Pledge Brothers and Pay-Back

Yeah, it’s possible I went home with and am now basically dating my ex-boyfriend’s pledge brother…

So, admittedly – when I went home with him that first night maybe I wasn’t so into him… it was just supposed to be payback… thats all. I was drunk from all the bottles of $5 wine I’d consumed, and he was cute and there, and there was something that was just telling me to do it. Maybe I just wanted to feel wanted again, for a night, just a night. Those other guys wanted me for a relationship and I wasn’t ready. I wanted a night, and I got relationship. How do I always do that?

I’ll admit it started out as just a rebound from Elias, and the fact Ducky is his pledge brother kind of made it even better. Like, fuck you, how’d you like that?! but honestly… it’s become something so much more. I really like him.

He’s everything Elias isn’t, and in the best of ways.

He’s honest with me about like everything; like, if he’s mad at me – he tells me. None of that petty, passive aggressive bullshit Elias pulled always. Plus, he told me up front that his ex would be at Okeechobee, unlike Elias who told me five minutes before it happened that I would be meeting the love of his life.

He has the same sense of humor as me. He doesn’t make me watch shitty shows like Archer and/or Family Guy that just have a not great storyline and even worse humor.

We like the same music. Well, maybe he pretends to like my music to keep me happy – but I like his music! No more lame jam band-types.

Ducky is still getting over Brooke. Which, yeah is kinda a let-down on the one hand, but also kinda great on the other because it means that we can get over someone we really loved together.


He’s making me feel whole again… something I didn’t think would happen for a very long time. Idk, maybe I’m just getting attached to the idea of a guy again. It’s possible, but I’m not so sure. I think it’s the real thing this time… I just hope it lasts.

He’s coming to NYC to see me for Spring Break, and I’m going to Okeechobee with him and all his friends.


We’ll see what happens.



Taking it slow

I just don’t understand how people do it. 

We’re getting back together or at least trying to but were “taking it slow”.

How do you do that though? I don’t even know how to start from the beginning w Elias. How do you go from spending every single night w someone to only sporadically.

We say I Love You a million times a day to each other, over text and in person. But then now I’m in the hospital and I don’t even know how to ask him to come and stay w me here.

He’s like a stranger I know as well as I know the back of my hand, but still a stranger. 

Idk how to do this… Idk if I can.

I miss him

I miss the Elias I had

I miss what we had

I miss being able to call him in the middle of the night for whatever and he would come and vice versa

I miss the boy I fell in love w.

Shacker in Shackles: Part 1

Like any good story, it started out as any other day. By which I mean, it was so mundane, I honestly do not remember what I had been doing earlier that day leading up to the event. I remember finally getting comfortable in my bed and being ready to finally Netflix the rest of the afternoon away, until it was time to get ready for that night’s festivities.

When I heard the knock at the door, it actually crossed my mind to just ignore the person and continue my episode of Grey’s Antomy. I figure it was probably just maintenance doing a routine check of the smoke detectors or something… Boy, was I wrong.

I finally decided to just open it.

I checked through the peephole, and saw  nothing. But I didn’t think anything of it, so I still opened the door; you know, being curious and all.

What I found, was 4 older men I knew immediately were cops, or something of the like at least.

I wished I’d just stayed in bed watching Grey’s Anatomy instead.

They asked to come in. Obviously I said that was fine, bc you can’t really say no to a cop, can you?

They asked me to take them to my room, for more privacy; so, of course, I obliged.

When there, they pulled out some papers and said “we have a search warrant for your apartment” bc they had me on surveillance “dealing drugs”.

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!!???

Let me make this v clear – I am not a drug dealer. I don’t sell to my friends when they want just a bump of my Coke or one of my adderall for a test. I don’t do that. I don’t share my adderall and I don’t share my Coke, or at least except this one time.

So when they said that, all I could respond w was “…what????


