My Final Will

The following is the last will and testement of the great Michka Myrna Veronica Francis:




-To Davie I leave all my love, my kisses and cuddles and earthly joys. You happen to deserve them. You can have all my juice boxes, share them with Vaughn. I leave you my favorite colors, because they're yours too. My iPod and obsession with 80s music go to you. Berlin and Cindy Lauper are AWESOME! I send cruises road trips your way. I hope you have more fun on them than I did. My picture of Wilson goes to you, and my love of house to you and Vaughn. Have my fashion sense and my cable.

-Everyone else can have my love, too... Just my I love you, love. Not my I FREAKIN love you, love.
-To Shleigh Button I leave my flirting skills and upside down dogs and dislike for authority in it's various forms. Random hookups with random guys go to you. You can actually have them right now; I no longer have use for them. Just... Watch out for super cooties, kay? My photographic memory goes to you, too, Button. That should come in handy seeing as though she's a stalker. Button gets my jeans first. Then whoever else wants 'em can have 'em. Don't you collect key chains too? If you want all mine, you can have them. I leave you my dirty jokes, share them with Helena. All the french braids in the world  go to you. I also want you to have some of my self-esteem. Do me a favor and share with the others. Take my beastly defense skills... You need them.






-To Paul I leave all of my relationship advice and all the porn in the world. You seriously need to lighten up... You can have my drawing skills so that drawing girls will be a little easier. I want you to have my random facts. Put them to good use without annoying the crap out of everyone.

-To Rosie I leave my rebelious spirit. My soccer skills go to Katie and Rosie. To be specific my ball handling goes to Katie and my aggression goes to Rose. I leave you my many late nights of reading and watching Naruto and HxH... Share them with Vaughn and Dave. I also want you to have my secrets. You kept them well while I was living; I expect you do do so till death do you part. Please take my cell phone. Just be sure you don't get into trouble with it. Go ahead and have my $100 allowances. The won't do me any good seeing as though I'm dead. I leave you all my screen tees, my UN-LINTY fleece, a lint brush just incase, and my never ending school supplies. You get all my romance novels. My scarfs and knitting stuff go to Rosie and my choir solos.I leave lectures about douchebags to Rosie, and Rachel, too.


-I leave my extreme dieting to all the fat people in the world. I leave my grades to whoever wants them. My chapstick addiction shall be a blessing to whoever wants it. **Chapped lips are disgusting to kiss; keep that in mind. I leave my razor blades to anyone who wants to be screwed up for the rest of their life. My attitude... Eh there's plenty of it to go around.

-I want Tommy to have my understanding of what to say and at what time. One half of all my worldliness also goes to Tommy. The rest is to be equally devided between Rosie, Abbi, and Veve. Gmail saviness goes to Tommy. Get on the wagon because Google is taking over the world. I leave you family time, because torture builds character.

-To Veliza I leave my writing skills. Poor your heart out girly. I also leave you sex, lies, and teenage rebellion (along with Rose). You can have all my purses and my ready backhand to use on the back of Ashleigh's head. I leave you the itis... Share with Rosie and Helena. I also want you to have my fighting spirit... Sometimes you just gotta cuss people out.

-To Abbi I leave my childlike antics, my magical touch when it comes to children, and my disgust for five year olds. They truly are the worst brats on earth. Yoga goes to Noob; don't hurt yourself kiddo. I leave you my tendency to slack off in school. You need more fun. My "shtummy"... You can have that seeing as though you like to complain about yours. I leave hours of Twilight quotes to Abbi and also very cute emotional relationships. My sublime spelling skills and extensive vocabulary go to you. Share with Helena.
-My jewelry is to be burried with me. And My guitar goes to hell with me when I die.

-To Lyssia I leave gmail chats, I leave my passion, my destructive intelligence, my blog addiction, and all the time I've spent down on my knees praying. I also leave you my weird concoctions to use at your discretion.


-Internet skills go to Helena. You really do suck at all things web. I leave mall trips, 3-way convos, and all day geekin'. Make sure to invite Rosie to tag along. I leave you ramen, chinese food, and pizza for lunch. My speed (not drugs, but soccer speed :P) goes to Helena and Rosie. Lined paper goes to Helena along with getting projects in on time, and binder organization. My understanding of math goes to you, but you have to share with Caland, Rosie, and Rachel. Oh my cheating skills also go to you.


-I leave love of Austin to Katie H.
-My guitar goes to hell with me when I die.

