Avalerian.

Everyone has their good luck charm. For some, it's a lucky sock that helped them in baseball. For others it's a rosary, an old sweater, a certain necklace, a teddy bear, or something else that has brought them luck and comfort over their lifetime. For me, it's a white owl that my mom and I named Avalerian.

As you all know, in the last year and a half, my life has been falling apart. My parents are in the middle of a divorce, my step brothers are 1300 miles away and we no longer talk. I became addicted to drugs, and had quite the battle coming off of them. I lost almost all of my friends when I sobered up. And in July my sister from another mister, Kenzie, was in a horrible accident. My moms life has been quite the roller coaster as well, especially with the divorce.

Sometimes, these things get to us. And we find ourselves praying for a sign that things are going to get better. My mom prays to god, and I personally pray to whatever/whoever is out there and listening. Whenever we ask for a sign, this white owl flies over us and squawks. Most of the time, it literally appears out of thin air and we both will say in unision, "WHERE THE FUCK DID HE COME FROM?!".

Skeptics will say it's just coincidence, but I think it's happened far too many times in the last year and a half to be coincidence. It happens just about very single time my mom and I are asking for a sign. We see him every night, almost. At work, driving home, my grandmas house, my house, the grocery store. Everywhere. No one else I've talked to has ever seen a white owl. And most certainately not as many times as mom and I have. Up until Avalerian came around, I have NEVER IN MY LIFE seen an actual owl. Never. In. My. Life. You guys, I grew up here. White owls or any other color owls aren't regular here. Not even kind of. Never in my life. And now I've been seeing one almost every night when I'm praying, and you want to tell me that's coincidence? No.

For those of you who dont know, Naval Weapons is the part of our military base that has all the underground bunkers full of napalm and bombs and other explosives. Sure there's some wildlife. But never in my life did I EVER see a deer until I moved to Montana. Much like owls, deer aren't very common here. My Montana friends might not understand this, but there really isn't an abundant amount of deer. Seeing a deer on the side of the road isn't a common thing. Like I said, I lived in this town my entire life. And never once saw a deer until I moved to Montana.

In the first couple months following Kenzie's accident, I would randomly see deer on Naval Weapons. But I'd only see one if I was thinking about her. And by thinking I really mean praying. Begging god for a sign of hope. What better animal could he have chosen to represent a sign about Kenzie than a deer? Maybe a horse, but I think God realized I probably would have shat my pants if I came across a horse just chillin on the side of the road.

Then came Kenzie's trip to the hospital in Seattle. Every single night that she was there, I saw a doe in the same place on the side of the road. Every single night coming home, I would see this deer. Ever since Kenzie went back to Montana, I haven't seen a single deer.

Now I have to tell you guys what happened tonight, because my mind is so blown.

Tonight while I was at my grandmas, I got on Facebook. One of the ads on the side said "you, Kenzie Zarn and yaddayaddaotherpeople like this." I don't even remember what it was. But I lurked her facebook page some, and then I logged off the Internet and left. While I was driving home, I had my iPod on shuffle. "Big Green Tractor" by Jason Aldean ended, and then came on "Who You'd Be Today" by Kenny Chesney. That song always makes me cry, so as I was pulling onto my street I was crying. I started praying for her brain to heal faster, cause damn it we all miss her voice. I said it exactly like that too. I pulled into my parking spot and I noticed something white up on my porch out of the corner of my eye. So I get out of my car and I look up, only to see Avalerian perched on the railing. He's just sitting there and he's watching my car. I made eye contact with him and my jaw dropped. He hooted, took flight, did a circle around my apartment, and flew off into the night.

I must've stood there in awe, staring at my porch like an open mouthed idiot for a good two minutes. My heart is still racing.

Ain't no one on this earth gonna tell me that's not a sign.

You're NOT alone.

Today, I watched a documentary on the Golden Gate bridge. It's focus is really on all the suicides of the people who jumped off. The director set up a camera, left it for a year and just recorded. During the opening credits you watch an elderly man jump to his death. It's a VERY powerful movie, and incredibly haunting. No pun intended.

I live about nine hours away from the Golden Gate Bridge. But I live pretty close to the Coronado Bay Bridge. Just last week, someone committed suicide on it. The freeway was shut down, and you know what people were upset about? The death of a human being, who rather they knew it or not was very loved? The death of someones child, grandchild, sibling, parent, loved one?! No. People were worried because they were STUCK IN TRAFFIC. There are people who were recorded on the news saying they were irate because someone "decided to take the easy way out" and because of this they were late to wherever they were trying to go.

How heartless can people be that they're so worried about being a tiny bit inconvenienced, more so than someone jumping to their death? This persons life is OVER. These people have at least one person who loved them. That person's life is forever changed. And people are worried about being LATE?! It's kinda funny when you think about it, because no one is ever this worried about being punctual any other time.

"It is the third deadliest suicide bridge in the USA. Between 1972 and 2000, more than 200 suicides were committed on the bridge. "

This statistic is now twelve years old. The average rate was about seven people per year, if that's kept up at that exact rate, that's eighty six more people. (Roughly, there's decimals.) 282 people have died on that bridge in forty years. Now of course, there could be more, there could be less. I'm having a hard time finding a more recent statistic.