One of the jerks chuckled. We’ll call him Asshole 2, since Asshole 1 was doing all the talking. I think the other 2 were just there for show to make me more intimidated or something.

The rest was kind of a blur in a way, but I was completely cooperative and gave them everything I had.

I had no choice. I didn’t want to go to jail.

They told me I could be an informant instead, to which I was uneasy about agreeing to, as that meant being a snitch and narcing on my friends, and friends of friends.

While I was offering everything I had, Asshole 2 verbally came at me w “so where’s your scale?”

Me: my what?

Asshole 2: your scale, don’t play dumb.

Me: I don’t have one.

Asshole 2: I’m going to ask you again, where is your scale? We’ll find it if you don’t give it up, and you’ll only make this worse for yourself.

Me: I don’t have one!

A2: Where is it!!?

Me: I don’t have a fucking scale, I am telling you!! Christ.

A2: don’t you raise your voice at me

Me: well what am I supposed to do, I am telling you I don’t have one. Search the fucking apartment – search the kitchen – search the ceiling – search the walls. There’s no fucking scale here bc I am NOT A FUCKING DRUG DEALER.

It all went on for quite a while after that, if I’m perfectly honest w you…

Well, anyway, they took me down to the precinct so I could fill out the paperwork to become an informant. While in the car tho (which was like a tinted out and fierce looking black suv, if I weren’t so pissed off I probably would have appreciated it at the time), they started by going like “so as an informant-“

Me: I know – I have to wear a wire and turn people in. I have make 2 buys from each person before you can make an arrest. I’m aware.

Asshole 1: Jesus, is there like a class teaching all this stuff to everyone?

Me: No, I just watch a lot of cop shows and word gets around (in a sort-of DUH tone)

When we finally got there, the rest of the crew left me w Asshole 1 as I filled out forms. Name, DOB, home address, mailing address (isn’t that the same fucking thing???? I’ve never understood why they ask for them separately. So dumb, this day of age) charges, # of people to turn in (5, kill me now please – more so I don’t get murdered by some pissed off fucker), et al.

I voiced at one point, as Asshole 1 and I were sharing a conversation over what my major and minor in college were – that for obvious reasons I felt uncomfortable w being a snitch. 

To which he responded by telling me “well don’t feel too bad about it, one of your friends snitched on you.” 


They said I was caught on surveillance. I assumed that had meant like cameras on the street outside restaurants and whatever. Not that someone had NARCED on me. 


Right away, I knew exactly who it had to of been. I wasn’t a drug dealer. I’m NOT a drug dealer.

But I sold to one friend twice, the only person ever.

And honestly, I felt safe doing it since HE WAS THE ONE I BOUGHT THE COKE FROM.

So, since they are stupid idiots and left me w my phone – I immediately texted the guy I thought was my friend and whom I’d bought/sold to and was like WTF DUDE. 

Well, that didn’t quite go over so well. Emilie (the bastard, back-stabbing, snitching, loser of a friend) called Asshole 2 and told them I texted him.

Next thing I know…

handcuffs are on my wrists.

Asshole 2 is yelling and screaming at me in the car, telling me how stupid I was, and how I should expect to be expelled from school and spend the next 20 years in jail.

Which I yelled back at him telling him to shut the fuck up.


Fast forward 2 weeks, I learned my mugshot had been posted in every GroupMe conversation between the bar staff and owners of all establishments Downtown.





4 November :: It’s Wednesday

I told myself on Sunday I wouldn’t go out until Saturday this week. 

I told myself I would work out everyday and restart my BBG guide by Kayla Itsines.

And, I have.

I have worked out everyday at least once; I did the first circuit last night – my aching body can attest to it…

I didn’t go to $0.50 beer night on Mondays.

I didn’t go to $2 wells on Tuesdays.

But, now it’s Wednesday.  Possibly the hardest day to say no to the bars.

WineWednesday is my weakness; I have been to every one since I first received my fake ID, a few days before Valentine’s Day.

