I went to the gym today and cleaned my room and Jake put up my curtains and I talked to Katie and Collette and I saw Megan driving around and I waved at her and I'm excited to hang out with Kylie and John and Megan T's birthday party is tonight and Bjorn is home today and Laura too and Trent's coming home tomorrow.
Today, I love everyone.

I feel more mystical with Megan T.
And I just feel...better when I'm with Jake. Goddamn, I missed him.

Kent's friend, Josh. He's got a crush on me. Invites me to play dungeons and dragons with his friends. I'm not kidding.
Anyway he texts me today, cause apparently Kent's got some secret that Josh thinks I need to hear.
Soon as he says that, I know exactly what he's talking about.
So the fuck what?? The kid's parents live in my fucking town! Of COURSE he comes back here once in a while. Why the FUCK do I need to know? Why the fuck do you feel the need to fucking warn me? You stupid prick. There's a reason Kent didn't tell me, asshole. He fucking knows better!

I cried today for the first time since March. Days used to pass between times I cried over Clark. It had been four months this time. It's not going away. I've tried everything.

Last night was Cruise Night. Very big deal in my city. People come from friggin everywhere in the Midwest to watch hordes of classic cars drive up and down the main street. Which just happens to run right past the five or six blocks that make up college row. It's a wicked party. There were thousands of people and the lawns aren't even lawns this morning, just a sea of aluminum.
I myself stayed blissfully sober. It didn't make waking up this morning for work any easier, seeing as I stayed up until four in the morning talking to Collette. About everything. Mostly Clark, but a little bit of Greg, Megan T., and a whole lotta Megan B.. They don't get along, you see. At all. I can understand why.
Collette thinks I need closure. I'm sure she's right, but I don't know how to get it.
When I was little, I got a paper cut in between my thumb and forefinger and I hurt and I cried. It stung so bad. I went up to my cousin and I told her it hurt and she asked if I wanted it to forget about it. I said yes, and she stomped on my foot. More than one way to skin a cat.
Collette seems to think...no, not seems to, she does...that I don't get upset easily enough. I never really thought about that before. Then I thought back to how I would've reacted to all of this (all of this meaning my living situation, friends, whatever) a year ago. I hadn't realized I'd changed. I started this journal right about the time Clark and I broke up, my parents separated, and I went insane. I've deleted/edited a few entries. Just to erase things I'm ashamed of. I wonder if I should have, or if I should've left them as a warning to myself. I'm wary enough, now, I think, to not need a warning. In any case, I couldn't bare those memories. My mistakes.
Lately, I've been spending time inside my head. I guess I'm trying to prep myself for the work. I didn't flinch at my blood tests, but I didn't open my eyes either. If I can't take a needle, how the hell can I take a burn? I spend a lot of my time either in the gym or on the track, because if I can't take a stitch in my side or sweating til I sprawl, how can I take a burn? I'm scared. I'm not insane, so of course I'm scared. I think I ought to be more worried if I weren't scared. Either way, I'm starting to think that I should opt for cautery. I've worked the hell out of my back, just for this. I have muscles there that I don't think a lot of girls have. Or I can see them now at any rate.
No, I haven't slept with anyone new. Just Greg. And it seems better with him. Maybe because I'm so blissfully comfortable with him. After all, he's the only guy I've slept with (besides Jake) that I was very close to to begin with. We've talked about our relationship, and for the present, we're fine with being friend without being exclusive. However, we are exclusive, in the sense that neither of us has the desire to see other people. Whatever we are, he's a great guy and I care about him. I just couldn't see myself dating him. It's been a year and I'm still not ready for a boyfriend.
Collette and I talked. She says I can't force this and I agree with her. I still don't know how much longer it will be until I can...breathe again? I'm breathing just fine. I don't know how else to say it, except that I still miss him. She's worried that I might pass something great up. I don't think she realizes that I can fall in love with any number of people. But it wouldn't be fair to them. And I'm all about fair play.
She thinks I should be upset that Greg and Megan B. had sex. Maybe I should be upset. Maybe I have some strange right to be. I don't think that's true, but even if it were, I can't make myself be angry about something. Besides, I don't enjoy being angry. I'd rather be gloriously apathetic. I don't hold his chain and I'm not responsible for her. I do think it's wretched that she cheats on Dalton so much because he's a really fantastic guy. I don't walk enough moral high ground to ever tell her to stop. It's not my place. I won't throw stones.
Katie is back from Italy. I hasn't affected me in the slightest bit. She does her own thing. I do, however, love her friend Kylie. I think I might steal her. I borrow her frequently. She's a peach. Katie isn't around very often anyway, and when she is she cares too much. Or she's too curious. So is Megan B.. That's why I get along so well with Collette. She's there to talk to, or to have fun with, but she leaves me to my own business.
I'm on foreign soil with Megan T. only because I've admitted to myself that my life is easier, less dramatic, when she's not involved. She's got this new boyfriend, Adam, and he comes with a whole lot of baggage in the form of disease and drugs. I don't care for him, but then I haven't cared for most of her boyfriends. She's always on the verge of breaking up with him, but apparently sex takes care of all the problems in her relationship. I'd like to say that she's misunderstood, and she is, but that doesn't mean I don't understand her. I just don't always like the truth. She always follows the truth with a "but...". He's a jackass, but he's great in bed. He hangs out with drug dealers, but I don't wanna miss the party. And as soon as she realizes what she has to do, she feigns ignorance. It's another thing I've stopped caring about. I can listen to her for hours now and be neither bored nor entertained. I can go inside my head. I've found a calmer place. I love her when I'm with her, but otherwise, I don't think I care, and I think that should bother me. I ran into her ex last night. The big ex. The Joe. They dated for a year in high school and she's been in love with him every since. I never met him once. I've been hearing about him for the last four years, and I'd never spoken to him. I just heard so so many stories. I finally got to hear about their relationship from his side. Like some parallel universe. Here was this guy I thought I knew everything about. Every quirk, every fear, every smile, hell, she even described his cock. And it was all a lie. It was everything I was afraid to hear, and I didn't get any joy in being right. I don't. I don't pity her. He's a great guy. But more than anything, he's a normal guy. Very normal. He's not the demon lover or the Greek god that she's made him out to be. He's in a frat. He drinks beer. He loves his family. He watches funny movies. He puts his pants on one leg at a time. He never loved her. She has this whole other world fabricated around him and it scares me. It scares me because she believes it. Every word. She twists everything. I don't think she even realizes it.
Collette thinks I'm in danger of becoming completely apathetic to everything. But I still feel. As long as I still hurt, I still feel. That's god-awful melodramatic, but that's the name of the website, isn't it? I'm definitely calmer. I don't care so much. Collette doesn't seem to think it's worth it. That I've traded strong emotional responses for peace of mind. But I smile more now. I never have anything to be sad about. Not that there aren't things to be upset over, but I just can't make myself care, and I love that.
Collette gives me advice, and I'll listen to her, because she's a year older and she's going into the same field as me and we think alike. She'll listen to me. But I still scare her on some level. There are things I just can't tell her, and when I try, she looks at me like Clark did. I even scare Megan T. now, somebody who's always been so accepting of my every little nuance. I can't tell them about the whips. God, even Jake would be scared now. The things that I want. Maybe Collette's right. The farther I fall out of love or lust, the closer I get to something darker. I just...have to push myself farther to feel. The same things don't strike me the same way, and I have to find things new and bigger. But I don't think I'll get to that fabled point where I explode. I just don't feel like exploding. I don't care enough to get that upset over anything. I feel more accepting. Certainly more forgiving. Absolutely more understanding. And patient, too. I used to wish I were like this. I didn't know what it would take to get me here, and I still cannot tell you whether or not it was worth it. I still can see his face, hazy and beautiful, in my head. Sometimes I'll turn and see him there, standing, smiling. Like a lovely ghost. I would be easier if he were really gone. I'd stop dreaming about him. I've cried once in the last three months. I had a dream about him and cried in bed all morning. Then, I got up and went for a run.

