More Than This

I'll never need more than this.
Blogging. In other words, it could be ranting. Because that is what I will do. I will not have a specific topic, because I never will, as you will soon come to know.
Pretty much, I always think about you, and how it would make me feel if you did something.
If I got a note from you, I'd hope it'd read, "Megan, I love you, and I miss you, and I can't believe that I let you go for that long. You are my entire world, and I could never see myself with anyone but you. I love you so much, and I could only hope you could forgive me. If you don't I won't  do anything drastic like cut myself or kill myself, I'll just learn to accepot it, and hopefully, maybe, get over you, but I hope I won't have to do that. Anyways, I hope you forgive me. Much Love, Sam." [If you don't know who Sam is, read previous post before continuing.]
Or, if we were to have a conversation, I'd hope it'd be something like this:
-Hey, Megan.
--Oh, hey, Sam. How are you?
-Pretty okay, but I miss you.
--You what?
-Oh, nothing...
--It was something, just tell me, Sam.
-Okay, Megan. I miss you. I miss you, and I love you, and I can't believe the way I treated you.

Or, I could be doing a video project on the skatepark you go to, and it would go something like this:
-What are you doing here?
--I'm not here to talk to you, or do anything concerning you. I'm here doing a project for school.
-Why'd you have to come here? You knew I'd be here.
--Sam, I really don't wanna start anything. Just leave me alone.
*I film for class, and stop to take some notes on whats going on*
-Megan?
--Yeah?
*then he just grabs me, and kisses me, and then tells me he never wants to let go of me*
-I never want to let go of you, Megan.
*I would stay quiet, but I'd be smiling, which would show that I never wanna let go of him, either*

The hopeless romantic in me would tell me to always hold on to Sam, and to never give up. But I know better than that. I miss Sam.

But also, I hate how I see myself. Everyone else sees me as the pretty, entergetic, always positive, always fun to be around person. I see myself as the ugly, lazy, always negative, never fun to be around person. I can't help it.
Ever since I realized what REALLY happened all those years ago, I've felt gross, and horrible, and unworthy. I've felt like everyone deserves someone better than me. I always try to make myself seem like the girl that would always be willing to do anything, and when it comes to that time, I chicken out. Not because I'm really afraid of it, but more because I don't want others to be dissappointed with how bad I am at whatever it is.
I want to go around and tell EVERYBODY every single tiny detail about my life. I want them to know why I sit in the corner as the mute of the class, or why I hide myself under huge jackets, or even why I tell my friends I'm not allowed to go somewhere, when really, I just don't wanna go because I keep putting myself down, and I don't want a resuce party.
Yellow. I think it's an ugly color. Too bright. Too happy.
Purple. I love it. Even when it's light, its still dark and mesterious, which is like me.
I like children. The younger the better. I like thatjust a simple change in expression can make them smile and laugh. I love how they can tell if you aren't feeling too hot, and they're there.
I hate how they can sense that you're feeling down, and are then in a bad mood themselves.
I love dogs. My dog in particular. He was always there for me. I had a bad day, I could go see him, and he'd be the first person that was happy to see me all day. I would go sit far enough away from him that he couldn't reach me and just cry, and he'd be constantly trying to get to me. He had surgery last summer. He was so helpless. I sat across the yard and cried. He never took his eyes off me. After his surgery, I got into it with my parents. I went in the yard, and he was running loose. I sat on the bench, and he came up the path, and just sat there, looking at me as I cried. Not once did he whine about just sitting there or get up and leave until I did. He just let me cry.
He had to be put down, because he was in great pain from skin cancer.
I've felt guily about that day since it happened. I had the choice of going with him in his final minutes, and I chose to stay home. His big, brown eyes went right through my soul, and there it has stayed.
My dad hasn't gotten rid if the doghouse yet. I think of it as a constant reminder that I wasn't there for him when he needed me, although he was always there for me.
I miss him. I miss him more than anything.
R.I.P. Blackie 3/10/10
12 days before my birthday. My worst birthday ever. But also the best.
This rant has gone on long enough.
Goodbye, and thanks for reading.
-Megan<3