Relations

Everyone I know is breaking up or has given up on finding anyone. My brother, my mom, Mike, Darlene, Chris, The Tiffanator, ect. My sister and I are left. Hopefully we'll pull through.

I just talked to Darlene for a couple of hours. We talked about how the breakup between her and Kaz affected her and how it went down. He cheated on her, she broke it off. As simple as that sounds, the feelings, obviously, are so much more complex. We were discussing whether or not our relationships fail because of a pattern that we've unknowingly been following since we hit puberty. And, if so, how do we stop it if we didn't even know we were following one? Darlene's pattern is abuse, from Jay to William. Darlene, as well as I, thought that Kaz was the pattern breaker. That Kaz was the one that would finally show her what a normal relationship was supposed to be. Well, in a way, he did break the pattern... By starting a new one, adultery.
Tiffany said something awesome awhile back, "Everyone I've dated led up to him." What she meant was that every horrible relationship she ever had were just trials and the prize was Kyle. They were the suffering before the heaven. You have to experience suffering to know what peace is, right? And sure, we're young, so we've got a lot of years to find the one that all these had led up to but honestly, Darlene has suffered enough. Attempted rape, being beaten, cheated on, ect.?! Does she really have to go through even more?! I'm sorry but I won't allow it. The pain, manipulation, the passive aggressive bullshit, the lies?

She also mentioned not letting a man define her as a woman. She learned that the hard way. I still haven't. For the past four years, Darlene and Kaz were inseperable. They called eachother several times a day and hung out in the evenings. He was her everything. She even took him with her to the coast to see me. She had friends but they weren't really her friends, just leeches that fed off of her. Crystal, I'm talking about you. Elliot, I'm talking about you. Cory, I'm talking about you (Cory, if I ever see you again I am going to rip your dick off and feed it to you after sticking it up your ass. And I'm not kidding. I don't hate anything more then rapists.). So now, she's alone. She says she doesn't want anymore friends because of the ones she's had. My god, Darlene, you need them. When you make friends, good people, they can help you through the worst times... Like right now. And I know that its hard to trust anyone after all the shit that you've been through but the only faith you and I have is in people, right? So, find some people that can renew that faith. It took a lot to get me back to that. To renew my faith. Dorian, Ilan and Sarah Laks were the ones that did it for me. They showed me that not everyone is bad. That not everyone is horrible. That there are some people out there that are genuinely good. People that, even though you had hurt them, would drop anything to be there for you. People that would take you in when you are in a dangerous spot even though they didn't even know you that well. People that really actually do care.

When my mom came up she brought some of my film that she had developed. One of the rolls was of Josh and Brandi, Luke's best friends. Four of them were of me. I remember when that roll was taken; three weeks before he broke up with me. I look miserable in them. I look absolutely awful. Like my whole family had just been brutally murdered. It's amazing how I didnt see it. How blind I was, thinking that Luke was the one. Why do we realize the truth years later? Why is it that when I look at those pictures I see the most depressed girl in the world but at the time I truly believed I was happy? Are we really that blind that we can't look at ourselves and see when things are really bad?

Are we that blind that we call our family members and talk shit about the other person when really we are at fault? That everything that we say about the other person is what you really mean about yourself? It's not their obligation to choose sides and it's not America's obligation to tell another country how to run it. You think I'm selfish? Have you once looked at her side of the story? She hasn't said a bad word about you and here you are spouting the words, "psychotic, bitch, idiot, denial," like it's any of my business. Woops! Tangent.

Ok, I've talked enough today. Wow. I talk way too much... Sorry everyone- if you actually read this far. To be conclusive, those friends of mine that are going through a rough time, I'm so sorry you have to bear this pain. It sucks and I'm sorry.

This is the only thing I care about. Not these pictures. Not the camera that took them. But the eye that saw the potential. I'm proud to have the gift my mother bestowed upon me. And even though I sometimes feel inadequate or untalented, I know that I am. I'm not narcissistic. Ask anyone. This blog is the first time I have ever shown pride in myself. Thank you, Mom. My eye I got from you.

Karma

Sharon was a horrible person. Not exactly mass murderer horrible but more like average horrible. She didn't tip servers. She cut people off on the freeway. She kicked stray dogs. So when Sharon was gutted by a disgruntled homeless child, no one was entirely surprised.

