[chapter one]
Disclaimer: If you've heard of them, I don't own them. Everything else is mine, so no stealing, pretty please. ;-)
Author's Note: Trying
a new style, new format, new POV. Let me know what you think in the g-book
or pop me an email! :-)
**
I knew the day was all downhill after Brendan screamed from my front porch, "Fuck your horoscope, Holly!"
Yeah.
Okay.
Could he be more cruel?
Brendan *knows* how much I believe in horoscopes and star signs, and yet, he still mocks them.
I've been big on astrology since I was a little girl, and when I met Brendan, I knew we were doomed from the start. Our planets have been out of alignment since 1986, and yet here we were, trying to continue as a couple after years of fights, bickering, arguments and annoyance.
Okay, I'll admit, there are good elements to our relationship. Grudgingly, I'll admit Bren is smart. Talented. Funny. Kind. Generous.
And our sex life has always been, well, phenomenal.
I mean, that one time with the ha--
Sidebar - if someone finds this journal after I've died in a freak accident or something, STOP READING AND BURN THIS. NOW.
Okay, never mind that previous thought.
So, yeah. Good sex, good heart, good brain, good sense of humor. Brendan seems like a dream guy.
Except we fight.
All.The.Time.
He makes me crazy. Crazycrazycrazy!
The Very Private Journal of Holly Neale
What's worse than breaking up with your boyfriend?
Doing so in front of the entire garage area.
At about 400000 decibels.
I swear to you, time stood still and everyone froze while Bren and I shrieked at each other until I told him to come over and get his Georgetown sweatshirt and My Little Pony doll from my house, because I never wanted to see him again.
(The My Little Pony thing was just to embarass him - he's actually sort of frightened of the MLP phenomenon of the 80s. No joke.)
We went back and forth a few more times, then I screamed "It's over, Brendan! Over!" then turned and ran before I burst into tears in front of everyone.
How can I love someone so much and wants to rip his trachea out at the same time?
And how can I possibly cry this much without becoming totally dehydrated?
And why am I curled up in *his* sweatshirt if *I'm* the one that broke things off?
I can't do this with him anymore.
I can't fight this much with someone I love this much.
I wish I could just kick his ass right now.
The Very Private Journal of Holly Neale
Goddammit.
I have a degree from Georgetown too. In business, no less.
I worked at Penske before he did.
And I'm REALLY good at my job.
So why am I being treated like the leper here, when he's the jackass who broke my heart?
Oh, yeah. Because I'm not a) a boy b) cute c) famous d) a racecar driver
I hate work.