-To Sydney I leave mismatched socks, random nicknames, and being bothered by Mr. Colby. Oh and take the responsibility of bothering Brandon, and teasing Austin.

-I leave my booty shaking skills to Sarah Mooney. Party hard, girl.
-To Vaughn I leave my relation troubles... I envy you're happiness :P I also leave you the bliss that comes after the problems. You and Raeden make a cute couple. You also get all the hugs I didn't give you while I was living. I also give you my temper and discretion to know when and where to use it. Oh and share it with Raeden.

-To Readen I leave my talkativeness. Assert yourself. I also want you to have me mean streak. I don't exactly know why, but I think you could use it.

To Emil goes my morning cup of tea or coffee along with the jumpiness that follows. I also leave you my tiredness, as it seems you never are. You can have the two jokes I know, though yours are tons better. Oh and some hugs too.
-To Lydia I leave me "fuck it" stance. You can't make everyone happy all the time. Make yourself happy first.

-I leave all the high harmonies in the world to Rachel and I also leave you the task of singing Austin into annoyance. :)

109

The last time I weighed myself, I weight 112 pounds. I fasted for a week, and then sorta fell off the wagon. Recently I've been eating almost whatever I want, when I want. Oh and let's not forget the cruise where Kola and I ate every two hors... So I should be gaining weight, right? Well that's what I thought, but I just finished eating and weighed myself. The scale said 109.

1.
0.
9.

One hundred nine pounds.

Dayyyum.

This is destructive, I know. I should not care about how much I weigh. But I'm really inspired right now. If only I can make it to 99... That's only ten pounds... I won't die from ten pounds. Does it really matter? (I'm actually asking. I want someone's opinion.)

So if any of you could give me an answer, I'd appreciate it. Thanks.

Blasted Snow

Early this morning, they woke me up out of my bed to shovel snow. My sister had to go to work. Kola drives a '98 Honda Accord. It's a pretty low car, so we had to do a heckuva lot of shovelling. After ten bothersome minutes of being outside, I ran back into the house on the verge of tears. (I cry when I'm sleepy.) And although my mum isn't my persona favorita in this world, I ran straight to her. In my sleepy voice i whined, "Mummy! I can't go back out vere! I can't! My fingews awe cowld and my toes awe fweezing! I can't move vem!"

My mum took a second to respond. I think she was shocked. You see, my mum doesn't live with me; she's just visiting. And she hadn't heard me speak like that since I was what? Five or six years old? My mum surpressed a laugh. "Kola has to go to work, Michkie. You have to help her."

I buried my head in her shoulder and mumbled unintelligbly. Looking back on it, I have no idea why I was in such distress. I guess it was my tiredness compiled with the fact that I was annoyed from the night before. "Mummy my shtummy huwts!"

She didn't hold back her laughter that time. "You're what?!" She asked increduously.

"My shtummy... My shtumach."

So that's basically how my morning went until we finished shovelling. I was crankily pouting as I scooped up shovel after shovel of the cold white substance. I slipped a couple times, and I threw a fit quite a few times, but in the end, I did way more work that Kola did which gave me a sense of accomplishment. So maybe I'm not so useless after all.

:)

So here I am eating meat like two hours before I plan to go to bed. What's gotten into me? Well I'm glad you asked! :)

I. Am.
EXTREMELY.
Happy.

HAPPY.

HAPPY.

HAPPY.

(Oh yeah and hopefully he reads this tonight at some point.) But I mean, do you have any idea how awesome this guy is?! He's like the sun at noon--brilliant. Okay that was a load of crap because I hate the sun... Get it together, self. Find another analogy!

Okay... He's like the wind on a winter's night. Refreshing and grounding. You know that chill that goes up your spine? Well that's what I feel around him. I feel electrified and bubbly... Kinda like a cute little school girl. Oh wait a minute, I am a school girl!

And while I said know, I'm wondering if it was because of fear or because of logic. Because when he asked all I wanted to say is yes, but I didn't. Here were my honest reason:

1) Because I love him. I don't wanna hurt him.
2) Then I remembered something Tommy said about knowing people before you date them. (Damn Tommy for being in my head!)

But now I'm wondering if I'm just afraid. Afraid to hurt him. Afraid of messing up. Afraid of letting down my walls. And of course scared of getting hurt. I wanna give him a chance though. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

I Think I Love You

So this kinda rhymes... Because I'm a dweeb. It's about this guy that I kinda like. He's one of my best guy friends, and is just really cool and sweet. I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship, but I definately wanna get to know him better. So what do you think guys? Am I totally losing my edge, or should I just tell him?

