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though i have better things to worry about

this is what my insides feel like right now.

Today, I realized that all I want

is someone to discuss poetry and art with without being overly pretentious.

The ideal lover would be well educated, talented in either visual art or music, introverted but outgoing, and has his or her own opinions, thoughts, and perceptions about this world. He/she wouldn't be unfamiliar with pain, giving an insight that sheltered individuals don't have- but generally, they would be optimistic.

I want someone who will inspire me to improve myself.
being cute couldn't hurt as well.

Today, I realized that I have incredibly high standards.

I just deleted pretty much every comment on this blog

mainly due to the fact that, while I refuse to mislead people about where I've been and what I once was, I want to establish that over the past couple weeks my outlook on *certain topics* has changed drastically.

any comments on any post older than this month (november) will be deleted. If you're an asshole about this newly enforced rule, and decide to comment on future posts with the same snide remarks, your comments will be deleted as well.

I don't want to block comments completely, but I will if I have to.

:) the end!

Itookaplane Itookatrain, oh! who cares, you always end up in the city!

that song makes me smile so much.

I love new york.
On the subway, I like to close my eyes and listen to all the voices, first a complicated gurgling stream of sound, words interwoven like charms. Then, I make a point of picking out each discussion one by one. Then I listen to it as a whole again and it seems strangely different than before; I can feel it as a whole along with each individual part everyone plays, microcosms within microcosms. Like music.

I want to capture the idea of all of you, the homeless person with no shoes or socks asking for change, the cute hipster boys who file in one by one on Bedford avenue station, the group of Asian middle schoolers chattering away about the latest tiny piece of gossip.

I want to keep all of this, in my mind, now, forever.

This city keeps me grounded. It keeps me grounded to the point that if I lived anywhere else, I fear that I'd just float up into the sky and disappear.

i like to walk barefoot in the summer and sit down on the ground and let my feet dangle off the edge of the subway platform. I lie down sometimes while waiting for the 7:20 G train when I'm especially tired. It's pretty disgusting, but what other city would you be able to really do that?

nowhere. absolutely nowhere.

fucking wired

it's going to be one of those no-sleep nights again. I can feel it.

oh well, at least I'll be productive.

untitled, or perhaps overtitled, or perhaps so undertitled that the title of "untitled" is nonexistent

Main Entry: memory
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: ability to hold in the mind
Synonyms:
anamnesis, awareness, camera-eye, cognizance, consciousness, dead-eye, flashback, memorization, mind, mind's eye, mindfulness, recall, recapture, recognition, recollection, reflection, remembrance, reminiscence, retention, retentiveness, retrospection, subconsciousness, thought
Antonyms:
amnesia, forgetfulness, ignorance

Peaches

We were standing in the sunlit tower,
like peaches.
juice
dripping, dribbling
down our necks, between
the floorboards

sap clouding our vision, we were connected by thread
fingertip to fingertip, toe to toe.

it was as if we were sitting
almost ripened
while sharing well-pitched nouns and verbs
between every gently pitted, murky glance.

Chills

I don't have a coat.

Every time I go outside, I shiver and hope that my destination is close.
My phantom limbs and memories almost keep me warm, but not quite.

Today, I realized that I treated you the way my father treats me.

In the end, it's important to acknowledge that the strongest feeling will always be the one of self-need. Beyond love, beyond concern, the utterly human, and utterly horrible feeling of need comes first.
We try and control the ones closest to us for that very reason.

I treated you like he treated me, like his father treated him, like I treated him, like we all treated each other.

A break from teenage angst

All my life, I have dreamed- as in, LITERALLY dreamed- of escape.
More specifically, I've dreamed of escape by city transit.
Subway cars are omnipresent in my dreams and nightmares- they fly over mountains, they go under waterfalls, and they pull in to mysterious outside platforms in the middle of the night.
An A train, a Q; when I'm sleeping I never see them in their natural habitat, underground, but as primary transportation to the different areas of Anika's dreamland.

There has been many dreams in which I got lost- the system is clearly a bit TOO complicated. The buses run slower than time in this...place(for really, how else do I describe it? What I see when I fall asleep really is a place, filled with different events and other dreams all happening at the same time. Every time I dream it's just another piece to the whole puzzle, and sometimes it won't make sense until months or years later.) and the only real way of getting anywhere is using the MTA.

