Complaing about a fancy bathroom

    Recently my house has been going through some renovations. When I say recently I mean it's been going on for almost two months now and I am sooooooo done with all of it. Unfortunately it's most likely going to last for another month, the plus side is my floor is more or less going to be done within a weeks time, then all that will be left is the living room and main entrance.
    In general the renovations should have been more or less finished by now, but my father kept adding things for the worker to do, thus a two month job turned into a three month job. That is not what I'm going to complain about though! Nope, what I'm going to talk about is in the title, well no shit.
    Now my fathers girlfriend has been really involved in all of the remodeling, she's pretty much the head designer while my father tends to pay for everything while also occasionally giving his own opinion. One of the things being done was my bathroom, which when asked how I want it done my response was 'gray tiles, no wood, floor and wall tiles, cabinets don't touch the ground.' A few specific request, but mostly pretty generic. The only thing I did was choose my wall tiles and I let the adults do everything else because I couldn't care less, I'm planning on ditching this place within a year so I saw no reason to add any input.
    So Anna (fathers gf) has pretty much styled the bathroom and I will admit it's very nice and fancy looking, but thats the thing.. It's too nice looking. I feel uncomfortable and out of place when I go there now and even though it's technically done I still go downstairs to use my grandmothers wash closet because it doesn't look like it belongs in a five star hotel. I sound like such a spoiled bitch, because honestly if you saw the place your eyes would pop, but it feels so foreign to me that ahahahahahahahahah. Let's just say it's going to take time getting used to.
    The fact that Anna also bought all the extra little bathroom things made me feel sort of sad, cause now it doesn't feel like my bathroom anymore. I'm just a guest in this house. My only place is my room. Everything else is my fathers and his to do with as he please's. I feel a rant coming on, but I think I'll just completely skip over that because it deserves it's own dedicated post.
    Instead I'll focus on the fact that someone I know has read some of my blog. Which is super weird and terrifying, but also somewhat nice because even after reading almost two years of all this random bullshit he still got coffee with me and bought me lunch! During our meet up he brought up two things about me that I never really noticed.
    The first is that I apparently have very abrupt goodbyes, which I never really thought about or even noticed, but he brought it to my attention the last time we met up. I'm not sure how this works. To my understanding when people are about to go they say 'well this was fun and shit, but I gotta run' hand wave, girly/macho hug, hand shake and bye. Is that not how it works? Is it suppose to like drag out or something? Is there a proper goodbye etiquette that I am completely unaware of?
    Anything is possible, but I just find it amusing. Maybe my goodbyes are quick, because I don't like them. I've been through so many painful goodbyes that I probably treat all of them like a band aid- Quick and 'painless.'
    The second thing he brought to my attention that I already sort of knew about was the fact that I am a total emotional sadist on here. Which I knew, sometimes when I'm feeling really sad I let the emotion consume me and allow it to create whatever it desires to help me get through the feeling.
     I've found that to be my best method of sorting through my emotions, specially when I don't understand jack, but I will admit that they can be excessively cruel sometimes. I'm sorry for killing you Aster, I won't do it again..... maybe...
    Anyway I never thought that my post could pull at someone else's heart strings, which I found out from my friend that so far two of them have (I'm secretly hoping at least one will make him question his sanity). One is snow globes and the other was your ideal world. One is about seeing a broken me, a dead me, the other was about moments in my life and what if they hadn't happened?
    There was a line hinting at how Aster and I first got together, how he asked me to be his human and thats how it all started. There though he never got the chance and it didn't come to pass, which surprisingly caused a reaction in my friend. His manly emotions were stomped out by his romantic side and he made me question why I wrote something so painful. It's something I can't answer because I tend to just write, still I apologize.
    There's one more thing that he asked me, before he started to read my blog.

Was Aster worth the depression?

