It's the 18th. Do you know what that means? It means that, in about seven hours, I'm going to be waking up to the very annoying sound of my phone alarm and getting up to jump in a car and let people stick their latex hands in my mouth. I cannot tell you how excited I am about this.

Supposedly, I'm getting my braces off tomorrow. Now, I already have the bottoms off and both sides of the tops, so it's really only about 6 brackets in the top front that I have to get removed. The problem is, I noticed a very obvious but not too grand shift in my teeth. You can imagine how incredibly pissed I became upon noticing this. So, there's a chance I may not get them off tomorrow and that I might have to go through another month of hell.

In which case, I just might bite the guy lucky enough to be fiddling around in my mouth that day.

You see, this very much interferes with my Supremes Plans of Change.

I am supposed to be walking onto campus the first day of my sophmore year a changed chick. I have a snazzy new haircut (and I plan on dying it in a couple weeks); I've actually gotten some sort of tan; I've undergone some mental/emotional challenges and -- proud to say -- kicked their asses, thus making me, I guess, stronger; I've somewhat adopted this new outlook on... life, I guess; I'm on much better terms with my father (though I have regressed with my sister.. but hey, she's heading to college next year anyways); and to complete this, I need to remove my braces and do whatever it is that needs to be done after my doctor's appointment tomorrow. And, of course, win back Kyle -- but that I could go without if necessary (I believe that giving it my best efforts will be good enough).

Which I forgot to mention, but immediately after I finish with the orthodontist, I have to go to the doctor's. Joy.

Anyways, point is, I want my Supreme Plans of Change to go smoothly. And I want to be able to smoothly feel my teeth again, which means I want these little metal spawns of satan off.

I will regress to whining and bitching at my orthodonist if it comes down to it. Biting too. I will most definitely bite him. Then say, "You know, it would've hurt a lot less if the metal wasn't there to reinforce the bite." Good plan.

So, enough about the future, now about the past.

I went laser tagging today. With about eight other people. It was amazingly fun.

Meanwhile, the creepy guy who worked there? Not so much. He was in the room with us to make sure everything was going well, but instead of walking around and checking up on everyone... he found it would be more helpful to check up on me, a lot. The majority of the time I turned around or turned a corner or -- for that matter -- turned my head, he was there.

I think he got a kick out of how jittery and paranoid I was.

...Asshole.

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Well, my dad is being a little bitch.

I emailed him about a matter I'd love for him to tend to as soon as possible, but admittedly it could be an awkward subject for him. Hence why I emailed it (that and because I'm much better at getting my ideas out clearer if I have time to go back and think about what I'm trying to say).

When I questioned him about the said email, he said he never got it. I gave him the benefit of doubt and resent it.

Then, today, while I was very much enjoying an episode of The Late Night Show with Conan O'Brien (that I got to watch in the evening instead of the "late night" due to the wonders of Tivo), he very cheesily and extremely fakely exclaimed, "Oops, I just deleted all of my email."

Now, the couch happens to be within eyesight of his laptop. It really wasn't hard for me, not being blind and all, to glance at his screen and see that his inbox was clearly not empty.

I know that I'm only 14 (well, pretty much 15), but that was just an insult to my intelligence.

So, I've devised a plan. I am, once again, going to question him about the email. If he says he didn't get it, I will, once again, resend it. Then, I'm going to creep into his email when he's not home and see if it's in his inbox. If it is, and he comes up with some bullshit excuse, I'll know he's just being a little bitch -- like I accused him of in the beginning of this entry.

So, today was fun. Except the part where I thought I was going to die. Allow me to explain.

My friend Gecko (for those wondering, his name is Anthony but he has been officially dubbed Gecko for most of his life 'cause his last name is similar to that word) challenged me to the Cinnamon Challenge. This challenge consists of eating a teaspoon of cinnamon straight up, with no sort of beverage or anything.

So I took him up on that. The best way I can describe it is like eating powdered concrete, if you have, for any reason, eaten any powdered concrete.

Then, of course, you nearly choke to death and your throat feels more like you swallowed acid than cinnamon. Who knew that shit could be so horrible when it tastes so lovely on pancakes.

I almost inhaled a bottle of cough medicine but then I decided I would rather not get tripped out on something you can buy from Walgreens.

The burning faded in about an hour.

My hatred towards Gecko, however, will never fade.

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For a while now I've been dancing around whether or not I like change.

At the time when I was doing okay in my classes and everything was good with my friends and all it took was to think about Michael to make me smile, I wanted to hold that moment forever. I want to hold that infatuation, that sense that everything was okay, that overall love of life.

But change came. That infatuation died brutally (actually, was murdered moreso than died), friends went through hardship, my grades took a dive for the worst, I was getting in trouble constantly -- at that time, all I could do is sit around and hope that change would come.

I've decided I like change. Even now, when I feel better than I have in a long time, when I'm on good terms with my father and my best friend's parents are cracking down and letting us see each other, when in a couple of days I have a doctor's appointment to fix my stomach and everything seems to be going fine.

Because change is going to happen either way. When it does happen, if I like it, if I decide to make the best of it, it will be so much easier than wasting tears on something that can't be helped.

Change showed me that the pretty little boy I was so smitten with was actually not a pretty little boy at all, and that fascination I had with him was so grossly undeserved. It showed me that the hope I had lost in a friendship was never actually gone, that there are things worth fighting for.