One spends an only $5 for an entire full-sized cheap bottle of wine. 

The bar holding this glorious deal, was always my stomping ground last semester; I was there almost every night – the bouncers didn’t even check my ID, the bartenders gave me free drinks, and I always knew at least 3/4 of the population under the roof.

Some of my most infamous moments occurred there. As well, it is where I met and became best friends w every single one of the friends I am surrounded w to this day.

It was at this bar I was yakked all over by some fucking frat star bastard.

It was there that I almost fought a fat chick for slapping her boy friend’s best friend repeatedly (which I swear he really did deserve, and he actually thought was fucking hilarious). She kept asking me “who the fuck I thought I was” to which I responded, reiterating plentiful with “upper east side, motherfucker” over and over again.

But, recently… Things have gotten messy. 

Messy with the ones I love and care about

Messy with the ones I don’t give a shit about

Messy with the ones I don’t even know

Messy with the ones I see but have never had a conversation with.
It’s messy, and I know I should stay away – but I also know that “should” has never been a word in my vocabulary

But more than anything ::

I know I won’t be strong enough to stay away .


1+1=fuck off, mom

Last night, I told my mom the reason I hadn’t been responding to any of her texts nor answering her calls since friday morning was because I had broken my phone again.

When she pointed out that it only takes them 25 minutes to fix a phone, I found myself awkwardly having to explain that my phone was now being held hostage by the phone clinic until I could pay them the $109 they were charging me to fix it.

So, being that I’ve broken my phone, like, what… 17 times since Valentine’s Day – she was pretty furious.

Actually, I’d describe her more as livid. Just to be more accurate and whatnot…

She went on this huge freaking rant about how I needed to get my shit together and I can’t just party for the rest of my life and not do any work.

After everything we have been through…if you continue down this path you will end up with nothing: no degree, no job, no money, and no self respect.

Aside from now knowing how to tell her during this now-you-listen-here-child speech, that she had misspelled self-respect and her grammar was definitely NOT on point

I also wasn’t sure how to tell her what was on the tip of my tongue, or whether I even should.

What’s the point, if I have already reached a point where I don’t have any more self-respect?



In case you were wondering, I responded to the entire rant with “okay.”

Guys, I Did Acid


So, as you can figure from my title of this post; I did acid for the first time.

It was fucking insane.

It was on Halloween at the RL Grime concert in New Orleans.

Because everyone was dressed up, a lot of people for whatever fucking reason wore creepy masks on the back of their heads. Which, to be blunt; freaked the fuck out of me. 

At one point, I legitimately thought the masks on the two boys in front of me were speaking to me. The guys were clearly friends bc one kept put his arm around the other a fair amount of times while dancing, which was when I started to have my conversations and expression-face-offs with the grippy masks.

The only drawback was that I couldn’t stop thinking about Rafaele. Which was a serious buzzkill. 

One of the boys in our group though, had brought his faux RayBans – which I quickly deemed as the “acid goggles”. The name actually stuck pretty fast, as the rest of the group began to call them that also, when we asked for them; sharing them as a group when they became too much for one to bear any longer.

At some point early on in the show, I noticed this girl in all white with dark hair. We made legit eye contact and I got this weird feeling she was familiar… So, acting on a gut reaction and after turning back to look at her several times – all of which she and her friend noticed – I pulled out my phone, pulled up Facebook, and searched for this one girl’s name. I grabbed Eli, and pushed her profile picture in his face and asked if the girl standing to our left was the girl in the photo. Before he responded though, her friend came up to me and said, “yes, that is my friend – how do you know her?”

So, OBVIOUSLY I ran over to her and explained how she and her friends had taken me under their wing at Electric Zoo just over 3 years earlier. We chatted for a bit and she texted her friend who had been in the group and that I had remained in touch with, took a photo, and sent it to him.