    Honestly, that's such a loaded question. It's assuming that if I didn't move and I somehow convinced my parents to stay in america that I wouldn't have gone through such a serious depression. That I wouldn't have felt the things I felt, done the things I did, came out broken and chipped but could somehow still smile.
    I answered what I felt to be an honest answer which was yes. If I woke up in my 13 year old body with my memories intact I would have taken the same steps I did before, because after 5 years of hell a stranger who was looking for a potential girlfriend decided to try to get to know me. And after trying to push him away with depressing talks, allusions to death and suicide, he still stayed for some fucking reason and is still here.
    The fact that I would go through that shit again for him, just goes to show I'm absolutely smitten with him. Damn weasel takes after his name sake cause he's burrowed his way into my heart and made himself comfortable there. The damn prat.
    Ugh, just goes to show that even I can act like a fricken love sick teenager, gross. Allow me to go hide in a bush and avoid every human until I feel androgynous again.

Hypocrite

For once I'm not lying in a pool of my own blood. Instead, this time, well it's... it's HIS. 

    My arms are trembling as they struggle to hold his body, while my mind is trying to comprehend what lies before it's eyes.

This...it can't be!

Still there he lies still warm, eyes half shut, glossy and fogged over. I hold back a sob while I push back his long blond hair, the parts that aren't drenched in blood are soft, recently washed. If it weren't for all the red he'd look like an angel with his hair fallen around him, almost like a halo.
    I can't bring myself to look at his eyes, but I bring my hand over his eyelids in order to close them. The world will never know if he died with blue or green eyes. It's hard to hold back the tears at this point and I allow myself to finally cry.
    It's morbid, but I hold his slowly cooling body close and silently let tears fall from my eyes. This, this isn't fair. I was suppose to win this bet, not him. I was suppose to be the one to go first! He's...he..how....
    My mind shuts down and at one point I feel like someone's trying to grab him from my arms, but that's the one thing I can't allow, so I struggle to keep one of my final lifelines near me.

He was all I had! You can't..Please.

    I shut my eyes and all I feel is cold. I'm shivering and I find myself curling in on myself. So... this is what it feels like? I stare at the blank grave knowing full well there's no one bellow. I stare at my hands and there's no blood on them. No empty shell that once housed an amazing human soul.
    The relief that fills me is over whelming and I find myself once again bawling my eyes out. What a cruel joke, of all the people you choose, you choose the one that I'm most familiar with physically. You didn't even have to imagine anything, because I filled in all the details.

I hate myself. 

    Looking down at my hands once more I see the usual blood stream, my reminder. The grave is surprisingly still there, right on the edge of no return. Turning around I see my tree, and for once I'm not glad to see it, because I know it did this
    I want to scream and shout at it, but I know it's pointless, because what I just went through, however short lived it was, that is what he would go through. For a moment my eyes play that scene again and I can feel my heart jerk in pain. No. I finally say, swiping that scene to the side. I refuse to see that again. I never want to see that. He's only allowed to go when he's all gray and old, preferably in his sleep.

I'm such a hypocrite. 

    When I close my eyes and open them once again I find myself in bed with only half the covers on me. Looking over I can see he's taken them all and I smile taking note that both my hands and feet are frozen solid. Without a moments hesitation I wrap myself around him, making sure as much of my cold limbs touch him as possible. I hear a yelp from him and can't help but giggle slightly. That's much better.

Przepraszam, ale i też dziękuje. 

To think

It's thrilling yet terrifying to think such a thing could be possible.

It excites me, yet at the same time there is always a tiny bit of doubt buried deep within. 

What if it doesn't work?

What if we end up hating each other?

What if you can't handle it?

What if you start to forget?

All these thoughts and question hidden deep within my mind. They fester and grow slowly, carefully trying to fill me with fear and doubt. Trying to silence me, keep me from moving forward. 

Yet this tiny part of me is pushed aside, because the excitement is so much greater.

I'll get to see him everyday!
Our relationship will grow even more!

I'll get to know him even more!

Comfort and sanity will be at arms length! 

These thoughts bubble up the most. 

The happiness, the excitement, the nerves, the fear, the doubt. They all exist and they all have their own thoughts about this, but in the end I still want to try. I want to see if this can move forward, if this can continue to evolve and grow becoming something even more amazing.

This could be the catalyst.

