“We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens.”

I feel good about myself today.

I don’t want someone to understand me, I don’t want someone to think about me, I don’t want someone to miss me when I’m away.

I want you.
All of you, all the time. I want every single piece of your being to belong to me, from the freckles on your back to the anxious thoughts that frequent your mind. I want you to feel safe and warm and loved and alive and I want to be your home and I want you to fucking need me in the same way that I need you.

But even more than that, I want to be yours. I want to be the open book on the table by your bed or your favorite t-shirt hanging around in the closet or whatever you need me to be.

The sky is darkening all around us: black and blue like some beautiful bruise. Your coal-colored curls brush my cheek and it is like the soft touch of the first summer rain against my warm skin. My body shivers as it touches yours and your lips turn up into the awkward and lovely smile that I know so well. Rain begins to pitter patter pitter patter on the roof of your truck, and I can almost feel it slide down the already rusted metal. You gather me up in your arms and force my eyes to look into yours. They are obsidian, more like black black jewels than windows into the soul, but so beautiful regardless.

I reach my left hand up to brush your hair back from your face and I whisper, “I have always wanted to cliff dive in a storm.”

“Then let’s do it,” you say with a wicked smile transforming your features.

“Are you sure?” my voice breathlessly asks. You grab my shoulders, hard, and your eyebrows furrow in seriousness.

“I will always be willing to jump into a dark and deep and dangerous abyss with you.” And somehow I know we are now talking in metaphors, so I kiss you hard and you kiss me back and I realize this is the moment we fall in love.

So I guess what I am trying to say is that when your eyes pierce mine I feel as if I can barely breathe and when your hand accidentally brushes my own the whole world stops spinning.

Make sure you're both getting what you want out of this -- as with any partnership, a lot of things are at stake here. And this other person's motives are probably more complicated than you realize.

I took a sip of the amber-colored drink that you handed me, vaguely caring what it was but mostly concerned with the deafening music that was consuming my whole entire being and vibrating inside of me, thump thump thump. For a split second my thoughts turned to the notion of you in my bed within me and my cheeks turned a shade of red that hopefully was not noticeable in the dark backyard of some house that belonged to someone neither of us knew. So I took that sip and it burned my throat with such a pleasant feeling that made me cringe anyway and made you smile and made me down the rest in one gulp. In the back of my mind I knew you were still mostly a stranger to me, an unusual boy I had met only a few weeks prior. You could have been the type of person to spike my drink, to use me for your adolescent desires, just to toss me aside the morning after or the minutes after or even during the god damned act. This all ran through my mind at a dizzy speed that I suppose was recognized by my brain but not comprehended in a way that would make me stop doing anything I was doing. Besides, it was too busy trying to stop my heart from beating out of my chest as you grabbed my free hand so tight and firm, forcing my body closer to yours. Our body heat began to mingle.

I think I might be falling in love with a boy who is in love with someone else.

This summer passed me by before I knew it was over and now autumn is upon us and it is beautiful. The loveliest time to fall in love and to fall into adventure.

I thought things would be different here... but they are not. They might be worse but I am too drained to really analyze the situation. I only contain the energy to simply feel the feelings that flow throughout like blood and give me this disease that makes me weep, that makes me seep to the floor of the shower until the hot water runs out, and even the cold, the ice ice cold does not sway me, does not move me, only emphasizes and cements these fucked up emotions I should not be emoting. All we need is love, but I have love, maybe not the love I want, but I do, which really makes these staples of society seem like shit and I cannot breathe, I cannot breathe this stifling air. I do not like meeting people I do not care for but must pretend I enjoy. I just want to be with the person I really do want to spend time with, to care for, to love, to kiss, to hug, to hold, but for some reason this person is never a reality but merely a dream that becomes confused and misinterpreted and calls me on the phone, voicing his thoughts that are mean and upsetting and make me want to cry.

Sometimes... I think these are not just angsty teenage mood swings, but the real deal, the disease, the disorder, the damned affliction.

It is finally happening. It really, really is.

golden hair, like its filled with sunshine and all things beautiful and lovely. but he was not a lovely person, just corrupt: an atheist in a sea of religious freaks. he found refuge in the music, the hard music that could rip your soul apart and leave you breathless. the ramones were his favorite--- sha la la la sha la la la la. he wore his yellow hair long so he could run his fingers through it and feel its softness. his hair was the only thing he ever liked about himself. which is sad, because i had always thought he was genuine and wonderful and full of beautiful curiosity that to this day still affects me through and through: within my whole insides and to my core.

We speak
skin to skin,
in a tongue that only we know.

No mind can understand
except ours
mine and yours
me and you.

We are our own separate species
unique to us:
a variance of intellect
a vast sea of differences

And we are the fish
swimming swimming
side by side.

If you feel discouraged
That there's a lack of color here
Please don't worry lover
It's really bursting at the seems
Absorbing everything
The spectrum's a to z

You are the Jordan Catalano to my Angela Chase.

ideas and thoughts

• nostalgia
• black and white close portrait of girl's face, hair twisted up, face painted graffiti, sunlight back light
• brick sculpture w/ graffiti and "The world is what we make it."
  

If I am thinking of you are you thinking of me?

I have figured it out.

I did not change... I didn't. But I am no longer depressed. My bad days are gone. I have not had one of my bad days in ages. Dare I say it, but... I AM HAPPY. I fixed it myself. I am strong.

and every autumn singes

And it is fall again. Fall, fall, fall with it's candy-colored leaves that cover the ground in piles that crunch beneath our feet. It is a pleasant sound, and it fits with the chill that sweeps across our bodies, so specific to autumn that it cannot really be explained with words or gestures or anything else. But maybe with the act of putting on a sweater and your favorite corduroy pants. And getting out your winter clothes, just in case, just in case. The days get shorter and the breeze gets colder and the nights get longer and we all get a little bit restless. Autumn is falling in love and falling in lust. It is new beginnings and change. It is wanting to be different and new for no reason or every reason there ever was. It is missing past loves and old friends. It is aching for an excuse to break routine and fall into adventure and spontaneity. It is desperately needing to hold his hand and feel his cheek against your cheek and his lips against your lips with everything you have inside of you. It is your favorite song playing on the radio when you start the car and your mother reminding you to wear a coat when you go outside.

I am a Nevadan now. Only a Californian once a month during my visits to my father's. His beach side abode with wood floors and high ceilings and comfy chairs on a deck with an ocean view. I like sitting next to him in the early morning, when the fog is still lifting, slowly slowly, sipping coffee with milk and sugar in big big mugs, so hot you can see the steam swirling up and out. But these are the only times I wish to be in California. The desert is my home now. Dry heat that seeps into your skin. Sunlight that is always golden. Rain that is always warm. It is my home.

I want to feel the way you made me feel again. Kissing slowly and passionately in each others arms as Geggy Tah played in your room, so loud and deafening. Our conversations that were deep and meaningful and actually about something, anything. How we could lay side by side for hours and never even say a word. I want it back.

There is a boy. A new boy. He is tall and blonde and beautiful and smart and shy and quiet and enjoys good music and has a velvet voice and lovely eyes. He finds his way into my dreams more often than not and I have a feeling something shall come out of this. Sometimes you just know, and I just know. I know, I know, I know.

I am not who I used to be. And I have finally figured out that this is a good, good thing.

"Life is not bliss, life it just this... it is living."

