I really suppose I could tell you all about my spring break, and you may understand what has transpired or not.  These thoughts are for my future self to discern, and probably (as well) God.  Although Rebecca Jensen states that complete honesty does not equal complete candor, I do believe that pertinent information, especially that which would change the behavior of someone close to her, should not be withheld from that person, but should be intimated in a cautious manner.  However, this act for which I've berated her on her Phusebox really did not consume my thoughts in my attacks on her person.  There are (quite obviously, I think) other reasons involved.

I've said, many times, that people really don't understand me.  Whether this opinion rehashes "teen angst" or not, I believe, at least to an extent, that it is true.  The better question, as Chris Morgan astutely speculated, is whether that misunderstanding comes from my own intention to be "unique" and misunderstood or from actual misunderstanding: the answer, likewise, is murky at best--both are involved.  So the question becomes which came first--nature or intention; and I can answer that.  First came my being understood, or better yet, my perception of such misunderstanding.  Because of this misunderstanding, angst set in, causing a desire for simultaneous conformity and "uniqueness".  That developed uniqueness causes misunderstanding, but it's not always intentional...As I said, the solution to Mr. Morgan's question is complicated at best...

Really, all of this is to say that, despite your thinking you understand the one side of any story you may have heard, a need ALWAYS exists to discern the truth from all sides--to read between the lines.

That being said, I can't really delve into the more difficult parts of the subsequent story, because I haven't the permission; otherwise, I would.  For those of you just expecting a description of my spring break, I had fun meeting with my grandparents and other family members from that side for at least a little while at Village Creek State Park in Arkansas.

Around my ninth grade, I met Rebecca Jensen and her brother Chris in Kenny Pyatt's Sunday School class.  Quite frankly, I was reluctant to meet with them (they didn't look that "cool" at the time), but I realized neither was I and that I needed to be kind to visitors as one longstanding member of FWC (to an extent).  Nothing really struck me about her then.  I really didn't get involved with her until Teen Bible Quiz the next year: I had heard she was a threat.  When I was lazy, she was, but other than that, I realized both Josh and I surpassed her.  The year went well enough.  During that time, I think I engaged in a considerably awkward conversation with her where I semi-propositioned...Don't worry, just kissing...during a Friday night cookout at the Lewis's property.  I think she admired Josh at the time, but for the most part, other than hormonal outbursts such as that, I remained largely uninterested in her in anything other than friendship.  Both the older Morgans thought she was attractive: I didn't really care.  Honestly, I didn't care for her mother very much, even though my family had started to become acquainted with theirs via invites to dinners and such.  The funnier thing was her age.  On the outset, she seemed older than she actually was--a year and a half younger than I and thus much younger than Josh (he was always weird about these kinds of things).  She claims I never noticed.  That's not true: I did.  I just debated it for several reasons.  At the time (my ninth and tenth grades), I was interested in the nonconformist way of life (e.g. Paige Crockett), and Rebecca was hardly that at all.  She seemed too set...too down-pat...too what everyone wanted.  We still seemed to manage a well-developed friendship though.  Eventually, I realized Rebecca admired me.  I knew this for a long time, but she seemed indifferent whenever I tried to ask her about it.  Later, I discovered that most of my signals were misinterpreted as attempts to exploit her "fault" for liking me.  It wasn't until she stayed in Washington with her sick mother that I began to really become interested: this would prove to be one of the initial problems I had with initiating a relationship with her.  Because she developed problems from the situation with her, I began to interested in her.  Read that sentence a few times, and you'll see the problems.  I began to see her issues as part of her kindof, a revelation to her personality and emotions.  Still, she represses those ideas.  But whatever the case, I was there and heard everything.  Later on, I entertained the idea of a relationship and followed through on the tail end of my senior year in high school (last summer)...next dumb idea.  We'd barely enough time to solidify any sort of relationship in addition to the temporal grief and concomitant issues.  I kept telling her the distance wouldn't phase me, but it did.  Georgia proved a much more depressive state than originally anticipated.  (I'm skipping a considerable bit here.)  I slowly began breaking it off, but my selfishness impeded my viewing her perspective.  I didn't answer my phone period--not just when she called, and she called often.  So it ended very awkwardly with apologies with some aspirations to the future, but nothing clear enough.  I talked to her a little, but was under the impression things weren't going too well.  Whenever I did talk to her, usually, I'd draw her into some fucked up argument usually dealing with my depression.  Other than that, we discussed her problems. 

Shortly speaking....I probably gave her more grief than reprieve.  Then as of late...

I began rekindling feelings for Rebecca lately, but she was either too retarded to notice or forced herself not to notice.  That sounds mean, but come on.  I became more awkward around her when I met with her last weekend.  She seemed indifferent and foolish, carried as much away with imaginary social problems she conjoured up with the Lewis/Morgan group as she could.  You can argue with me about that.  I do think they got too involved, but she always gives off this sort of passive aggression that simply doesn't solve anything.  Again, I could explain more thoroughly, but it would just serve to anger me more.  I don't want to be angry.

So I asked her in private if she still loved me, and boy the hell I opened in my soul.  She said yes, but not in the way I was thinking.  I was thinking...heh, yeah right, you mean no.  So I ended that conversation in about the most inept way I could and drove off to meet my parents for dinner.  Later on, Phusebox happened.  I attacked, and she didn't get mad.  That's her for ya, never could defend herself.  I still don't know if she got why it all happened or not, although I assume that she knows why.  Whether she wants anything to do with me is anybody's guess or I guess whoever wants to convince her that I'm evil and shouldn't be talked to.  Haha...what a weird thought...but I guess I'm the bad guy.  You know, maybe after all this, I don't really love her after all.  Would love attack that person loved?  Nah...at least in my mind.  Maybe no one will read all this shit.  Maybe you all will just all stare and say, "Hey, there's someone drowning: isn't that nice?"  Stupid fucks...never could get anything, but why I stopped attacking...

I've been asking to God to speak to me in my dreams.  Part of my dream on Wednesday night was a group of people including me were on a black beach.  On this beach, I followed Rebecca and ridiculed her, but she seemed phased only a bit.  Eventually, [a girl I know named] Kendall asked me why I did what I did.  I told her that I hated not having what I wanted, and wanting what I couldn't have.  She told me that I was doing no good, and ultimately was just hurting myself.  So I cried and cleaned up my section of the beach.

So, whatever...remark, bitches...