]:

I didn't get the job I applied for. And interviewed for.
Fuck my insightful dreams.

Say AHH-

So, I opened my mouth.
And.
Murder.

So MUCH.

I think that I don't say.
Hushed up words to not offend others.
Yet.. Those few, rare chances I take and open my mouth.
They get set up on a line and shot, execution style.

This Weekend.

I had one of my best, ever, weekends of softball. On top of horribly spraining my ankle in the first (of six) games yesterday. After a short trip to MedExpress to ensure it wasn't broken, I headed back to the softball fields, realizing I wouldn't play the 2nd game. After that game, I dove back into the sport and played some of my best games, awesome steals and hits.
After our games were finished, we were told to sit down and then our coaches talked to us. An assistant coach, without announcing names, said that I played amazingly well and put my heart and soul into the sport, despite injuries. He then called out, although without a name but clearly directed toward one specific person, that all another girl did was complain. He basically yelled at her, pushed her into tears and made her feel horrible.
Maybe I'm biased because of the crush I have on her, but it is completely unacceptable for a coach to do that, especially in front of her teammates, other coaches, and parents. I sent her a text after wards, trying to be nice and whatnot which she appreciated.
This morning, or late last night, the assistant coach sent an apology email. Sure, that was nice and all, but what really shows the character of a person is how they act, not the possible regret they feel after.
I was so upset about what he did to her; she's one of the nicest girls I know. She always apologizes for the silliest things, tries to encourage teammates, and is constantly smiling.

She's a person to look up to and degrading her is not alright.
Gah.

Well, I shouldn't be doing this.

That whole falling for a girl who is in a semi-relationship with a guy who has admitted to liking girls thing.

Her hand rested on my arm for a few extra seconds than necessary, her big, icy blue eyes gazing into mine. A few slightly adorable eyebrow raises, jokingly, but possibilities to be taken seriously remained.

Her electric energy filled the room, as it does every day. She simply radiates hope and determination.

Before you know it..

I'll be gone-

without.


a.


trace.

Heh.

I'm a fan of pretty girls.

Cooper.

I love mah puppeh.
We just spent a few precious moments outside running and rumbling around in the grass. It was the highlight of my day.

Eh.

I can't help the jealousy. Sorry.

No, mother.

I do not want to go to the pool and flaunt my scars to the people in this neighborhood. Thank you very much for the offer, but No.Thank.You.

Weren't these supposed to be gone now?

These urges to cover myself in scars and bloody, crusty red lines.

I ran my fingers along my arm, imagining feeling scabs turning into scars.

This. Is. Not. Fucking. Normal. To want to cover my entire body with lines and not give a shit about what people thought.

How can people go YEARS without discovery? Why does my mother stick her nose in my business?
I want out of fucking therapy.
I want summer to end.
I want to go back to blue jeans soaking up blood.
I want my razor back.
I want a new, sharp razor.
I want a razor to slice through my skin.
I want to watch my blood drip down.
I want to see as it beeds up along each red line.
I want you to stop fucking showering me in your triggering photos.

I thought I was a bad liar.

You have no CLUE how easily I lied.

"Can you contract for safety today?"
-"Yup."

Except, no.
Except, I didn't.
Except, ever since I've been going to this place I've cut more than I have in the past MONTH.
Except, those pictures which I try to ignore pop up all over my god-forsaken News Feed and trigger the FUCK out of me.
Except, they took my razor and I have to make due with my piece of shit clippers.


So if I can lie so easily, who is lying to me?