Dear . . .

I think I love you. I don't know why. I care about you. A lot. And when I don't talk to you for a while, I feel like I could just cry. I don't know how to put a finger on it, but this is different. It seems to me that you hold the key to all I've been missing. But as everyone knows, I'm not the relationship type. And there are some things I must confess. I'm no good at openning up. I will admit that I'm a mess. But I feel like maybe all that could change, if only we had a chance. I'm torn between things I said I wouldn't do, and the things I'm willing to do for you. Because strangely, you get me. You see past my imfamy. And I'm thinking that just maybe, we could try...

If only I weren't so shy.

Love Is Love?

I'm not doing this again. I'm not tricking myself into thinking that I'm in love with someone. Do I even need to be in love right now? I don't think so. I mean I love him, and up until now I hadn't really contemplated more. More would be too much.

So I have random hookups... And? That doesn't mean anything. They're easier than real relationships. In real relationships people get hurt. In real relationships, I hurt people. Real relationships confuse me. So now here I am with something that seemed so simple, natural, and pure. Only I'm not so sure what it is now.

What do I say? "I love you a helluva a lot, only I don't know why. And I find my self really drawn to you. Please ignore me till I figure this out." I don't know if that'll work.

So for now mum's the word. Silence is golden.

Holy Sugar Monster

Fact: Depression sucks ass.

I guess that's all I really have to say, but you know how I love to expound on things. Depression sucks ass. I get into this mood, this state of mind, where everything sucks. I wanna kick. And scream and cry. And cut. Oh good Lord I want to cut. And everything hurts. Everything sucks and everything hurts. My head hurts. My chest hurts. My soul hurts and I want to hurt it back. It hurts more, and I hurt it more. Because I can't hurt anyone else. I try to. I really do. But the more I hurt people, the more depressed I become. I don't know why. There was a point in time where I didn't give a fuck who I hurt. I'll call it pre-breakup. I realized that after my most recent breakup, everything changed. The world changed. I don't know how to explain it exactly. There were good changes and bad changes. And then there are those changes that seem to cancel each other out. I learned a lot about myself. I also learned that I know nothing about myself. I learned what love is and then realized I'm not capable of experiencing the type of love that I want to. And I learned that I care. Or well I began to care. And that is the worst thing ever. It's hell. It gives me hell. Caring means that I don't get to do what I want because I'm always worried about other people. And worrying is yet another thing that hurts. I'm constantly struggling between what I really want and what I want because I want to make others happy.


And so I'll always be depressed.

FML.

Hot Mess

I've trained my body

to hate itself.

I think I'm the only person

over the age of five

that fucking cries themself

sick.

I'm an idiot. I know.



Giving It to You Raw

Bite me.

Razor.

Please?

I feel so pitiful. Right now my crying sounds like Hinata's when she was fighting Neji Right before she remembers her "ninja way". Only I don't have a ninja way. I'm just a normal teenage girl in the 21st century who's fucking messed up in the head. Like I feel like a fucking crazy person. Or a druggie going through withdrawls. I'm up and down on this roller coaster ride from hell. It's never over. Right when It's going steady for a while it plummets. Like this week I was having a really high high. I fell in love with life again. But now I feel as though the earth was swept from beneath me, and I'm in a hell of my own making. I feel fucking sick. Like I should be locked away. Like I should be quarentined. I wanna fucking cut so fucking bad, but I can't because they're always watching me. They study me like a damn lab monkey, waiting for me to mess up, making premeditated plans for when I do. Because I always do. Time and time again. Because I'm a fucking screw up. I always will be. So FML. Even if it gets better than it is now, life always sucks like a prostitute in the end.

But the razor won't cut.

Cuz I can't.

Fall into that shit again.

I'm screwed up enough as it is.

Just In Case You Were Beginning to Think I Was a Brat

My mum had surgery the week before Christmas. She had to have an epigastric hernia removed.  An epigastric hernia is a hole in between your ribcage and belly button that appears to be a bulge when viewed externally. It's caused by weakness or a defect in your abdominal muscles. Epigastric hernias are not usually harmful, but her colon was sticking out of it. (Gross I know.) Anyway, she went to this surgeon in Philidelphia, at Jefferson University Hospital. He removed it, no problem. But this week, starting Monday, she began to feel sick. She barely got out of bed. Thursday when I came home from school, she begged me to give her a hug. My mum was scorching hot. Literally. I jumped back when I touched her skin.