The crazy part about it was that it had been w her and her friends that I had attended my first ever electronic music festival, or even concert. It was the first time I had ever done any drug that wasn’t weed. But, it was also the last time I had seen The Bloody Beetroots perform.

Crazy, right???

Anyway, later that night some girl legitimately thought I was Ariana Grande – which to be honest, has to be the craziest fucking shit I have ever been asked. Like, bitch: I’m 5 ‘9 not 4 ft tall. I have to be like 3 sizes bigger than her, and my hair is now at long enough. So, seriously; are you on fucking crack, dude???

By the end of the night, it was raining really hard as we walked back to the hotel. During the walk, we were all for the most part still tripping pretty hard. Mattie was tripping the hardest though, as she had taken it about an hour and a half after the rest of us.

I shit you not, while walking back – Mattie literally stopped and shouted “holy shit, the painting on that building is moving! It’s a freaking video hologram shit! What the fuck, that’s fucking fire, man.”

The mural was definitely not moving. It was an insane mural, triply as hell, but definitely not moving, lmao. But, I swear to you, she actually legitimately stopped and took a video of it anyway, even after we laughed our asses off and told her it was not freaking moving at all.

When we got back to the hotel, I swear I literally could not stop laughing. I kept having all these laughing and giggling attacks, all of which Eli thought was the funniest fucking thing ever. We were both geeking out so hard, while we conversed about the walls moving around us, twisting and stretching.

It was definitely a good night.

Hitchhiking Across State Lines

Yes, you read that right. I freaking HITCHHIKED. 

I feel like this is the kind of thing we all put on our bucket list because it sounds super adventurous and whatnot; but, at the same time, it’s the kind of thing were terrified of ever doing. Our parents told us time and time again that it’s dangerous, the media – through horror films and real-life on the news – drilled into our heads that it is something to be avoided.

But, even so – we know it would make one fucking hell of a story.

So that’s what I’m going to do; tell you a hell of a story, that quite honestly is no surprise for the life of this India Carmichael.


I took an impromptu trip/adventure to TomorrowWorld. Seriously. My friends invited me at Publix on Thursday and 45 minutes later, I was on the road with my bag packed and a ticket purchased. Obviously praying to the sweet merciful God he would allow my mother to not freaking murder me for spending ~$450 on her credit card, for something so frivolous, no doubt. 

More about my unforgettable and incredible epic at the mysterious and magical festival of all festivals.

It was Sunday. I split off from my friends, but only after we agreed to meet at the car at 1am in order to head back to school.

1am: I arrive at the car, only to find the spot empty and car gone.

So, obviously I starred panicing – which turned into crying and sobbing. I stumbled over to the guys at the  front gate trying to explain my predicament, when I realized my phone and wallet was in the bastard’s car. 

It wasn’t until 4am that they convinced me to walk the 45 minutes across the festival grounds to the shuttle stop that would take me to the Greyhound station. They told me that Greyhound had some sort of emergency thing where if one was truly in need of getting home, like myself, then they take you back for free. FALSE. 

But more of that later. So there I am, stumbling across the mud and filth – somehow finding myself, after one hell of a treacherous hour walking, at the shuttle stop. There, I found 2 guys already waiting. At that point, I was still crying and hiccuping; so the guys asked me what was wrong and I launched into an entire crying rant all over again about what had just transpired. For whatever reason, they took it upon themselves to take me under their wing and make sure I got home alright – or at least safely onto the next leg of my journey back to school. Only after, of course, they informed me I was waiting at the staff shuttle stop. 

After about a good 50 minutes, the shuttle finally pulled up and took us to the car park where the staff had left their cars for the weekend. 

So, after I found myself having to help these guys push their truck out of the mud – they took me to breakfast, buying me an Eggs Benedict, then paid for my greyhound ticket home. 

Well, as it turned out – we established over our plates of food that Max was actually in fact the Godfather of my past-good-friend-but-now-not-as-close-friend Ansley’s sister, who who had just given birth. Like, Goethe fuck does that happen????!!!!!?

