the villain. my hero.

Yesterday, instead of writing, I decided to watch The Dark Knight for the first time. I highly advise anyone and everyone to see this movie as soon as possible. It really is as good as everyone says.
Regardless of the movies awesomeness, I realize that the Joker completely steals the show. I mean this in the best way possible, of course. I also realized that I always root for the villain to win, regardless how obvious the final outcome is. With this realization, I had some epiphany or something, causing me to see why I always seem to end up getting terribly hurt in relationships and such. The villain always seems so much more adventurous and lively than the hero... The villain is always so completely insane and psychotic and masochistic. The villain is the guy everyone says you should avoid.
I realize now, that my wrongdoing is in simply choosing the villain over the hero. The bad over the good. The psycho over the sane. Yet, I simply cannot choose the hero. The good guy. The sane.
No.
Because where is the fun in sanity? In order? In...'good?'
Where's the spark? The adventure? The romance?
And with this thought, I have had another epiphany.
With this, I realized that without chaos and corruption, this world would be so bland, so lifeless, so pointless. I realized that with the hero, everything is just perfect, and peachy, and...boring. You're actually more afraid of the hero. Why? Because with the hero, you're so terrified of showing your true emotions and your true self. You don't want to tear down and destroy this perfect life and relationship they've created and built with lies and simple fantasies and illusions of the mind. You're so afraid of making them sad, or depressed, or angry. You're so afraid to tell them what wrong they've done. If they hurt you by something they said or did. You're so terribly afraid of losing them. As if one day, they'll find you too corrupt and depressing, and simply leave you to find another.
With the villain, you can be insane. You can be corrupt. You can be masochistic. You never have to worry about faking a smile, because deep down, the villain is thinking the same, twisted, fucked up thoughts as you are. With chaos and inanity and lack of order, there is adventure and fun and freedom. The villain, I see, is the most desirable to me, simply because the villain is the one I've been told to stay away from.
Through the years, I have learned something so very important and so very true: Nothing is more desirable than what you can't have. Nothing.
Therefore, I've come to this conclusion:
Nothing is more desirable than the villain.

fine army ass.

So much for writing everyday. >.< But, whatever, I got some Christmas shopping done today. Awesome.
Made it home one time and everything.
FUCKING SWEET.
On the way home, I had a very interesting chat with Lilith, my so-called gay lover, which led to talking about... exes.
So, as she talked of her latest ex and his... odd, gay-bashing ways, I couldn't help but talk about my first boyfriend. Who, oddly enough, as I was just recently informed, is home for Christmas.
And this whole thing started when we saw a dude downtown... with an army uniform... and Lilith, of course, exploded in her pants and screamed, "DAMN! THAT IS SOME FINE ARMY ASS!"
I, of course, could not keep my mouth shut, being that my ex was in fact, "fine army ass." And I had to bring up the fact that he once showed up to my house, fresh from Iraq, in his uniform.
...And she exploded in her pants once more....
So, I get home and was simply compelled to ask for his address... because, even though we don't date, doesn't mean we can't talk. My mom, of course, takes it as I'm planning to marry the guy or something, and jumps up and tells my stepfather.
And my stepfather shoots me this look...of...........approval... (o.O)
Never before have I seen true approval in his eyes... and yet as I simply asked to talk to an old friend, someone I haven't had an actual conversation with in over three years, he took it as, "I knew it would happen. It's how it's supposed to be."
What the hell?
Was I forced into an arranged marriage or something without even realizing it..?
*sigh*
Either way, I just wanna talk to the dude. See how he's been. Know he's not dead [as if he could die anyways]. And simply catch up.
But, for now, I shall go to bed.
Expect another post soon.
:]

Pointless Paragraphs.

As I sit here and try to think of something to write, I find myself completely blank. Nothing to complain about. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing interesting at this very second. And yet, I find myself compelled to write. Write of what, I am not sure. But I sit here writing of absolutely nothing, simply to fill up space in this blog. Anyone that is actually spending their time to read this blog entry has absolutely no life. I admit, I don't either, being that I'm spending my time writing this. I feel obligated to say something. Something interesting. Something to make the reader of the entry to go, "Wait, what?" or make them completely shocked or confused, but I have nothing that would trigger such a reaction. As my paragraph draws to a close, you are probably thinking, "That was completely pointless."
Well, look at the title, my friend, and tell me. What was your first clue?

i love you, i hate you.

When did everyone decide that "Don't get me anything," meant, "Spend a shitload of money to make me happy."
I understand my friend, not spending anything and simply burning me a cd. I love her for that. But, one guy went all out, buying like, really expensive stuff. I mean, $30-$45 worth of stuff. Why? I mean, really. How many times must I say that gifts do nothing but make me feel extremely guilty? So, I now have to find a way to pay this dude back for the thought, without giving him what he really wants... Yes, indeed, it is what you're thinking...

Along with the gifts...

It seems all of my dude friends have made this retarded pact to tell me how they really feel...all on the same freaking day. What the hell? I mean, damn, I'm not even remotely pretty. I admit, I'm a fucking sweetheart. We get it. The girl that keeps her fucking innocence in a fucking locked steel box. But can a kind heart really attract that many people...? Seriously..?

I recently found out my closest male friends likes me. Loves me, even. The one who's shoulder I constantly cry on. The one I tell absolutely everything to. The one that will sit there and text me at 1am when my parents fight, simply to ensure I don't do anything rash or stupid. The one who can tell when my smile is fake, and knows how to make it real. The one who can read me like a freaking book without my saying a word. The one who is so morbidly sweet and polite and insane, like he crawled out of a freaking fantasy novel, and would only need to speak in a British accent and wear a black suit at all times to complete the character.
As I heard the light whisper of three small words enter my ear, as it processed in my mind, I could not conjure a response. It's as if his words had left me completely tongue-tied. It came as such a shock to me, that someone such as this would think of me as anything more than a friend. Alas, when my mind began to turn again, it was too late to reply anything. However, my reaction was to say, "I hate you." As if the entire thing were some sick, strange joke. Yet, as he said those words, the look on his face was calm, cool, content, with no sign of suppressed laughter.
As I sit here and write this entry, I still have no clue as to what my response should have been. I am completely ignorant when it comes to such things. Relationships, that is. How they start, how they end, how they should run, how to say no...
How to reply to a simple statement. A simple statement that could literally change everything.
Well, happy sweet sixteen, my dear. You got the turning point you hoped for.
Next time, be careful with your wishes. Such things should not be taken so lightly.

fifteen, going on none.

Tomorrow's that 'big day.' You know, the one that you wait and strive for since that day you could make your barbie dolls talk, in correct English. Since you hit double digits with the 'big 10.' Since you could walk in heels without breaking your neck. That one day you wish for, as if everything that happens on that one day will complete your life.
Sixteen.
Is it really that happy ending everyone makes it out to be? Really? Or is it simply another lie your parents feed you to keep you sane and well-behaved, like Santa Clause, or The Easter Bunny, or The Tooth Fairy.
"If you stay alive and commit to celibacy until your sixteen, you'll live happily ever after."
As the clock ticks away the hours, minutes, seconds until this day, I bite my nails with such anxiety and fear that this 'happy ending' thing is all bullshit.
Right now, I'm left with two simple questions.
One: Am I even ready to grow up?
and
Two: Would it even matter if I'm not?