So C and I watch this show called dirty sexy money, which is about this family named the Darlings. The Darlings are filthy rich, obnoxiously spoiled, and the drama in thier life makes me glad that it is not my life. The drama in this show is crazy. It makes my life look pretty. Oh my life, what is my life. My life includes girls that disappear like the sun on a rainy day, crazy amount of homework, and friends that keep life totally interesting. On top of all the when I need a car most, I get in an accident and mess my car royally. I cant help but feel like not having my car is the worlds way of telling me I cant go running everytime she needs me. Now I cant go see her and I would be there at the drop of a hat and now I cant. I cant be there and its not only killing me its killing her, or at least she seems to. I called her sweetie and well I cant cause she hates the term and my other option was babe but I feel like that wouldnt go over well. So the Darlings are these fictional characters that just live. They hide behind their money and power, but they live. Its all secretative and they keep it all from eachother but each one of them is just trying to live. And that is what life is. Its about living.
In the mist of watching this show an emotional moment came up and I found myself doing something I dont normally do. I was feeling something. I miss her. And for the first time the her I was missing was KC. I miss the idea of her, the thought of her potentially thinking about me. I miss her name being on my caller id, I miss her random texts of hey sam, I just miss her. I cant explain it and I dont understand it, but I miss her. And after how things ended I figure Ill never know what will be, but not knowing is killing me. Not knowing what could have happened is eating away at me. Ive written her letters and I just wish I had the balls to send them, and I know that texting her is a complete waste of my time because she wont ever answer me back, and when I see her when we play them, Im going to want nothing more than to grab her face and kiss her but I wont, Ill let T beat her up and gaurd her and hopefully get the chance to lay her on her ass long enough to extend my hand and tell her she should have picked me. And well she should have, and if she were to text me in three weeks from now or even two months from now, I know the story, I already know what I would do, say, feel, and I could write the story. She comes back, I swoon over her, get my hopes up, and well when things look good, too good, it will all vanish. The dopey grin on my face will last the length it take the sand to drain from the timer in my crainum game. And maybe thats what I miss most, that feeling she gave me, she made me feel alive.
Shot sixteen... Living and alive are two different things.