When you looked at me from across the room, I knew. I knew it right then just like I know it now. Your smile reached my eyes, and only mine. It was for me and somehow I knew, I just knew. Your blonde hair fell into your face, like golden silk, and it stretched across your eyes that lit up with recognition as my own smile returned yours. It was like magic. Just one moment that changed both of our lives. A simple exchange of smiles that meant more than our words could explain. And as we walked side by side out of the cramped classroom, our arms and hands brushing and tingling with that unexplainable electricity, your deep and husky voice whispered into my ear. Singing the most beautiful song I have ever heard, for the lone reason it was coming from your lips.

"I have to admit it's getting better, getting better."

"Since you've been mine."

I feel like I have lost something important. Something that I need. I have not written a word of anything besides fluff bullshit since May. I am uninspired and dry and lacking any drop of creativity. I want it back. I don't even know where it went. And I miss writing here. I miss it. I want to get it back... and I will. I will.

It's funny how none of this matters anymore.

"Full of misguided outwardly love,Like a bow stretched back,With no known target in sight.The archer sighs,And in the morning cries.There's nothing to do but sit and wait."

You are taking everything away from me that used to be just mine.

It is the way your scarlet curls fall around your eyes and the way we feel sparks when our skin touches just because we think we should, just because they tell us too. It is the way I sit criss-cross applesauce in my bed with the covers over my head and the way the breeze comes in through the window at night. It is the way I wear your camouflage shorts every time I miss you and the way the sun looks in my room at five 'o' clock in the afternoon. It is the way I never like the way I look and the way your lips feel against my cheek. It is the way you always order my food for me at Denny's and the way I always I get mad when you do it, just because that is the way it has always been. It is the way you sleep with one leg out of the covers and the way I steal all five of the pillows. It is the way you gaze into my eyes after weeks of being apart and the way I melt every time you do so. It is the way we wait and sit and wish for something to share even after our chance at sharing is long, long over, because the little things are so beautiful and strange, but true. Oh, so true.

I am not a little girl.

Not the Same

My feet grazed the cement softly, quietly. The Golden Gate Bridge stretched up above my head, straight into the mist of the San Francisco sky and I was floating, floating, floating into the air. The arms of this man walking next to me made the butterflies fly inside. It was you. There was an electricity within the space between us... so thick it became tangible. I could have touched it with my fingertips if I dared. You weren't any different than before, what with your scruff and careless appearance... but that just made you all the more beautiful. Your steps were long beside mine, but you slowed down as I fell behind, like the perfect perfect gentleman. I could tell you were thinking about your bike, though. How swift and fast you could be riding along the edge, with a view right down into the gray and murky waters. The wind blowing your hair back. Goosebumps on all your bare skin. Fog settling onto your face as you rode right into it. But as the end of the bridge came into view, you grabbed me and spun me into your arms, cradling me tight and loose all at once. I inhaled your scent: pine trees, ocean air, and hot chocolate. You leaned your face into my neck, kissing me with closed lips as you moved up, up, up. Then you whispered into the depths of my brain, exhaling your breath and words onto my ear lobe, warm and gentle. I could feel it all the way down to my toes like a shiver in the middle of winter.

"I don't want to have to say goodbye."

"Then don't," I said, my words barely even words, but merely a breath with sound, with meaning. I took your arms into my small hands, forcing your eyes to look directly into mine. "This time doesn't have to be the same."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"I..I.."

"No, don't say it."

"Why not?"

"Silence... silence is golden."

I have just finished reading the best series of books I have ever read in my life and I cannot stop crying, the tears just keep coming. I am both happy and sad and in wonder and amazement and laughing at the same time. It was so honest and real and beautiful and makes me have hope, just some hope, and that's really all I can ever ask for.

Here's some cheesy Manilow lyrics for you enjoyment:
"You know I can't smile without you
I can't smile without you
I can't laugh and I can't sing
I'm finding it hard to do anything
You see I feel sad when you're sad
I feel glad when you're glad
If you only knew what I'm going through
I just can't smile without you

You came along just like a song
And brightened my day
Who would have believed that you were part of a dream
Now it all seems light years away

And now you know I can't smile without you
I can't smile without you
I can't laugh and I can't sing
I'm finding it hard to do anything
You see I feel sad when you're sad
I feel glad when you're glad
If you only knew what I'm going through
I just can't smile

Now some people say happiness takes so very long to find
Well, I'm finding it hard leaving your love behind me

And you see I can't smile without you
I can't smile without you
I can't laugh and I can't sing
I'm finding it hard to do anything
You see I feel glad when you're glad
I feel sad when you're sad
If you only knew what I'm going through
I just can't smile without you"

It became not just a sign, but The Sign

I wish for once that this one thing I really, really, really want could just work out. I usually never let myself really, really, really want anything because I have this fear of being let down. I always set too high of expectations when I do get genuinely excited about something, so they never get lived up to and then I am just always disappointed. I wish I knew how to be mellow without having to consciously think about being mellow, but thinking about wanting to know how to be mellow defeats the whole purpose. I really think too much. I really do. My mind runs in circles and never in straight lines. I always have a new question about something which then just leads to even more questions. This is better than not questioning anything about the world, I suppose. I can't even comprehend not being this curious, but I guess I would not be able to understand, since I've only ever known curiosity and not ignorance. Not that I am not ignorant. I am. I have so much more to learn about, well, everything. And I used to think I kind of had life figured out, and myself, but that's probably the most naive thing I could ever say or even think, really. (Is really the only adjective I ever use?) There is so much more to figure out about the world and so much more to learn. I have barely even experienced anything. Not at all. Not even. Of course at fourteen freaking years old I would say "I am happy being me. I am the person I want to be." Because at that age, and still even now almost two years later, I am really, really dumb. I would get an F in the class of life. All of us would. We're young and silly and prone to make all the mistakes we can. The only way to be smarter than all the rest right here with us is to recognize that we're dumb, instead of trying to pretend that we have things figured out. Who ever has it figured out, anyway? Life is just one crazy mess of tripping and falling down just to get back up again. And I guess that's the point really, is to just get back up and not stay flat on your face. "Just choose to be happy. It's a hell of a lot easier than choosing to be depressed." There's so many, SO MANY, things I want to say and a lot of the time I have NO IDEA how to say them at all. So I make up stories about people who don't exist and write about them and then it's easier to say what I want to say. Or I take a picture either symbolic or simply literal and then it's easier to explain to someone what I mean. Or I paint my thoughts all on a canvas and then it's easier to show someone what I am thinking. This has absolutely nothing to do with what I was saying, or maybe it does, because a lot of things I always want to say but can't have to do with life and how crazy yet beautiful it is. And art... just creating. I owe it a lot. Does that even make sense? I had such an uncreative existence a while ago. I just stopped doing anything: writing, painting, drawing, taking photographs, making ANYTHING. It lasted more than a year. Almost two. It was... horrible. But now that I am back and fully immersed in it... I know I can never stop again. Like I said in the previous entry, I guess. This is going to be my life. It helps my thoughts to be less jumbled and my mind to be less confused and my body and whole self to just be more relaxed. I feel like I can... I don't know, breathe, I guess. In and out in and out. It's easy. Simple. Organization within all the chaos. It never stops either... life is never slow. It's always fast fast fast. Quick quick quick, even when it FEELS like it's slow. It never really is.

I think I'm dumb. Or maybe just happy.

I have a secret: I love Barry Manilow, as well. His cheesy lyrics with the obvious melodies are so sappy and corny that you can't help but to smile when you hear them. In their own strange way, they are beautiful. Their own cheesiness makes them kind of ironic and rebellious for being so blatantly corny. Did you know he's the Showman of Our Time?

