It’s been a while since I blogged. Wil and I are going great, so I really hope I shouldn’t have to update you on anything. We did some experimenting but I don’t think we were ever in the right ‘mood’. I think we talk way too much when it comes to those things. *throws hands in the air* I don’t know, haha. ♥

Jeremy pisses me off so fucking much right now, I don’t even know where to begin. The other day I completely ignored him for all of two days. It’s unusual because we usually talk every day – being friends and all. But he fucking pissed me off.

Jeremy’s fat. Okay, I hate to say it, and I know it might insult large people – but I promise I do not mean it like that. I’m just being blunt. He’s fat. It shows on his face… yeah okay, that’s enough.

I told Lana about a certain incident: I watched him wolf down a large beef box with gulps of an entire bottle of Pepsi in between. Trust me, you do not want to see it. It was disgusting.

A while ago when we had a fight (yeah, we have them pretty often) I told him, honestly, the things about him that bothered me. I told him kindly that he did need to lose weight. It fucking impacts on me.

I have a high cholesterol but I’m stick-thin. I try to eat healthy all the time and here is this jerk who eats burgers and chips all the time. I find it a complete insult. I have a boyfriend who strictly watches what he eats, exercises every day, and encourages me to eat well. Bethany has PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome) which restricts her to a diet that is low sugar, low fat, low salt and less than 2000 calories. Her father has a myriad of health problems. So does my father, with high cholesterol, high blood pressure and now anaemia. I have a mother who has troubles with her weight. I have a close friend Dan who I knew since high school, and since then I’ve seen him try so, so, so hard to lose weight.

But you know what? Jeremy told me he’d try. He doesn’t try. He just simply fucking does not. When he ate a snack at about 11pm, I scolded him – not rudely – and I told him it was not a good idea and not to do that. He got angry at me and told me, “Audrey, it’s just one sandwich and only for today -.-”. A day later he apologised, and I said it’s fine but I was simply – as a friend – concerned about him. To which he fucking repeated what he said and just pissed me off all over again.

If a friend shows concern, I accept it and I promise them I will try not to concern them. I don’t say “Don’t worry, I only did it once”.

When I used to harm myself, I did not say to my friends, “Ugh don’t worry about me okay? I only cut myself once.”
It’s bad enough. It’s still bad. I promised my friends I would try not to do it again. I don’t know how you could be so rude to a friend, goddamn fuck you.

I couldn’t take it so that’s why I ignored him. We are back on speaking terms now but I simply hate the fact that Jeremy thinks losing weight is so easy. It’s fucking not. And I do, honestly, find it insulting. I find it insulting to me, someone who tries to eat well, and surrounded by people who have health problems. My grandparents died from diabetes/high cholesterol. And he’s fucking eating himself into a stroke. And that’s the truth. He doesn’t eat any vegetables. I had to eat his fucking vegetables when we went out to eat because he left them all on his plate. He drinks tea and soft drink all the time, never any milk (thanks Lana for pointing this out).

And I’m sick of Jeremy not trying. Do you know how much I try in excelling in my studies? I study when I need to. I spend more time on my assignments and make sure I’m following my criteria. I try to hand in what is my best work.

When Jeremy hands something in, he says, “It’s not my best but I’m just going to hand it in”. Then he gets fucking angry and complains when his grade isn’t even good. You just brought it upon yourself, bitch. When I encourage him to ask the tutor to see where he went wrong, he just says, “I know it wasn’t my good work, that’s all I need to know.”

In short, goddamn fuck you.

PS Jackie, I’ll reply to your email soon! I started typing a reply and then never got around to finishing it…

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Looking back on the past, is, undeniably – a bitch. I hate doing it, but at the same time I have this creepy love for it. I love looking back on all the stuff that happened. When it comes to love, it’s no exception. I compare my current situation with situations in the past, look at how I fell in love with people. Why I fell in love. Why I never cherished being single and didn’t enjoy the time I had being single.

I actually regret it a little now. It’s almost like flirting was a sin.