This depresses me so much. It's so sad when I hear about people dying, especially by suicide.

I know what it's like to feel like you have nothing left to live for. I know what it's like to feel that low. I know what it's like to feel so very alone. To feel like it's you by yourself against the whole wide world, and the whole wide world is giving all the fight they've got, and your fight is mediocre at best. I know what it's like. I've been there. I've done that. I've got two attempts under my belt. It isn't my favorite thing to talk about, but I can't deny that it happened. Because I know how it feels, I will never turn someone away if they come to me.

Please, anyone reading this, know that though it may feel like it, you're not alone. There is someone out there who loves you. I love you. Everyone is beautiful and has a right to live. Just take it one day at a time. You can do it, and no matter who you are, I will always be right here to help you along however I can.

Owwwie.

February 1st, 2012 I will be sober for one full year. In honor of this, I decided to write a very long blog about addiction and my personal struggles with it both as someone who was once addicted and someone who loves someone who was once addicted. Tonight I thought it would be a good idea to write it all out by hand. I'm not even half way done and I'm four notebook pages in. My hand is killing me. You all better appreciate this. It'll be posted on the first. Until then, you'll be getting mediocre posts, if any at all. This is taking up all my writing skills for the week. I'm also going to be finishing it via fucking computer so my hand doesn't fall off. Loveloveloveandstuff:)

Date a girl who writes.

I stole this from my sister. Kind of. She emailed it to me. It's all sooooo very true.


Date a girl who writes. She's the one writing random thoughs away, weaving each sentence, phrase and word together to create a masterpiece from the heart.

Date a girl who writes. The girl who can understand the reason why you are who you are because she can think critically, the same girl who can easily forgive you when you fail her and at the end of the day, she still loves you no matter what.

She's always looked for the page-turner, and she chose you which means you must be quite exciting.

The girl who writes is a wonderful story-teller. She'll write about your love, she'll write about you every single day, and of course she'll write to you and make your heart melt with every thing she has to say.

The storyline will never have to end. She will write all the sequels that keep your love breathing. And just so that you remember all the things you love about her, she'll make sure to include prequels and all those in between.

In the fairy tale that is your life together, she will always make you prince charming, and happily ever after is a guarantee.

Date a girl who writes because she understands the value of word choice, and will mean everything she says to you.

Her writing also holds all the heartache she's been through but depite the tears a girl who writes knows how to use the magic of positive scripting.

Date a girl who writes because you will realize that her writing is pushing her to take a great risk of exposing and baring her soul and heart, piece by piece, fragment by fragment, to differing opinions and views.

It might appear difficult to date a girl who writes because of her unpredicitable nature, varied taste, and wide range of experiences that she's exposing herself into, but I'll tell you, she's one of the persons who are easy to be pleased and stimulated. Present to her a bouquet of inexpensive flowers and her blush would be priceless because you bought it with her in mind.

Date a girl who writes because she will be able to recall in detail the dialog between you two, and wihle it gets you in trouble, it's endearing and sweet at the same time that she remembers. This also forces you to choose your words carefully and you will become an expert in diction.

A girl who writes loves all the layers of you, all the deep parts and even the shallow. When you're acting like the villain, she will see the goodness in you. When you are the hero, she'll still secretly admire your flaws. All the depths of you become her big adventure.

She'll write you emails because the laptop is her friend, but prefers to show you how she cares by painstakingly writing you pages upon pages of letters when you two are separated.

Sex is like a dirty, raunchy romantic novel you don't dare read in public.

Date a girl who writes because she will spend her life coming up with a thousand different ways to tell you how incredible you are as she is not fond of repetition. But the words she will wear out are "I love you," because even she knows there is no better substitute for them in the history of writing.

Date a girl who writes because you will be her muse, her inspiration. Without you, she will have writer's block. Or write the greatest tragedy since Cleopatra and Mark Antony. Either way, you are the love she will always write.

Don't lie to her because she knows. She can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, sense it in your energy field. She pays attention to every detail of your every word and if you're not careful she'll ask the question that strips your lie away and you'll be humiliated. So tell the damn truth.

When something is wrong, you may as well tell her because otherwise she'll jump to the most absurd, most outlandish, most creative but ridiculous possibilities anyone could ever come up with. When the truth comes out and she tells you what she though, you'll remind her she's crazy, and she'll remind you that she knows this and you'll both laugh and hug and go on with life.

If you find out she's upset, don't ask her why, just let her cry until she hands you her most recent writing and goes to stand by the window until you finish reading her most entry. She could never tell you what was wrong with her moth because her soul is in her hands. Once you read that entry, skip back to find the parts about you.

Date a girl who writes, she loves your imperfections. She sees everything in a different light and appreciates every bit of you. Because you as a whole is all that is perfect to her.

A girl who writes can multitask. She can talk, text, blog and tweet all at the same time. Despite the fact that she may look preoccupied, you're the only one who holds her heart.