My goals for the future keep changing and then I just laugh at myself for being such a stereotypical adolescent. Of course they are going to change... I am only fifteen "with my whole life ahead of me." But for now, I would like to apply to RISD and then go to graduate school, preferably in New York or in some large and interesting metropolitan area. Sometime during this time, I plan to study abroad for a semester or two in France. Which is why my other plan is to take a French class next year at the community college. The only thing I know for sure? I do not want to spend my life in a cubicle from nine to five every single day. I want to fill my life with art, the one thing I have always loved and been passionate about since I was about three years old. Drawing, painting... simply creating. Photography, writing, filming... that's what I want to do. I want to take these thoughts I have in my head and put them into a tangible form to share with the world. So... art school is the likely idea, I guess. RISD is by far one of the best and my main goal, I suppose. Just anywhere other than one in California. I am getting out of here soon already... I don't want to come back.

"And I'm ready to take a chance again,
Ready to put my love on the line with you."

The fact that I just deleted my Myspace and Facebook and that it was such a relieving thing for me definitely proves how technology centric our generation, or even our society, is. A place for friends? More like "friends." A little thumbnail of a person's perfectly planned picture within a list that can be found spanning between such a small number as 10 to 10 million. So these "friends" do not truly follow the rules of friendship that we all know exist, but are merely accomplices in our main goal of being viewed as cool or popular in our peers' eyes (you can deny it, but we all know it is true). It is sickening beyond belief, and I have always known this, yet participated in the mindless activity regardless. Why, you ask? Trust me, I have asked myself the same question countless times. And I have been pondering the answer to this really obvious inquiry all day, and have come to the conclusion that I am, in every sense, just your average, generic teenager. This is really quite sad at one angle, but then just completely natural when it comes down to it. Some could even say it is harmonious and beautiful but I wouldn't go that far. It's more hilarious than anything.

Crocodile Lies

"I confess, yes, our Fall was all my fault
If you kissed my eyes, your lips would taste salt
But you think my regret is a lie, and the tears I cry
Are the crocodile kind.

The sweat on your upper lip starts to boil
White hot with anger, still convinced I'm your foil
You keep fighting me, though my eyes are free
From crocodile lies.

You, yes, you, linger inside my heart
The same you who stopped us before we could start
I didn't want to leave, but you began to believe
Your own crocodile lies.

The only person stopping you is yourself,
You won't accept that I want no one else,
So until you do, I'll let someone else have you

Every day, I live a lie
But not the crocodile kind. "

I'd like to think that my own Marcus Flutie is existing somewhere, living and breathing and thinking the thoughts that I, too, am constantly thinking. I hope he is there, in true flesh and blood, and is not only floating around in my mind and dreams and subconscious. Or just flying through the dust that sits in the air of my life, only to drift away when I am not looking. I want to meet him one day and have that real and riveting conversation that I crave each day I step out of my bed to live another twenty-four hour span. I would like to actually have that satisfying human relationship that is as challenging as it is pleasing... the one I've wanted since I was old enough to know better.

Fall

"We
are adam and eve
born from Chaos called
Creation
Ribbing me gave you life
Yet you forget
there will always be
a part of me
in you
Yes
I taunted and tempted
you
with my forbidden fruit
Does that make me
the serpent too?
Think what you will
but if I am exiled
alone
I know we will be
together again someday
naked
without shame
in paradise
My thanks to you
for being in
on my
sin"

One Pure Thought

Sometimes

life is so incredibly

breathtaking

and

beautiful


that there is nothing else for me to do


but cry.


Just cry.

Today, in Spanish, I was subjected to the most compulsive and disgusting conversation ever. "Oh, yeah, we were like, at this party and like, people got drunk and like, passed out on the living floor, so me and him just like, had sex on the couch, like right there! -giggle-" "Yeah, I've already had sex with like, ten guys. I think it's like, sooooo sooooo dumb when people can't like, talk about sex. Or cry like, during their first time." Random guy walks up. "Dude, like, my girlfriend and I were having sex five months before we were official and when I was still dating my ex! Ha! Ha! Ha!" "Oooooh, how bad! -giggle-"

That was my cue to bang my head against my desk and sigh. This is what I am growing up with? These idiotic little sluts who know absolutely nothing and will believe any guy who says I love you? It's sickening.

Kay, just had to get that out.

I feel unappreciated and misunderstood.

I have so much to say and no way to say it and I want to run at the park with no shoes on and cold air wrapping its arms around me, but I can't because it is warm and too sunny and I really wish I had more canvases because my whole body is aching to pick up my brush and just paint.

...I enjoy run-on sentences.

I should be asleep right now. When I am walking to second period tomorrow, my eyes will be drifting closed and I will bump into someone I don't know on accident and trip over my own feet more than once. I will feel silly and promise myself that tonight, tonight, I shall be in my bed by nine 'o' clock. But it won't happen. It never does.

Today I drove home. I walked into my house and sat down to relax with my book and pointless recorded television shows. I told myself I would work on my projects that are due soon... but I didn't. Instead I was lazy and disappointed myself and got angry over my C in physical education that I really don't deserve. These little things... I am getting tired of being upset by them. It's time to stop.

At least I went shooting today, since I haven't even picked up my camera since Easter. Some nice self portraits. I was pleased. I needed a break and it was really worth it.

I hope I have good dreams tonight.

I am angry with the things I cannot change.

Somethings are better to leave unexplored

I don't know. I guess I just like to tiptoe in the dark, when the sky is so close to being black and sleep has taken its victims. My house becomes so silent that it almost hurts, but I ignore it. I just wait until the silence leaves and the creaks and squeaks of the world pass through my thin windowpanes like the sand at a beach slipping between the cracks of my hand. I curl up into my bed and close my eyes, with my arms wrapped tight around my bare legs. I listen for the sound of passing automobiles, and then I don't feel so alone. My ears strain to hear the whoosh of those cars on the highway at night, with people sitting in the driver's seat, maybe in silence, maybe with a book on tape silently playing in their radio. Or maybe some beautiful song fills the empty air and the driver has an aching heart or goosebumps or butterflies in their stomach because this drive is leading them to a long lost lover or a sick father. They'll reach their destination and sigh into the night while I am still lying on my bed in the thick silence that consumes the confines of my minuscule haven and existence. The pain of the driver's heart reaches mine and my eyes fall into dreamland and I see them walking up a path to a red door that is really the only barrier standing between them and the rest of their life.

I am not a Californian. Nor am I am a Nevadan. Neither am I an American. I am none of these things. I am a human who walks barefoot on this Earth or this man-made pavement outside of the shopping mall that is made of the same things twenty thousand miles away in a part of this world I have never known. I will be a human no matter where I go, what I see, what I do. I can run on the sand of the Sahara and fly over the Mediterranean Sea and touch the depths of the salty Atlantic waters... and I will always be human. I can reside in Montana or Hungary or South Africa. I can be asleep in a four star hotel or a dirt cheap motel and things will be the same. I can breathe this air in this small town and exhale to feed every plant that has ever been known. I can inhale the thin oxygen of the Everest peaks or the humid air of Georgia in the summer and things will not change. This is me and us and all and every and the harmony is beautiful that the breath I breathe becomes so insignificant that I forgot how to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. I can laugh at this thought and he can laugh at this thought while sitting on his couch in Dublin and we will never know, but we do. We know, we know, we know. We can feel the harmonious strings pulling us like we are John Cusak's puppets in Being John Malkovich... and it is beautiful. My smile can be yours and your tears can be mine and we can taste the sweetness of it all on our tongues at the exact same moment in time because it doesn't matter what the clock says. It's all happening right now and the numbers mean nothing because we're all just floating along on this string that will carry us wherever it wants to. But we're all on this trip together so you can let go and I can let go. Ready. One... two... three. Jump.