In exactly a month, I'll actually be able to talk to Jeremy. I'm going to Lincoln tomorrow to spend the day with Laura. We had another slumber party at our house last night. I ended saving about seventy dollars.

I should really learn to listen to myself.

I got off work at nine last night, like always. I usually work to close, because I absolutely hate opening. Lesser of two evils. Besides, nothing ever gets started until after nine anyway. My plans were to hang out with Megan-Morgan-Adam, Laura, Brett, and C.J.

But not necessarily all at the same time. Or the same place. But I had to get all those things done. It would've also been nice if I'd had time to clean my room, but things don't always work out the way you want them to.

I wore my teal summer dress to C.J.'s. His roommates (three girls) were having a little party to celebrate a friend's twenty-first birthday. I drove there with Brett. Megan, Morgan, and Adam took Adam's truck. We were there for all of fifteen minutes before the cops showed up, so the five of us quietly slipped out the back. Brett and I got pulled over for speeding on the way back to my house. Thankfully, neither of us had drank anything and all he got was a ticket.

At my house, the other four were boring the hell out of me so I called Laura. She showed up and basically shared in my boredom. Morgan jetted randomly, like he always does. Adam and Megan started poking at each other on the couch, got horny, and decided to go back to her place. I went to bed around one a.m. and told Laura and Brett they could stay as long as they wanted, but to lock the door when they left. Sleep.

Until about six a.m., when I get a call from drunk C.J. asking if it would be okay for him to crash at my place. Apparently it was easier for him to get to my house than back to his, seeing as mine is smack in the middle of town and he lives far out on the west end. I said it was fine, and fifteen minutes later I let him in and he followed me back upstairs where we both passed out in my bed til about ten. When we woke up, we just stared at the ceiling talking until one p.m. when my alarm went off to let me know that I had an hour until I had to go to work.

He's a nice guy. I'd like to see more of him.

I can't breathe when he talks to me like this. He's just so nasty. He doesn't even know it. My whole body hurts.

