I'm Done With You Forever. </3

I'm Done With You Forever [4]

GO TO 2:41 IN THE SONG :D

"So...I guess I'll let you go..."  

I made up my mind, "No Brett maybe we should talk about this face to face because I know you didn't mean to hurt me." I started to gather things for a shower, shampoo, brush, towel, tooth brush, and then grabbed my blower dryer and straightner.  

"Yeah probly a better idea..." His voice sounded so sad "I never meant to hurt you, I really didn't."  

"We can talk at school, or better yet the starbucks down by school? Can you meet me down there at three?" I cautiously switched the phone from my right ear to my left ear, waiting for his answer.  

"Umm, Yeah, that'd be good I guess...three? How bout 1:45 instead?" he asked hopeful. I glanced at my clock, you know, the pink one from Regina?, It said, 1:30.  

"Crap." I said and hurriedly grabbed the rest of my shower stuff and began to run water, to turn on the shower head.  

Although, to my mother's dismay (if she had heard), crap was not the word I used.  

"Maggie?" Brett sounded confused, him of all people knowing I didn't cuss. "Did you just say-"  

I didn't really want to explain. "No, I'll see you at two, bye." then hung up, making me realized I had about fifty texts, no exaggeration. Most from Dakota, a few from Regina, a lot from Lisa, two from Hope, three from Scott, one from my aunt Marsha wanting me to baby sit, and even one from Drake and then other random people. None, I noted with a sadness I didn't understand, were from Tristan. My phone was buzzing like crazy once the long awaited text found me. I sent them all the same text, except Aunt Marsha, to everyone:

hey. sorry i missed ur txt. my fone was ded &c had my chrgr. c u monday.  

=)

I brushed out my hair after I got out of my five minute shower not even fixing it, because cleanliness would just have to do its charm. I quickly ripped on a pair of black skinnies, a white tank top, and my black peacoat. Regretfully I put on a pair of white cow boy boots with faux fur. By regretfully, I mean, I looked like an idiot with those boots on. I never bought real fur though unless it had label saying: these animals were not just killed for their fur but is the fur of animal intended to feed others. See? I am not a killer. Okay those boots just looked stupid with my all black ensemble. I grabbed a white knit scarf, wound it around my head a few times, and a green and grey Vikings hat placed over my ears. In the mirror, it looked a little weird but the hat made it look cute. It, the hat I mean, smelled a little odd with my tangerine shampoo. I was going to use my ocean scented shampoo, but that made me think. The name, I mean. The ocean smells like dead fish. But the shampoo smells like flowers. Frauds. But unfortunately, the reason the hat smelled odd with my hair was because it smelled like tag. I peeled it off my head knowing only one person who used tag. I turned the hat inside out. Sure enough on the in side of the hat, in blue sharpie, it said TR. Just like with all his other clothes, TR marked his initials in the tag and it smelled like him. Tristan Rochelle.  

I dropped it on my floor and kicked it under my messy bed. My room isn't dirty; it's just...well, messy. Lip gloss, empty and full, bottles, seventeen magazines, note books, clothes, pens, random electronics, cords, Manny's toys, and other items covered my floor and desk and dresser, and piled in my closet. It not like I left food there, or anything to attract bugs or rodents. That's one thing I can't stand. Bugs. Anything else, aside from blood and vomit, I could handle. Heights? Love the thrill. Water? People swear I'm a mermaid. Standing in a supermarket, that's in the process of being robbed, while gun is pressed to my head? Okay well, that'd scare me. Of course I have no experience in that factor. The whole being-robbed-with-a-gun-pressed-to-your-forehead thing.