I could probably draw a map of what I see when I sleep, but I'm sure there would be plenty of blank spaces- those are just the undiscovered areas which I'll learn about later on.

I miss the outside subway in the summertime. I miss everything about the summertime. I miss everything about every life that isn't my current.

(uh oh...there's the angst again.)

somehow

cant sleep. hardly can eat. irregular breathing.
my limbs shake when I walk. I can't draw because my hands shake so much.
I've cried myself into a stupor every day this week.
I have a permanent headache.
I've made myself sick with anxiety.
I fall into bed after school, unable to do work.
the anxiety continues to build.

Taking a break from Facebook for a while. Facebook gives me the false hope that I'll be contacted. Facebook gives me the false hope that someone will tell me what I need to hear. I don't know what I need to hear right now.

I have decided to remain on blogger, only for the purpose of me venting into the empty space called the internet. It's more comforting to blog instead of write in a journal, because then I can pretend that someone is reading it. That the right people are reading it. I don't know who the right people are.

I don't like sleeping because I dream of things I don't want to think about.

My dream had the most disturbing and upsetting imagery I have ever seen.
I dreamed that one of your brothers (for in this dream, you had about six) got killed in a construction accident. The building was being built in a vacant lot, only accessible through the back of a store, then through a series of green metal staircases (such as the ones you see in fire escapes, but green) and blood red walls. I was loitering in the lot, just standing around, and almost at the same moment I turn around and see a long thin piece of metal fall and slice your brother horizontally in half. There was blood everywhere. Things appeared to move in slow motion. I wanted to call an ambulance but considering this building had no address, because it wasn't accessible from the street, it was impossible. I try and find a way out to get help but I get lost in the maze of staircases. All this while I hear a horrible wailing, which eventually fades into a whimper, and dies out.
The scene skips. You and the rest of your brothers are lying on a bed. just lying there. mourning. I come into the room silently and climb into the bed and lie down and look at you. You look back at me, and I apologize for what happened. You just look blank. I grab your hands and see that your thumb, pinky finger, and ring finger were gone on both hands- this also happened in the accident, but I was not aware. They look small and vulnerable. I cradle your hands in mine, sheltering them from everything else, and my eyes say that I will never, ever, EVER let anything like this happen to you again.
Almost the worst feeling in the entire thing was the one when I woke up and realized that I am unable to protect you anymore. And in that moment, the urge to protect you was absolutely overwhelming. It's funny, and somewhat silly, that a small, distressed girl like me would want to protect such a tall, strong person like you from any harm.

...God, so THIS is why I need therapy. *shudder*

32 hours and counting

when I received the letter, I decided to stay up that night.
Controlling that one aspect of my life comforted me. I didn't want to wake up. So, the only answer was to not go to sleep.

I'm drifting.

Right now, I have an inner calm within my chest. but this inner calm is the calm after, or in the eye of the storm. the calm you have after crying, the calm you have after hyperventilating- its not a calm that says things will be alright, but it is a calm nonetheless.

I like calm.

I don't want to sleep. I don't want to dream. I don't want to think of anything.
I just want to sit here, a blank slate for a while.

but yet again, I am neither enjoying this nor hating it.
I am just

calm

I am way too comfortable around you

I can feel the vibrations in your throat.
I can taste the brown in your eyes.
I can hear the wall of noise that surrounds you.
I can see the bruises where my lips touched skin.

you speak quietly to me.
but sometimes, sensory description just doesn't cut it.

simple words, complicated meaning

I have always loved you.
As an enemy, as a friend, as a lover.
All I have ever done

is loved you.

Summer to summer

memory to memory. They flit in and out of my mind like dampened fireflies, little moments that I have no control over seeing.

Everything is so overwhelming. Mini films play and collide as I dream of moments that happened long ago. Everything from my first relationship to moments of absolute hysteria are all overlapping in my mind and it is way too much.

I remember days like last summer. I waited in central park all day for when he would come back home around four. I was to meet his parents. From 8 in the morning until then, I laid in the grass by myself and just stared at the sky, dreaming. The summer was never more perfect. I remember taking the one train downtown on me and his first date together, because the express would be too fast for me to bear. I remember going to orientation at my new school, being completely intimidated, but reassured with the fact that someone would be waiting for me outside the building as soon as it was over.

