so bored

so tired
so bored
so tired

he wont call
wont call
wont call

this is me
and my fictitious sense of apathy

Hallalujah!

Praise Allah!
Etc, etc.

I don't have to leave tomorrow.
So I have more time to spend here.
With you.


I'm watching Good Burger and drinking water and waiting for you to call but something in my head says you wont. I don't think you will. I don't care. I'm just going to take this one victory at a time.

xoxo

Thinking about

Spending my break at my grandparents and not with you is UNBEARABLE.

I'm sorry I don't have any updates on how this is going and I highly doubt you care for me one third, no, one twenty fifth as much as I care for you. God fucking dammit.



The freckles on your arms and your white teeth and your dimples and your curly hair and the smell of your cologne and the way you sing so soft and the way you smile at me... I just.. I want to be near you all the time. I do.
I need to stop wasting posts on this.
I just can't help it.

Half the night

I waste in sighs,
in a wakeful doze I sorrow.
For the hands, the lips, the eyes
For the meeting of tomorrow.



Lovesickness is so beautiful in the beginning stages. But I know it's going to start to hurt soon.
Why did you have to wait this long to walk into my life and why can't things just work out? I know I don't know you that well, but I'd like to...

I am really confused because my friends think I'm blowing them off

But when I listen to you sing the Postal Service and I'm sitting in the front seat of your car and you're right beside me driving and there's ice on the windows and there are good people in the back, I feel kind of infinite.

And sometimes when I'm sitting in your car and I'm listening to you sing and trying not to drown you out with my horrible caterwauling I really feel like I could be content having as my friend. But then I catch sight of your eyes and your hair and your smile and your dimples and I forget about contentment

I don't want to go to my grandparents for break
I want to spend it with you

affectionate indulgences; sweet silver bells

i swear
i would jump through a ring of fire
i would climb mount everest
i would spend every moment of every day wishing on the clouds and the sky and the stars and the trees

if it would get you
to care for me

&
it's the most wonderful time of the year
but not without you

Good god!

I haven't updated this thing in quite some time.

I am told that this is the most wonderful time of the year.

Hmmm.

My tummy hurts.

Today sucked.

Work sucks.

There is a better world

There must be

Emotional attachment

is really not a threat, when I'm simply not concerned.

Seeing you today reminded me of what a shitty person you are.

And I'm okay with that. I'm okay with everything. I just don't care.

About anything at all.

I'd like to express something tonight though. I'll tell you a story.
A boy met a girl. The girl fell in love, the boy fell apart. The boy stopped caring. The girl never did.

And her heart is five hours away with somebody who doesn't seem to remember the way he said he felt about her.



Everything I write sounds cheesy and forced. Cliche and like it's already been said. I wish you hadn't lied.

Fuck.

But you've been all wrong

about who you think I am.

It is late so I am typing slowly. Late for me, anyway, I hate being in front of the computer after seven.

I feel like a facsimile of a piece of shit.

And I'm really depressed, because the one person who always seemed to think I'm alright realized how lame I am.

I'm exhausted but I know I wont be able to sleep.
I hate having black hair and I hate how much I care about that, and I don't want to suffer through classes tomorrow.

I need to start blogging more.

Ow. My head.

I think I have ADD.

Morrissey and I are going to go to sleep now.

G'night.

I just realized how much

that post sucked.

Maybe I can only write when I feel sad.

Hmm.

across the universe

The indecision before a kiss.

The way you can forget everything in one.

I'm incapable of expressing myself at this point in time.

I don't see how there's anything I can say to describe what I feel, because I don't feel very much.


My god, tonight was beautiful.

I'm pleased. I think.

Yeah.

I wanna hold your hand

I read somewhere I don't recall, that "I want to hold your hand" is the ultimate love song. Because it's the most basic display of affection. All anybody really wants is to hold hands. Be happy.

I don't know.

I think I agree.

I'm tired.

I want you to want me.

"I wish it could just be simple, like a retro pop song, "I want you to want me." Boom. End of story. We all live happily ever after. But it is never really like that, is it?"

No.
It's not.

Middle of nowhere

Why are you still so important to me? I mean, fuck, man, this always happens, I waste time on somebody who I shouldn't be wasting time on. It's like this big, shitty circle of, er, shit.

I don't know, I can't even think, nothing feels okay.

"Tonight I'm going above the stars."
References to failed comic book suicide attempts will get me nowhere.

Anyway, the inconsistency of my posting is irritating me. I mean, I'm irritated at myself, because I want this blog to stay important to me, you know? I need to get better at keeping up with this, not for whatever sad people with nothing better to do's benefit, bur for my own. I think I will eventually call it quits but for now I'm going to keep this up, I want to try and .. I don't know. I'm making a big deal out of nothing.

