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Love. Just the slowest form of suicide, I think. Mike (Ethan's friend) is going out with my sister, but I don't care, I don't "love" Mike. It's Ethan I thought I loved. Hah, how funny. Ethan wouldn't come outside today, I felt like playing Nervous with him. He didn't want to go outside, so I was kind of pissed at that, but I didn't really care. He was at his house, Mike and Katt were, too. I guess now he just wanted to hang out with her and him instead of me and my friend. When they came home, I was like... "Okay, cool." I wanted to chill alone with him, and I was dragged upstairs to their "hang out" place. Didn't care, again. After watching Mike be his "funny old self" trying to loogie on a spider high on a wall across the stairs, Ethan took my hat, and I kind of laughed and followed after him. Whoo, fun. They came down, too. Whoo, not fun. After Katt said if it was okay for them three to go off, I was a little upset. I decided it was that Ethan took favoring to my sister. I cared.

Love isn't right, it always finds its way to ******** with me. I came home crying after walking away, and I called my friend Amber, we hung out earlier, and she knew I was pissed slightly that he wanted to play guitar instead of hang out. She helped me over it.

I won't get over the fact that my... That Ethan likes my sister. ******** love and everything with it, what's so wrong with me now? Noone will stay around long enough to finish a sentence anymore. ******** it all!

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