This was on purpose.

Things always happen for a reason. The people in your life are there for a reason, and you do things and make mistakes and change your mind and do all of these crazy things for a reason. When you grow up, you're going to get your heart broken. You're going to get used and played and hurt and you're going to be happy one day and mad and angry and sad as hell the next. The people in your life are there for a reason and they say things for a reason. And eventually, you realize that either they're full of shit or are actually reliable. 

But you, my dear, are full of shit. I refuse to be your substitute any longer. I don't want to be your backup girl. No. I am a priority. That is the only thing I will ever accept from this day on. You don't mean anything when you tell me that you "remember us" and that you "think if things had played out differently, we'd be together now." Well, guess what? If you really thought we were just oh-so-special like you claim, we would be together right now. We wouldn't be having the conversation we have every day. No, I will not wait for you to break up with your girlfriend and no, I will not sit here and be here for you to talk to when you're bored. No. I am too good for that. I am the one you should be talking to when you're loving life and when you achieved something and you should be talking to me just because you fucking want to know how my day went because I am just always on your mind.

I REFUSE to live one more day being your backup.  I am just too good to settle for that.

High school is such a letdown.

So, I'm totally in a wow-high-school-really-does-suck kinda mood, and I've just decided that every single friggin' movie they make about high school is a total lie. It's like Santa Claus. Oh, hooray, a big old fat man is gunna come down my chimney and give me presents made by weird little midgets with pointy ears. Oh, no, justkidding, it's really your mom and dad getting shit from Wal-Mart while you're learning the alphabet in kindergarden. Major. Letdown.

And basically, that's what high school was for me. A major letdown. I've been going to the same damn place for the past four years, and I can honestly tell you that I did not a) finally stand up to that bully who was really an insecure girl with family problems, b) get the most popular guy to like me and realize that he really is a sweetheart and a musically talented boy at heart, or c) get paid by the biggest nerd in school to be his girlfriend for a month and then totally fall in love with him after I give him a McDreamy makeover. Nope. I got four years in a gross smelly place where the bathrooms are periodically closed because people keep smoking in them. I got one serious boyfriend who was a total idiot, and about six "flings" that always ended with "you're always so busy with swimming, and I want someone who's always around" or "do you think you'd lose your virginity to me?" (the last one was an ending by MY choice). Really, all I've gotten from getting shoved into a hell-hole with other hormonal idiots is learning swear words and getting the balls to tell people to fuck off and to stick it where the sun don't shine. And I'm pretty sure I'm more intelligent than half the teachers I've had. I wish I was kidding.

Okay, sure, I've met some of the most amazing people. I've got friends that could kick your friends' asses. I've also grown up a lot. I've had to do some things that I never thought I'd ever have to go through (like buying a pregnancy test for my friend or turning another into the nurse for overdosing in pain killers). I've seen a lot of crazy things and felt a lot of pain. But I honestly feel like thats growing up, not being in high school. All high school does is turn every little screw up into the best thing that's ever happened to the gossip mill. It's stupid and annoying and I honestly cannot wait to graduate.

xoxo,

carly rae

This is kinda serious.

I've seen a lot of marriage problems erupt and heard a lot of yelling by parents in my lifetime. I've be there for friends when their parents are fighting and I've spent the night at their house when my dad left that one night. It's really really hard for me to talk about this because I can get really emotional. I hate crying. A lot. But if we don't talk about it and we just ignore it, what happens? I'll tell you, since my family is professional at bottling up feelings and pretending it's all okay. Your dad goes to bed early or takes his car to go on "errands," but you know why he's leaving at eight o'clock at night. Your mom has red eyes from crying in the bathroom but still tries her best to put on an obviously fake smile for you. Or sometimes she doesn't even try since she's so tired. She sleeps on the couch and you've never seen her so ... beaten before. The silence is so loud and it feels like the devil is sleeping in your house so you can't move or something will go horribly wrong. You want to believe them when they put on fake smiles and lie, but you can't. You almost wish they would fight it out, yell and cry and scream and then fix it. But they don't. They just ... hold everything in. And it makes you hold your breath for dear life.