When I read The Diary of Anne Frank, I never thought I could read anything else as heartbreaking and devastating. But Night... it tore open my chest, took out my heart, and left a gaping hole in the middle of my soul. How could a human being do that to another human being? How could they use live infants as targets for their machine guns? How could they throw living, breathing babies into a fiery pit... just left to suffer and burn? How could they be so inhumane? It is hard to comprehend that these events actually occurred. That there are still survivors that must live with the memories of losing their loved ones... and themselves. To look into the mirror and see the impact of it all in your own eyes.

"For God's Sake, where is God?"
And from within me, I heard an answer:
"Where He is? This is where---hanging here from this gallows."

It will free me

When we tip toe across the sand in the desert, our feet don't even make a sound. Not even the tiniest bit of sound. So we break into a run and we feel free. Oh, so free. We're on the verge of flying, flying high, but we won't let our bodies take flight. The sky is scary and blue and big. We tell them we are fearless but Shhh! We lie, we lie. That's life. That's just life.

I am so ready for this. I am ready. I am... excited?

I fell in love with you long ago before your face had a body attached and your voice had a sound and your brains thought thoughts. I fell in love with this simple dream of someone like you when it was just in my head. Now it is standing right in front of me and things feel like they are supposed to feel and my body and my heart feel warm and content.

So this is it, huh? Alright. I can do this.

The lights glow up your face in the growing darkness and Grapevine Fires plays on the radio in your new car. It all feels so perfect, but I know it's not because of the one thing we talked about that other day when it was raining. You remember? The sky was gray and dull and you pointed this out to me with your pessimistic tone and furrowed eyebrows. I thought it looked beautiful. But my disagreement was pointless, so instead I sang "When I think about you, I touch myself." I laughed and laughed and laughed while you stood there and stood there and just stood. Then it started and we yelled and we screamed and we threw things into my door. It's white paint got scratched but you ignored it and I stared at it and we stopped talking and you left and now we are here weeks later in your car while Grapevine Fires plays softly on the radio. You are driving and I am sitting, looking at your face as the lights make it glow in the growing darkness. My head is swimming and it hurts but all I can do is say, "Where do we go from here?"

When something as simple as a song makes you feel fearless, free, and happy... you know it must be pretty good. Hot Chip makes my soul feel really nice. ("Sexual Healing" by them is a must, must, must listen). Seriously.

I want to take off and run into the sunset like the cliche ending of an indie movie with girls who wear tight pants and never wash their hair and really think smoking makes them look cool. Sometimes I wish life was that easily defined but instead it's not and it's complicated and hard and far from easy. But that's the good part. Really. Easy is boring.

It's silly how you told me you liked my shoes but then preceded to tell me "even though so and so has them too." I'm sorry, but shoes are shoes and they are open for lots and lots of people to purchase them and then, you know, actually put them on their feet and wear them. The fact that you said that makes me want to slap my generation in the face because apparently they really really really need it. Like, come on, go read a fucking book for once instead of popping pills at raves. If you even live to be middle aged, you will look back on this time and say "Those were the best times of my life." And seriously, that is just sad because at age sixteen, you've barely lived and at this time you should be looking toward the future because the best is yet to come.

"Dive deep. Drown willingly."

Skin to skin, we speak in puzzles. And we watch... we watch the sky fall. It hits our heads and we brace ourselves for the impact but it just melts in our hair like crystals of snow. So we stand up and dance again and laugh and try to be okay even if we're not.

I will miss the grass and the trees and everything green. I will miss the way the sun lights up the leaves during the golden hour. I will miss the flowers that bloom all through the year. I will miss you and you and most definitely you. I will miss the memories and the past that all live here and only here. I will miss waking up to the scary fan noises in the middle of the night. I will miss opening my eyes in the morning and seeing the sun shine through my window, lighting up each particle of dust in my room in such a beautiful way. I will miss this frustrating place, even though I know I hate it deep down. I will miss having the chance to make the same mistakes with you again. I will miss seeing people I know no matter where I go. I will miss the sleepless nights on the bed where my feet hang off. I will miss the weather that makes no sense. I will miss this house where I have lived longer than any other place in my life. I will miss all of the annoying people I dislike. And I will miss the ones I love, the ones I enjoy, the ones who make me laugh, and the ones who shoved their way into my heart when I wasn't looking.

But most of all I will miss what could have been and what I could have had.

I am looking at this as an adventure, rather than a completely negative situation. People could know me as something other than the shy, quiet girl. People could know me as I truly am, instead of this picture they have in their head and can't get out even though I have changed. This is a chance to experience something new, not just a chance to lose all that I know. I will learn. I will experience. I will meet new people. I will grow.

This could be a good thing for me.

I want to take pictures like this.

this makes me feel uncomfortable and wonderful all at the same time.

Such beautiful and breathtaking words...

Harden My Heart

Why is it that whenever something good comes around for me that something horrible must follow? I feel broken and I feel odd. I haven't cried this hard since... well, since my whole world changed on that one day in May last year. I guess big changes and me don't mesh very well. Small changes? Sure, I can deal. But those big, drastic, life changes are the ones that break me down. Even the color trick doesn't help those tears stop. And the color trick usually always works (Thanks to Calliope). White walls. Brown shoes. Yellow drapes. Beige carpet. Green pillow...

I think I need to read The Realm of Possibility. That always makes me feel better.

I am glad I did cry, though. It always just releases everything I've been holding inside. Stress, anger, frustration, sadness... And then I feel brand new and I can breathe and I look at myself and just feel beautiful. Good cries are just that: Good.

Thank you for taking the time out of your day to come and get me on Friday. It was so reminiscent of... well, you know. But instead of it being him, it was you and it made me realize how silly it was of both of us to think we were anything more than friends. We're not just friends though... we're something better. Something that doesn't require a label. I just know you're someone who will let me cry on their shoulder which is exactly what I need right now. But then thinking that makes me sad again because I'm just going to lose you anyway. Let's just make the best of the time we have left and have weekly dinner together again and go on our ice cream runs like we used too and have random conversations on the phone and just laugh at nothing like we did before everything got confusing. Things don't have to be that way anymore, especially now.

I'll get through this.

When my dad says mean and hurtful things to me, I give him the silent treatment and hole myself up in my bedroom. But then I always come out and forgive him because he's my dad and at least I have a dad at all, right? My simple disappointments are grains of sand compared to some people's problems that could fill a continent.

There's this house that they use for commercials and I always see it and recognize it from another commercial and then I realize that I watch too much television.

I saw this somewhere today online...
1. What you want your life to be.
2. What your life is.
These should both be the same things.

You know... show not tell really applies to many, many things in life.

I had a dream last night that we were floating on the air in a bar where the walls were made out of brick and a saxophone played in our ears. A woman sang Harden My Heart and I mouthed the words to you as we looked into each others eyes. The gang from St. Elmo's Fire danced around us and held tambourines limply at their sides. Then the music stopped, the lights dimmed until it was dark, and people ran out the door until it was just you and I. "Nice night, isn't it?" I said.

I woke up feeling the same way after I watch St. Elmo's Fire. That nice, warm feeling you get after watching a completely amazing film. It was nice. But I don't understand the rest of the dream. I suppose it has some significance, though. Dreams always do.