I remember the long subway rides that constituted the beginning of THIS summer. I remember dancing and singing and smiling on the platform on my birthday, waiting for the F train by myself. I remember (nearly) every ride into bushwick, walking out in between cars as the J/M zooms across the williamsburg bridge. I remember the travels uptown, dodging glances from strangers in fear that they would be someone I would know. Sometimes anonymity is a gift, especially in the tunnels.

I'm just a little bit trapped in my memories. This summer still just feels like a long, wonderful, horrible dream. Then again, this has always been the case with every june, july, and august.

So let me swim dreamily through this world, living in the past until the summer arrives again. This is how i've lived all my life, just trying to escape those winter blues.

unconditionally obsessively missing you

You make me want to pick up my guitar and write a sad, lonely, cheesy country song.
Except. I'm not good at country songs. and country sucks ass to begin with most of the time, anyways.

I did write a song for you. I did, I did, I did! A while ago. Now, I am editing the lyrics, because I have decided to give it to you.

Because, I don't know what else to give anymore.

This is me. This has always been me, and perhaps always will be me. The people that surround me mean more to me than oxygen, than water, than the basic molecules that I need to survive.
That fact is semi-ironic, considering that if I wasn't alive, I wouldn't be able to enjoy them/love them/write sad, lonely, cheesy country songs about them anyways.
But...somehow I know it is true.

There is a guitar in my room. It is mine now. It sounds like shit, it's most likely out of tune, but it looks pretty and it is mine.
I like it.

But I will, I WILL, find a way to let you know how much you mean to me. Because how can you hate me if you know that you were one of the best friends I have ever had? I'm going to keep on trying. I don't care what your friends say about me. I don't care how many times you will dash behind a locker or back door to avoid me. I'm not going to back down anymore.

Long-term Goals:
1. Do not have a panic attack every time I see you in the hallways.
2. Do not look away when you make eye contact with me.
3. Find out which locker is yours. Write a note. Leave it in your locker.
4. If step 3 does not work, which it won't, hand the note to you personally. Resist hyperventilation as I actually attempt to come within six feet of you.
5. If step 4 does not work, which it won't, find a friend to give the note to you. Resist hyperventilation as I watch this exchange happening from afar.
6. If step 5 does not work, which it won't, chase you down the hallway until you can't run anymore, so I can stuff this note in your hand.
7. Once note-giving has been achieved (a harder task than you think), burn copy of song written for you onto CD. Repeat steps 3,4,5, and 6 until CD gets to you.
8. Pray that you will listen to CD.
9. Hope that you will understand the lyrics on CD.
10. Worry that you will laugh at my pathetic attempts to play guitar on CD.
11. Remember what a great guitar player you are, hope that I get a response from all the effort I put into recording that CD, and cry.
12. ????
13. Start and repeat?

Reverse Dictionary search

I was (and still am) trying to look up a word to represent living life to its fullest, or in other words, the opposite of living life vicariously. It's for the blogs new name- "Easy as Pie" is completely irrelevant, because nothing is easy, and I do not make multiple references to pie. I was thinking something that had to do with word play, and this is a beginning.

These are the words that came up when I typed "living life to its fullest" into OneLooks reverse dictionary page. (http://www.onelook.com/reverse-dictionary.shtml)

1. vital 2. lively 3. animate
4. alive 5. vivacious 6. living
7. inactive 8. zen arcade 9. vivid
10. age 11. breathe 12. way
13. vigour 14. old 15. animated
16. sprightful 17. green 18. rusticate
19. zippy 20. kill 21. exist
22. biology 23. liveable 24. hack
25. spirited 26. dissipate 27. wear
28. folk 29. energy 30. prime
31. animation 32. term 33. people
34. brisk 35. revive 36. boys for pele
37. bouncing 38. walk 39. biotic
40. evening people 41. right of privacy 42. david ruhnken
43. world 44. unlive 45. subsist
46. move 47. biogenesis 48. live out
49. mortality 50. life span 51. dead
52. lestobiosis 53. planomania 54. survive
55. lifeless 56. hard 57. jolly
58. tribulation 59. breezy 60. habit
61. emeritus 62. full of life 63. immature
64. instinct 65. alive 66. eventful
67. young 68. oyster 69. sallust
70. flush 71. robust 72. swank
73. indian 74. be 75. bohemian
76. deathbed 77. rural 78. biological
79. life support 80. recluse 81. life line
82. monogenetic 83. fulfill 84. hermit
85. society 86. home 87. neonatal death
88. roam 89. demographics of mongolia 90. live birth
91. poverty 92. demographics of benin 93. erika slezak
94. marine biology 95. quality of life 96. stipulate
97. basic income 98. rough 99. phoenix (mythology)
100. ladytron


They grow increasingly more random as you head to the bottom, but what a wonderful set of words.