Whatever.

I'm sick of spending seven hours a day learning about absolutely nothing, and then three more at the stupid library, where there are thousands of things I could read, but instead of slap them onto a shelf, or whatever. Also, I hate AV materials. Stupid shit. Nobody is ever going to check out "THE BEST OF CHER." Get a clue.

I hate it when your stories start out with things like, "So I was at this show.." because it sounds fucking pretentious, I dunno why, it just does to me. I'm sick of trying to pick out your flaws to make myself feel better about losing you.

I spend a lot of time complaining and very little getting things done. I want to get away from here. I've been told that it's the same everywhere else, but that's a fucking joke to me. I know that somewhere, I'm missing out on fun and friendships with people who don't fuck with my head and interesting conversations and 24 hour coffee shops. I'm so tired. Of this. Of everything.

Get me out of here. Please?

I can hear

my cat mewling in the other room
Greer and her friend yelling at the tv
Jordan Pundik crooning "Head Over Heels"
my computer humming

I have a lot of shit to cover, so hold tight.

I noticed I've been sitting up straighter lately. I've noticed I'm kind of losing my mind, and my anxiety attacks and coming back full force. I feel like a frightened third grader again.
My hands shake, my palms sweat, my heart rate increases, my pupils dilate. I think somebody is putting something in my brain freezies. I think it would be nice if I were re "enlisted" in therapy. I think it's for the best.

My mom says I am a "nervous Nellie." Which is fucking idiotic, if you ask me, but nobody seems to. I guess she's going to talk to my doctor and see if I need medication or something, which should be great, I'm gonna be extremely pleased when I'm on FIVE medications.

I can't sleep or focus or think or write. But I don't see how little white pills are going to help that.

On another note.
This is another year. Well, I don't feel any different. I don't understand how marking down the amount of time you've been breathing will help anything. I wanted to do something funny, like get real drunk and jump off of something ("It's real low, man, see? I can make it, I sweeaaarrrr"), but then I remembered that A) alcohol disgusts me, and B) that is only funny in theory.

I think I will eventually have to grow up, but for now I'm going to keep this sixth grade mentality. It works better that way.

And don't get me wrong. I like being older. But I don't think that it's worth all the hype. Birthdays in general. What's the point?

Meh.

I'm tired.

This all has

something to do with a ridiculous boy with a ridiculous name and eyes the color of changing leaves. i have no time for half-hearted goodbyes or melodramatic similes.

and yet here i am.

formally,
good bye.

ps. i'm glad i didn't lend you any of my shit. and i regret sewing that heart into your sleeve, because in reality, your heart's in your dick.

How can someone

make you feel so high, and then so fucking low?

I'm not your fucking marionette.

Lying is the most fun boys can have without taking their clothes off.

You know what? You're bullshit.
Everything about you.

Even if it kills me.

Lately I've been doubting things I shouldn't be doubting. And I feel inadequate, even though I know you're a jackass.

You nauseate me. But somehow it's not repulsive. The opposite.

Fuck, I dunno, I shouldn't be having second thoughts.

You don't trust me.
But I trust you.

It seems like

nothing ever works out how I plan, but it turns out alright anyway.

But if you think I'm not making an effort, than you're more insane than I originally took you for.

Anyway, I will never again be attending homecoming, for the record. I'm scarred enough as is.

"I'm the most awkward person alive."
"Yeah, somethin' like that."

Drama

is a bitch.

Keep it away from me.

Nonsense.

I know you don't understand me.

To be honest, I don't understand myself either. Isn't that sad? I think I'm a total bitch for what I've done, but I'm only human, and even if that's no excuse... I look out for myself because nobody else will.

There's nothing I could really say that would help my case. I mean, I dunno, it's all my fault. I say that too much, but it always is.

You should have known.
I've told you.

That I'm a waste of time.
And that I will hurt you.


On a less depressing note (oh, wait) HIGHSCHOOL STILL SUCKS!

I don't want to go to school at all; middle school sucked as well. Elementary was great but I'm past that whole being a child thing.

To be honest, I'm kind of bored with myself.

Kickin' off September with style.

Not really.

"Just think of all the thoughts wasted on you."

So. I don't know what to say.

My stomach is sinking like a ship.

Don't panic.

I've got a sore throat and a lot of spare time. Tomorrow maybe I'll kick off the beginning of September with an Ode to School. Ha, not. Tomorrow, though, I'm going to Art Splash with Michael. I'm worried he will get bored, but I never do at those sorts of things. Actually, thinking about it, I'm really nervous that he will. But I just have problems with that, I aim to please, in a really twisted way, I guess. That's what my TAG survey said, at least. :)

And the day after, I will be hitting Minneapolis to go to the Mall of America (ooh, charming) and the Format's show. I'm especially excited for the latter because the Format is like seeing.. I dunno. What's a band everyone loves? I have no idea, but it's a big thing for me. The Format is one of my favorite bands of all time.