It's the tragedy of loving, you can't love anything more than something you miss.

Jungle Love

All I am looking for is someone who can decipher this puzzle of my brain; someone who shares thoughts so similar to the ones stumbling through my head; someone who does not mind my love for a time shared together, lying side by side on the dirty ground, simply appreciating life and the world, without tainting the beautiful silence with even one spoken word; someone who will trespass on properties with me just to get the perfect shot, a risk taker; someone who has not lost their spontaneity or sense of adventure; someone accepting, understanding; someone who is aware, but not jaded; someone who believes in love, but not the Hallmark, Valentine's day, high school, carbon copy. The sunny day, walk in the park, hug and kiss, holding hands, hair pulling, quiet, loud, silly, cuddling, drive-in movie, book of poetry, funny movie, favorite song kinda love. The someone who knows exactly what I mean when I say those things. You know, the person who will push me above and beyond because they know me inside and out. The person who will yell right in my face when I really need it. The person who will let me be all of who I am and love every part of it, love every second of it.

This someone and I... we shall meet some day.

Say all I need is the air I breathe
and a place to rest my head

Only time will tell...
I see it clearly now.

You don't have to go

I guess it was just wishful thinking or hope getting the better of me. Whatever it was, I shouldn't have given in. Boredom requires careful thought, otherwise you'll make mistakes that will be hard not to regret later. And being bored and lonesome is a lethal combination.

But what is beautiful is that phone call from you that surprised me and gave me the goosebumps and the butterflies that had slipped my mind. It might be foolish to give you another chance, when a second was already handed out and stepped on. And I won't, not until I hear the apology my mind and my heart needs, and I won't until I see the effort I need to see to feel okay. Your words are nice, but they mean nothing until an action backs them up. So that is what I am waiting for and I hope you surprise me again and show me you have changed. I am lonely... and I miss you too as much as I try to fight it.

Sometimes life has a funny way of laughing in your face. And all you can do is laugh right back.

A glass can only spill what it contains.

Moonlight

I am bare foot. I can feel the dirt seeping into the skin of my soles. But it doesn't feel dirty. Instead, it feels right. It's like I am one with nature: uninhibited and completely free.
I run into the cold air, surrounded by the trees and a soft breeze that brings with it the salty scent of the ocean. I quicken my pace; I long for the sound of the waves and the crunch of the sand as I walk slowly to the water. The lovely glisten of the moonlight on the beach. The soft glow of gold that will bathe my bare skin as I reveal myself from the cover of leaves I am now under. They let in little of the light. Darkness is all around but I breath deeply and calmly even as I run. The air is filled with a hum and an electricity that seems to connect everything living . . . that strips the boundaries and makes us all one. It makes me feel as if I could just melt into the ground beneath my feet. It makes me feel warm. It makes me feel alive.
A full moon is out tonight. It is completely round, completely eerie. Full of knowledge and secrets. Of wisdom and magic. Of infinite possibilities. It drips of the unknown. The color is something out of a fairy tale or a ghost story. But I reach for it anyway. I will get as close to it as I possibly can.
I slowly walk out onto the desolate stretch of sand, and I can feel it. It. The feeling I get as midnight nears and the day ends. The feeling that makes me itch with restlessness. Whether I'm asleep or awake, it doesn't matter. I still feel it. It creeps into my skin and flows through my veins like it is my own blood. Thickly, slowly . . . it moves and crawls within me.
It is an ache and a longing that rips away any sense of self I have. I feel animal, barbaric. I just want to throw myself into the rough waves that crash against my legs and float away into everything I do not know. To become one with the water and the air and the sky and the moon and the land beneath my feet. To sink into the wet leaves that cover the ground. To truly be watched over by the mother called Earth.
So I run along the edge of this great blue abyss, feeling sharp rocks under my toes and the cold wrapping itself around my skin... but I don't care. I just want to feel apart of the unknown.
So I run.

“ I was going to tell her I loved her, right then, right now. But as I opened my mouth, she pressed her finger to my lips. And said “don’t ruin it.” And I didn’t. I didn’t mind.”


You know... we're all going to end up in the dirt one day anyway so stop thinking we're all so different.

...we're not.

Tell me

I am aching for something I've never even known. I am missing something I've never even had.

When I listen to this song, all I see is you and me, driving in your car with the windows down, music blasting, holding hands, and singing at the top of our longs. The sun is shining, our skin is warm, and our matching sunglasses are perched upon our faces.

"Tell me baby, all through the night, that you'll never let me go
Tell me baby, cuz I want the world to know
Tell me baby, I'm the only one, and all you'll ever need
Tell me baby, that you'll never let me go

Oh baby
You know we could never turn around
Cuz we're young and against the world
So tell me, tell me that you'll never let me go
Cuz I need your love, and I need it all the time"

80s hair metal just always makes you happy :D

Things are only a big deal if you make them a big deal. Don't you know that?

Life is beautiful

"Life is my oyster and I am gonna go out there and shuck it!"

The little things are making me quite happy lately. I am fine with what I have at the moment. And that makes me happy within itself.

Books are good. Books are swell. So are movies. Movies are fun. So is Lost and That '70s show... the only TV I will waste my time watching. You may think That '70s show is a pointless comedy, but it's not. Really. Ha.

I want to go shooting. Really bad. I need some new locations for some new inspiration. I am tired of all these repetitive photos of the inside of my house, the backyard, and the whole neighborhood. It's getting old.

I am glad we found each other again. You make me laugh :). That's all I can ask for really. Your friendship is so nice to have.

Sun to Sea

I like when a song is so good, I have to replay it over and over because I just want to feel the feeling I feel when I listen to it. Doesn't a song just ever make you feel so full of possibility and confidence and happiness and love and wonder that you might just burst? If that has never happened to you... find the song that makes you feel that. It is wonderful. I think that feeling is what I try to capture with my words and my photos. That feeling.



Have you ever looked at your reflection in the mirror and didn't know if you were actually looking at yourself? Who is that person? How did I get here?



Remember when peace and love and music was enough to be completely happy? Let's get back to that place. I want to run through nature on a sunny day with no shoes on my feet, flowers in my hair, your hand in mine, humming Whole Lotta Love and Thank you, strumming out Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap on our crappy guitar, banging out Walk This Way against a tree stump, and letting go to just be free. I want to get back to the simplicity of those hippie times. Humanity is so goddamn uptight now, it just makes me too worried about pointless things. Let's just lay in the back of your beat up car with your favorite AC/DC album blasting and sing it all, even the parts we don't know, because who cares. Our sweat will mingle and so will our skin and people will talk but we'll keep on keeping on because it is natural and beautiful and what we want and we're just young kids, young punks, who don't know any better but we need to make mistakes and they of all people should know that. We need to learn and sometimes all you can do is fall down to see things from the right angle. And then we'll walk on the sidewalk side by side with our tight jeans on and our matching leather jackets that weren't intentional but don't matter anyway. We'll have our hands in each others pockets and hearts and until things get ruined, because they will, we'll keep making the warm memories of our first love.

Sometimes... a book can change your life. Or a speech. Or a sentence. Or simply a word. Just a word. One word. And you are changed.

When you told me you cared about me, I believed you. I still want to believe you. I would be able to, if I just stopped thinking for a second. But I never stop thinking. Is that my curse or is that my best trait? Who even knows?

Is it possible for a person to completely change in only a year?

Is it possible that I'm just not cut out for this and never will be?

Is that sad... or is it just life?