I'd like to do a project where I write a short essay about a key word every day for a year. that'd be interesting. Maybe I should do that. Maybe I should start a blog for that. hmmm...

Yesterday

I was sitting in a hard plastic chair. I was a kindergardener all over again, playing quiet time while waiting for my grandfather to enter the room.

He had been admitted into the hospital yesterday.

Several minutes pass, and he stumbles into the space. He clumsily hooked his IV to the rack above his bed, and collapses onto the mattress, nearly falling off of it in the process.

"Life is fragile," he says, muttering and slurring his words in the process, "this is the lesson we have to learn from this."

His pancreas appeared fine. Just an unnamed, one-time glitch in the complicated symbiosis of the body. Or at least, hopefully it will only happen once.

Because as he said, life truly is like a windowpane, broken with a predictable force or an unexpectedly high-pitched shriek.

Last Night

I had acquired a puppy. It was an extremely hyperactive dachshund. As I played with it, it started shrinking.
I put it in a hamster ball to keep it safe while it was running about- however, it would run into walls and one of its many legs would get bent. I look closer and inspect the wheel. There are cracks all over.

This is the point at which I realize my dachshund has turned into a bug.

It DID have many legs...they were all bent in opposite directions. I felt sorry for it, but I couldn't hold it because then I would hurt it more.

I let it out of the hamster ball, and it crawls away. I want to grab it and cup it in my hands, but because it was a bug, I was afraid.

I don't know how it died. All I remember is that it did.

Then, I went up to the mountains to find you in your little cottage. You took the subway to get there. The mountains were always really high and overpowering, the moon almost bigger. It was always terrifying, but beautiful.

For the first time, you weren't home.

Coffee, Part 1

A work of semi fiction.

If you were here, I'd invite you to coffee. Actually, I don't believe you drink coffee. So, you would be drinking orange juice and I would be drinking a delicious cup of the drink that will keep me short forever. Coffee is the perfect cure for loneliness.

I like picturing sitting next to you, your fingers playing with my labyrinthine curls. This is proof that I'm hopelessly dreaming, because I don't have any labyrinthine curls to play with anymore. We would be sitting across from each other, a cute round coffee table and a wall of anger separating us both. Most likely, you'd be trying to catch my eye, while I would be trying to evade every glance.

Perhaps you would question my patterned, bald head. However, that sounds like a thought flying out of my hopeful subconscious once again; You were never one to ask much. That fact would contribute to the invisible barrier in this imaginary situation. I wonder what you would say to me if you agreed to such a meeting. I wonder if you would say anything at all.

Today, I swore that I would make sure my life changed for the better. Of course, I always promise this, and somehow, it never falls through. I can't help but imagine that the number of miles between you and me are all vows against me, to keep me from turning over a new leaf. I'm supposed to focus on myself now that you are gone, but the lack of your presence has only made you MORE present... in my mind, that is. Your image has permeated every cell in that useless organ called the brain. All that occupies my mind nowadays is coffee, orange juice, and you. This leaves no space to consider escaping the hell that is here; I can only figure short-term solutions to the problem.

My first goal is to grow back those curls. Once I lost my hair, the rest of my life fell down the drain with it. I still like to believe that if I look like I once did, everything else will fall into place. I can drop my addiction, I can escape life in this hellhole called Ganea Ganeum. Of course, the first rule here is that long hair is prohibited- it makes it easy to identify who is paying and who isn't allowed to leave.

Kiss-In at Battery Park!