Date a girl who writes, you deserve all the love in the world and she is more than willing to give that love to you.

And finally, you must date a girl who writes because it is she who will allow you to live forever. She will make sure that you never grow old nor die no disappear. Through her writing, she is the one who ensures your immorality, your permanent mark upon this world

DEATH TO COPYCATS.

Perhaps that's a little extreme. Perhaps not. Nothing pisses me off more than being copied.

And I know. Nothing is truly "original" unless you design/make/invent whatever it. Don't feed me that crap.

The things I do, the things I say, the way I color my hair, crimping my hair, the clothes I wear, the way I decorate my car and notebooks and phone and whatnot. Those are the things that make me ME.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery to some, but to me, it's the biggest pain in the ass.

It's come to my attention that more than one person has copied me recently. This bothers me greatly.

Like I said. I realize I'm not the ony person in the world who does the things I do. But for the most part I'm the only one in my friend group who does.

Ever since Kayla started her blog, and I've been more open about mine, it seems that everyone and their fucking grandmother has a blog. And while I absolutely LOVE reading most of them, some people just suck at it. Knowing how to type and knowing how to blog are completely different things. If you don't know your basic grammar and punctuation, you shouldn't have a blog. If you use comic sans because you think it's cool, you shouldn't have a blog. Or access to the internet. If you dont have deep thoughts sometimes, you shouldn't have a blog. If youre a fake fucking bitch, you shouldnt have a blog. Just sayin.

My hair is a big thing to me. I take pride in my hair. I have fucking AWESOME hair. The way I dye it and the crimping. Especially the crimping. A few months back, I got into a fight with one of my then-friends because she wanted to copy my hair crimping because she thought itd make her look "more metal." NO NO NO TIMES FUCKING A MILLION NOS. Her argument was that all kinds of other strangers do it. OKAY. COOL. I DO NOT CARE WHAT STRANGERS DO. none of my other friends crimp their hair and that's why I freaking love doing mine. That and it looks cool.

I say "balls" a lot. Like sometimes instead of fuck or shit. If someone I hang out with a lot starts saying it, TOTALLY DIFFERENT.

Basically what I'm saying here is this: I know I'm not going to get out of life uncopied. Whatever. But if you want to do something I do, or say something I say, put your own spin on it. Don't be exactly how I am. Because then, I want to punch you. A lot.

And then hit you in the face with a chair. A spiked chair.

And then in the wise words of John Reilly; "kill you. Kill you with fire."

43 confessions.

So, my friends apparently think I'm interesting enough for fourtyfuckingthree facts.

1. Officially, my name's Rebecca. I have a plethora of nicknames, and I don't really care what you call me. EXCEPT FOR BECKY. That's not okay. I don't care who you are. Don't.

2. I apparently have unnaturally tiny feet for an 18 year old. I think size seven is fine. But yet, I get a lot of shit for it. I'd rather have small feet than big feet though. ^_^

3. I'm obsessed with memes and rage comics. I speak meme far more than you'll probably be comfortable with. Sometimes Mikey and I have full conversations of just sending each other pictures of memes. Kelson and I have full conversations in person speaking in meme. We're fucking cool.

4. Generally, I hate girls. A lot. I have very few girls that I'm actually close to, but the ones that have proven themselves AWESOME, I couldn't imagine life without. Most of my friends are guys, and I would much rather sit around and bullshit with my guys than go shopping and do girly things with my girl friends. Rachel and Dana are awesome in this aspect because them and I can have fun and fuck shit up doing anything.

5. I've had the same best friend since I was five, and Levi Jeffrey Estrada is my everything. It's been almost fourteen years, and he's been my rock, my superman, my everything. I wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for him. Because of him, (and all my other gay/lesbian/bi friends, but mostly him) I won't tolerate homophobes in my life. I don't care who you are, you gotta get along with Levi to be in my life. Him and I are pretty much a package deal, and if anyone hates on him, they're out.

6. I dye my hair, a lot. It's not fried, and it's not falling out. I dye it different every two months or so. Your hair being fried and falling out has nothing to do with dying it, it's everything to do with how well you take care of it. And I take care of it.

7. I let my nose piercing close up in exchange for tattoos. (Old deal I made with my mom.) So, now I only have my ears and bellybutton pierced. I miss my nose ring, but I was always losing the jewlery and having to repierce it, and I don't have the patience for that anymore.

8. My family is the shit. My mom, grandparents and aunt and uncle mean the world to me. And I couldn't imagine life without them. That's why I'm not moving out of Fallbrook, even though Ifuckinghatethisplace.

9. I wanna go back to Lewistown, really fucking bad. I explained this in the 'Home Is Where The Heart Is' post.

10. I like a guy. I'm not telling anyone details about him yet, except Rachel and Kayla, because I don't want to jinx it. But I'm very much intrigued by this boy, and I think things might work out. ;) (None of you know him, so don't make assumptions.) Buuuut, he's sexy as hell, fun to talk to, and sort of mysterious, in that sexy sort of way. :))

11. Sports bore me, mainly. I'll watch football. I won't understand it, but I'll watch it. BOBCATS.<3 Fuckthegriz. (;

12. I listen to basically any and all music. I like Justin Bieber, and I like Marilyn Manson. I don't really have a favorite genre. Otep, Scary Kids Scaring Kids, and Taking Back Sunday are my all-time favorites. I'm also particularly fond of Anti-Flag and Falling In Reverse.

