So you think that after a month of no talking you can just waltz right back in here and be buddies again like nothing happened?

You seem to have decided that I'm your play thing. That you can come in and swat me around, give me grief for trusting my wonderful boyfriend and trusting him. You honestly think I give a fuck what you want or how you feel? You know what. 

                                                         BYE. BYE. DOUCHE BAG.
We had a good run, but it's over now. And I'm glad it is. I hope every night you go to bed and think of me, I hope you feel the same sense of loss and regret I felt when I was with you. I found the most amazing man in the world and he loves me. I hope that the poor girl who finds herself unfortunate enough to end up in your arms, runs. I hope she knows what is best for herself. I hope she does to you, what you did to me.

Now that I have that out. Good night internet. 

The scream progressively got louder. The scream of pain, of terror, of desperation. It grew and grew as the dull blade of the pocket knife slowly split the skin of her thigh among the many other scars and scabs of previous woes. She became afraid her mother would awaken at  her screams of pleasure and pain. She took the fist of the hand that wasn't slicing her leg and bit down hard on it. It stifled her just enough. She began to carve, she knew it'd be gone in a matter of months, she didn't scar well. She carved and carved. what was once just a mass of lines became recognizable as names, then the names formed a list. After an hour passed she sat back and sighed in relief. The first time she had done cuts this deep huge tears streamed down her face, but now she was accustomed to the pain, actually... It wasn't even pain anymore, it was now as comforting as a hug. Sitting back on her bed she looked at the knife sticking out of her thigh and felt it as her heart pumped blood to her lower leg, each time creating an even larger trickle of blood. Soon her whole leg was crimson.

A year ago today, this was my story. and look how far I've come.

For my lovely Nicole...

I opened the small colorful box. A treasure lay hidden within, wrapped in a bright foil wrapper with cartoon characters on it, this one had Barbie but who knew what the next would be. They showed you a small glimpse of what lay within. Quickly I shook this small gift from it's resting place. My small hands felt around for the place where the foil had been closed. This gift was a Nestle WonderBall.

The most deiclious treat for a small child back when I was 4. These filled my stocking every Christmas, layed on desk every Valentines day and Easter, sat in the cauldron on St. Patty's day, rested in the trick-or-treating pail on Halloween, and filled their own box on my birthday. They were basically THE singular bit of sustance I would devour in copious amounts from age 4 to 9.

At age 12 they disappeared and I had to find a new food to keep my hyperactive body going. Turns out Nestle sold the rights to make the Wonder Balls to a company called Frankford Candy. Turns out they still make them. They have also asked that if you would like to know if there is a place to purchess them you email them. What's that? You want the email address? Any time my lovelies. Here it is; info@frankfordcandy.com. DO IT. I emailed them. I will update you when I know if there is a place near me.

OH I'M SO EXCITED FOR WONDERBALL!!!!!!!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-z_WSTjr7c
UPDATE: They only did Spongebob ones and, get this, THEY NO LONGER MAKE THEM! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!