I attended this event the other day to protest homophobia in Battery Park. It was organized so that in multiple cities, homosexual as well as heterosexual couples would all be kissing at the same time. I went with a friend, just for the heck of it, and it was actually very interesting. Our group were the youngest there, but because of that there was probably the most attention given to us, considering that we were part of the new generation, and all that jazz. Either way, thanks to the blogger(s?) at meetadamandsteve.blogspot.com, I found some videos of me, sharing stories, and of course, kissing ;]





as for the kissing videos, ill leave YOU to find those yourself.

Psychological Rant # 1

Distance is such a strange concept. How can you tell when someone is distant? Of course, they aren't physically so- or maybe they are, but it's never what you are referring to.
A lack of emotion and feeling towards a specific person- that is the textbook definition of "distance".
Such a theme can rule every thought in your life. People grow apart. People grow closer together. Why? Sometimes its unexplainable, a sudden curve which drives someone else away. Surprisingly, we don't cling on to the people of our childhood memories as much as we should.
Sometimes, people are sporadically distant, alternating between "I love you"s and empty silence. Those are the people you should watch out for. It may be a defense mechanism, but naturally puts everyone on edge.
But how strange is it to encounter someone just the day before you kissed on the cheek, to have them treat you with cold indifference? Different people respond in different ways, but they always have a justification; whether the justification is true or not, I can only guess.
Sometimes, its good to outright point out when such a phenomenon occurs, but sometimes, it makes them even more afraid. Fear is ALWAYS the enemy. Once you are afraid, no one will make any progress and will DEgress into cold silence.


It's interesting to think about, what makes you afraid.

what I really hate...

is that we all need, need, need somebody to love.
Be my best friend?
Be my lover?
Lets leave the rest of the world behind.
Take me out of my murky depression
and into the bright sunlight.

I'd do the same for you.
I'd save you. I'd fix you.
Maybe I just love you.

Lens

You make me lose focus.
I see life behind a film, dizzily dreaming in another world.
You aren't an obsession, just an interest.
That feeling is completely new- you bring out the healthy side in me.

I like like like you a lot.
I want to see the words behind your eyes, the impulses behind your fingertips, the murky pictures forming in your brain.
I want to learn who you are.
I want to understand it all.

You are my little mystery.

The 25 things you probably never knew about me, and I probably never knew about me until I got around to thinking about it. (oh, wonderful facebook.)

SIDE NOTE: this is copied from a note on facebook. I found it especially representative of me. It was written at five in the morning;; I apologize for some of the redundancy.
______
...Which is why its time for this one. Know you prolly don't care, everyone does this, but its cute and I like it so go suck on ma dick. I mean that in a loving way, of course. If you do read it, it'd be nice to know though...this is mainly a lot of things ive been thinking about and never told anyone, compiled in one neat little forum.

