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I was having such a good time...at the party for Greg's friend, Friday night--a 21st birthday party at a banquet hall. I was nervous already because I really don't like Greg's friends, but if I didn't make an effort to get along with them, Greg would've been mad at me. And I was getting along, and having a good time, and dancing with people I didn't even know, but it was fun anyway. Maybe I was a little overdressed, with the pretty blue strapless dress I wore to the retirement party Erika invited me to a while back, but it didn't matter...I brushed it off and said, "So what? I'm the best dressed person here!" And I looked so pretty too, and everything was just going great. But I was tired and out of breath from dancing, and I had a little too much to drink, and was just a little dehydrated...so I put my head down on the table for just 5 minutes maybe, just to rest my eyes and catch my breath and stop from getting dizzy. Why did they have to try to write on me with a sharpie marker? I heard everything--they were making fun of me, making fun of my tattoo...and they said, "Let's write on it!" And they went to write on my back, but I jumped up and tried to hit the person...Heather, maybe--the one Erika calls "Retarded Cabbage Patch"...I can't remember. If it was her, tho, I only wish I'd have hit harder...knocked her right the ******** out. And maybe they were laughing about it, but I didn't hear cuz I ran off to the bathroom, where I sat and cried hysterically for 10 minutes before running outside behind the building in the freezing cold and crying on the back steps. Then maybe 5 minutes later, another girl came out to get me, and Greg drove me home. I was crying the whole way, and crying in bed too...didn't even wash my face, just let all the makeup run down...Greg said he was sorry...that he should've said something when they were going to write on me...I said it wasn't really his fault, and I was just crying, crying, "Why would they do that to me? I've only been nice to them all night...Why would they do something like that?" And I didn't sleep all night because I just kept waking up and thinking about it and crying more, like it was just an ongoing nightmare...

And maybe Greg did feel sorry...maybe for about 5 minutes before thinking that I was just overreacting and being too sensitive, and blaming me for ruining a good time with his friends...And what did he say to them before we left the party, while I was waiting in the car, crying? Nothing, probably. No, more like, "Sorry Anna is being such a spaz, she's just oversensitive," I'll bet. No sticking up for me, nothing. I really don't expect anything of the sort...I don't expect anyone to take my side except for my friends and my mother. Everyone else just blames me, and maybe they're right. Maybe I did deserve it...It was my fault for having too much fun...I'm sure there must've been something I did to deserve it...

And I don't expect any apologies either. We went to another party on Saturday night with Greg's friends, even tho I didn't want to and was in tears but still had to anyway cuz Greg would've been so mad if I said no...I got an apology from Doug, which really shocked me, since I used to like him the least...and he didn't even do it, yet he apologized anyway. Retarded Cabbage Patch stayed away from me all night, which was good, cuz I was considering stalking her till she passed out and then writing "c**t" on her forehead with a marker...but I'm not that type of person...

Why? Why? That's my second least favorite word. Why didn't Greg protect me? Why couldn't I tell him that it was partly his fault, that he should've stuck up for me, and why not, did he think it was my fault all along? Was I really the one who was wrong? Why can't I have a knight in shining armor by my side? Why can't my life be like my stories? After everything I've been through, don't I deserve better? That's what my mind keeps telling me, and no matter what, I can't shut it up sometimes. This is why I don't want to dream anymore--why I don;t want to write anymore...because I'm jealous of my characters and how their stories turn out, because this fantasy I write of can never be mine...I want something better and happier than this reality. Because goddammit, don't I deserve it?

Maybe not...
To sleep, perchance to dream...
If death is like an unending sleep, then I wish to live forever...because in that sleep, all of my dreams would be nightmares...