So, you said you want to know why I love you. And I'm not entirely sure I could tell you without breaking down, so I figured writing it down would be a better idea. If any of this doesn't make sense, I'm sorry. And I'll do my best to explain. But, I make no promises.

The explanation of feelings has never been an exact science. It's based far too much on personal experience and interpretation. But. I'll try anyway.

So, I guess I should start  from the beginning.
So, when I first met you, I had this adorable little crush. Cute, I know.
You were sweet and funny....and hot. But, that was besides the point.
You were nice to me. And that's what I needed, so I talked to you and sat by you and even signed up for the same FLC because in two short days, you had become a friend. And someone I trusted.


So, we talked all during the Summer and became closer and closer. Built up over time. Then I saw you again once school started. And....I smiled all over again. I've never been quite so smitten with someone I hardly knew, but like a lot of other things, you were different.

So, then I learned more and more about you.
And liked you more and more everyday.

I don't remember the exact moment that I fell though.
That's a bit more difficult.
I don't think it was a moment.
I think it was a time span.

But, none of it even matters.


I guess I should get down to the things that I like.
Well, here goes. : I care about you. You have been here for me when I needed someone the most, without judgment or disdain. You are flawed. I know that sounds like a crazy reasons, but to me, it's your flaws that make you who you are. And I love that person. You in ability to understand girls. The way you get confused really really easily. The faces you make when you practice. How passionate you are about the things that matter to you. You are smart. Very much so. You have had a not so great past, but that's something I can relate to, to a certain extent. You intrigue me. Something about you keeps me interested. Even when we're fighting. I am still intrigued. I can't tell you why though. That is something I have yet to figure out. When I figure it out, I'll let you know.




So, as much as I love you and adore you, I'm really pissed off at you right now. And I can't even tell YOU why. But...you don't even know that this blog exists. So, I'll say it anyway.

I think you are full of shit.
Full of it.
Seriously.

You are such a compulsive liar! You are terrified that someone might have started to figure you out that you push them away.

Say that I'm desperate, but I don't give a shit. We both know that's not true.
But telling me that you don't like me and then coming to me with everything, spending all of your time with me, asking my opinion on everything that you do that involved another girl...Its kind of some bull shit.


OHHHHH!!! And while we're on the topic of doing things that negate what you say, I think i'll take a small detour to deviate onto the topic of your body negating the things that you say to me.
[7:41:43 PM] Alex : lol oh
[7:41:48 PM] Alex : Shelby
[7:41:54 PM] Alex : I haven't ever thought about having sex with you


Yeah, if that's soooo true, which you insist that it is, then why is it that every time you hug me or hold my hand or even just sit around with me, you're hard as a rock. And yes, I've noticed. I accidently felt when I grabbed your keys the night that you actually let yourself put your guard down and and laid down with me and talked to me and kept tickling me and asking me to rub your back. There are plenty of other girls in your lie that you actually admit to liking, why not ask them to do all of that? Oh wait. It's because you say over and over that I'm the only girl you trust and that I'm better than any other girl you've ever met and that I'm different.

You say that you told me that you've never thought about it because you didn't want to lead me on. Uh, dufus, you didn't have to say that to me. We weren't even talking about something that would have prompted you to say that. But you did anyway. Even though you knew that it would hurt me. You did it anyway.

Stop it. Stop trying to push me away. Because every time you push me away, you end up needing me and I don't know how to tell you no...


Just stop with all the lying and the bullshit and get real with me. You're real with me about everything else, so why cant you man up about this?

Out of every girl in your life, I'm the one who has always been here, never judged you, and come back even when you didn't deserve it. You care about me. You spend all of your time with me. Yout talk to me from sun up until we reluctantly retire for the evening, just to wake up to each other all over again.


You seriously wonder why I feel like this is torture for me. Because you hurt me over and over. But, I know that's not who you are. So, I try to push it aside and just deal with it as it comes my way. But, seriously, this is getting way too hard. You keep hurting me really badly. And I can't let myself keep getting hurt. Because that's bad for me. And every once in a while, I get this glimpse o reality when I figure out that I don't deserve to be treated like this anymore.

Saying that I'm ready to be back at college does not mean that I hate you or that I hate this house.