I’m not entirely sure how it happened exactly, but somehow the boys managed to accidentally buy my ticket to the major city closest to my school – which was an hour away – when the next stop on the journey was trough my college town… So, of course – I started crying again to the bus driver, with full-on waterworks and sobs, until he agreed to allow me to stay for the next leg to the stop in my town.

Well. The stop turned out to be at a random sketchy-ass gas station 5 miles out of town.

About 20 minutes after the bus pulled out, an old Ford (I think???) truck pulled in with this adorable dog in the bed. So OBVIOUSLY I had to go play with him. I started chatting with the 2 old guys and they told me they had to pick up their niece from school, but if I was sill there in 3 hours on their way back – they would happily take me back to my apartment. 

45 minutes later – they pulled back in and informed me that their niece told them to just come get me and take me home, and she would get a ride from a classmate. 

Never met the girl – but I already loved her.

So, luckily, the 2 guys weren’t psycho murderers or rapists and stayed true to their word. The drove me the 25 minute drive back to my apartment and even told me where their tailgate was on game days, so I should come by to say hi, and to meet their niece. 

By 3pm, I was back in my bed; all showered and clean – and fast, fast asleep. 

21 October 2015

Things have gotten bad at school. Everyone has been making up rumors about me and I’ve become the worst social pariah I could have ever imagined anyone to become.

The other night, I guess it really got to Rafaele bc he turned into a total asshole – a side of him I had never witnessed. This fucker who claims he has a video of me having a train run on me by 3 black football players, he approached me at the bar and fucking tried to tell me that there was never a video and he hadn’t started the rumors – but I heard differently from several of his collegues. Not to mention Rafaele had fucking seen it. He only tried to tell me this bc he had heard that I was going to press charges against him under Stephanie’s Law and for slander. He and I literally started screaming at each other in the front courtyard of the bar, and I finally just ran out the bar gate. I ran to the parking lot behind and sat between 2 random cars, and cried so hard I began to almost sob. It lasted for 20 minutes before I eventually, feeling entirely numb, stumbled down the back alley-type-road thing with no sense of direct or destination. 2 minutes later, I met these 2 beautiful and kind souls who listened to me recount my story after they noticed I’d just been crying and asked what was wrong.when I began to cry again, they convinced me to go back inside the bar to get my friend to take me home. When I got there though, the bar was closing for the night and Jessica was gone. Instead I see my friend Jay and convince him to take me home – though I no longer have my keys as they were in Jessica’s car. When I told him I wanted food, he chose Waffle House, and because he would be paying for me – I didn’t argue.

Sidenote:: while I was at the bar, Rafaele showed up to meet his friends who had already been there for quite some time. When I tried to go up to him to say hi, he completely blew me off. Well, imagine my surprise and hurt – seeing as I had spent the previous night at his place and after my classes the next morning, earlier this day, I went back to his apartment and we stayed in bed cuddling and listening to music for the rest of the entire fucking day. So, when he refused to talk to me, his best friend Lance started talking shit to me and as a joke I responded with, “well, I’m hot so whatever – I don’t give a fuck.” To that, Lance started to laugh and said to me, somewhere along the lines of “you’re a dirty ugly fucking whore”. Rafaele was standing right there, and didn’t say a single word, no less try to defend me. 20 minutes later, the video guy approached me.

So, Jay and I went to Waffle House and, of course, guess who was fucking sitting in the first booth there; Lance and Rafaele. I could feel my face drop and my eyes widen – but I recovered and narrowed my eyes before walking right over to the only open booth, not even 10 ft away from his. When I went to the bathroom, I barely controlled and stopped myself from having a major panic attack. But I did my best to stay strong and I walked back out with a blank face, I knew was impossible to read. But my face fell again, as I saw Jay standing there are their booth chatting to them like old friends. I quickly resumed my face and went back to my seat.