LSS (Long Story Short): I kissed a guy called Mark. He followed me around, started following me partially the way home. I know that living near me was no excuse! He did not have to follow me around and try to talk to me and put his arm around me.

He was trying to console me about Cor. I dated Cor for about ten months on and off. Cor was younger but fairly mature – even though the more I got to find out about him, the more we fell apart and I realised he wasn’t willing to make sacrifices for me, and wasn’t willing to patch up differences or accept the fact that we had differences.

I was really upset about Cor so I guess I really appreciated Mark trying to make me feel better. Mark was a distant classmate of Cor’s – ergo, younger too.

After he followed me numerous times he tried to make me feel better when I was exceptionally upset. He held my hands and hugged me and then and there at the corner of my street he asked if I wanted to go out with him.

I was surprised.

My response was to kiss him.

I don’t know why I did it. But I thought, what the heck. Why not. Why not just jump in and make moves on guys and flirt with them… okay, those weren’t my exact thoughts. But running through my mind was the reality that Cor and I were over. I had to get over it. I felt like going out with Mark might be a good ol’ change.

Come on, I was fifteen. And the devil can stab me… well, in the form of my mother, who was screaming at me from our house further down the street. It fucking killed me; the way she hit me, screamed at me, told Mark I wasn’t home the next day when he popped by… told me to stay away from him, threatened to send me to another school…

The previous truth was: I hated Mark.

It’s not that we got off on a bad foot, or he said something nasty – it was just rumours I chose to believe – that he was a jerk, arrogant, loserish, and any kind of “fail” there possibly was. But, in reference to Jackie’s last post and the comment I made – I saw past that. You know, I love Wil right now for who he is, and his soul. I look past the way people look, the things I hear, and I see them as a different person.

Wil even told me that I saw past Jeremy, because his truth is that he thinks Jeremy is an ass. Bethany told me the same about myself. She said I am so different from her in that I give people a chance and I don’t judge them before knowing them properly, I look past the way they look and what I know distantly.

I saw the good side of Mark.

And curse my mother, for doing something so humiliating and prying thoughts into my mind, that inevitably made me realise that enjoying the single life was not worth it.

I regret that.

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Jeremy’s being a dick.

The other day I thanked him for everything he’s ever done for me. Being there as a friend, talking to me, spending time with me, being so understanding, considerate, everything. It made me a little teary. I came to the point where I realised that I was 100% in platonic love. As much as I love him, how amazing he is, how wonderful he is, it’s completely as a friend.

Well that can just go in the trash now. I had to talk to someone, because my mum bugged me, and he just had to say how much he hated (yeah, bold, italics and all) me complaining about the same thing over and over again.

This is my mum we are talking about here. Family problems. Not something small like someone unfollowing me on Twitter. This is about my family. People who I’ve lived with since I was born, people who are supposed to love me. Heaven forbid, if I let you in on my family problems, it would be endless. But LSS: I do not have the best relationship with my mum.

Friends listen. I don’t know what you call people who don’t keep shit to themselves, saying that your complaining annoys them and they hate it. Maybe you don’t like it, but if you really cared, you’d listen, and it wouldn’t bother you. Frick.

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It’s funny how time heals all wounds.

“I don’t want to kiss you just for the sake of kissing you. So I won’t.
I think… I prefer you as a sister. Besides, I want to be Uncle Jeremy.”

Sometimes, down my end, I get those little temptations. Perhaps it’s just playful sibling love. After all, most of the time we just tease and make fun of each other.

I’m glad it’s not awkward anymore. I’m glad we don’t have to find privacy to talk to each other about anything from that – the kiss, the feelings, the things that happened. I used to itch to talk to him about things and the way I felt, and then I’d be so hesitant about it, not feeling comfortable with even talking about it, and I used to get embarrassed to say anything as well. But now I feel like I can talk openly to Jeremy without having to hesitate.

Things are really different now. It’s not like every hug I get is symbolic of a deep desire or love that I cannot return, or that I feel Jeremy might kiss me all over my face or even on my mouth, or I’d just worry about what could happen next.