On a different note.. Today I was laying in the grass outside of Kate and Lorraine's house. Just looking up at the tree, like I always do. Well, I mean, I always lay in the grass. Anyway, I was thinking about how lucky I am to have the friends I've got. Taylor was sitting in the tree I was looking at and so was Kate. They were fighting over bubble wrap or something. Juvenile but great. I really do love them. Meh.

I am on the phone now, though, so I'm going to continue this later.

I have

difficulty keeping up with this blog. I'll post when I can, but I've found that since school has started, I'm always doing something or another, and with work on top of that it's just.. hard. I still spend time on the computer but not at all hours of the night, which is usually when I'm feeling "inspired" (how pretentious). So I'll just, you know, update so far.

I am exhausted but I don't come home and take naps. I've got pressure and it's hard to handle. I'm used to slacking off and still getting what I want. I've already failed a biology quiz. Which wasn't so bad, seeing as it was worth like, five points, but that's irrelevant. I need to pay more attention to what the hell I'm doing, because I'm clearly not as smart as I thought.

I get pushed around a lot and I seriously need to lose weight. I look in the mirror and my mood just deflates.

On the bright side, I'm going to see the Format in Minneapolis this weekend. You have no idea how excited I am for this, honestly!! See, I used multiple exclamation points. Now you KNOW I'm excited. Anyway, I should also get some shopping in, and Kate and Lorraine and coming also, so it should be fun. I mean, I dunno, I don't want to jinx it or anything, but I'm really excited. It feels nice to be in a decent mood.

Tomorrow's Kate and Lorraine's birthday party as well. And for a certain screaming idiot who decided it best to yell at Lorraine for not being invited, well, maybe you should consider that you're not that fun, and you're not as intelligent as you think. And you should stop pushing people around, because it's not going to keep boosting your confidence forever.

I dunno. I feel kind of vengeful.

We'll see what happens.

A bientot!

So long sweet summer.

I stumbled upon you and gratefully basked in your rays.
So long sweet summer,
I fell into you, now you're gracefully falling away.

Hey thanks, thanks for that summer.
It's cold where you're going,
I hope that your heart's always warm.
I gave you the best,
I gave you the best that I had.

Passed on the letters and passed on the best that I had.

--

Can't believe that summer's gone.

A new school equals a new mentality for me.

Or that's what I'd like, at least.

Today wasn't so bad. It'll get worse, though.

Equivalent exchange.

You're always telling me I don't have enough faith in you. But your lack of affection's like a lack of oxygen. And I know if you cared for me like you seem to, or claim you do, you would let me know, at least once, the depth of your feelings. I'd be content with that. Some words to fall asleep thinking about, you know? Instead I'm left with an empty heart and a head full of assumptions.

Some day, I'm going to tell you, point blank, that you need to let me know if you're leading me on or if you actually care for me. Because I need to know. But as impatient as I am, I'd wait forever for you. Don't let that give you a big head.

Two years out of forever. Think we can make it a few decades more?

The wheel of monotony!

Being bored with your life every once in awhile is natural, right? But I honestly feel like I have nothing to look forward to within the next four years of my life. I'm afraid that this monotony's going to last longer than I've anticipated. I keep saying it'll end when I begin school (less than a week. Good god), but I think I know that it's never really going to end. Everything seems kind of.. I dunno, bleak. Maybe it's just the way summer's ending, on this bittersweet note, or maybe it's the fact that I think too much about everything.

I also feel like I should be writing about something more important than my own personal dilemmas, but I'm not well-researched or intelligent enough to do so. Meh, I don't know. I guess I'm just going to end this here. Maybe I'll edit it later.

Mehhhhh.

I don't know why I clicked "New Post" when I so clearly have no inspiration. Even the crappy movie on TBS isn't inspiring me to write something poignant, or whatever. It's three in the morning. I think I'll go clean my room.

Or maybe just sit here and continue drinking water. That could work, too.

In other news, my face is peeling from all that time spent out in the sun. It's discouraging me from interacting with other members of my species. Which is okay, I guess. I think I spend too much time outside the house. I'm a lot less introverted than I used to be. Which could be either good or bad, depending on what type of things are in your head.

Couldn't tell you why, but

I get the feeling you're losing interest in me.

I'd prefer it if you were honest.

When we don't understand something, we can make it mean anything.

I think that the most meaningful things I say are to other people, not in this blog. As it turns out, I'm pretty bad at just randomly expressing myself. I've got to be inspired somehow, which is natural, but it usually only happens, for me, in conversations. And like, umm, I guess I kind of suck.