It's scary as hell to think of your parents as flawed people. For your entire life, they've been sort of godly, with their amazing ability to fix everything and they were always happy to see you and they always had some sort of surprise for you that was usually just a Jolly Ranger, but you cherished it anyways. As I've gotten older, I've seen my world in a different view that I'm not quite sure if I like or not. I don't really have a relationship with my dad. I mean, yeah, he's my dad. I love him. We have typical father-daughter conversations. But not real conversations. When I walk away from being with him, I don't feel whole. I feel a sense of emptiness. Like I should've said something or asked something or told him I loved him. But I never do, and sometimes he'll try. But for me ... it's too late. For my entire childhood, he was never there. It was just me and my mom and my sister. I knew he was my dad, but I never knew him. He was always working or mad or yelling about something. If you know my dad now, you wouldn't expect that because he's so goofy and everyone loves him. But when I was a little kid, when I really needed my dad and when I wanted him more than anyone else to pick me up when I was down, he wasn't there. He was never there for me. So I relied on my mom only. She was my everything. She still is. And my dad used to treat her like shit. He never helped and never wanted "family time" and blah blah. He worked and came home upset and took it out on my mom. He was never abusive or anything, don't get me wrong. But he was never ever what she deserved. She deserved someone who wanted to be around and wanted to help raise his two daughters and wanted to go out with his family and show them off. But he didn't. He never did. So now when he tries to be like a dad to me, I'm kinda like ... it's too late. It's too fucking late. I'm seventeen years old now. I'm almost a legal adult. I'll be moving out in a couple of months. So when he tries to discipline me or do that Carly-do-not-speak-to-me-that-way-thing, I'm like excuse me? You're seventeen years too late to be like that. 

I don't know. Maybe someday it'll be better.

xoxo,

carly rae

Sex & the City threesomes.

So I sat up last night watching old Sex & the City episodes, and I gotta tell you, my life ambition is to be like Carrie Bradshaw. Except instead of New York, I want to live in California/somewhere beachy, and instead of Mr Big and his intense eyebrow problems, I want a hot buff surfer dude with messy yet perfect hair, and one hell of a tan. He can still be ridiculously rich though. And smart. But no sketchy past. And I'm sorry, but fuck the whole getting-married-in-city-hall thing. I want a wedding. But I do like her whole blogger-gone-novelist-thing. First I have to get my blog like ... popular. Shit. That might be hard. I have like ... no followers. They're all my friends that feel sorry for me. And I don't want to post the link on my Facebook in like my status, because that's what everyone else does, and I would so-totally-be-like-oh-my-god-copying-them, and Lord knows we can't have that. It's not like Xanga (yeah, I still have one of those) where you can like join blogs where your link pops up in the "I Post Pictures" group list as like recently updated or whatevs. I have tons of subscriptions on there. But here? It's weird. And like ... too private for me. How do I get people to pay attention without being totally obnoxious about it?

Anyways, on Sex & the City, Samantha, Carrie, Charlotte, and the annoying red head, were all obsessed with trying a threesome. Like, ew! Seriously. Who would want to do a threesome? I feel like it would be really, really awkward. I mean, only two people can kiss/have sex at once. What is the other person supposed to do? Watch? Sorry, but that sound that kissing makes, you know, the wet sandwich with mayonnaise squishy wet sound? Yeah. It makes me want to barf when I hear it. Barf = TOTAL OPPOSITE OF TURNING ME ON.  And watching people have sex is just friggin weird. And then there were wives of men who were all "let's have a threesome, I'm doing it as a gift for my husband's 30-something birthday and you seem good." What the hell?? That's legit like a free pass for the man to sleep with someone else. It's just okay because you'll be sitting there waiting for your turn. Guh-rooooooooooss!

xoxo,

carly rae