Obviously I was still upset about what had transpired between Rafaele and I at the bar and how he had treated me; so when he texted me, though he was still in his booth RIGHT FREAKING THERE, he asked “after party?” I’ll be honest, I was so fucking insulted that he thought I would be his little lap dog who would take whatever he could give me, so I quickly responded with, “no.”… To which he didn’t respond to at all. Finally, just as he was leaving I’d had enough and ran after him down the road – ready to demand why the hell he was being such a fucking asshole. But, either Lance was unaware of his text to me, or he really just fucking hated me – he started calling me out for having HIV or some shit. Like, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK: no, I don’t fucking have HIV you fucking asshole. But I was so shocked at his harsh and biting words, I only stumbled back, said wtf in a tone of ‘where the fuck did that come from, bc this is definitely the first I’m hearing of it and how dare you accuse me of shit I clearly do not have’. But then, I turned away and ran back to Jay, who had just finished paying and was walking out the door. I started to cry all over again, but tried to keep it quiet so neither Rafaele nor Lance would hear. We crossed the road and headed for a parking lot, when Jay said something about how I should go home with him and he could “make me feel better” in a way that could only insinuate we hook up. I backed away from him and, still crying but which had already turned into heavier tears and slight sobs, I backed away from him and screamed “WHAT THE FUCK. What the fuck is the matter with you!” And I turned and sprinted away, down the road, and back to campus. However, as I crossed the road, I could still see Lance and Rafaele standing where I had left them discussing something at length and in such a way one could immediately tell it was about something serious. However, as I ran, they were watching me; but for whatever reason I didn’t even care anymore and I only cried harder. When I got to campus, and was passing the Quad, I lost my sense of grip on reality almost, and stumbled to a big tree, sat behind it – hiding almost from the world, and cried for almost an hour straight. At some point, Rafaele texted me asking where I was and I told him I was on the quad. I was so drunk still though, and so upset – I started to just bitch him out, but vent to him about everything that had happened – all at the same time. He told me to come over, and stupidly I agreed.

When I got there though, Lance was sitting on a lawn chair on the bottom patio and as soon as he noticed me – he began taunting me and talking shit and degrading me. As I headed for Rafaele’s apartment ignoring him, he called out to make sure Rafaele “wrapped it up”, so as to “not give him my disgusting diseases”. When I walked in, as Rafaele always left his door unlocked, he had been heading to the door already – clearly having heard all Lance had said. He told me to go to his room and he would be right there in a second. Well, that “second” turned into a good 20-25 minutes. I stripped off my clothes so I was only in my underwear, the way in which I always slept in his bed – though we had never had sex, and I had only given him head once. When I did finally come back, he got into bed and almost immediately demanded I give him head since I wouldn’t earlier that day, so I “owed him that much”. I looked at him and literally said, with my voice breaking – ready to start crying all over again, “are you fucking kidding me? No, I’m not going to fucking give you head after the way you treated me tonight.” We laid in silence for a moment, and finally I said something that was possibly the worst and most insulting thing I could have ever said to him. [About a week before, we’d been sitting at Starbucks chatting and he asked me, “if (he) were to ever be in a fraternity, which could (I) see (him) in?” I told him the one I knew there were many ex-military guys in and told him, “they are all total good balls too, which you are 100% also. So you would seriously fit right in.” He responded telling me that he hadn’t heard that before, and that most people always said Pike – bc he was an asshole. So, I told him “well, I’ve never seen you act that way, and in fact you’ve been probably the nicest person to me as of late, so I don’t believe that and completely disagree with it.” He smiled so genuinely, my heart literally stopped. In that moment, I knew I was in trouble – bc I had really begun to care about him, and finally admit I really liked him.] I said to Rafaele in that moment of silence then, “you know, I actually change my mind; I do think you would make a really good Pike.” He literally went silent and said in this calm, but livid voice, “what did you just say?” So, I responded with “I’ve literally been crying all night bc boys have degraded me and tried to take advantage of me either tonight or referring to such from the past; you knew this bc I told you, but now even so, you’re just trying to do the exact same fucking thing.”