I'm sorry I underestimated how much you care about me, you're just not really amazing at showing that you do. And I'm sorry that I get worked up over things that don't mean shit to you. And I'm sorry you don't love me. I just, uh, ah, I don't know, thought you might. Guess I was.. mistaken? (I am human, after all. I hate admitting I'm wrong.) I just assumed that your silence meant you did. Love me. I mean.

I just hate how you don't understand me like I understand you. And I hate how you call Chuck Palahniuk "cheesy." And I hate how when I try to drop hints, or even flat out tell you, it goes over your head. I hate saying "nevermind." And sometimes, definitely not as much as I used to, I hate myself. I think that self-loathing is something I'll never really grow out of.

Now.. This is all in speculation, but I think that it would be better if I would. But in return, not grow out of things like hope, and trust. Unfortunately, things are reversed, and that's how life is. Or at least, that's my perception.

--

I don't remember where I was going with this.

Whatever.

I'm tired.

But I can't sleep.
Glorious.

It's all too sweet to last.

I'm not completely sure what I have to express tonight. Except maybe, I'm starting to realize that being obsessed with a cartoon character is a bit on the unhealthy side. And I need to find someone real to obsess over instead, but, yeah, for now I'm content with.. whatever.

It seems to me like this is the blog of some derranged, emotionally unstable female, who can't make her mind up about who she's in love with with. Which is pretty accurate, come to think of it. And maybe I'm not in love with anybody, but then again, I think I am. Not sure. Fuck. Ugh. Whatever.

I guess now that I've got my Bloggy McBloggerson hat on, I should wait a bit to take it off.

I've been giving a lot of thought to this one song, by Bright Eyes, "I Must Belong Somewhere." It's on Cassadaga, and if you haven't heard it, I suggest you download it. But like, not the regular version; the KEXP in-studio one, which can be found on either my music myspace, or project playlist. But umm, that's not what I was going to say. Although it does kind of piss me off that the actual version has all those country twangs and percussion bits, but whatever.

Anyway, as comforting as this song is, I don't necessarily agree with what the song's conveying. Like, if everything belonged somewhere (in example, a traveling band on the interstate, and a poor child in a crumbled school, and even that craaaaaazy Conor Oberst in wherever he wants to stay), then things would never change, and the world wouldn't really exist. I mean, I guess it's supposed to express a temporary state of belonging, but I dunno. Everything changes so quickly. It's hard to say.

This was a stupid thing to write about, but, it's a great song, and I feel like I'm disappointing the MASSES that read this blog, but I'm gonna cut this one short. Good night.

suedehead

I tell you to shut up too much
And I call you names too much

You know it means I love you

Now fall asleep so I can tell you :)

congrats, you're a cliche.

Reading your blogs makes me feel incredibly inadequate. Like a tiny molecule on your nose, something you can't even see, but it's there. And when I am mentioned, my heart sort of swells, and when anyone else is, particularly someone who shares my gender, it relapses into the deflated organ it was previously. If I wanted you for my own, I had my chance. And now it's gone and I'm not sure how I feel about this. I'm not sure if it's just that you always want what you can't have, or if I have some sort of severe brain defect. I would like to pen something profound, something that would impress you, and make you think, "This girl's sorta homely, but she's got a decent head on her shoulders." But I don't, I really don't. My head is a jumble.

A mess.

Nothing compared to.. what I'd like it to be.

And I'm trying so hard to break whatever mold people shove me into, not just for you or whoever else, but for myself. I would really like to write exactly what's on my mind right now, but I'm afraid you'll read it. I'm afraid you'll understand what I'm trying to convey. Or imply. Or.. I don't know.

On an entirely different note, someone else makes me sick. This someone else, let's just say "you," because it's easier and requires less effort, disgusts me in every manner of the term. I may be a homewrecking bitch, but at least I don't have feathers up my ass, at least I'm not trying to be a chicken. You and your ideals, your conclusion that you're intelligent and the vast majority of people don't compare to how great and original you are, they disgust me. Because there are billions of people breathing the same air as you. There are thousands of people who've got the same depressing, more-indie-than-thou attitude, the same Silversun Pickups obsession, the same negative ideas and thoughts.

Just because the world sucks, doesn't mean that it's everyone else's fault. It's as much yours as ours. I think it's pretty clear who I'm referring to by now. I think it's pretty clear that you are bullshit. Maybe people should get out of their houses, but maybe you should, too.

Just because you think you're right, doesn't mean that you are.

I have so much more to say.

In a few short weeks, I'm starting high school. And I know that since there are people like Max and Rosie and Cassy and well, my friends from Middle School are going to be there, I'm a lot less frightened. But yeah, I'm scared, and yeah, I don't want to go. But change is an essential part of life. If you're alive, you've got to deal with it, as far as I know.