We called the surgeon and he told us to bring her to Phili, to the E.R., so that he could see her. We waited for two hours for my sister to get back from work, took a while packing things up and getting gas, and hit 95 North. We got to PA around 8:30 p.m. They took her back within an half hour because the doctor called one of the residents and told them it was of top importance. They opened the sight of the surgery and a bunch of puss and stuff came out. It was infected. Rather that stitching it back up, they left it open. Just packed the wound and dressed it.

The three of us stayed with my mum overnight, and in the morning my sister and grandfather went back to Baltimore. I stayed. With my mum. Whom I want to hate. Very badly. And for good reason, too. I stayed and helped her. Helped her get out of bed to go to the restroom. Fetched her whatever she needed. Mind you, I'm the child that everyone constantly scolds for being mean. I'm the one who's fussed at repeatedly. I'm a brat. I'm a bitch. Blah, blah, blah. Only I can't be so bad, can I? Because I could've said, "No I refuse to stay. I have a sleepover to go to tonight." And I could've just stayed to get out of going to school and doing my Bio presentation and just sat around the whole time like, "I'm not helping you. There are plenty of nurses that get payed to do this shit." But I didn't. Because as much as I hate it, I felt something while I stood there, watching her weak and frail. Someone so proud and bitchy laying there pleading for help. And I helped. Mean, bitchy offspring of a bitchy control freak mother that I am, I still helped. So what now? Am I still a brat? Huh, Mum? Am I a brat now?

Guts! FREAKING GUTS!!!

So... Guts is my new favorite word. It's like crap. But waaay COOLER!... If you say it right.


But anyway... I'm watching Hoarders on A&E. Worst fricking show ever! Well I mean, I find it quite hilarious, but I think that it's sad that there's a whole show dedicated to these people. I'm sorry; I know it's a disorder (yeah whatever). But it's NASTY! I know that me room is like never fully clean, but it is definately never that bad. I can walk throught it without crunching down on three year old cat poop. The whole time I'm watching it, I keep going, "Guts! OMG! GUTS!" The woman has cat skulls in her house for Pete's sake. Smh. I think that just ruined my before bed snack.


And omg guts! Tommy's in trouble. I know it sounds belittling when I say it, but poor thing. I was talking to Vaughn about it, and he totally agreed with me. If I were Tommy's parents, I'd have a helluva dickin' time trying to punish him. So Thomas got a laptop for Christmas. It's actually really cool. I saw it :) For some reason, his parents have decided it's not cool for him to (pause. I wonder if Tommy minds? I'll take it down if he does.) use the internet on his laptop. Then what was the point of getting him a laptop?! But he used his laptop, got on the internet, and was chatting with Vaughn and me when he disappeared. And I knew it from the time he logged off without preamble. He was wrong; I'm not deluded into thinking that he wasn't. But I can honestly say that I understand Tommy more than anyone I know. He's just that transparent and broken before God. I know that on paper, he did something he was told not to do. I get that. But If you knew him, you'd know that Tommy wants to be a saint. And for the most part he is. He reflects the nature of God like telescopes reflect light. He's probably (almost definately) punishing himself. So why was it necessarry to take basically everything from him? Including his room? Yeah they made him move back in with his little brother. And... well... I'm selfish. They took him away from me. :( No phone. No communication. Tommy happens to be one of the only people I have meaningful conversations with. To all my other friends: You guys need to get deeper!

Stomach Viruses Suck

Picture it. I wake up at 4 in the morning, go to the bathroom, and climb back into bed. I've got an upset tummy so I walk out of my room, past the bathroom, dining room, and kitchen, and into my sister's room to get some medicine. "Kola where's the pep..." Run out of room. End up puking in the kitchen. Java chip frap, pesto cavatappi. On the floor mocking me. FML. Looks like I won't be going to the mall today.

Yeah that's how friday went. Instead of going to the mall and movies with Dave, Tommy and Vaughn, I was stuck in bed all day, begging to room to stop spinning. I missed church, too. Which means I missed sleeping over Miss Nadia's house... Which means I missed making roti. Poo.

And I can't have any "real food" even though I'm starting to feel better. Gosh, Ramen and Applesauce, I love you but I WANT CHICKEN!

Happy Freaking New Year. Stomach Viruses Suck.