When she got off of work at the DMV, she realized her car had been towed. Sharon also didn't care about the handicapped, parking in their parking spots frequently. This meant that she had to walk to the nearest bus stop about eight blocks away. Halfway there, she passed under an overpass with sleeping bags full of the unappreciated homeless. One of these poor souls was sleeping across the sidewalk blocking any pedestrian traffic from passing by. All Sharon had to do was step over the man. Instead, because she was already annoyed from having to walk eight blocks, she began to kick him as hard as she could. She screamed at him to get out of the way between kicks. This obvious and very loud abuse woke up the surrounding residents who peaked out from the bags and blankets and timidly watched.

A small orphan boy of maybe eight years old was curled up at the feet of another older homeless man who was kind enough to share his sleeping bag with him. When he heard the shrieking evil voice of Sharon, he began to scoot up towards the opening, trying not to disturb his kind savior. He peaked out over his companion's head, like the others, timidly watching the horrible woman have her fun. Quickly, but silently, and without emotion, the orphan reached into his savior's pile of miscellaneous cherished valuables, sifting through god knows what until he felt something cold. Something metallic, small and long, flat and sharp. Finding it, he crawled out, making no sound at all, and crouched around the demon. Using the shadows he made his way from the cement columns to the pavement, to the sidewalk, waiting for the right moment.

Meanwhile, Sharon, oblivious to the small glowing grey eyes creeping around her in the dark, has begun to kick the poor man to the side, against one of the massive columns, out of the way of the sidewalk. She started to feel tired, her arms and legs burning from the hard impacts against the man's now mushy body. As the man is pummeled to the side, a trail of blood, seeping out of the bad, has made the sidewalk a dark red-brown.
Finally, the then pulped man had been moved out of the way, curled around the nearest column. Breathing heavily, with shaking fists at her sides, her eyes burning with rage, Sharon looked up. There, standing before her, was the orphan, a silhouette of a thin frame, still and silent. All she could see to identify him was the glowing grey of his eyes glaring into hers. Something shined low, in his hand, she saw it. The blade.

"What do you want?" she snapped hoarsely at the glow. He said nothing, didn't blink, staring at her, silent and still, unaffected. A few moments went by and she stood up straight, puzzled by the absence of a reaction. She began to quiver, but, trying to mask her fear her voice shook, "Get out of my way. Dirty parasite." She stepped over the trail of blood left by the probable dead of the now blood soaked sleeping bag. She took a few steps toward the young boy just close enough to feel bigger than him. She thought for sure he would move with her walking towards him but he didn't. He remained, following her with his eyes, locked onto hers. She got nervous then, and tried to walk around him. He then moved in her way, staying in front of her making sure she couldn't get past. So she went to the right, he did the same, staying in front of her with a grace that should be unknown to children his age. She went from a quiver to shaking with fear, she could not break eye contact, she could not look away from the grey.

A moment went by. What felt like a week was really a nanosecond. Suddenly, a small smile crept in the corner of The Orphan's mouth. Sharon's eyes widened, her mouth opened, as though she was screaming, but there was no sound. The Orphan struck terror into her heart with only his smile. The others, the surrounding residents looked on, without expression, without guilt for what they all knew was about to happen. There was a flash of light reflecting, then a thud of meat hitting cement. Everyone around closed their eyes tight or hid under blankets. When they looked again, The Orphan was gone, and Sharon was cut nearly in half, her intestines and organs spilt onto the pavement next to her body. Her organs were covered in a brown substance that smelled horrible. No one really wanted to know what it was. Next to the kind man who helped The Orphan by giving him a warm place to sleep, was his blade, without of drop of blood on it.

The autopsy report of Sharon Buttz was interesting. The coroner found very small fingernail shards in the ripped skin of her wound, suggesting the murder weapon was none other then someones bare hands. The coroner also found more fecal matter in this woman's body then in any other person he had ever cut open in the past forty two years of his career. It was his belief that the reason that Ms. Sharon Buttz was such a horrible person was because she hadn't taken a shit in over twenty years. Her asshole was so tight, it wouldn't let the fecal matter leave no matter how long she tried or how hard she pushed. Although this information explained a great deal, no one really felt sorry for Ms. Buttz and all were glad to be rid of her.

As far as The Orphan is concerned, no one believed that he existed except those who were there to see the murder and no one believes the homeless anyway so his involvement let alone his existence was never reported or mentioned ever again. It could be because they didn't want to believe that a small child could do such a thing. It could be because most would think that it was a joke. But it's probably because if he did exist, why punish him for ridding the world of Sharon Buttz?

Oh, and the man she pummeled to death? He died halfway through his beating.