Fuck Yeah Post Secret

i sent in the secret about the boy with the triangle birthmark.
there is more to this secret than i put in my ‘card’.
i decided i’ve wanted to elaborate…

i saw him one day after playing a few matches of tennis,
sitting all on his lonesome, looking so so so so so so so so sad.
so sad you wouldn’t believe it. the quietest saddest creature alive.
i approached him, firstly, in order to comfort that poor little soul.
when i saw his lovely birthmark, i told him how beautiful he was,
how very beautiful and special his mark was.

he looked at me like my words were alien.
and it was horribly sad. the entire thing.

i told him again, how beautiful he was, and told him i hoped
he would have a lovely day, and quietly quietly quietly left.




a month or more later, i find he is the younger brother of a dear classmate.
his name is Adán and I’ve talked to him since then, and he is a wonderful
and bright individual who is so very kind and so very thoughtful.
you meet the most incredible people on the most unexpected
days in the most unexpected spots.

A Couple of Pet peeves

1) I absolutely hate it when he asks me who called/calls me each time 
my phone rings. “who called you/who’s that?…what happened?”. Stop 
being so fucking nosey!  I don’t ask you who calls you so don’t ask me.

2) I hate it when someone self invites!  Your ass didn’t get an invite 
cause no one wants you there! You would have been invited if you were 
wanted…did you think about that?

Tuesday is my father’s birthday. I would love nothing more than to call him up on the phone and wish him a happy birthday. But I can’t. I wish our relationship was different. I wish that he was in my life in a positive way instead of as something always looming over me. I wish I knew how to fix this. I wish I had the answers. But I don’t. I used to wish that I could change so that he would love me, but I know now that I do need to change; there’s nothing wrong with me. He needs to change. But he’s not willing to do it. It took me a long time to come to a place where I could realize that I can work harder and harder every year, but he still won’t be proud of me. He still won’t care. He still won’t love me.

Why doesn’t he love me?

So Tuesday my dad will turn 50. And I will pretend like it’s just another day, just another Tuesday in the numerous ones that I’ve already lived through. But it isn’t. I’ll be spending my time thinking back to the good days, when I was “Daddy’s little girl” and we could stand to be around each other.

Dear Aaron,
I hate you. I literately hate you. I’m sitting on bed alone on a Friday night wondering how in the world I ever loved you. You are the biggest ass on the planet.

Dear Andrew,
I think I might love you. I pray every night till I fall asleep that you won’t end up like Aaron.

Dear God,
Please forgive me for hating Aaron, but please don’t let Andrew turn out to be like him. Please.