13. My celeb crush is Machine Gun Kelly. <3 (White boy rapper, not the old time gangster.) Also Chris #2 from Anti-Flag. Ronnie Radke is a sexy motherfucker also. Clearly, I like boys with tattoos.

14. I'm afraid of other peoples driving. I'm okay if I'm driving. I'm okay if Rachel's driving. I'm okay with my family's driving. But get me in the car with anyone else, I'm generally getting panic attacks. I don't like it. Most people I know drive like fucking assholes. I don't like it when I'm not in control. I don't like driving reckless. I used to love being a passenger in a car driving reckless, seatbelt off. But ever since my sisters accident, I'm terrified. My seatbelt is always on, and I always do either the speedlimit or five over. Nothing more. I drive pretty safe. I roadrage, but I'm not reckless. And it scares the shit out of me when other people are. About a month ago, I went to my friend Rachel's photoshoot on Palomar Mountain. We went about half way up the mountain, and then met up with her friends Stretch and Hector. Stretch drove us the rest of the way, and sped and all around drove like an asshole up the mountain and then back down. The whole time and the rest of the day, I had panic attacks. I will never get in the car with him again, unless I'm driving.

15. It annoys me when people yell at me for things they see on my blog. I don't care if you don't like what I post here. I don't blog for you. Grow some balls, and quit your whining over words.

16. I say 'Cool Story Bro' LOTS. That doesn't mean that I don't care what you're saying. (Though sometimes it does.) it just means that I'm a sarcastic asshole.

17. In a few days, I'll be one year sober. I initially did it so I didn't die. Now, I do it because I'm better than that. I'm proud of me. My mom's proud of me. So many fucking people are proud of me, when they used to be disappointed in me. Having people you love be disappointed in you is the worst feeling ever. Having them be proud of you is the best feeling ever.

18. When people hear about mine and Jacc's "child", they think we have an actual child. Which isn't the case. Our "Children" are Meth the stuffed Lemur, and Philangies the stuffed panda. I don't actually have kids, and neither does he.

19. This sort of goes with number 18, but not really. A lot of people in town don't seem to like that Jacc and I are such good friends. We give zero fucks. For the last four years, Jacc has stuck by my side and been there for me through everything. All the good, all the bad, he's been there for it and he knows it all about me, and he still chooses to be my bestfriend. I will NOT abandon him just because other people don't like our friendship. This kid means the world to me, and FUCK whoever doesn't think he should. You don't know him the way I do. A few months back, there was an incident with a lot of misunderstandings. After that happened, I got told that I need to (not should, NEED) to give up on him and move on with my life, and then it was followed up with a slew of insults about him, then the person telling me these things threatened to kick his ass and then broke up with me because I wouldn't turn my back on my best friend. The incident that happened, didn't even have anything to do with me. Yet, I had multiple people tell me to turn my back on him. I refused, and in turn lost a few friends. And to be honest, it was worth it to me.

20. I pretty much always have a hoodie on. And just about none of them originated as mine. I tend to collect hoodies from other people. That's the fastest way to make me happy. Give me one of your old pullover hoodies. NOT A BRAND NEW ONE. One that you have memories in. There's no expressing how much that means to me, and how happy that makes me.

21. I'm incredibly fascinated by the paranormal. I get a raging metaphorical hard on for ghosts and haunted places.

22. My religious beliefs are really complicated. That's a blog post for another day, but basically I don't belong to any particular religion.

23. It pisses me off when people say "Fuck the police." I like the police. Sure, some are cunts and they're into brutality. But there are cunts in any line of work. And usually the people who say "Fuck the police" are the idiots who can't keep their asses off drugs, out of gangs and doing legal things.

24. When I hear people say "swag" or "dank" I mentally stab them.

25. I have a rather foul mouth. But I know how to behave myself in public. . . when I so choose.

26. My life has no career goal anymore. I'm really into psychology, law, and helping people. Maybe I'll figure something out that goes with those.

27. Funfetti is the best cake ever. No exceptions.

28. When I'm upset, talking to me is like talking to a brick wall, door, pile of rocks (I've heard all of the above. Pick your favorite.)

29. Untitled by Simple Plan and Who You'd Be Today by Kenny Chesney are the worst songs to hear when I'm having a Missing-Kenzie-Bad day. My iPod plays those the most those days, because technology hates me.

30. My happy place is in the mountains. Any one will do. But I absolutely love-love-LOVE the feeling of being on top of the world.

31. I drive a slugbug, and when people punch me and say "BLUE ONE!" I hit back. You cannot hit me for my car. AGAINST THE FUCKING RULES, DICKWEEDS.