And I grabbed my stuff and left; I kept a brave face as I walked by Lance, until I was safely back on the main street and, in that moment, I finally lost it and began to hyperventilate, only barely avoiding a full on anxiety attack.
From there, I went back to Waffle House and cried and cried to a staff member as she gave me free tea practically by the bucket. I stayed there, calling people and trying to find someone I could stay w bc I didn’t have my keys anymore. But alas, no one answered. And then a saving grace, someone called me back and he sent a cab to get me, and yeah. Crashed w his puppy on the bed, while he took the couch. The next morning he took me for chipotle and we went on a wild goose chase for my keys. But to no avail. Our first stop had been to Rafaele’s so I could check there, on his bedroom floor and such. His roommate let me in, and I just walked into Rafaele’s room, turned on the light and said, “I’m only looking for my keys. So, don’t mind me.” But they weren’t there; Rafaele didn’t even get out of bed while I searched his room, nor respond to what I’d said.
I just don’t understand how he could go from literally sleeping w me all night, and when I came back after my morning classes, we literally laid in each other’s arms in bed for the rest of the fucking day. Like, hours upon hours. For at least an hour of it all, we laid there not talking but not quite sleeping either, just listening to John Mayer music playing off his phone. Other times we would talk, about his family and his genius with technology and engineering stuff, or he would tickle me and we would goof around. At one point he told me, for the billionth time, that his mom wanted him to get a girlfriend, but like in an insinuating way bc why else would one even say it. How does someone go from all of that, to all of how he behaved later that night.

It’s not like he didn’t know people would be saying shit about me when we first started talking. He knew from the very start. We began to be totally honest with each other about what we heard about the other, and then we’d explain what had happened and were completely honest with each other about it. So, what the fuck. He knew that almost everything he had heard were lies – all spin offs from the video rumor.

Last semester, I had become this huge party girl who would hook up, but rarely ever have sex with quite a few guys. Nowhere near as many as everyone had made it out to be, but it was irrelevant at the time because it was before everything started going wrong, back when everyone still enjoyed my company and adored me (or most did, at least..)

However the other day at lunch, when I met up with Molly – one of my best friends; she pointed out, as she and Milla had known me the best last semester, that she could see a major difference in me. I wasn’t all over the place and jumping from guy to guy, or seeming to be lost in myself and whatever it was that, somehow and somewhat almost-haunted me. It was one of the only times I’d seen her that semester as she had just gotten a new boyfriend, whom she spent most of her time with. The last time was before Rafaele and I began to talk and she told me I was much the same at that time, so she felt as if she could only assume it was Rafaele who was having such a good, strong influence over me. She claimed it was as if I had found myself again, like I had finally figured out all my shit and had gotten my life together.

I honestly feel like Rafaele might have been the first guy I had truly began to actually care about since senior year of high school. I mean, obviously I wasn’t IN LOVE w the guy, but I did care about him. I think the only 3 people I had really cared and feared of losing the respect from and just losing, in the entirety of it; were Milla, Molly, and Rafaele. He really did try to rise above all the rumors and ignore the things people said to him about me. He, over and over again, gave me the benefit of the doubt. But, I guess even he couldn’t continue through or stick it out by my side.

The hardest part about it, I think is knowing that someone I counted on and cared about, lost all respect for me – and it scares me, bc I know now that I have hit rock bottom.

Boys 10:30 pm; June 20 2015

This weekend has blown my mind. My mom always told me boys and girls can never just be friends, that there will always be lingering feelings of attraction, even if it’s unrequited. The movies always told me the same thing too. This weekend has shown me that they were lying. Boys and girls really can just be friends. Good friends, even. It’s all a matter of finding the right guys who will love you no matter what you do, as they would love any other one of their bros.