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.
(It's actually true. I eat this shit like candy. This is also proof that I don't make sense or maybe I make too much sense when i'm sleepy. One of the two, you decide. this is too much info for a tiny little comment within a set of parentheses. I will stop now.)
**************************************************
1. I have an annoying habit of talking too much about little things that happened in my day. Believe it or not, i'm not all that self-absorbed. Normally when I do things like that, translate it to "I want to talk to you, and/or be your friend, and/or be a better friend, and/or your adorable and I want to give you kisses RIGHT NOW but thats innapropriate so I will talk to you and be friendly instead." Basically, you're not sharing enough about yourself.
2. I believe that honesty is the greatest virtue to have of them all. Sometimes, I don't adhere to that rule, but I always try and most of the time I succeed. Try and trust me, please.
3. If you ever stop talking to me, beware. I'm the kindof girl who's horrendously clingy in the sense that I will leave you messages saying how sorry I am and how much I adore you until you come back to me. If you never come back to me, I think I will never stop leaving them, but I wouldn't know, because that's never happened...yet.
4. I am a hopeless romantic. A really. hopeless. romantic. Sometimes i'm worried i'm in love with the world. Which sucks, because not everyone in the world loves me back. Once I acquire someone to focus my attention on, they are the highlight of my life. Period.
5. I still am looking for someone. Not a boyfriend or a girlfriend especially, but a best friend. I have many best friends, and I adore them to death, but I believe that there is a person out there, maybe just one, who really just GETS it. He/she would understand me and appreciate what I say. We would be like one organism in two separate bodies, in a perfect symbiosis. Is that too poetic and/or weird? I think so. But I don't really know how else to describe it. I don't know how to describe this person until I find him or her. Once I do find this trait, I will know I have a friend for life.
6. There is nothing I love more than anything else in the world than something that lets me know I'm cared about. I have a knack of feeling alone when I've never been more NOT alone, but it's just because I forget so many people love me. I forget a little too easily sometimes.
7. I just said this to Alex Rubin, and I think it demonstrates my outlook on life: everyone should love everyone. and everyone should respect that they are awesome enough to be loved. and they should not be a hoebitchskankbag about it.
8. Subway stations really are magical. I think they are. My favorite thing to do is to travel to an outside subway station, put on something mellow and beautiful on my ipod (if i tell you my example you will call me a hipster) and just breathe, dance, sing, whatever comes to mind. People stare but the feeling you get that you are free, you can go anywhere, the whole city is in the palm of your hand- that is amazing.
9. This is a fact you probably know: I will never do drugs or alcohol. But I figure its such an important moral in my life so I may as well state it here. I will not judge you if you undertake said activities, nor will I get on your case about it- it's your decision, not mine. However, if you are ALWAYS high/drunk when I see you, I feel like its stealing away the true person underneath that is my friend.
10. My dream is to be able to support myself by going out on stage and pouring out all my feelings. I have tried many different mediums to accomplish this. I wasn't good at drums, and I felt like I would never match up to all my amazing friends who play guitar. Bass gave me uncomfortable blisters, and I could never read poetry aloud. The only medium I have is my voice, and I like to use it often- however, I worry I will never be good enough to accomplish my dream.
11. I see in black and white. Shades of grey make me nervous. In other words, I like traits that I can solidly define in people. When people act out of their character often or skip back from nice to mean, good to evil, I start getting anxious and confused.
12. There are some things that have happened in my life that I have never told anyone. They have scarred me and made me the person I am today, and that's a scary thought. No one knows the details. I don't like telling people those stories because I am scared they will look at me differently...maybe not in a bad way, but differently nonetheless.
13. I go through phases where I am extremely depressed for little to no reason. Or maybe there are big reasons, but I haven't realized them yet. They are extremely embarrassing to me, because those phases have driven depressing statuses on facebook, which have also made me feel like a melodramatic emo kid. However, I guarantee you- all my feelings are real. I just need to stop the whole public announcement thing, somehow.
14. I am pretty pessimistic, except when im optimistic. Maybe im just a realist. Or even more likely, maybe I don't make sense. However, I know for a fact that for some inexplicable reason, I always have advice to give- surprisingly I can relate to a situation MOST of the time.
15. I am in love with spain. However, I am also in love with New York, except it's the kindof obsessive love that makes me go batshit when I am away. Spain is my mistress. If I could ever drag myself away from the city, I think I would live there.
16. I don't like to think about the bad in people. Once we have established a relationship as friends, you have earned yourself a friend for life. Of course, if you do me wrong you will pretty much break me and I will freak out at you- but of course, this is hard to accomplish and I always feel sorry and come crawling back to you, most of the time after about as short of a time as a week or a couple days.
17. Funnily enough, everyone who I have ever liked or dated since I was about 11 plays guitar. Every. Single. One. Something about it is intensely attractive. The only exception is Xavier. Sorry Xavi...:P
18. I am bi-sexual. You probably already knew that, though. If I had the choice, it would be not to be attracted to girls- they are way too much drama than what they are worth, normally. However, I have come to the conclusion that I do NOT have that choice. I came out in 7th grade.
19. Before I came out, I used to be incredibly homophobic- I was not disgusted by gays, but i was uncomfortable with the idea, incredibly so.
20. Normally I judge a place by the people within the premises. The only exception is the subway system, mentioned above. It is beautiful no matter what.
21. I used to wish I would break a bone so then I would get lots of get-well letters. Now, I realize this is stupid- I want to break a bone so I can make my cast into a work of art.
22. All this talking about me is making me more and more self-conscious by the minute, making my facts shorter and shorter.
23. Some of the questions I have in life include: What lives underneath the pavement? Do bugs have hearts and brains? When is it morning and when is it night? Why does daylight affect us so? What do nocturnal people think about the light? Why do I ask all these questions? Why the fuck do I care? Ah, but I do, I do, I do!
24. I have an inability to scream. I can squeak awful loud, but I cannot scream. I think I lost that ability years ago. Screaming scares me.
25. I laugh too much for my own good. I'm not an idiot, i'm just high on life.