I guess I'm just not prepared for something to happen. Because, well, I like the way things are now. I don't want them to change.

And now it seems I'm stuck.

Nobody's going to read this.

Kind of a comfort.

idiot / whining

Idiot,
you
had
your
chance.

Idiot,
so
did
you.

Idiot,
stop
this
game.

--

It's impossible to follow up a decent blog post with something ultra shitty and wannabe humorous like that.

What if Adam and Eve were just test rats?

Don't get the wrong idea.. This isn't going to be a philosophical post.

I've been thinking and thinking and I know I'm the villain in this situation, as always, but I'm tired of feeling nothing for you. So, fuck, whatever. I give up. I've got to do something about this.

And I get scared,

but I'm not crawling on my knees.

--

I think it's kind of pathetic to beg for your life. If there was a gun to my head, and I could choose to beg or die, I think I would die with my dignity, rather than live knowing I had only lived because I groveled to someone who didn't deserve it. It just shows, the ignorance of human pride. I bet the Dali Lama wouldn't beg either. No, he definitely wouldn't. Not to say I'm on the same level as the Dali Lama, because I'm definitely not, but still.

Honestly though, the point of this is, it's sick to crawl on your knees and beg for something that's not yours in the first place. But it's not their right to take that away, either. This supposed mugger, or villain, or what have you. If I ever beg, shoot me in the fucking head and get it the fuck over with.

I am so

Confused.

Gahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Your hands are already around my throat. You're suffocating me.

And you don't even know.

Choking on your alibies.

Go ahead, pretend to know me, it'll be fun.

Dream boy.

Yeah, it's idealistic, and yeah, it's irritating, but I'm going to go ahead and do it anyway. Oh and yeah, Maxwell's post gave me the inspiration.

My dream boy would be a little something like this.

- A boy who is honestly intelligent.
- A boy who would listen to me, and take me seriously when I'm trying to be serious, but laugh at/with me when I'm not.
- A boy who smells good. Like, Bone Daddy cologne and that plain old boy smell.
- A boy who can dance around to Motion City Soundtrack when we're in the mood, and at other times whisper the lyrics to a Bright Eyes song along with me.
- A boy who dresses how he wants, but not too scruffy or too childish. A boy who just dresses like himself.
- A boy who would never even dream of breaking my heart. And who trusts me with all of his.
- A boy who can look past how stupid I can be, how flirtatious I can be, how completely senseless I can be, and love me anyway.
- A boy who is cute, literate, cuddleable, & interesting.
- A boy who wouldn't mind if I doubt his affections, because he knows that's just how I am.
- A boy who would watch anime with me and not get pissed off at my squealing over Ichigo and Edward Elric. But he would get jealous, because I think that's cute.
- A boy who doesn't like to talk on the phone, because I don't, either.
- A boy who doesn't think it's a gyp that he loves a girl who's heart seems to be perpetually broken.
- A boy who laughs at my stupid jokes.
- A boy who is soft and sweet and delicate.
- A boy who compliments me, just because.
- A boy who doesn't lie to me.
- A boy that doesn't need to be with me constantly, but wants to all the same.
- A boy who is artistic and clever.
- A boy who cares and wont give me up for some stupid skank.

I hope you stay true to your word.

If you are so terrible at making yourself happy, if you ruin every chance, who's to say you wouldn't do the same with me? It seems as though at the exact point I cannot, absolutely cannot, have you, it's you I want. Not to say I didn't before, but now it's almost staggering and it's scary.

I just don't know if I can handle this.

choke.

"Who is she? This girl?
Who with a look,
reduced me to rubble.
Is she a thing from outer space?
Some radioactive horror waste?
Or a zombie with a pretty face?"

Blah.

I suppose I am just supposed to be one of those girls who sits on the wall and reads a comic book.

That's fine by me, though.

Being this angry for so long gets really exhausting, but I'm just going to start again tomorrow. At least I have some time to myself.

Macon, like bacon?

Listening to Morrissey consoles me when I can't draw anything.

I haven't been updating and I'm not what you would call inspired, so this will be a pointless, yet necessary, entry, I'm afraid.

I am completely dreading high school. I really am. The idea makes me want to vomit.

This is going to mold who I am. And I'm nowhere near ready.

I want to be like Macon and Madison.

If you know who they are, marry me, promptly.

Silver screen notations.

"Self improvement is masturbation."

I'm not sure how that relates to anything I'm feeling right now, but I like it.

--

Anyway, today I had a conversation with.. Okay, I'm lying, I sat around all day.

But I was thinking about how spending money's not all that it is cracked up to be. You think you're excited for something and you get it, and it's over. Instant gratification will get you nowhere. In my humble opinion, at least.