I wish I had kept that promise to myself. It's too late now. Today was the day and I was never even close. It is frustrating. I over think, overwork, and over analyze until the ideas are just mush within my head. How will I ever fulfill my dream when I can't even finish anything, ever?

Don't worry

be happy

When the sun shines on your skin, do you feel warm?

The past few weeks have been a blur.


I need to live more.



Instead of sitting


on my bed... with my headphones in my ear and a book in my hands.







I just need to live.


I want to feel the sun on my skin and the wind in my hair and the beautiful soreness after a whole day out in the fresh air. I want to feel the sweat from a hot day on my neck and a friend's arm brushing against mine as we walk through a grassy green park. I want to feel the laughter and the happiness of swinging high into the air. I want to feel the recklessness that comes with jumping off at the highest point. I want to feel the excitement of staying up all night, sleeping in the grass of a friend's backyard, looking up at the stars, talking about every dream we have. I want to feel the cool air of a night in July. I want to feel the cold water of a pool at night on my bare feet. I want to feel the joy of a carefree adventure, all on foot, with no set destination or goal besides finding something fun to do in this windy little valley.

I want summer.


And I "wish" we could just leave the past in the past and just be friends again. I know you know who you are.

1 out of 100 people who get their wisdom teeth removed get an infection. Of course I had to be one of those people. This weekend has been hell. At least I have gotten to relax with ice cream and That 70's Show and lots of movies and lots of sleep.

I also did some thinking.

I realized many things.

But this time, I've learned not to share.

I'm really glad


that


you


care*






*don't care

Do you ever get that feeling where you just want to cry, but you can't?

Do you ever just want to stop feeling the way you feel and completely have a new start? If that was actually possible... I don't know.



I really don't know.




At all.

I really like cute and tall Native American boys with caramel-colored skin and long, silky black hair.

Le Soleil

So, we're all vague and secretive to the point of being misunderstood even by ourselves. You can be you or you or even you. Him can be that guy or this guy. Her could be mom or best friend or girl in your third period class. Are we so afraid of what we really think that we have to hide behind code and pseudonyms?

Yeah, I think we are.




"...and I can feel it flowing through my veins like it's my own blood."

....why?

"You said you want to be outside and you want to feel alive.
I said I didn’t want to move, I just wanted to survive.
So I sit here waiting for the sun to come,
And I watched it rise like we’d never done."

People disappoint me.




That is all.

So lost

I'm having one of my bad days today. At least I can recognize it as a bad day. Different in every way from a good day. Not the norm. I think that's progress.

I feel stuck in my own skin. My brain is pounding... it is going to burst out of my head. It just hurts. I am in pain everywhere and I feel so alone. Alone and lonely. Two different feelings, easy to handle when they come separately. But they suck everything out of you when they come all at once. I feel lonely: I am aching for someone, somebody, not just anybody, a true and real friend who understands me. (Because you think you do, but you don't.) I feel alone: even though I have my family surrounding me, they don't get me either and they don't even believe that I'm depressed. But I'm falling down this slippery slope and every day it gets a little steeper.

And I try to laugh until it doesn't hurt.

But my laughs are hollow. They aren't real.


What's keeping me from going all the way down? I know a good day will come again and then I can truly laugh at this. And I'll wait for that.

You don't even know how much better I feel from even just writing that down.

Don't cry, just laugh

His name was Ed and he sang in a grunge band. He would touch his lips to the microphone and whisper his words. The girls all screamed. The guys all nodded their heads in approval.

The first time I heard his voice, he was yelling out "Help me! Help me!" I jerked my head toward the sound, confused, kind of angry. I was in the woman's restroom washing my hands. Breathing deep. Trying to ignore the fact that I wanted to be anywhere else but this dirty club with music I didn't like.

"Please! Help!" His voice was muffled.

It was then that I heard the giggles. The girls saying "Shhh." I could picture them surrounding him in the stall, with tight black skirts and stripper heels. Deep red lipstick. Sultry eyes. Achieving a sexiness I secretly wanted to be able to have. I ducked my head down and wiped my wet hands on my jeans.

I almost just turned and left. He was probably enjoying it. Pretending he didn't want them all over him. Playing the game I never learned how to play. I made my decision. I touched the dark green door, decorated with artistically vulgar graffiti, but then I immediately turned back.

"Don't. Don't go. Please. Help me." He sounded desperate. In pain. Like he actually needed my help.

I made another decision, fast, before I could change my mind, and banged into the stall door. The bitches hadn't even locked it. I pushed their astonished faces out of the way. Grabbed his hand and ran out.

Ran until I was out in the cold air, standing in the middle of the street, out of that loud place altogether. We were still holding hands. I dropped his and looked the other way. I was embarrassed, shy, nervous. The girls still had his shirt.

"I... well, thanks." That was him. He seemed nervous, too. He seemed... nice. Genuinely thankful. I felt like a jerk for thinking he was some over-confident, conceited, dick.

I turned my face to look at his. He was looking at me. We made eye contact. I burst out laughing. I couldn't stop. I was bent over, clutching my stomach.


Two people standing in the street. The guy is wearing leather pants and no shirt, no shoes. He's dark: dark eyes, dark hair, dark demeanor. He has his hands in his pockets and is staring at the girl. The girl is bright: blonde, pale, icy blue eyes. She's wearing old, ripped jeans and a white, lacy shirt. Her straw hat has fallen off her head and lies between them. She's laughing and doesn't seem to be stopping.

If you could see them how they see themselves, you would know that he thinks he's uninteresting and she thinks she's ordinary.

The girl stands up, her laughter stops. She brushes herself off and puts up her hand in a wave.

"I'm Blaise."

"I'm Ed."

And then they're both laughing, in the middle of a dark and silent street. All alone but together.

But if you were there with them, and listened hard, you would have heard a buzzing. A happy, serendipitous hum. They met by chance.

It could have been another girl standing there washing her hands in the bathroom.

But it wasn't.

To remember:

You don't have to be a "person of influence" to be influential. In fact, the most infuential people in my life are probably not even aware of the things they've taught me.


You can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles four things: a rainy day, the elderly, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.


Don't use words too big for the subject. Don't say 'infinitely' when you mean 'very'; otherwise you'll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.


You wanna know what living life to the fullest actually is? It's waking up on a Monday morning with no complaints. It's knowing you always deserve to laugh. It's doing what feels right no matter what. It's doing what you want to, no matter how stupid you look. It's about being yourself, cause no one can tell you you're doing it wrong.


Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.

And the rest you can keep

I hope we can dance in your car to Radiohead some time. Rock out in our matching hats. Throw our arms into the air. Pull over to the side of the road and run out. Blast the volume. Spin in circles and laugh and laugh and laugh. Sing Bodysnatchers at the top of our lungs. Kick our shoes off. Run and run and jump over the barbed wire fences and break free. Then run and run and run until you take my hand. We'll reach the top of our spot: that one hill. And we'll look into each other's eyes and say, "Can you believe it?" And then we'll answer, "Why, yes, yes we can."

You don't love someone because of how they look. You love them because they sing a song only you can understand.

The rocket scientist will say so

When I have good days, I forget about how it is even possible for me to have bad days. But it's always in the back of my mind. It sticks. It scars. It shall stay until I don't need it anymore. I feel like I don't need it... but that's just a lie I like to tell myself, I suppose.

My lovely Bella makes my heart ache to the point where I think it might just spoil. Fall out the top. Spill over the edges. Simply burst.