It could also be the beginning of the next great adventure.

Visit to the past

My mental state balances on the ledge of being another statistic and just barely hanging on. 

    I'm cuddled up in my bed drifting between sleep and awake, thinking about the week ahead. Aster was moving in and I couldn't be more excited and terrified at the same time. Sleep eventually won though and my restless thoughts were silenced for a time.
    Suddenly though I feel myself violently waking, jolting upright as if I was slouched over something. A loud noise is made with my movement, as if a chair was being scraped across the floor and I can hear whispers all around me suddenly stop and turn into laughter. What? I look around confused only to see I'm inside a classroom, not just any classroom though, my old homeroom with my old, loud classmates.
    They're quieted by the teachers voice "Glad to see you've awoken sleepyhead. I know homeroom is boring, but could you refrain from sleeping while I try to organize a class trip that isn't the movies?" I stutter out an apology before slouching and covering my face. This, this is a dream right? I look around noticing all of my classmates are accounted for. There's one I hone in on immediately though, front row right next to the door, short blond hair. Wait, short?
    That means it's only the second year, winter time judging from the boots I'm wearing and the weather outside. I feel tears swell up in my eyes, we haven't started talking yet, we don't start to talk until the end of second year, not for another couple of months. I sigh, but pretend to listen to the teachers plan to go somewhere. It never happens. But this is just a dream, so might as well continue forward until I finally wake up from this nightmare. Aster was the only good thing about high school, everything else was a god damn fucking pain in the ass.

It's been three days.

    Why the fuck am I still in this dream? Who am I kidding, I'm starting to think I traveled back in time and it's slowly driving me insane. I have long hair during this time that I'm just itching to cut, all my tattoos are non-existent and it's making me feel naked, my glove is there, but the scars are so prominent that they make me want to puke. Everything is so messed up and wrong, that I can't hold it together anymore.
    It doesn't help that my bodies hormones are at their worst levels during this time and it's making it even more difficult to function. The worst part though, is seeing Aster everyday and not even talking to him, because we don't know each other yet, he isn't MY Aster, MY human, My lifeline.
    I sit down at my usual spot waiting for math to start so I can go to sleep. Unfortunately, I'm not left alone as the guy I sit next to and blocked as soon as I graduated starts to complain about something trivial. Honestly, this shit grates on my nerves and I've had it up to here with this annoying ass dream. So for once I don't bite my tongue and bare it, I let that sucker go full force.
    'You know Pete that's really interesting and all and if I cared I'd totally agree with you, but I couldn't give a bigger shit. So go suck a dick, cause at least then your mouth will be useful for something.' With that I grab my bag and leave the room, saluting my teacher goodbye as she walks down the hall. I ignore her shouts and stomp right out of the school, pissed beyond belief and terrified. 
    What if this is not a dream? It's been three days, three long days. It's getting harder and harder not to go climb a nice tall building to throw myself off it, because I can't live through all this bullshit all over again. These next few years were awful and I just wanna be done.
    My feet end up taking me to a park near the school and despite the cold I curl up on a bench and just go numb. What am I suppose to do if this is real? I can't go through that all over again. What if this time I don't peak Asters interest and we don't end up together? I can't, I don't know what I'll do if he's gone. Larkspur's a great supportive lifeline, but Aster is tangible and reachable at a moments notice. I'm not sure I can function without him.
    I mope on the bench ignoring the  world around me, trying to understand why I'm here, when I start to hear someone come up to me. They say my name and I look up and feel dumb-strucked. Aster? He shouldn't know about this park yet, nor would he have any reason to follow me of all people, yet there he is bundled up in his coat and staring straight at me. He seems very amused yet slightly relieved as well. We stare for a moment before he sits right next to me on the bench and whispers in my ear 'Wake up you lazy piece of shit!'
    I'm pushed from my bed and after a moment of disorientation I find myself on the floor with Aster looking at me from my bed. 'Sleep well?' He cockily asks all the while smirking. I stand pretending to get angry at him for interrupting my sleep before pouncing on him.

Thank god, that was just an awful dream.