32. I bitch about it everytime it breaks, but I freaking love my car. His name is Winston, and he has a buttcrack. <3

33. My grandparents are a lot more fun to hang out with than 99% of the people in the town I live in. I'd rather spend my time hanging out with them or my mommy than out partying. Maybe that makes me a loser in the Fallbrook Kid books, but I appreciate my family while I still have them. <3

34. Hugs make me happy. Big, long, bear hugs. Not that one armed, two second bullshit.

35. I firmly believe that Jesus was the first zombie, and whenever people tell me zombies don't exist, that's my argument.

36. I have stickers on my dashboard, and buttons on the roof of my car. I also have red fuzzy handcuffs hanging from my rearview mirror. I fucking love it.

37. Mooses, llamas and squirrels are my favorite animals. One day I wanna own a zoo.

38. The Golden Girls is my favorite show. I love those ladies, especially Betty White.

39. I believe that the meaning of life is to give life meaning.

40. I laugh a lot, and at a lot of things that most people don't find funny. But puns get me.

41. When I see bugs, I run away screaming like a little girl and beg other people to kill them.

42. I have an iPhone, and I'm in a constant battle with autocorrect. There's a whole album dedicated to it on my Facebook.

43. I'm totally flattered that people think I'm interesting enough for 43 facts. But I'm done. >:D

Holy tits.

So, I had this brilliant idea to do a blog with a confession for every like my Facebook status got.

I'm almost in the fourtys.

I'M NOT THAT INTERESTING OF A PERSON, GUYS.

):< this is gonna be difficult. BUT, I'll do it.

Kayla wants me to blog.

But I don't really have anything to blog about. So, I'm going to tell you random facts.

Today, people have been really pissing me off. Some say it's PMS, I say I'm surrounded by fucking retards.

I'm eating pop-tarts right now. Brown sugar cinnamon. I firmly believe this is the reason I haven't stabbed anyone.

I've decided that I'm cursed and I'm going to be forever alone.

I just bit my cheek, and that motherfuckin hurt. It's okay though, because this poptart was worth it.

I'm dying my hair back to brown and black. But a light brown, not dark this time. Because I want my hair light, but if I keep bleaching it, it will probably start falling out. And it's short enough as is.

I fell in love with this bikini on Zumies.com, and so I'm determined to lose 60lbs by summer. That's probably unhealthy. Buuuuut I don't care. I'm pretty tired of hating my body. (After I finish this poptart.)

I really want to get acrylics. Unfortunately, with my job, I can't. Annnnnnd that's super lame.

Kayla, you better appreciate this because I have no idea wtf to say. I'll think tonight and come up with some ideas and make a long post tomorrow. <3

You probably won&apos;t leave this post unoffended.

I've been fighting with how to say these things in the least offensive way possible for the last couple days. However, tonight I came to the conclusion that there simply isn't a way to say these things without pissing people off. So I decided I'm just going to call it how I see it. No censorship and no apologies. If you get offended, oh well. You can't say I didn't warn you. Grow up and quit reading my posts. I have a warning for a reason.

For the first order of business, Erikas punishment has been decided. She has to be on probation until she's eighteen. She has to do a presentation on the dangers of speeding. And she has to pay a fifty dollar fine. But she keeps her license. WHAT THE FUCK?! My parking ticket cost more than that. Park in a red curb zone? $70. End someone's life? $50. YEAH, TOTALLY MAKES SENSE, "JUSTICE" SYSTEM! I'm glad she has to do a presentation. However, her peers know Kenzie. They know first hand what happened. So I'm not sure what good that will do, since they all already know and have been grieving the accident for six months. Probation? What good is that going to do? She has her license still. Is it going to take her ending someone else's life to get her off the roads?

I'm so tired of hearing people defend her and say "well she's punishing herself". No, she isn't. Someone who was punishing themselves for ending their best friends life would attend the fundraisers held to pay the hospital bills that THEY ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR. Someone who was punishing themselves wouldn't be driving anymore. She would be too scared to drive again. I personally get scared everytime I get behind the wheel now. She's fine. Someone who was punishing themselves would do more for the victims family than she has done. And I don't mean cause them grief and heartbreak, because she has done enough of that. Someone who was punishing themselves wouldnt worry about if the fines are going to be too expensive and cut into her getting extensions. Erika isn't punishing herself. Her actions only punish those around her. Especially Kenzie and the Zarn family. These are my personal views, and while Kayla and I may agree on some of them, I in no way shape or form speak for any of the Zarns.

I've been told that I shouldn't be so rude with Erika. That I shouldn't be so angry because it could have been Kenzie driving just as easily. And yes. She absolutely could have been in Erika's place. I fully agree. However, the difference lies in how they would react. We all have seen how Erika's reacted. Kenzie would have been different. Kenzie would have done everything in her power (and then told the universe to fuck itself when there was something she couldn't do, then she would have found a way to do it anyway) to make sure Erika was taken care of. She would have gone to every fundraiser held by other people and she would have created her own. She would have gotten off her ass and HELPED. So no one tell me I can't be mad at Erika. Because I can, and I fucking am.

