a giant anvil fell on his head, instantly crushing and killing him.
“Ha ha!” a voice said from in the ceiling. A man with a handlebar mustache jumped out of the hole the anvil had fallen through and held his hands up above his head triumphantly. “I have finally killed Mr. Ian Woon!”
Nobody in the club turned around to look at the man or paid any attention to the fallen Mr. Woon.
“A man just died, and nobody cares?” I said to Calen.
“Wait for it,” he replied.
Someone who had just walked in rolled the anvil off Mr. Woon. Mr. Woon stood up, dusted himself off, and walked up to the counter.
“Have you seen my glasses?”
The mustache guy’s jaw dropped. He looked back and forth between the anvil and Mr. Woon.
“But- he- I- it- but- ugh.’ the mustache guy shrugged and left.
Jerry reached under the counter, grabbed a pair of glasses, and handed them to Mr. Woon.
Mr. Woon put them on and left.
“Huh?” I said to Calen.
He laughed. “That was Mr. Ian Woon and EvilStache. EvilStache has been trying to kill Mr. Ian Woon ever since anyone can remember. He tries about once a day. No matter what he does, though, Mr. Ian Woon lives through every attempt.”
I shook my head.

The Adventures of Mr. Ian Woon- The Dare
Boost your word count with Mr. Ian Woon.
Bonus Points:
If Mr. Ian Woon randomly walks in at least once per chapter.
Double Bonus Points:
If Mr. Ian Woon dies every time he shows up.
Triple Bonus Points:
If your evil villain is always the one who kills Mr. Ian Woon.
Quadruple Bonus Points:
If no one but the villain notices that Mr. Ian Woon won't stay dead.
Homemade Cookies:
If your villain becomes obsessed with finding a way to kill Mr. Ian Woon permanently.
An Ice Cream Sundae with Cherry on Top:
If in spite of how many times he has been killed off, Mr. Ian Woon is still alive by the last page.
Mile-High Cheesecake:
If in spite of how many times he has been killed off, Mr. Ian Woon is the ONLY character left alive by the last page.

