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October 2008

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My So-Called Therapy

Dear Jordan Dana,

So this seemed to work for Angela in getting Jordan Catalano's attention, and if it's good enough for Jordan Catalano its good enough for you. Then again, Jordan Catalano can't read, so just ignore every word over five letters long.
Wait, I should backtrack a bit.
I've always had what even I deem as an unhealthy addiction to My So-Called Life. Mostly due to the fact that Angela's life parallels mine with sickening accuracy, that and Jordan Catalano is beautiful.
Anyway in the episode titled "Why Jordan Can't Read", Angela writes this five page love letter about every feeling, every thought she'd ever had about Jordan. So considering my present climate, which must be mental instability, I've decided to do the same. Whether or not you'll ever lay eyes on this depends solely on your ability to feign illiteracy. 
Enough about Jordan Catalano, no you.
I guess I should start at the begining.

1. I still remember quite clearly that day you followed me home. Well not so much followed as tagged along for the walk. Brienne (sp?) said it was because you liked me, but she was a lying cheating whore so, who knows. After that you were permanently implanted into my life. I mean why me? Out of a class of six hundred and you choose me to follow home? I was awkward and shy and had those horrendous braces and had about three friends in the whole world. I still don't know why, I'm just glad you did.

2. You refused to talk to me after that. Wouldn't even make eye contact for about a year. I still wonder what would have happened if you kept avoiding me.

3.Junior year was by far our most prolific so this may take a while. To sum it up, I loved you, I hated you. I didn't want to so much as see you but got disappointed if we didn't talk. I was basically your typical bipolar, nutso, 16 year-old convinced they were in love. More on that later. I remember there was about a month where you used to call me randomly and we'd talk about jack shit. Those are honestly some of my favorite memories of you. At the beginning of that school year Nichole Posey and I passed this note back and forth. It more or less assessed who was in our classes, and who we wished were or weren't. Next to your name I wrote: 'He is loud, annoying, and dumb, I hope I never see him again.'
I still think you're loud, and you drive me crazy, but my ultimate fear is that one day you'll decide you've had enough of me and all my bullshit and that'll be the end of it. I need you, whether simply as a friend or, whatever the fuck is going on with us, I just need you in my life.

4.11th grade was also the first year I realized just how schizo you are. The way I figure it you work on a three month calendar. For a while you're totally engaged and interested to the point I'm convinced something is going to happen. Then you're off again on some new conquest, unreachable and not to be heard from again for another few months. If I could change one thing about you, that'd be it, it's fucking confusing and just as annoying. It doesn't make any sense, what makes even less sense is that instead of moving on you at some point end up back at me. Why? Am I safe? Am I just stupid enough to take you back every single time? Or do you actually consider me? Which is it?

5. Remember those CDs you burned me but never gave me for...whatever reason. I used to imagine what was on them but I could never think of anything besides "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel. I still wonder what was on them sometimes. I might compile one for you one day, if only to make myself better. It would include such works as "Maps" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and "Fuck It" by Eamon. 

6. You could have had me at 'Hey, my name is Dana, this is my number...', if it weren't for my overwhelming and ever present insecurity. Whenever someone shows any interest in me. I immediately assume its an elaborate prank, like Ashton might jump out a tree at any moment and tell me I've been "punk'd". Although I must say you do an excellent job of leading me on without the help on any That 70's Show alum. I'm defensive, and at times you give me warrant to be. All I've ever heard is how unsatisfactory in every way I am, I've been hurt a lot, even you're guilty of that. So tell me why, WHY do I set myself up for it?

7. I'll ask you again to remember back to junior year, Valentine's Day. I was being my usual pissy 'I-hate-Valentine's-Day' self. And you gave me that fucking card. You said all these things, that I'm still not sure if you meant or not. The card had this goofy cay on the front and you signed it "Love, Dana" who knows if that's significant or not. I still have it, mainly because it carries with it the innate ability to make me both smile and want to cry. I think that pretty much sums up our relationship, just add anger, resentment and stir...

