All is fair in love and war...bull

Crabby. Annoyed. Pissed. Fuck. I hate feeling like this. Alone and empty. It's friday night and I'm home, alone, here where it's miserable. I feel like they have all moved on and left me. My friends, my family, my own mother. She's walking around her with a boyfriend who adores her. How pathetic is that? I'm seventeen years old and my mom can find a boyfriend before I can. It sickens me. Yes, of course I'm happy for her but she has been married before, she has been loved before, kissed before. I've had nothing. I want something. Some spark, some romance, just something. I act like it's nothing. Like I'm just so happy and content with being single but on the inside it's killing me. It's like a big bubble that is taking up all of the space in my body and I can't pop it. I hate it. You don't know how many times I've stared in the mirror and just cried, just wanting to be something that they will like. Something that I will like something that will compare to my mother. When my mom was my age she weighed about 103 lbs. She was gorgeous and all the boys wanted her. I'm 17 years old I weigh well a lot more then that and I haven't dated in two years. I'm lonely. All of my friends are dating. Hell, one's even engaged. I just want something close like that. I want my mom to feel proud of me. I want my mom to know I'm not some mutant that there are guys who want me. But who am I kidding? She will probably die of old age before she can see that. I try not to cry when I think about it. How much it hurts. How much pain I go through when she flirts with men. I want to be her. I want to be my mother. When my dad died it was like I didn't have a man around to tell me how beautiful I was/am. No one else in my family knows I feel this way so it's not like they can help me and if they did no they would just try to convince me that I was beautiful but make obvious comments when skinny girls showed up as to how beautiful they are. It hurts a lot. Waiting and waiting for that one man to tell me I'm beautiful. It could be anyone. Any color. Any age. I don't care. I just want that one man to tell me that once and awhile. I know I sound cliche like every girl feels this way. But they are all bullshit. I'm sick of size 2 girls complaining about love handles and about how they can't get a man except they are probably sexting them the same time they say this. If someone ever got a sext from me...I think they would burn their phone. Or their eyes. Whichever is least painful for them. Sometimes I think.."he looked at me. He smiled at me." but it means nothing they soon join their girlfriends and I am still stuck here. God what a way to spend a Friday night huh? Weeping about my pitty problems. Maybe I'll go get a life...maybe.

Late hours in the night

Have you ever read a book or watched a movie that seemed to give you all the answers? Well I was reading the book, Tangled, and it all came to me. Then I started questioning everything. Why couldn't he have just danced with me at Winterfest; I mean he liked dancing with me at my sweet 16 party; and still everytime I hear when you look me in the eyes I think about his hands on the small of my back and the way he smelt, like a fresh shower. Everything about that moment is imprinted into my mind. So of course when I saw him with her I felt like vomitting, it was like he was the one who could give me the butterflies and when I saw him with her, they died, shriveled up in the pit of my abdoman. I always question if he really loved me like I loved him. We were only sixteen but like they say age is but a number. I do believe I truly loved him though. Maybe it was when he came to our first date with a swollen hand because he hit it in baseball and didn't want to be late so he didn't put ice on it. Maybe that was the day, or the night he leaned in to kiss me on my front step when my step-dad walked outside the door. Hopefully someday that part of this memory will be repressed. So my big question is if he really loved me, why does he act like we were never an us at some point. I don't get it. I catch him stealing glances at me from across the room, then when we talk it's like all of our history was erased, like our love was sprawled over a white board and the existence of her erased it away. I wasn't that upset when I heard she liked him, until he asked her to prom. Our prom. The prom he was supposed to court me to. I remember that day vividly. I was gazing at him, his muscles rippling out of his tight, bright blur Abercrombie tee. If you came close you might have seen me drooling. Except I have touched those muscles. I did think about that night when we were hugging eachother and I felt his abs under my sweating palms. That might have been the night I fell asleep on a cloud. Anyways, drool, and blah, blah, blah. So I was staring at him so intently I almost didn't hear it. "So how'd you ask her?"..."over a text." I excused myself from algebra 2 to go and cry in the girls bathroom. I hated everything about him but mostly I wanted to kick her ass. All of my emotions were jumbled up like they are now and I still don't know what to do for these not so ready to part feelings for him. Maybe another restless night will help me solve it.