We had a barbecue Sunday night. I met a guy named Zack. Then I had sex with him. It was...sex. Not particularly awesome sex, but it got the job done.

What makes this interesting is the fact that my roommate Megan was next door making a man out of Greg. Megan and I came out of our respective rooms at the exact same time, both wearing big fluffy towels and nothing else. We looked at each other and fell down laughing while the guys were left bewildered in the rooms. Then they suggested we swap. It was a fun night.

Boot camp started today, at my gym, eight a.m. It kicked my ass, but my ass needs to be kicked. Hopefully I've have the toned back I want by the time August rolls around. We got to do push-ups on concrete. When I got home I poured rubbing alcohol all over my hands and knees.

From our living room window, my roommates and I watched the house across the street get busted. So to speak. Domestic disturbance. Five cops showed up. Guess it's a guy, Matthew, who is living with his girlfriend and her family. They got in another fight. Screaming and breaking shit on the front lawn. Apparently he doesn't have a job. Anyway, her creepy mom/sister/aunt with a pink mohawk called the cops after Matthew shoved Blonde off the front porch and into a car. After the cops left, Matthew and Blonde kissed and made up. Mind you, this all took place in front of their house. I seriously hope they do it again.

Matt (different Matt) won't leave me the fuck alone. Three weeks, one bouquet, a stuffed animal, chocolates, and a poem later, and me not talking to him, and he still doesn't get the message. I mean, seriously, a poem? Fucking poetry? I'm really upset that he's doing this at work, too, of all places. He handed me the poem while I was behind my desk and couldn't escape him. I wouldn't read it in front of him. I still haven't read, but every single one of my friends, not to mention his friends, and all the people who have randomly passed through our house have read it. They assure me that it's funny, pathetic, and poorly written.

Why can't I have a hot creeper?

Cassie's house got busted last night. Serves to make me paranoid. I know I'll have to deal with it at least sometime this summer. I just hope I'm not drinking when it happens. I need to stop drinking anyway. My twitch is worse.
The twitch. I forgot to tell you about it. I've had it for about two and a half years. Don't know how it started. Every so often, at least five or ten times a day, my head jerks back to the left. At first they thought it was a pinched nerve, but it's gone on way too long. I've had it checked out but they don't know what's wrong with it.
Gayle and her friend Jon came into work today. He's a nice guy. Cute, too. Too bad he's queer.

I'm sorry, Laura. I really intended to have a quiet night watching movies with you. But things got out of hand. If you ever read this, that was an incredibly bitchy thing to do and you have every right to be mad at me, though I suspect you're not. I kind of wish you were.

Megan, I would agree that we're best friends, though I'll never say it to your face unless we're both inebriated. You're a fantastic girl and I have all the love for you in the world. And your friend Jason is such a gentleman, not to mention a hottie. But really, honey, I think the reason we haven't gotten busted yet is because the cops are waiting until they can get a warrant. And I'm really worried about that.

Danny, I'm glad I got to see you again last night. God, it's been forever! Your friends were really sweet. Well, the ones that stayed, anyway. We need to do lunch sometime.

Matt, you're being fucking creeper. This is why I don't humor "nice guys." Stop telling your friends and your friend's parents that we're "an item." We will never be an item. We will never be anything, and if you keep acting this way, we can't be friends.

Collette, your boyfriend is a jackass. He's a drunk and a wretch. I don't ever want to find you all bruised and bloodied up because of him. I could hear both of you last night, and I hope for his sake that I just imagined the sounds I heard from your bedroom. Was he hitting you? Anyway, you broke up with him. He's not allowed back in our house. Or near you, if I can do anything about it.

So, I use my other melo account for stories. Purely stories.
Actually, that's not an accurate description. I use *this* melo for journal entries. Everything else goes over there. And the everything else just happens to be mainly stories.
But I digress.
I post my clean stories on my deviantart too, but I always put them up here first just because I like melo people better. And because I feel more anonymous on this website. My friends don't know I have a melo, but they know about my deviantart and they like to read it.
Onto my dilemma: My most recent stories are of the...erotic, slightly tawdry variety. I happen to like them. A lot. It's the kind of smut I like to read. And I know it's smut, but isn't the goal of writing to write something that you would read? That's my goal, anyway, and I've finally accomplished that after posting things on this website for nearly three years.
So, I think this is good writing, however often I bounce around through the boring parts. Point is, the hot parts are hot. I want to post them on my other account. I feel like I'm more likely to get solid critique there and have a better chance to improve my writing.
My problem?
These stories aren't really stories. They're more like glorified journal entries hiding behind vaguely veiled characters who really exist, myself included. And the ones that aren't real are pretty obvious personal fantasies. My friends, many of whom check my main page often enough to see my new ramblings, would be able to tell in a heartbeat who these people are and honestly, they'd be pretty disturbed by some of the shit that goes through my head. They don't know a lot of the more intimate details of my mental state and I doubt they want to. Nor do they want to be subjected to ten plus pages of it in nasty gory detail.
So, terrify my friends to obtain a decent critique or keep the stories hidden and wallow in self-pity?