This time last year I didn't know you

what an impact
a change of scenery could make
but a sudden breeze
blew you away (blew you away)

so i can only sit and wonder
what you could be doin
today, today

lets paint rainbows in the sky
pretend everythings alright
and ill keep on wondering
what youre up to
today

but theres no place id have rather been
to watch you burn away
(if only you stayed, if only you stayed)

Happy Birthday to ME!

Already today, I've shown traits of sickening love to everyone surrounding me, with a twist of mania- After all, who else goes to sleep at 2AM and wakes up at 5AM, practically jumping out of bed.... with no alarm? I have the kind of enthusiasm small children reserve for Christmas Day.

I have been up for about two hours now, and I can barely contain my excitement. What exactly I am excited for, I have no idea. Maybe because this is the day I can really hog all of the attention I want without being a bitch about it. Or maybe I'm overjoyed to leave the shady area of early teenhood and become more of the real deal, so I can be less insecure of my age?

Either way, I can feel it in my bones. This is going to be an amazing day. That might be my mania speaking YET AGAIN, but even so- I will make it a great day. My alarm for waking up will go off an hour and a half from now, and by then I think I will set out shoes, find jewelry, clean my room, resist the urge to run around in circles excitedly, and maybe get a latte so I don't crash later. Then again, when it comes to birthdays- I just don't get wiped out until one in the morning the next day...or in this case, probably six.

dkjsaj;kflj;skalfsfs

Is it beautiful that I wait for you
or is it pathetic?

This is the question for me.

A budding flower or a bloomed rose, which will die twice as fast
which could this be?

Beginning of the ending, ending of the beginning, im stuck in purgatory, starved for new ideas. Somehow, I don't think I mind.

As it has always been said with every friend, every lover, every stranger; you deserve better than me- but I dont deserve better than you.

"His head was a city
Of paper buildings
And the echoes that remained
Of old friends and lovers
Their features bleeding
Together in his brain"-DCFC

Poetry

Possibly inspired by the lyrics from the last post. Also inspired by my brain.. yeah.
***
A boy and a girl
music flowing through their ears
and also their mouths.

Invisible string
chest to chest, cheek to cheek.
At what point does it end and break?

When will the music stop singing
Where is the pause in the symphony?
Prepare yourself for it, but do not look forward to the moment.

for isn't there always a deadline to your timeline
an end to the labyrinthine mesh
that was dissected with slow pleasure?

the sharp wire will tear at your skin
eventually dissolving and dissipating
leaving you sitting and singing the loudest silence
until you find another type of beautiful netting to unravel.

Beautiful Lyrics

Streched out
Stretched out on the grass
a boy and a girl.
Savoring their oranges, giving their kisses
likes waves exchanging foam.

Streched out
Stretched out on the beach
a boy and a girl.
Savoring thier limes, giving their kisses
like clouds exchanging foam.

Streched out
Stretched out underground
a boy and a girl.
Saying nothing, never kissing
giving silence for silence


--Eric Whitacre, A Boy and a Girl

Childhood

When I was young, I used to imagine that everything I said and did was in the mind of another person. Just a figment of imagination. Now, sometimes I pretend (or rather, worry) that I am a schizophrenic and that everything that happens is all in my head.

Thats probably not the healthiest worry in the world.

Then again, when you come from a family with a background of mental illnesses, its different. Every action has a title. Every word you speak has a double meaning. Every facial expression reveals a part of your soul.

I was never raised to hide things. Its virtually impossible.

Its like my occasional bouts of social awkwardness, or self-righteousness, or just plain outrageousness; its all humiliating, and none of it can be restrained.

I'd like to think its normal. But I'm scared it's not. I'd like to think people do not mind. But I'm scared that they will. Maybe its a serious problem. Maybe I'm secretly insane and no one knows it yet.

Or maybe I'm just that kid who is merely cannot conceive that reality just is.

Beginning. Again.

It's simple as this. I refuse to hide.
Nothing else in the world will stop me from writing. Say what you will.
I'm sick of the rumors, sick of your lies, I don't care if you think I lead you on.

Because I don't.

I refuse to hide any longer.
All my life, I have been inching out of my shell, then retreating.
This is probably just another phase, but what else can I do but try?