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.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
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."
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
"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.
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.
Monday, January 19, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, January 16, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
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?
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?
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
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...
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...
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
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.
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.
"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.
Monday, January 5, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
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...
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...
Friday, January 2, 2009
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.
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.
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.
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