Second order of business. If one more fucking person asks me about Trevor I'm going to lose my shit. Trevor is not in my life anymore. Yes, he was my brother for four years. But he isn't now. The ridgeways like to throw away those that love them. Just like his father threw my mom and I away, Trevor threw us away as well. Yes, it hurts. It hurts like hell. I meant it everytime I said I loved him. I meant it everytime I said i would always be there for him. I meant it everytime I said I didn't care what happened between our parents, he'd always be my brother and my best friend. I meant every word of it. Unfortunately, when he said those things to me, he didn't mean it. Trevor not being a part of my life anymore was NOT my choice. It was all his. He walked out of my life at the end of November. Actually he kinda stormed out of it. But it was all his choice. So, it is what it is. I don't hate Trevor one bit. I hate his father and his grandparents. But, rather I like it or not, I do love and miss Trevor. I hold no hard feelings towards him, it's pretty impossible for me to stay mad at him. I am very upset with the situation and his choices, but again, it is what it is.

Thirdly. I seem to be surrounded with girls who think I'm trying to fuck their boyfriend. And frankly, you all can go fuck yourselves. ;) don't call yourself my "friend" and then go and imply that you think I'm a whore. When a man is taken, he's taken. I will not go against that and FUCK YOU if you think I will. If you do, you're clearly not my friend. I'll go on record now and say that I will NOT fuck my friends boyfriends. Not even if they try to come on to me. I will play oblivious and pretend I don't motherfucking notice. Even if my guy friends girlfriend isn't my friend, IM NOT HOOKING UP WITH ANYONE WITH A GIRLFRIEND. It also offends me that you assume that I would fuck a guy I'm not dating - girlfriend or not. I don't have time for girls who think that I'm a whore yet try and call me their friend. I'm done with you. But for the record...? If I wanted to fuck your boyfriend, well sweetie, it wouldn't be difficult. Go fuck yourself. (;

Also, I'm tired of people talking to me in Spanish. My skin glows in the dark, I'm blonde and German. Im fucking white. I don't know whats so hard to understand about that, but that's clearly quite the concept for some of my coworkers. Yes, I speak the language for the country I live in and not the bordering country which I have no desire to ever move to or visit. Holy shit. Why is that so difficult to understand? It's not MY fault they moved to a country without learning the language fully. Why should I have to speak another language to cater to them? And this isn't just to my coworkers, but to every Mexican with a sense of self entitlement. I refuse to learn spanish. I have not and will not ever go to mexico. Or any other country for that matter. Maybe Canada but they speak English anyway. Why should I have to learn Spanish? I may live close to the border, but unless I live on the other side, you fucks can learn english or just not talk to me. This also applies to any other foreign people, but living so close to Mexico I really only ever get hassled by Mexicans. I am NOT racist. Half my family is Mexican. They don't expect me to speak spanish. They call me the cracker in the family, and I'm okay with that. Cause I am. I'm white and I'm proud. Call me racist if you want, and I'll call you full of shit. Mexicans can be proud to be Mexican, black people can be proud to be black, Cubans can be proud to be Cuban and so on and so forth. I'm white and I'm proud. Fuck you if you don't like that.

Yes. I'm German. No I had nothing to do with the holocaust. (HOW MANY YEARS BEFORE I WAS BORN WAS THAT?!) No. I'm not a nazi. No, I'm not related to hitler. No, I'm not related to any nazis. No. I don't hate the Jews. When will people learn that more things came out of Germany than just the holocaust..?

And now, in something not offensive, I've decided on two tattoos I'm getting soon. I'm getting my grandparents initials on my wrists. Granny on the left, gramps on the right. My grandparents are pretty much my favorite people in the world, and I'd be nothing without them. And I don't mean that in the they-created-the-lady-that-created-me sense. But no one tell them!! It's a suprise.(;

Okay, goodnight. :)

I hate you in ways you can only imagine.

Last night, I had a dream that I was walking down the street in my old neighborhood. My former stepdad drove up in the truck he used to drive, and he tried to talk to me. I looked him straight in the eye, grabbed his cigarette, put it out on his forhead and said "I. hope. you. die."

It almost worries me how much I truly mean this.

And then I remember everything he's done and said to my mom and I, and how much he hurt her, and I'm not so worried anymore.

Fuck the Ridgeways. Every. Last. One. Of. Them.

Home is where the heart is.

I only lived in Lewistown, Montana for eleven and a half months. But still to this day, it feels a lot more like home than Fallbrook - the place I was born and raised.

Lewistown was kind of one of those "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone" kind of situations. I will admit that I did say I wanted to come back here a lot. And I did, but not for the reasons you all think. I wanted to come back here, because here, my family was whole. And by that I mean my mom, stepdad and two stepbrothers. Sure, we had our differences and our fights every now and then. (Okay, quite a bit.) But not nearly as bad as it was when I lived in Montana. In Lewistown, everything fell apart. Being at my house generally meant being in a war zone. Rather it was my mom and my stepdad fighting, my stepdad and I fighting, my younger stepbrother and I fighting, my stepdad and my younger stepbrother fighting, my mom and my younger stepbrother fighting (my older brother really never fought anyone.) someone was ALWAYS fighting in the house. There was either a fight or an awkward silence ringing throughout the house.