Honestly, I don't miss you. And you're wrong, I don't care that you don't read this. This is for me. A place for me to write to myself when I can't deal with anything any other way. That is all. It's the reason I don't advertise it everywhere for anyone to see... I want it to be mine. Of course I have my journals though. The journal I hide in that special spot that is full of the real, important secrets and ideas and dreams I want to keep to myself and only myself. That one doesn't get opened often. But when it does... I am scared and excited and anxious all at once.
Just remember... write for yourself and not for anyone else. That might just be the best advice I have to give.

We won't hold hands and run through fields together. You won't tell me I'm beautiful and let me take lovely, sunshine photographs of your clear green eyes. I realize that now. My feelings are bittersweet. I can still imagine myself doing these things with you, yet know that you are all wrong for it. And for me.

I miss having to pretend. I miss not having to pretend. What is this middle ground I am in? I don't think it has a name. I'm along the edge of both, having to choose. But why would I choose to pretend? I'll embrace this, full on, head first, as fast as I can. I won't hold back. Just watch. This is the beginning of a new era.

"You All Everybody" by Drive Shaft

LOST is back tonight. I think I am way too excited.

I feel strangely accomplished. I feel weirdly sickened. I can't make up my mind. Make it up for me? Or just make it up. Play make believe. Imagination. Pretend.




I'm good.



I'm gone.

Peeking over shoulders

When I was friends with you, I remember being embarrassed by the music I liked and the books I read. I liked what you liked too, but I liked what I liked on top of that. I was afraid you would find out I liked books like Twilight and Princess Diaries and think I was pretending. But I wasn't. But I was. I liked Hemingway and Vonnegut and Camus too. And I hated that you made me feel bad for that not being all I enjoyed. You made me feel pretentious. You made me feel like I was trying too hard. Which for that short time, I was. I will never try to change who I am for anyone else ever again. When we got together after a few months without speaking, I was completely myself and I told you what book I was reading at the time and what album I had just picked up and what movie I had just seen. The Truth About Forever, Taylor Swift, and The Sisterhood of Traveling Pants 2. I laughed since I always do and I tripped since I'm clumsy and I was awkward since I am and I ate a lot since I like to eat. And I'm glad you liked me more that way. And I'm sorry that I only got together with you to prove something to myself, not give us another chance.

Mmm, days like these are lovely. When it's cold but not too cold. Overcast but not wet and foggy.



What happened to me, you ask? Life happened. It would happen to you too... if you let yourself live.

She holds a smile

...like someone would hold a crying child.
And soon everybody will ask
What became of you?
'Cause your heart was dying fast
And you didn't know what to do.

I like days when I wake up early and lie for a while under my blankets... thinking thoughts and watching the light shining through my windows get brighter and brighter. Tiptoeing down my stairs, not quite awake, whispering good morning to my mom and my brother. Pouring a glass of orange juice and sipping it slowly while sitting softly on my favorite chair that is covered in fabric that looks like a world map. Reading a good book and being frustrated that I forgot my slippers upstairs. Baking cookies. Singing songs. Telling them, "I love you," and meaning it with everything I have.

...sometimes I get nostalgic and sentimental.

"Betrayal. Lust. Secrecy. Devotion. I think we do these things to feel more alive. When the truth is that alive is alive---you can feel it in anything, if you give it a chance."

I hope you think of me

I have an obsession with Taylor Swift. She is a beautiful person and makes wonderful, honest music. Mmm.

I am glad you came over today and we spent those ten minutes together. It allowed me to make my final decision: We are not right for each other, and if I had told you what I was going to tell you, it would have been a mistake. The wrong choice. We may have had something nice last summer... but the summer heat always changes things. And besides, we're both different now. We can't even be friends anymore. I'm okay with that now, after today.

Are things finally falling together? I am pretty sure this is what I've been waiting for. I couldn't be happier.

It happens all the time

The butterflies are crashing against my insides
Like waves on a beach
Seaweed in your toes
Sand in your hair... everywhere

They're not stopping
They're lead by a larger force
That is out of my control

Kiss my face
Twirl my hair
Wrap me around

And then I will know the truth.

Bones sinking like stones

Go listen to Coconut Records, thank youuu. They are phenomenal.

Now to get to the meat of this situation. Basically, this was a huge misunderstanding and I feel dumb. Thanks for telling me I'm not... but thanks a lot for liking another girl. That was a big blow, and really, I'm not bulletproof. But there's really nothing I can do now. I lost my chance with you.

It's time for me to stop letting guys walk all over me whenever I get involved with one.



My new lens came today. I am in lens heaven. It is beautiful.




...love story?

Trust your stomach

We float away on whimsical notions...
We twist and turn through the lies and the truths...
We stretch and yearn for this far away idea of originality...
We claw the windows and the cages that block us from being free...
We cry and we yell and we scream with a hunger deep within us...

If we didn't, what would be life?



Bishop Allen and Flight 180 give me this strange kind of hope. Music gives me hope. It gives me that when I feel like I have nothing.

Today I felt like crying and that feeling never went away. I held onto what little I have: my brain, my heart, my body full of life. But I don't feel full of life. I feel suffocated and hurt and upset. I'm having one of my bad days. They are becoming more frequent now and I don't have the energy to even miss my good, happy, sunshine days.
...but I'm too scared to ask for help.

I thought you would be the one to help me up but I was wrong. So wrong and I laugh at that now. The only one who can help me up is myself. I am very sorry I gave you my hope and expectations. They were too much for you to handle, I guess.





Let's all talk in paradoxes and whisper sweetly into the night air, "The owls are not what they seem." We'll dance in our white dresses and light candles that blow out. Leaves crunch beneath our feet but we aren't scared. We can't be.

Life and Death

It was gray. It was hard. It was cold. But it was nothing. Just concrete, which I guess is something but it doesn't really matter. It doesn't change the fact that she was lying on it. Writhing on it like a dead animal, which technically she is. Which technically we all are. We wake up each morning just a little bit closer to death. We wake up each morning just that much more alive. Her and I... we would have talks about things like that. Weird fucking shit that boggled my mind. Stuff I had no idea I thought until it came out of my mouth and into her ears. Her waiting and attentive ears. Such a good listener when it came to me. She was the only one who ever did that. I should have said thanks.

She once told me that life was just death, that living was dying. She said it could work the other way around too, but I never really understood it like she wanted me too. When she told me that death is life and dying is living, I told her she was crazy. She told me that yes, that was true, definitely true, thank you for pointing that out, but what do you think about that concept, that way of viewing life and death? I laughed like I always did when I thought she was joking, was being sarcastic. She never actually was, though. Everything was too real to her to laugh at. It makes sense now, that she's like that. It makes a whole lot of sense. Laughing is life's unspoken medicine. That was the one thing she never figured out.

When she told me that concept of hers, I should have said she was right. That she is right. That looking at life and death that way makes it all a little easier. I think that would have prevented this moment right now. Right here. Happening this very moment. This twisted creature on this dark, concrete patio. Something that looks so human and nothing like a human all at once. I would be scared if I was still the person I was before I met her. But she showed me too many beautifully arcane things about life. About the human race. About myself. It all changed something inside of me. She would just look into my eyes and tell me her thoughts. I could feel her thoughts running through me like water. Like my blood. She just seems so inhuman to me. I really don't know what she is besides a being on this Earth. A chunk of matter. A piece of energy. I would never call her human though. Whatever she is, she simply occupies a human shell. That's what I like to think. It makes this all seem like a science fiction novel and less like my actual life.

Don't panic

When people fall together, it is beautiful.