This probably sounds so worn out and cliched, but I'm living proof that things can work out when it looks too bleak to be helped, and I'm going to try to remember this when I feel like crying until my body physically can't produce more tears -- which I know will, eventually, happen.

Give it a couple months. I'm telling you, in a couple months, it will change, extremely for the better.

And maybe I'll find that pretty little boy to love, but if I don't, I'm not going to worry about it. Boys aren't worth it, and I definitely can live without them. What I can't live without, however, are friends -- but I'll never have to worry about that. Because of Daphne. For two years now I haven't had a single class with her and one of those years I didn't even have lunch with her, but we were still closer than we could ever be.

Then, when her parents forbade her to see me, we still didn't fall apart. I've been sitting here bitching that I'm alone but I can never be alone, not while she's in my life.

I have Tiffany, too. And even though we may not be incredibly close and we don't talk on a daily basis, she's been a best friend since 5th grade, and I know for a fact that I could tell her anything and everything and she would listen and help anyway she could.

I don't know what it is, what exactly is making me feel like this, but I feel good about everything -- about my friends, about my family, about this coming school year. I can't say it will last, but as of right now, I'm happy.

You'll see, in a couple months, everyone will see what I feel.

Just watch.

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Mm, I find that I have a very awkward way of laughing. As a result of a very strong dislike of my smile, every time I laugh I attempt to bury my face in my hands. Because of this I have, on many occasions, been called either a "squirrel with a nut" or "a crazy lady contemplating murder via cuddly stuffed animals."

Yeaaaah.

There's a random car parked outside my house. I'm unwilling to leave my room, but -- WAIT! My cats! Nooo!

Okay. Okay! They're safe. We're all safely locked in my room now. It was actually very simple, I just put more food in their dish and opened my door. Their hunger will be their downfall!

So, my phone starts ringing. The screen said, very simply, very shockingly, "Kyle".

My reaction was, "Fuck the what?". He hates talking on the phone, and especially since he doesn't like me anymore, I never would expect him to call.

I answered with a very meek, "Hello...?"

"Hey, Jes, I called because, well, I can't stop thinking about you. I regret telling you I stopped liking you. I didn't. I just don't want you to feel obligated to wait for me. I don't want you to miss me. But I don't want to lose you either. When we talk, we have such a great time. And you...

You're pathetic for thinking I'm actually going to say all this."

He asked me about a game. Because he was at the store. That conversation lasted all of, exactly, 38 seconds.

Okay, it was great to hear his voice. It was. Because, the last time I heard it, it was on a voicemail he left me when he thought something happened to me. I reluctantly deleted that voicemail because, well, you could hear his voice crack at one point, he was really worried, it was adorable and I thought he was, too, because that was when he used to tell me he couldn't wait to hug me, and, when he was tired, he would say that he wished he could fall alseep with me in his arms.

What did I do to make him stop liking me? It couldn't have all been him convincing himself he didn't, because you just can't do that. In the back of your mind, you'll always know. I used to try that, I used to make myself believe I didn't give a fuck about Michael -- but I knew, in that horrible nipping kind of way, that I did. And sometimes it would get the better of me, and I would IM him, or find an excuse to call him. Of course, I don't have that at all anymore, but the point is, if I can't ignore something like that, I don't see how he could ignore having feelings for me.

I don't like it. I don't like it at all. The more we talk, the more I realize that he's really great. Okay, yeah, the shit he did and said, admittedly, was extremely lame. But nobody's perfect, right? The majority of the time we're talking, I'm laughing, or smiling, or wishing I could say something cute, like telling him how badly I wish he would come back from Colorado, or perhaps just a meaningful "<3".

He said, yesterday, without me having said anything, "Angels & Demons = god." That is one of my favorite books ever. I was talking about that book a couple days prior to that conversation. That's got to be some sort of sign, right?

Yeah. Too bad I don't believe in that shit.

Truth is, I only attract guys that would be bad for me. Never someone who would actually, well, love me. Who I would have an amazing time with. No. I get guys like Michael, the guy who would choose meaningless kisses over something real. I get that pathetic load. Great.

Normally I would be pretty convinced that I could win him over again. Because he liked me before, he could like me again, right?

I don't feel like that. I don't feel like that with him at all. He's different, and I can't explain what it is I'm feeling exactly, but I don't think I could win him over. I don't think he'll ever see me like that again -- it's just this gut feeling I have.

And maybe that's why I want him. Because I can't have him. And I liked him a lot before.

I won't admit I still like him. Except to you guys. And Daphne. Anyone else asks, I don't, because I hope that eventually I'll believe myself.

I hate dating. I hate having feelings for other people. I hate not feeling good enough, for looking down on myself because someone I look on in light doesn't look back. I hate caring about people. I hate caring about anything.

But hey, what doesn't kill me makes me stronger. Yeah.

Also, I've got this friend, Gecko, who I met in PE in the beginning of the year. He dropped out before the middle of the year though, so we never got close. Now he would be a freshman in college. We've been talking a lot lately. Why he randomly decided to contact me? I have no idea.

But... I feel like he's looking out for me. Because one day he mentioned how it seems like I don't think I'm good enough for anyone, just randomly, and ever since, he's always IMing me and stuff, even if I'm away.

I think.. in a way, he adopted me. As his little sophmore, who he has to take care of now. Hahah. I'm okay with that, Gecko's awesome.

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