The Budding Roses

Ice berg ahead!

Monday 22nd April

I want to die. I need for my existence to cease. Perhaps I'm dead already? If my eyes are any indication then this must be so, for there is no life within them. If my heart tells of vitality then again it must be over, as I'm doubtful that it's still beating, there's no chance that it can be, since it's been ripped from my chest, smashed in to two and stamped upon, leaving nothing but a blood stained mess, smeared wastefully across the ground like a big trodden dog turd.

Natasha has snogged Luke. There I said it, I have written it down, and it makes me weep once more, just reading these words. Words of truth, of fact, words which stab pointedly in to the remains of my rotten carcass. I'm broken and there is no point in continuing with this pathetic excuse of an existence. Goodbye all.

Later

I'm still alive, yet exhaustion tugs at my already weighted lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe. Please let this be my last gasp.

I can only think that God wants to torture me, otherwise he'd allow me the dignity of peace. I'm a tormented blob of ectoplasm with snot streaming from my nose, perpetually picturing that dreadful image, over and over. Why would she do this to me, my best friend? And why would Luke want to snog Natasha too? I had thought that he liked me? And why did Sarah feel the need to tell me, especially before a French exam, she knows how I still struggle with my verbs?

Tuesday 23rd April

Harry isn't speaking to me because he thinks I've been ignoring him since our kiss. Well he's got that right. Liam isn't speaking to me since he's all put out and bruised that I snogged Harry. Well boo hoo Liam, no matter how sore you are it's not nearly as bad as the deluge of self loathing that is currently precipitating over my shameful head. Nobody will listen when I tell them that I don't really care who is or isn't speaking to me, since I'm broken hearted, damaged goods and all because my former best friend, love of my life, keeper of secrets, defender of my garden gate, Natasha, had to go and snog Luke Hemmings. What a cow!

Making the spidery web of stickiness even stickier still is the realisation that I'm never going to be able to have sex. Now this may seem a little dramatic, but the truth is how am I ever going to be able to go the whole hog of doing it when I can't even bear to kiss a boy? Life is already too much of a thorny pursuit without having to deal with the embarrassment of dying a virgin.

Wednesday 24th April

It cannot be a coincidence that during the same week that my life has hit a metaphorical ice berg, Titanic has been released at the cinema? Oh the irony. It's a joke, right? And hurrah for double good fortune, as both Harry and Liam have found it within themselves to forgive me for the erratic behaviour I've displayed this past week. What compassion! Why I'll just skip down the street, making cartwheels in the air, from this point forward.

Worse still is that they think it would be "good for the soul" if we all go to watch the film together, hopeful it might help us work through these now troubled waters. Oh and when I say 'we', that's right, of course they're including Natasha. What a laugh! Why would they think I'd want to spend another second of my life within a hundred mile radius of her dirty dog breath? How I wish I could tell them that I'd rather eat my own arm, than sit next her Chihuahua pinched face, pretending to make smiley faces at each other. I wish she were dead; let her be burned alive and left to rot in a bag of worms and maggots.

Friday 26th April

God I must be desperate, or simply psychotic, but I have begrudgingly, oh very definitely begrudgingly, agreed to attend the Titanic group therapy event, which is pointless since I very much doubt that psychotics are responsive to even Leonardo DiCaprio as part of their treatment plan? And since when did that stupid boat ever help anyone? I'd like to state it here, so that the words are written down should they ever be required to be presented as evidence in court, but I have relented only because I'll be damned if I shall forgo my social life and movie theatre viewing experience just because Natasha knows no morals.

Saturday 27th April

I cried. Natasha cried. Since neither Harry nor Liam cried I can only assume that they were struggling hard to suppress the tide of emotions caused by the sinking of that great ship. But let me make this very clear; Natasha and I were certainly not crying due to any feelings of love, regret or remorse which we may feel for each other, no, not at all, and I have definitely not forgiven her, never will; she barely exists to me.

Now we know that I wasn't talking to Natasha, but it turns out that she wasn't talking to me either. Which reminds me, why wasn't Natasha talking to me? What have I ever done to her? Am I the one who snogged her best friend's future boyfriend, and with one press of the lips and flick of the tongue destroyed a friendship nurtured from childhood?

'You need to talk about whatever it is that's going on between you,' Liam offered, 'you've been friends for too long to just throw it away over some silly argument.'

'Some silly argument?' He needs to quit with the pseudo-psychologist act now, before I bop him about the noggin. 'Is that what you think? Well you wouldn't be saying that if you knew what she's done. If you knew that she'd snogged the love of my life.'

'You've never even spoken to him,' Natasha bawled back, 'so how can he be the love of your life?' Does she think that this somehow makes what she did justifiable? 'Plus you were busy snogging Harry, so it didn't seem like you were too bothered about Luke anymore.'

'You witch,' I hissed, lunging towards her.

'Better to be a witch than a slag.'

'Calm down; what's the problem with you two?' Liam stepped between us.

'She snogged Luke Hemmings!'

'Well you snogged Harry!'

'Right, I don't even know who Luke Hemmings is, but if I hear his name mentioned again, I'll be the one fighting with you. Do you know what the issue is?' He turned to question Harry, who was being unusually quiet and remained outside of the circle.

'What's wrong with you?' I barked.

'Maybe he's is in love with Luke Hemmings too?' Liam laughed.

Later

So Natasha and I may have just about made up but that's only because I started squealing at such a pitch that only the local canine population were able to understand me, and so with her fingers in her ears she at last admitted that she shouldn't have done it. About bloody time!

'I love you Simone.' She clung to me, her head resting on my shoulder, both of us unconcerned that the last bus of the night was about to depart. 'Let's never fall out about a boy again, agreed?'

'Agreed.' Look at me, all grotesque and gushing, trying my hardest to keep her sweet too.

'He was a really good kisser though.' Why the little bitch.