I don't know how this glowing box keeps me so amused. I need to get back into the habit of seeing friends every day, which I didn't fall out of until.. This week, I suppose.

Normally I would write about my feelings or something as equally depressing/uninteresting/cliche, but I'm feeling different tonight.

Maybe all those people who try to devote their lives to saving the earth are hypocrites. Maybe we're already too fucked to do anything more, and all we can do is sit back and watch everything we know implode. If the sky opened up, there would only be ourselves and our memories.

I wish it would. I have a lot to think about.

breathe.

To be perfectly honest, I have nothing to report. Not a spark of inspiration is coursing through my veins.

I just needed to update, because it's (luckily) becoming my nightly ritual again.

I'm sick of people who whine about how bad their lives are. Bragging about your eating disorders and other such malfunctions will not earn you respect. So go fuck yourself.

Tomorrow, I get to see your smile again.

It has been sorely missed.

And tomorrow, I will be able to kiss your smile again. And you are so cute and you are so sure. It's funny to me, how quickly a dependency can develop.

You had me at hello.

Romance.

Typical for movies.

Impossible for real life.

Why does nothing work out unless a Hollywood producer decided to make it his own?

Out of line.

In case you were wondering, the title's irrelevant.

I'm sorry I have been neglecting you, dearest blogger, but I've been busy and I know that's no excuse. So, yeah, let the cars keep swerving, let the songs keep skipping, I'm back for good.

I'll elaborate, I promise.

Two more sleeps until Gabe is home.

AWKWARD

awkward awkward awkward, if you say it enough it just becomes a noise

I don't know why I am telling you this, it's irrelevant to almost everything

I am happy though and irrelevance is irrelevant

Even if that's dumb and wannabe clever

so is everything I say

Illness is as illness does

I want to live in a white house with a picket fence.

Where are you when I need you?
Where is the fantastic beauty that existed at the beginning of time?
Where can I lay my head?

Where is my cure for this disease?

Call me captain obvious, but..

Envy is an ugly thing
And should be locked away

Forever

In Pandora's box,
minus the Pandora.

Because we all know that her curiosity is what made you this way.

être désiré

I am all about being happy

And yeah, I'm insecure

And no, I'm not completely happy with the way things are going

But it's hard to explain without any finality. And I assure you, there is no finality. But I'm happy with my friends and what I have. For the moment.

ASDGJKL;ADSGA

I'M STILL IN LOVE WITH YOU

GET OUT OF MY HEAD, YOU FUCKING FUCK!

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

FUCK.. YOU. FUCK YOUR SHITTY REASONINGS, FUCK YOUR STUPID INDECISIVENESS, FUCK EVERYTHING YOU GOT ME TO BELIEVE YOU FELT, FUCK YOU, WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS IN MY FUCKING HEAD?

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU.

God damn.

I feel a little better.

Two Nights

Can't function, nothing is real except your memory, I love you, goodnight.


aaaand I'm passing out.

Sing to me.

"Sing me something soft, sad, and delicate.
Or loud and out of key; sing me anything."

I want somebody to sing me to sleep.
Everything is the same and my eyes are glassy.
Nothing's clear, but nothing matters.

Wah wah wah wah wah.
I whine too much.
Geeeeeesh.

Shadows kept me hidden

Although we have our imperfections, our differences, I know that we, all of us, will be friends forever.

I love my friends. I really really do. Every single one.

"We only hang out with eachother because nobody else will."

Hhahaha. It's so great. I mean, we fight sometimes and get irritated with eachother but wow. It's just amazing how close we all are, like so many of us.

:)

Don't Panic

Quit leading me on already. Go ahead and say it.

"You're not her."

It's easy.

---

Father's Day has come and gone. Once again. Every year, it's a letdown. Every year, it's brushed away and forgotten. And every year my heart aches. 24 hours straight, it aches and there is nothing I can do about it.

Fuck. Fuck you. You're selfish. Fuck you.

I Must Belong Somewhere

Every night at this exact time, I wish for the exact same thing. How many times do I have to wish for it to come true?

Maybe part of my insomnia is waiting for your phone call or text or instant message. Waiting for something that's never going to come. But I still have hope. And hope is what keeps me awake all night, hope is what tells me not to shut my eyes, because there's that chance. That chance that I might miss it. That you might get sent to voicemail, or change your mind.

I think I know, in the back of my mind, that you have forgotten me. Forgotten everything you felt.

Until I know for sure,

I am still waiting.

Roses.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I don't want to care,
But I do.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You're what I want,
Please get a clue.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I want my happy ending,
Just like you do.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You tell me to let go
But I don't want to.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I'm done with this,
So fuck you.

Where Is My Mind?