8. I was convinced that once we started dating it'd be this huge thing. We'd be together all the time, making out, holding hands, fucking, all that fucking shit. Dugan's said since 9th grade he sees us getting married. (Fuckiing spooky.) I never planned a wedding, but I never planned a break up either. Not like I do with everyone else. Maybe that means something, maybe I just have shit for brains when it comes to you. I'm opting for the latter.

9. More on that magical little queer known as Michael Dugan. Let's face it I'll never know what you said, or even if you said anything. I still doubt you, but you haven't given me a whole lot to have faith in. All I know is that while I was upset on Dugan's count I found it to be an ever-so convenient excuse to never fucking see you again. I don't feel bad for that considering all the shit you've put me through. Years of yanking my chain, leading me on, and false hope. Every time I had to be your friend and listen to you recounting the tales of your exploits. Guess what, it fucking sucked. You fucking suck for that. So that's my excuse. It was any easy fix, never see you, never talk to you, never have to admit to myself how much I actually wanted you. I'm sorry if that hurt at all but you fucking deserved it you twat. The worst part is, I have even less of a clue of where I stand then I did before. Go figure.

10. I'm not sure if you actually don't know this or you're just playing dumb, but you're gorgeous. You always have been. Especially when it's just us, there's a side to you I don't get to see with anyone else around. That side, that guy, he's an incredible person. I love that guy. Then again, maybe it's an act, maybe I'm in love with a bunch of smoke and mirrors. But the thought that it's honesty and not something imaginary, it gives me hope.

11. I truly do not understand you sometimes. You're willing to drop whatever the fuck it is you're doing and drive 69 (huh) miles up the turnpike and back for three fucking hours? I'd say you're just desperate for a fuck but I didn't even get that satisfaction. Last I checked that'd been the only thing on your agenda for as long as I've known you (six years) and all of a sudden nothing? What the hell? Am I not what you were hoping for? Am I different now, unattractive, slutty? I mean what the fuck is wrong with me? I think I deserve to know that much,

12. I hate you sometimes. I do, I really fucking do, I hate you right fucking now for instance. You have a gift sir, A real fucking gift. Nothing gets me this pissed of besides the Eagles losing to the Pats or Paris Hilton on CNN (which are completely unrelated grievances). But then you have to go and fuck it up. You have to call me, or see me, And I'm always, ALWAYS happy when that happens. As exasperated as you fucking make me, a few words in and you're golden. You piece of shit, I hate you for that. If I could headbutt my space bar I would. (And I think "DC" would agree.)

Alright, I'm pretty sure I've covered all your shit, Now a brief glimpse of mine. 
Believe it or not I hate talking about myself. It makes me feel like a petty narcissistic bitch. Fuck maybe I am, but now I'm rambling...

1. I hate being a girl. Not in the transgender or even feminist sense. I just hate feeling weak, hate being emotional. Like Warhol said "I want to be a machine." I suppose this is the major by-product of being raised on M*A*S*H by a WWII vet whose pet name for you was "Butch". I just hope that to some degree you feel the same way, not the part about Vietnam lampooning TV shows but that you feel that way about me. Even if it's not how you feel about me as an individual. I just hope that whenever you hear I've been fucking around with someone you get just the slightest bit jealous. If not, I've wasted a shitload of time on you.

2. I never want to be "that girl". I don't want to be the annoying girl who calls all the time. No matter if I miss you, or hate you, or just want to fucking talk, there's always that fear. I don't want to be the weirdo girl you talk to your buddies about. I don't want to be the retard whose number comes up on your phone and you hit ignore. Basically I don't want to be Susan Duffy.

3. I want more than anything to just know where we stand. Friends? Fuck buddies? Potential relationship? Future murderer and victim? Anything? Just fucking tell me! I don't care what the answer is, just fucking let me know. 

I think it also should be stated that you are the type of person that makes people drive nine hundred miles in an adult diaper to commit murder. Thanks for clearing up that enigma.


Angela "Red" Chase


i swear to fucking god, if i even the slightest bit anger you, you fucking tell me, you are the last female on earth i want to want to kill me.

i swear to fuckign god that i love you and i hope he dies.

Aw, I don't want to kill you either!
I love you because you make me feel better and you're not a douche bag.