I got tired of that. I hated that. When the snow was falling, I got a lot more depressed. I'm used to constant sunshine. I didn't really see much sunshine, and that put a major damper on my moods. It also didn't help that snow meant I was at home a lot more because anything below 60 degrees is too damn cold for a native Californian. In fact, John made fun of me one day at the end of the summer that I moved there because it was 90 degrees and I was wearing a hoodie. (Haters gon' hate.)

However, there's a lot of things I LOVED about Lewistown. And the reasons I really want to go back there for a little while.

-The people. 95% of my friends live there. Some of the best people I've ever met in my entire LIFE, I met at Fergus High.

-Safety. I know, I know. Every house has like ten guns per person. But unlike the people here, they don't use them to shoot people just because they're white. Or even just because they feel like it. It's safe to walk the streets at night by yourself. It's safe to leave your doors and windows open and unlocked, same with your car. It's safe to walk on ANY DAMN STREET YOU PLEASE. There's no gang fights, no stabbings, none of the bullshit we have here. I miss the safety.

- The food. Nothing in the world is better than the beer battered fries at Harry's Place. (Especially when Jack Melvin was working.) The mango smoothies at The Rising Trout made my life a lot better. LBM pizza is the best pizza of all time. Fergus High cafeteria ladies make the most delicious sugar cookies. The 4 Aces BLTs are to die for. You get the point. They have good food. :D

- The Scenery. I really miss Spring Creek. (CREEK. Not CRICK.;)) Here in Fallbrook, we have Shit Creek. I'll give you three guesses how it got it's name. They have trees, we have buildings. They have nature, we have cement and asphalt. They have open highways, we have congested freeways. There's a mural on the side of their Albertsons. No graffiti. Here? You have a wall, you bet your ass it'll be covered in graffiti within a year. NOTHING stays nice here. Our murals get graffiti'd, our statues get stolen, all the attempts to make this town a little nicer get defaced and ruined. Brewery Flats was my favorite place in town. We have nothing like that here.

- The teachers. Granted, I'm not in high school anymore. But in my one year at Fergus, I learned more than my three years at Fallbrook schools combined.

However, there are some things I don't miss.

1. Snow.
2. Cold.
3. Snow.
4. Walmart being so far away.
5. Snow.
6. Dead animals everywhere.
7. Snow.
8. Being so far away from my grandparents.
9. Snow.
10. Sleet and especially black ice.
11. Snow.
12. Violent hail storms.
13. Snow.
14. Scary basements.
15. Snow.

Time doesn&apos;t heal all wounds.

Today marks six months since Kenzie's accident. Half of a year. Time doesn't heal all wounds. I'm not any more okay now than I was when I found out. Ive just learned how to not cry in public anymore.

You can give me a week or you can give me a thousand years. I'm always going to be devastated. I'm always going to miss her. It's always going to hurt. And that won't change.

Until I hear her voice again, until I see her smile, until I can hug her and she can hug me back, until I hear her rapping lil Wayne, until she grosses me out with her hunting stories, until she sends me more songs she'll know I love, until she helps me plot the mass murder or mass kidnappings of all of Lewistown, until Kenzie is Kenzie again, I don't want to hear a single person tell me that time heals all wounds.

About an hour ago, I posted a status about this. A much more condensed version. The commenters among this status were either A) people telling me that time does heal. B) my gramps telling me to pray for her. Or C) people who think that was an invitation to tell me when their relatives died.

I've clearly already addressed people group A, and I know my gramps means well. But people group C, they piss me off.

This will probably offend someone. And if it does, so be it. But I didn't ask you when your family members died. I'm sorry for your guys' loss an all, don't get me wrong. But why do you need to tell me that? I don't want to sound like a bitch saying this, but you telling me about the loss of your loved ones DOESN'T HELP. in fact it makes me more sad. Death is a horrible thing.

This is probably grammatically shitty and all, but oh well. I needed to bitch.

God Gave Me You. (Part one)

"God gave me you for the ups and downs,

God gave me you for the days of doubt.

And for when I think I lost my way,

There are no words here left to say, it’s true,

God gave me you."

Levi Estrada; Now, the title of this post is a tad bit ironic for this kid, considering he's a practicing satanist and all. But not a single fuck is being given, he will live. For the last almost fourteen years, not a minute has gone by when this boy wasn't by my side. Ever since I hurled my barbie at his face in first grade, he's been my partner in crime. I love him more than anyone and everything on this earth. He's saved me from myself countless times, and no way would I have made it this far without him. He's my other half in a weirdo two piece puzzle, and the best thing that's ever happened to me.

Rachel Clinefelter; a dying mouse and violent pinatas brought us together, and nothing will tear us apart. You know you've found yourself an amazing bestfriend when you're upset and she shows up at your house bearing three and a half cookies. Even though her buttcrack crunches, and she runs over deaf kids in Hellhole Canyon, my bestfriendsistergirlfrienddaughterrussianghost is the shit. She puts the cheese in my cheesy bread, with cheese.