I hate the false sarcasm dripping from my mouth, I hate the two am phone calls and the promises of your voice tomorrow. I am fully exhausted with your cries of what you think to be love and your frustration, followed by complete turnarounds, in which you flirt recklessly. If you bat your eyelashes any harder, you'll knock yourself out.

I used to try to impress you, but I don't care anymore...

I'm putting my feet on the ground and they're staying there.

Wish I could say

Wish I could say that I am over him, wish I could give everything in my heart to you instead. I'm sorry to inform you that I might never get over this thing that has happened. I'm sorry that you love a broken girl. I'm trying, I'm trying for you and you alone.

I live to let you shine.

& Even though my heart's broken, it's still beating and I am giving it to you. Officially, yeah, it's yours to do with what you like.

P.S. Yeah, this is for you.

Funny you should mention

If anybody were to ask me, I "fucking hate" you. But sometimes it almost seems like I feel the opposite, and other times you're just a goof ball I know. It goes without saying that we're "compatible," but maybe not in that way. Inevitably, I have far too many affections on my plate already without your meddling, so please catch somebody else by the heart or the throat.

The complete inconsistency of what's on my mind tends to wear me away. I don't know what to write about, really, so I just type whatever crap jumps into my head or heart or hands. Since I slept all day, I will lie awake all night, and I think that's okay with me, because I have a lot of things to sort out.

Often times I'm afraid of who I am going to turn out to be. I guess that's all I have to say.

Untitled

I've been slacking off on this lately, but I've been busy with friends and I have been sleeping better lately. But during the night I am "never really asleep, and never really awake." It's a constant state of draining energy, flipping channels and tap tap tapping of the keyboard. I am tired, too tired to sleep.

I am thinking back on an older entry, Thrift Store Heart or something, and realizing that it's one of those things I thought was 100% brilliant but isn't, not really. I still like it though. Just thought I should point that out..

My continuous inability to feel anything for anyone but you is another dead end in the empty, twisted city of my life. Another road block, another alley that leads to nowhere, another what-have-you. I am still dreaming about you constantly and I still wake up with a smile on my face. And realization hits and I am left alone, my dreams forgotten. The only things I remember about these dreams is your face, I remember seeing your face.

Reality is exhausting without you.

God is a rip off artist.

We all have some sort of price to pay. We all have some sort of toll that has been taken. People who are beautiful always have personality flaws, or dead family members, or a deep, dark secret. People who are intelligent always lack something, whether it be a singing voice, or a mother and father, or writing ability, or beauty. People who are likeable are always missing talents or creativity or intelligence. Nobody has everything, and yet some people have nothing. Some people are just plain lucky, and others, not so much. It's not fair that some people live in total poverty while others nap in their hot tubs. It's not fair that some people see a flawless face in the mirror while others see nothing but hatred for themselves.

It's not fair, I want it to change, right now.

I just wrote an entire entry and erased it. It was so stupid. I hate reading the things I've written, for the most part. I hate trying to express something, but it wont come into words, only deep breaths and glares at the wall. I hate being so angry you can't speak, but all you want to do is scream and scream and scream.

I hate spending so much time on this. I hate fucking around with my emotions, and I hate it even more when YOU do. I just want you to be here so I can hold you and everything will be alright. But I'm afraid you're not looking for a relationship, I'm afraid of getting hurt and I'm afraid of being fucked up and over. I don't need to feel that way. If it means becoming a shell, so be it. I'd rather be a shell than a fool with her heart on her sleeve.

They say you never forget your first love. And I don't know who the fuck they are, but they're goddamn right. You never do. It goes from a throbbing, incomprehensible pain, a hurt so deep and so pure you can't breathe or sleep or speak, to a sharp pulse in your chest, a choked back sob or six thousand, to a dull ache, a scar that has never correctly healed, a wound you didn't know how to nurture so now you're stuck with it.

"Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me."

Puppets

Is it entirely impossible to get over someone?

It seems like it takes everybody else a few days. Weeks, at the very most. But for me, for you, for this, it's taking days and weeks and months. I don't know what I am going to do. It's so draining to not think of you. To not smile when something reminds me of you. To not cry when I hear your name. It's pathetic, it's repulsive. The human heart is a sick fucking thing. I want to get rid of mine, sometimes.

"What sick, ridiculous, puppets we are, and what a gross, little stage we dance on. What fun we have, dancing and fucking, not a care in the world. Not knowing that we are nothing. We are not what was intended."

Bow down to your royal bias.

Indecision has always sucked. Indecision is a constant source of inspiration from me. I'm finding that it's 4:45 in the morning, but I can't decide if I want to sleep tonight or not, because I'd like to see your face tomorrow.

Crushes have always confused me.

I think I will go to sleep.

Or maybe I wont.