On Friday I just wanted to pull you out of your seat at that bench at lunch and ask you, "What would you do if I kissed you right now?" And pull your body toward me and kiss you with everything I've been holding back from you.


"We live in a beautiful world. Yeah we do, yeah we do."

All that we fall for...

The moment is almost gone

School was surprisingly splendid and pleasant. Nothing more to it, really. It was just nice.

Cute boys that work at the library and nervously flirt with me are my favorite. This is two times now that I have gone there and been met with a happy smile from him. It's like we have this secret understanding. But man, it was adorable. I was in an aisle of the young adult section when he moves the books that are in front of me from the other side and says "Hi" and smiles. Then he personally checked me out. It was sweet. Very sweet.

I like meeting new people. A lot lot.

Electrifying Dreams

Last night was miserable yet relaxing and calming and beautiful. Mmmm.

"To give your life a soul."


School today... I wonder what's in store for this first day back. I guess I'll let you know later.









Our destination is still unknown.

Death is emotion, love is a potion

All to keep your life afloat.

Writing a novel is frustrating, heartbreaking, painful, saddening, happy, wonderful, beautiful, and amazing all wrapped up into the action of my fingers hitting the keys on the keyboard. I've figured something out: When I write a story, it is much easier for me to write a story out of my own thoughts, based on my own life. The times I try to take it all out of thin air and create everything out of magic... I want to throw up. You probably won't understand that, but that's okay.

Speaking of throwing up, that's exactly what I feel like doing right now. I feel sick to my stomach and my good mood of this day has completely vanished. My usual headache has returned after its two week vacation that I wanted and wished and thought was forever. Or at least a long, long time. Anyway... the cause of these feelings is the mere and petty fact that my mother won't take me to the library. I know, not a big deal, but that's the thing. It is for me. I rarely ask her for anything, to do anything for me, to drive me anywhere, to buy anything for me. I clean the house, do the dishes, fold the laundry, take out the trash, babysit my brother all because I want to and I want her to be happy and I know she's going through a difficult time right now. But she takes it for fucking granted. Instead she only notices the rare times I forget to do something or don't have enough time. Then I feel bad and sick and I get into moods like the one I'm having right now. (I am so mad, because I totally just lost my high. You know that high you get after you read a really, really, really good book and you feel happy and like anything is possible? I totally just had that and now it is gone.) So, I just finished the last book I borrowed from the library. They were all by the same author who I had never read previously, but now is one of my favorites. He is amazing. I really want a book to read at school tomorrow, preferably one written by him since he has about two more that I have not read yet. I ask my mom if she can drive me there for like five minutes so I can return these books and get the two I want to read. And she freaks on me. I'm not exaggerating. She freaks. I feel like crying because all I want is a book to read! Shouldn't mothers be happy their child is asking them to take them to the library? Jeez. Okay, I really needed to let that out, I feel better now.

"There's more to life than more. And there's more to life than less."

"You think you know your possibilities. Then other people come into your life and suddenly there are so many more."

^^^^ Things I want to remember.

The fables I've found

Stronger than the icicles that form
With water dripping softly from the pointy tips;
Only a reminder of a sad, winter day, so cold,
Gray, and full of you.
The tears, they dripped like
Raindrops from your eyes,
Just like these icicles
Drip quietly down into a puddle
With which our reflections are shown
And the tears,
They run down your face no more.

"So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be."

All that we fall for

"With some break-ups, all you can think about afterwards is how badly it ended and how much the other person hurt you. With others, you become sentimental for the good times and lose track of what went wrong."
I think it should be mandatory for every person to read Boy Meets Boy. Once I return it to the library, go borrow it! :)

Does it mean anything to you that I crawled into my bed last night and your face was the first thing that popped into my thoughts? Your lovely green eyes, almost translucently so when the sun hits them directly, just right. Reliving the night that we reconnected with a spontaneous call and you picking me up in your classy car, Saosin blasting and reminding me of another once upon a time. Our predictable babble. Me making fun of you, with you just making fun of me in return. None of it meaning anything, but meaning everything at the same time. Fighting over where to eat for almost an hour until finally coming to an agreement. Running into a friend of yours, only for me to feel like this was a bad idea when you didn't introduce me and your friend didn't care enough to ask and I was too busy contemplating to offer myself. What would you introduce me as, anyway? Not your girlfriend, no. A friend? No, we aren't really that either. Being shaken from my reverie as you pull me to my favorite table, which happens to be yours too. It reminds me of yet another once upon a time, but I brush this off as I did the first one. It's not about them anymore, but I still can't decide whether it's about you yet, either. Talking and laughing and telling stories. Feeling your fingers brush my cheek as you tuck a hair behind my ear while you look right into my eyes with a look I can't decipher. So cliche yet so wonderful and surprising that I don't know what to say so I don't say anything. This embarrasses you so we start to eat the food I paid for and you feel guilty about. We leave and I am aching and yearning for an adventure but we don't know what to do in a town where we've already done everything there is to do. So we decide to get ice cream but you don't get anything which makes me feel like a pig, but as if you can read my mind, you squeeze my sides as we walk randomly through a grocery store, exclaiming that I have absolutely no body fat so I should quit worrying, because you can see it all over my face. I tell you that you can read my mind and you just briefly smile and turn your head to face front again. The night is almost over and we get into an argument, predictably, since when have we not? You drop me off without saying goodbye and I don't try to say anything either... I walk inside and refuse the urge to wave. You're the only guy who has ever waited to leave until I got into the door. I appreciate this. I sit on my couch, alone, all alone in my house and I wait for a call from you that I know won't come, but I hope for anyway. You're too stubborn though, and I guess I am too.

I still haven't gotten that call...

Are you counting the days?

I am sorry that my efforts to make this work with us are going ignored by you. Most likely on purpose. It makes me sad, yet... I know why you're doing it and I get it. So, that's that I guess. I'll miss you.

I think you just made yourself that constant thing in my life. That constant person. You know? The person who is always going to have a tiny piece of your heart, is always going to contact you at the worst times possible, is always going to walk right in and then walk right back out. The one who you could probably love and start a life with if things weren't so fucked up. The one you will always be on the edge with. The one you will always be reaching for, yearning for like it's a little piece of a different you that you sometimes wish you hadn't lost. The one who will always have the capability of making you the happiest and making you so much in pain that you have to curl up in a ball on the cold bathroom floor and clutch your chest to hold everything in. The one who will always make you swoon and get a broken heart. The one you will never actually be with. It's kind of fun and kind of like a movie. Ha. And it's really amusing that you are this for me. And it's even more amusing that you made this same realization. See you in another life, right?



Stop holding back and just give in, please. There's no need to be nervous or scared. Things are different now. You know that.

Just hold me

Stop. You've got me now. Tight and safe, we whisper with our feet. Light as a feather, stiff as a board. No, we melt when the sun touches our cheeks, like warm fingers from the caring mothers we always wish we had. It binds us to the hard ground beneath us and we reach out toward the sky, wanting everything we can never have but always want. Like each other. We can always pretend but it does no good. No, it doesn't do any good. We just continue to clasp our arms around our bodies in vain, sweet vain, bittersweet vain. I would stay. I would go against the rules and the laws and what we know is right. I would, I would! Just touch your lips to my ear and speak the pretty prose we both know hides within your every thought. Whisper it like a well-planned ballet, with pink ribbons and sore feet. Say the words and I will stay.


We're so close yet so far and so full of these annoying cliches. I can reach out and touch it. I can taste it on my lips when I wet them with my tongue. I can see it in my every thought and almost just grab it out and make it real. So close, so close. We're almost there.