******Hey, itsa me, Mario! Wait... no it isn't.... I'm jest a little confuzzled today, sorry. Would you looka that! Another story! When am I gonna finish one of these??? ACK, im driving myself mad! Well, I started writing this one a long time ago, but never posted it so I rewrote chapper one and now I'm posting it, yay?******

******disclaimer: There once was a girl named... well, let's jest call her Phillip. Ok, so Phillip was hungry. She wanted something to eat, but could find nothing, so she started to write a story she made up in her non-existent mind while watching The Simpsons and yelling at her evil sister to get off the phone so she could read some ficcys. In the end, Tano didn't own a thing. The end... or is it? *dramatic music, lightning and insane evil laughter* uh... ya, its over... Definitely, Definitely over.******



Isn't It

By Tano



They say it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Who said that? I dunno, but whoever he was he must have been crazy. I really don't get it. In my 15 years I have loved several times- well, I guess I can't really say that; they were really just crushes and most of the time the girl never loved me back. I've been rejected a lot and the reason escapes me. I mean, I'm about the nicest guy I know. I always try to do the right thing, although sometimes I too can fall prey to common emotions such as jealousy or general stupidity. Hey, I'm only human. We're all entitled to mistakes, right? Like the Ancient Romans said, "To err is to be human." (Sadly, I don't remember the Latin saying; I never was too good at that class... sigh, but I'm getting off track here). What I'm trying to say is, I would give anything to be loved back.

I don't know why I'm thinking about this now. When did it even come up? I can't recall, but something must have started me up. And now it's all I can think about. Ok, Arnold, no more. You're depressing yourself; not something you need right now. Come on, we're finally going home!

Home. I love the sound of it. Home is where my family is. I mean my real family. I mean, the one I lived with before I found my parents and moved away. My grandparents, the boarders, my friends... the only family I ever knew up until I was 10 years old. Sure I love my mom and dad. They're the greatest parents a guy could ask for. And I love my four-year- old sister, Aimee. But all the same, I really miss my home back in Hillwood.

It's my birthday present. My parents asked me what I wanted more than anything else, and without a second thought I told them. I wanted to go home. And they agreed! So now we're on our way, flying back to the old city. Anxious and extremely happy, all I can think of is what I will do when I get home. I hope nothing has changed too much.



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We're finally home! It feels so great to be back! Grandpa saved my old room for me. He and Grandma knew I would be back some day. Another great thing about being back: I don't have to share a room with Aimee anymore! The Kokoshkas have a three-year-old daughter named Samantha. They adore Aimee and always ask her to play, so I don't have to baby-sit anymore either. Ah, sweet freedom.

I haven't really seen any of my old friends yet. I'm still a little anxious about when I do. It has been five years, what if they don't remember me? Come on, Arnold, who else do you know that has a head like yours? Well, Arnie kinda does. Besides your boring cousin. Ok, you're right, maybe they wont have forgotten me. And hey, Arnie isn't boring, he's just... Boring. Told you. Ack, now I'm fighting with myself. I'm also kinda worried that everyone's changed. Well, I guess I'll find out when I go back to school on Monday (it's Saturday today). Arg, I can't stand waiting...



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I saw someone today. Sorry, do I not sound too happy? I guess I'm not. Or maybe I'm just confused. Disappointed? No I don't think that's it. I don't know what I'm thinking right now.

Who did I see? None other than Helga G. Pataki, my former tormentor. I've been home two days and I didn't notice her until today. A couple of times. Where was she? In the boardinghouse. I talked to Grandpa and he says she started living at the boardinghouse last year, after Big Bob threw her out. How could he do such a thing? What kind of parent just tosses their kid out like yesterday's garbage? It's...just wrong... inhuman...

Helga lives in the room right below mine and yet she's never around, probably why I never even knew she was living here. She never comes to dinner or anything. She seems to have changed a lot from what I've seen. She's, well, older of course (and all that that implies) and a little shorter than me. Her formerly long blonde hair has been cut short, a couple of inches above her shoulders, giving her a sort of cute appearance (she almost looks like Olga, only... not). She no longer wears her old pink bow (a shame, I was pretty fond of it). In fact, all of her pinkness has faded, except she wears a pink ribbon tied to her wrist. Very strange. The rest of what she wears is black. Black turtleneck sweater, black jeans, black shoes. She's lost the monobrow and is sort of cute really. Wait, did I just think that about HELGA? Yes, yes I did. Oh well, no one heard me anyway. I wonder if she even knows I'm back. Does she even care? Probably not. She never did like me much. Still, I wish she would talk to me. I kinda miss being called Footballhead.

Oh well, I go to school tomorrow. Maybe I'll see her there.



******Yep, this is where I stopped when I first wrote this story and forgot about it. The writing style is a little different; its my first from the character's actual point of view. Like it? Hate it? Lemme know please.******

******That means REVIEW! Don't make me say it again. I don't hear reviews being written!!! That's right, you better click that button!!!******