Conversation With My MC
And yes, this is part of my story. I'm the she and she's the I (written in her point of view).
I was sitting in a dismal, dark room on a hard chair. A girl with blond, badly permed hair and out of control acne sat across the table from me. She had a purple laptop next to her on the table.
“Marie,” she said. “I love you so much. I really do. I think you’re an amazing writer, and I can’t wait to see where you take Trapped in a Dream. But seriously, honey, your own story is, well, just a bit boring.”
“Boring?” I repeated, dumbfounded. “How can it be boring? I mean, I’m going to have so many problems later on-”
“Yes, later on,” she said impatiently. “But what about now? We’ve got to get them hooked now. Promises of later on aren’t going to keep the juices flowing. And to think I don’t even know what these problems are? You’ve gotta give me some insight.”
“well,” I said, “they’re not fully formed yet.”
She sat back in her chair. “Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of time and nothing better to do with it. Why don’t you just bounce off some ideas?”
I looked at her plainly. “you must know I know this is just to boost your word count.”
“What else is there to do?” she asked, sighing. “I’m so far behind, and I have to get this done and over with. It’s not you, it’s me.”
“And now don’t you sound like James,” I said tartly.
She shook her head. “Just start bouncing those ideas, baby.”
“Well,” I said, “I was thinking. Ben’s definitely going to become more prominent in my life.”
“Prominent. How do you spell that, do you suppose?” she asked, looking up from her laptop.
“P R O M I N E N T,” I responded. “Now, anyways, he’s going to become more prominent in my life.”
“You said that already.”
“I realize that, LeeLee. I thought you wanted to boost your word count.”
“Oh, look at that,” she said. “It put one of those little red squiggely marks under my name. And under squiggely. How are you supposed to speel squiggely? And I just put an extra e in spell and not enough l’s. gotta love spell check.”
“Squiggly is S Q U I G G L Y.”
“You sure there’s no e? Oh, I guess you’re right. No squiggly mark. Anyways, continue.”
“How many empty, meaningless words is that?” I asked.
She laughed. “Well, it was four hundred exactly.”
“Good. Well, let’s get this over with.”
“Hold on. I want to keep that statement true, but I want to point out something I should’ve pointed out earlier. Your life is boring.”
“You said that already.”
“Hold on!” she said. “As I was saying, you go to school. You come home. You work on your NaNovel. You do band stuff. You do homework. It’s boring!”
“That’s all you do,” I pointed out.
“Yes, but I’ve got mental problems that keep my life interesting.”
“Why can’t I have mental problems?”
“What, you want some?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. You said I’m boring.”
“Oh, honey, don’t take it to heart. It’s more my fault than yours.”
“Well, why can’t I have mental problems?”
“I can’t give them to you.”
“Why not?”
“Listen, Marie. I’m having a hard enough time as it is just talking about them with Miss Kate and the other teens in my forum. I’m not going to be forced to write about them by giving some to my characters.”
“How about if one of my characters has mental problems?”
“That’s completely up to you, Marie, and what you want to do.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding, the wheels in my head turning.
“I don’t get that saying,” she said.
“What, the wheels in someone’s head turning?”
“Yeah. What does it mean? I mean, I know it means they’re getting an idea or whatever, but why do we say it like that?”
“Well,” I said, “the wheels are supposed to be like gears in a clock or something that get stuff done when they turn. At least, that’s what I’ve always thought.”
She sighed. “Do you think it’s a bad sign when your characters know more than you do?”
I shook my head. “No, not at all. I’ve always thought of characters as, like, our alter egos, or the people we would be if we weren’t ourselves. Or could be might be better phrasing. Or they’re the other sides of us just waiting to come out. I could be your philosophical side, and the side that retains the knowledge that slips through your brain like water in a sieve.”
She stuck her tongue out at me.
“Anyways, we are completely off topic.”
“I don’t mind,” she said quickly. “More words for the word count.”
“You are, like, obsessed with this word count, aren’t you?”
“And you aren’t?” she said slyly.
“I try.”
“And I don’t think ‘slyly’ is quite the right word you’re looking for.”
“I think it is. Here, let me look it up on my word . . . Word . . .”
“WordWeb,” I supplied.
“Yes, thank you. Here we go: Adverb:slyly. Then it has the funny phoenitic spelling . . . Squiggly line again . . .”
“P H O N E T I C.”
“Phonetic spelling that never helps me. Usually makes things worse. Anyway, it says ‘number one: in an artful manner.’”
“Look up ‘artful.’”
“’Not straightforward or candid; giving a false appearance of frankness.’”
“And what’s frankness again?”
“Hold on,” she said, double clicking the word. “It says ‘number one: The quality of being honest and straightforward in attitude and speech,’ and ‘number two:The trait of being blunt and outspoken.’ well, I guess you’re right. It doesn’t quite fit. Um, what’s the word I’d use. Rebuttally? It’s not a word. It’s something like that.”
“I don’t know,” I said, exasperated. “Ask somebody later.”
“I don’t know. And why exactly am I exasperated?”
She shrugged. “Because I said so.”
“hey, isn’t that a movie?” I asked.
“I think so,” she said. “Well, one of us can look it up tomorrow, once we actually have internet.”
“Anyways, back to business before you wake up. We were talking about Ben, I think. Let me check.”
She scrolled up, and then nodded and scrolled back down. “Yep, you were talking about how he’s going to become more prominent. And I can’t believe I’m spelling that right.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “he’s going to be there to help me pick up the pieces a little. I mean, I’m not terribly broken up about James breaking up with me, but he was a place of stability. When my day went wrong, I could go ‘hey, at least I have a boyfriend.’ I think he was more of a nice thought than anything else. Anyway, James took that away from me. I’m thinking a breakdown in the near future, set to Strongest Man Alive, of course-”
“I love that song.”
“-where he’ll walk in and calm me down. And we’ll become friends, then a little bit more, then a little bit more . . .”
“ooh. Romance?”
“Soul mates,” I corrected.
“Even better. I love me a good romance, and soul matery is just the icing on the cake.”
“Matery isn’t a word.”
“Obviously, but you know what I mean. so where do this problems come in? Will there be any scandalous betrayal between you two love birds?”
“No, not that I can see. Maybe, now that you mention it, but I don’t think so.”
“Oh, well, that stinks,” she said, disappointed. “Can I ask where the problems come in, then?”
“Well, Ben has a secret,” I said. “I just don’t know what yet. I know you know, because you know us all by heart. Any chance you wanna clue me in?”
She thought for a moment. “oh. Oh! Oh, oh, oh!”
“what?” I asked.
“Nope, can’t tell you,” she said. “It’s his secret, not mine.”
“Oh, come on,” I complained. “That is so not fair.”
She shrugged. “Too bad. You’re just going to have to wait and see.”
“You’re mean,” I said.
She smiled. “Why, thank you! Anyway, you’re going to wake up any minute now, so thanks for meeting with me. I’ll be back in a little bit to see how things are going, okay? And keep up the good work, Marie.”
“All right. Thanks.”
“And that makes fourteen hundred words,” she muttered. “Plus seven.”


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