Kelsey Jo Potter; When I first met her, I fucking hated her. And now, I can't imagine my life without her. Her and I have been through so much together, and she was the glue that held me together through some of the hardest times of my life. Between our courthouse picnics, shoving gummiworms in peoples ears, PandaSquaddding, Tennis, adventures in geometry, snails having teeth, and lizards not sweating, I formed an unbreakable bond with a fantastic bestfriend.

Kelson Thingvall; I can always count on this kid to say the stupidest shit and make me smile. When we're not verbally abusing the shit out of each other, we have the most epic adventures. We see cows, we get stopped because trucks are driving on the train tracks, decide that fruit is the new money, speak meme, decide not to go to school and spend the morning smelling candles, write essays on gravy and so much more. I don't know what I'd do without this kid, he's my fucking best friend. But I don't love him, I neanderthal him. :D

Kayla Zarn; My sister is awesome. She's easily the strongest person I have ever met in my life. She gives the best advice ever, and is always right, about EVERYTHING. And everyone. We love the same people. We hate the same people. We fantasize about stabbing the same people. She's a wonderful sister, and an amazing friend and I'm so proud to call her both.

Carl Cherry; I've yet to meet him in person, but over the last few months he's quickly become one of the most important people in my life. There's so much I could say about this kid, but I don't even know where to begin. I love this kid, and that's what matters. I can't wait til I move to Ohio and we adventure with stickers and abandoned buildings. Lace. The. Fuck. Up.

Mikey Black; Three years ago, I met this kid. He borrowed my checkered pants, paired it up with a checkered jacket, checkered shoes and a checkered bandana and the rest is history. We've had some really tough patches, but I'm very thankful for the chance to make a new future. He's a great friend, and I'm ever so stoked to have him back in my life.

I'm fucking okay.

Tylor and I broke up.

I was doing a lot better handling it than I expected I would.

And then he flipped out over a comment SOMEONE ELSE made, and now hates me.

And I'm hurt, but I'm okay.

I don't want to talk about it, so don't ask.

Just give me time and space, and I'll be back to normal in a few days.

I need to get out of this town.

As if I needed one more reason to hate this fucking town, someone got stabbed down the street from my house the other night.

At eight pm. This towns still pretty busy at eight, and it occurred at THE BUSIEST FUCKING INTERSECTION IN TOWN.

The cops aren't releasing all the details yet, but the fact that it happened makes me want to leave. Fuck this place.

I'm just one of those ghosts, traveling endlessly.

So, even though almost everyone reading this already knows me, I'm going to introduce myself anyway.

My name's Rebecca, and bro, my stories are cool.

My Mamz brought me into this world on April 26th, 1993. For those of you who suck at math, that makes me eighteen.

I live in Fallbrook, California. You've probably never heard of it, but we're the Avocado Capital of the world.

I don't feel 'at home' anywhere. I may have grown up in this town, but it doesn't feel like home to me now. But at the same time, I don't know if Lewistown is home anymore either. But it feels a lot more like home than this place. All I want for my birthday is gas money so I can go home for a little bit. I have people to see.

My life has no career goal. I'm enrolled in college, but I'm taking classes just because I want to. Almost all of my life, I wanted a career in psychology. Recently, I looked at my psychology text book and realized I have absolutely no desire to do that anymore. Unfortunately, I also left that day with no desire to do any other career.

My life used to revolve around other people, but lately I've learned to be independent and live my life for me. I used to hear that I worried about other people too much. Now I hear that I'm selfish. I clearly can't win, but not a single fuck is being given. I'm a lot happier now than I used to be, and that's what matters.

I do love a certain few people more than others though. The people that are my highest priority are; Levi Estrada, Rachel Clinefelter, Kayla & Kenzie Zarn, Jacc Xanchez, Kelson Thingvall, Kelsey Jo Potter, Carl Cherry, Kyle Lucke, Mikey Black, Kezzi Martin and Sam Allison.

Levi above all, he's been my everything since I was five years old. I guess he's the only exception to the I-don't-live-for-other-people rule. I love this kid more than anything.

I think it's awesome that people read my blog. But it isn't awesome when they get offended when I say something I don't like. To be honest, I really don't care if you don't like what I post. I'm not blogging for you, I blog for my own peace of mind. Like I've been doing for years. Love it or leave it, not my problem.

Now that that's out of the way, let's get to know me a little better.

I won't eat pizza that isn't from Lil Ceasars or Pizza Hut. Or, if I'm lucky enough to be in Lewistown again, LBM<3

I drive a slugbug, and if you punch me, I'll stab you in the eye.

My car's name is Winston, and he has a buttcrack, a tramp stamp that says 'Team Kenzie' and a Hello Kitty bow. Haterz Gon' Hate.

I say 'cool story bro' way too much.

I listen to country and rap more than any other music.

I have an iPhone, and I'm in an ongoing battle with Autocorrect.

My hair changes color way too much. But I really like it blonde so I'll prolly keep it this way for a while.