It means that I am independent 98% of the time and it drives me fucking crazy to be back at this house for over a month being told what to do every second of every day.

Because, trust me, if I didn't need you for college, then i wouldn't still be living with you.
I love you, mom.
But, seriously, freaking stop it.

I am not your servant.
I am NOT your little girl anymore.
I am an adult.
A fully functioning one at that.


Just because I have depression and anxiety, that does not mean that I need you to hover over me and annoy the shit out of me.
That just pushes me even further away.


If you won't ever let me grow up, then what do you think is going to happen mom?
You are pushing me away and annoying the hell out of me at the same time.


You have managed to let both my brother and my sister grow up and stop asking them a million questions about their lives.


So, please let me grow up too.
You say that you hate it when people treat me differetly based on my conditions, but seriously, you do it worse than anyone who I have ever met.

Just leave me be. Give me space.
And let me grow up.

Ages 0 - 5 years old:
I lived with both of my biological parents in Norcross, Georgia. I played soccer. And I went to elementary school. I had a serious attitude problem even then... Most days I ended up screaming and crying about things that even I myself couldn't understand. I saw my parents arguing, but I never understood why. Things were so perfect. What was there to fight about? Every morning my daddy would come to wake me up, we'd listen to Butterfly Kisses, a favorite song of mine to this day, and then I would get onto our small computer to play some game based around 101 Dalmations. It was pointless. But, I enjoyed every moment of it. Things were getting worse...I wasn't sure how though. I still didn't know what was going on. My memories of this stage in my life are scattered...very scattered. I know that we were poor. Very poor. At some point in time, my sister sliced open the bottom of her foot and had to get stitches. Something I'm sure we couldn't afford. I remember shutting my fingers in doors more times than I can count. And somehow, I always knew it was going to happen and couldn't do anything to stop it. One night our neighbor's sister got hurt so he had to come over. We had mac 'n' cheese. And, though simplistic to most, I was very excited about it. I remember at one point in time we lived in a house with a fenced in back yard. The neighbors had dogs and sometimes we got to play with them. My sister was cripplingly shy...but somehow had a friend who lived caddy-corner to our yard. They hung out every afternoon. On the fence that connected our homes. I remember day care not being my favorite thing, missing my mom, and my dad working at Cracker Barrell. I have very few memories of my brother at this stage in my life, though I know he was there and very protective of myself and my sister, as if protecting us was his one and only job. And he did it well. I have one very distinct memory of him dancing down the soccer field when he scored a goal. In a neon green jersey. Made my day. But, one day, everything changed. I got home from school and mommy was home....this was a very rare occurance...She told me that her and daddy were getting divorced. This did not mean that they didn't love me anymore. It meant that they didn't love each other anymore. And this was beyond hard for me to understand too. But, we packed up our things, me, my mother, sister, and brother, and we moved into the house that my grandpa built and my mom bought from him. I remember my first night in the house. It was late...very late. Rachel and Jack stayed with our grandma because they had asthma and all the dust of moving was bad for their lungs, but I got to go. That night, it was just my mom and myself. We slept on a mattress in the corner of the room downstairs, no sheets, one pillow to share, and a thin sheet. And yet, though looking back I know I should have realized that this was not the best thing in the world. I was joyful. I felt special. I was the one kid in the house. And I had mom to myself for a whole night. And it was wonderful. Later on, Rachel and Jack showed and Rachel helped me set up our shared bed room. Toys and stuffed animals everywhere. We hardly had enough money to eat and survive. Our mom never let us know this. Ever. Instead, she bought us the toys we whined to desperately for anyway. It is only as I grew older that I grew to understand that we were not to most financially stable family out there. But, we had love. And this is what mattered.

The childhood memories I have from when I was little and the view I have looking back on them now are very different prespectives. And one day, I pray that I find out why I'm missing giant blocks of time in my memories. Events that there's no way I should have been able to forget. But...I have not even the slightest recolection of them, no matter how much it is described to me.

I will find out one of these days.
And, maybe even more importantly,
I will find out why I don't remember.

I need to finish exploring what I remember to know what I have to have forgotten.
6-10, 10-13, 13-15, 15-17, 17-present.

I need to block out these timelines and get them written down. "chart" them out if you will. SO I can see the missing gaps in time.
And I will.
One day.
Soon.