The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

I dyed me hair. Honestly, people should've saw this coming; I get bored easily, and changing my appearance is one way to keep my life interesting. It's burgundy now. Cut into a severe bob. If my papa saw this, he'd get a heart attack. I look far older than I a really am, and like any father, he doesn't want me to get any older.

We almost ran out of dye, my hair is so thick. Bit, we didn't, and for that I am grateful.

I'm not one for holding grudges; I never have been. I find them pointless and childish. They help no one, they don't make anything better. In fact, they making anything worse. But I can't help but feel enraged, bitter, and cold as I recurve a text from a person who's name I wish to never say again, much less talk to the permed of said name. Still, it's early afternoon, and I am peacefully eating lunch, sketching out the plot for my newest book idea, which I've been testing for a year and a half, and am very excited about. And then my phone buzzes, breaking my focus from my works of fantasy, and back to dreary, boring, only occasionally happy (for me, at least), reality.



Her name is Abby, and when I see her name pop out, with a casual, ‘Long time, no see,’ all I can feel is my white-hot, pulsing, brilliant rage racing through my beings, fogging my head, making my thump beat like drunken tap dancers. For she is the girl who was once my best friend, my very best friend. Since second grade, when I moved into the incredibly boring neighborhood located in Utah. She lived right across the street from me, still does, and was my only friend.



Until she wasn't.



She was beautiful—still is, but I can't see her that way anymore. She has chocolate brown eyes and glossy raven hair, is talk and lean, dressed like how I want to, act how I want to—but I want nothing to do with her. She is not the girl she used to be, not the girl I befriend so long ago.



It's hard to like the girl who stole your childhood, made you a loner, a misfit, and worse, than left you like you we're nothing, even though she knew full we'll how much she meant to you. For a boy, no less, despite claiming half her life she was a lesbian. Which I find ridiculous, offensive even, as I risk the possibility of persecution by my family, or my dad, at least, though he would never lay a finger on me, for being one.



A boy I can't stand, to make it more humus ting. Alec. Insensitive, obsess with perverse jokes, cats, and Mine raft, nothing behind what you see, not a thought in his head. Hell—he wasn't even attractive, funny, or kind. He just existed. And she left me did him. Someone she knew for years, had been through so much with, fit an annoying little little runt of boy who had much to learn before becoming a person, much less a man.



She didn't say goodbye, have me no warning. She was there, then she left. And had made me so antisocial, so reclusive, I may never make a friend again. At least, not in the USA. And you may think I'm being ridiculous, but hear this. I swear. I feel justified. Maybe I'm not. But I feel like I have the right towards anger, towards hatred, though it's a destructive emotion. Both are. And also my mist prominent.



Because she berated me whenever I tried to make friends, saying they were stupid, annoying, bratty—and then expected me to idolize all of her's, though I thought the same things of them, and worse. I never told her, abs perhaps that was my problem. I was too afraid to hurt her, since she would lash out on me. I knew she wound. It was her way. In the smallest battles, she would ruin me, gossiping about me, selling my worst secrets. She would become jealous and angry when I talked to anyone else. She called me dumb and fat and ugly my whole time, and I took it. Because without her, abuse and all, I was nothing.



I switched schools and learned better. Of course I did. I became the most popular girl in class. Blaire, the girl who who was smart, artistic, kind, and thoughtful. A bit weird and reclusive, but genuine. Honest. Deep. That was—is—more than Abby ever was.



And I got my first girlfriend, Alyssa, who taught me to be confident in myself, love myself, because I'm amazing. And beautiful. Smart. Talented. Cool. Fun. Hilarious. And I surely had to be, for someone as crazy cool, wicked cute, and sweet as Alyssa to notice me, love me even. But then she moved to Michigan, and I was alone again.



And I ran back to Abby. I needed someone. My best friend. Bit age didn't me. She pushed away. She found a new group, and I wasn't welcome.



So my answer to her text was quite simple. I told her never talk to me again, and then blocked her for good measure. After all, I had Alyssa, Erin, though I was no longer with them, Jenna, Daniel, Clay, Tanya, Mari, Hiro, Leiko, my family, and most of all, Rika. And they are all I need.



And, also, I'm me. And I love myself, no thanks to Abby. Ciao Bella, I don't want to hear from you again. See you again. I hate you. And if you ever come near be, I'll do much worse than say Bye Beautiful in Italian. That's what I said to her. I never saw her response, and I never will. And I don't want to. I really, truly don't. I don't even care enough to wish her horrible luck. I'm done thinking about hugging her and killing her. Even thinking her name.



I've already done that much more than she deserves.