No.

It’s not like that anymore. We love each other like good friends. It doesn’t leave me to the point where I’m frustrated. It doesn’t leave me hanging on some pathetic thread in the dubious lust I previously pertained, wanting more of something that was completely sinful. It doesn’t do that.

I enjoy Jeremy’s company. Like a friend and a brother.

We’re slowly going backwards to the little depths of some long gone February some six-odd months ago. Except we’re taking with us, a little bit of strength we gathered, and love we found from the pits of a once irrepressible passion… except, a love that would exist only in a world where problems are truly resolved by the sufferers.

We are in that world. And that’s what you call sibling love.

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Whoops. So I realised I never filled Peyton in on this one.

I guess I went into my little bubble and had a cry and scream about the whole thing… but let’s do this reflection thing as I planned it. (I can’t believe I never posted about it, probably got too caught up in other shit happening.)

Jeremy and I came to the conclusion (well, I suppose he did) that kisses are overrated. And that was after we kissed. Yeah, I hear the voiceover coming from you now.

You kissed Jeremy? What the fuck did Wil think? What the fuck were you thinking?

Before we go off into a plan on slaughtering me: Can I just say that we kissed; simple as that. The fact that I responded to the kiss, just explains that fact itself, also hopefully clarifying that he was the one who went in for it. But let me go to said time and place and said incident of this one kiss. I suppose you could say it was a long kiss (not 12 centimetres, I mean in duration, geez), but how long it takes is a little beside the point. Not to mention, we all have our own perceptions of “long”, and once kissing Wil for 40 minutes was “long” to me. So… I don’t know.

For some time while my mother confiscated my laptop and in which I was just going through a really rough time at home, I often went to the bank before work or just browsed the shops. I had to ask my dad to drop me off early but he didn’t mind, nor did he get suspicious.

During that time I met up with Jeremy, because he just wanted to see if I was okay. Wil didn’t have the time to head down and see me, and after planned meetings with friends and shit, and my mother totally ruining them and making my life miserable, all I wanted was a friend to give me a hug. Jeremy was someone who was able to find the time to come and see me, and the only opportunity for that was by heading off to work early.

(Parents suck, FTR.)

Jeremy and I would just sit there in the park near my workplace, and talk, or just hug, and it just made me feel better, knowing that I had a friend who could cheer me up.

Several times, we’d kissed each other on the cheek upon farewell. I liked to think it was just a friendly gesture (well, since we are close friends), but sooner or later it happened: it went further.

The way Jeremy would like me to tell it probably goes a little something like this.

He was kissing my cheek a few times. It got pretty tempting to just kiss him. I knew it was wrong. I tried not to do it. But I felt really comforted by the feel of his arms around me.
I sort of blurted, “Why do you have to do that? Kissing me like that might as well be the equivalent of kissing me on the mouth.” (Lips? Whatever.)

It was a nasty statement to provoke him, knowing how much he wanted to actually kiss me, and how I often did myself, but also knowing that we were trying so hard. Trying really hard not to. So when he went in for my mouth I just kissed him back. I felt his lips on mine, and his arms around me, and the feel of his tongue before I realised — fuck.

It was an incident that made me cry and rip my hair out on several occasions, because, ultimately, I could not… I simply could not lie to Wil, and eventually, I told him. I freaking love him. He’s not the kind of guy to bash up other people for acts like this. He just… took it with a grain of salt, I guess? He simply disliked that Jeremy had the capacity of mind to perform such an action. He didn’t feel hatred for Jeremy, or want to murder him, or want to stab his heart with a pick axe. He didn’t slap me for telling him two months later, for hiding it from him and not telling him straight away, for kissing Jeremy back…

“Force of habit.”

I’m only… thankful… that that same force of habit doesn’t lead me to do the same thing again. I missed kissing Wil, and the thrill there was in kissing Jeremy – well, that was just wrong. I’m not doing it again. I slapped myself for this one. For fuck’s sake, Audrey. Make out with your pillow or something for the time being.

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