The point of this is, my life is pretty pointless. And reciprocation has always been a problem in one way or another. I'm tired of this. And I doubt this is making any sense at all, and I doubt it ever will, to anyone, not even me.

I have recently noticed how much I say the word I. I have been trying to cut down, but it's difficult, and I'm frightened that I'm self centered. I think I am.

Fuck, I hate that word. Hillary hates that word. Whatever. It is a source of dislike in the brain of the person who is typing this.

Much better. Or maybe worse.

You decide, for once.

this curse on your lips.

Posting in the morning is against my usual blogging pattern, but I like the irregularity. I haven't been keeping as active as I would like, not that anybody's missing it, but I am trying to keep this up, for myself. I want to remember everything.

I have been busy, but I still find time to think of him.
I have been mostly sleeping without dreams, but I still have dreams that contain him.
I have been noticing that he's immune to all of my shortcomings. No matter what, he is still in my head constantly. I hate you (or at least I'm trying to).

fuck

I am free.

For the first time in nine months.

I am free.

I waited nine long months.

And I am finally free.

I am going to enjoy myself tonight.

Fuck you, for making me depressed and self conscious. I am going to enjoy myself tonight. Fuck you.

seventy two hours.

Each day I feel more disconnected and I fear my head and my heart will never truly click again. Tonight I looked at the sky and spoke your name. And you know, I almost felt real again.

I am in desperate need of a reality check.
Or maybe some cuddling.

Simple dichotomy.

Sometimes I wish the world could be a simple dichotomy. I think that everything would be easier that way.

But it's not. If everything were one way or another; black or white, the world would be a much happier place. And I don't think that we deserve that. Not just yet.

Not until we realize what we're doing.

Euphoria

My mom always says life would be a lot easier if we could pick who we loved.

I always say life would be a lot easier if I could pick who you loved.

Maybe I wasnt clear when I said

That I love you, and I need you.

Maybe you just misunderstood.

Today I practiced telling you again, in front of the mirror. But then I remembered that I'm a coward.

And that a pane of glass will not decide the way you feel.

I noticed,

My posts have been utter crap as of late.

Maybe if I could stop having that fucking dream.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Set yourself on fire.

I remember when you embarassed me at Thanksgiving.

Tonight the stars whispered your name. Tonight the stars missed your face.

I cleared the room for just you, but you never came.

And now all I've got is a passageway you told me to kept secret, and a handful of false I Love You's. I'm through with this, I'm through with you. I'm through with fucking metaphors.
(But that's what I said last week.)

You could have at least told me what I wanted to hear.

Yours Truly,
Hillary.

Mind Over (You Don't) Matter.

"It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all."

Regularly, I would say, 'What a fucking joke.' But then I recalled that jokes are usually funny. And that is not funny.

I am not afraid to say what I feel. I am not afraid to say I love you.

I am just afraid to say it to your face. I am afraid to say it straight up. I am afraid, so fucking afraid, because I know what the response will be.

"If only, if only, the woodpecker sighed, the bark on the tree were as soft as the sky's."

If only.

Park that car,

"Drop that phone,
sleep on the floor,
dream about me."

I had that dream again.

So many people say they're in love. So many people exploit love, prostitute love for something it has never been, something that it will never fucking be. Love is a hoax, so please move on & forget all the words that have been whispered in your ear. It's for dreamers and sinners and liars and losers.

But I know you, even if I don't know you. You'll keep selling your Hallmark cards, keep signing your Hallmark cards, but not so deep down, you know. You've always known.

One shot, two shots.

I'm not sure what the purpose of starting a blog right now was. Maybe just to further agitate myself.

I am exhausted, disappointed, and apathetic. I am a teenager.

I am awkward and uncomfortable and I am finally figuring out that the weight of the world, no, the weight of this house, is far too much for me to bear. And to be honest, I don't give a fuck.

Thank you for listening, nobody, and good-night.

And the truth is,

Things aren't going as well as I thought they were.

I keep having this dream, where I can see your face through a cloud of cigarette smoke. And my arms are reaching, reaching, reaching, and my hands are falling, falling, falling, too short every time. And each time I grasp, the air I come back with is farther from you; and if only my arms were long enough, if only I could push through this crowd, I could get to you. But you don't even see me.

And then in an instant, you're gone, and I'm left empty hearted and empty handed. And then I realize it was all a mirage. And you were never really there at all.

No Chance, No Way

The infrequency of my posts is beginning to depress me.

Only fifteen days until absolution.

oh, I only do it 'cos I care.

Twenty days. It seems like twenty seconds ago I was sitting here typing, "twenty eight days."

Time is going by so fucking fast. If only there were some way to slow things down. To breathe, for once, because I am thinking about breathing, not because it's an impulse.

I think I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

Thrift store heart

I know a girl who's got a thrift store heart.

It's been picked up and set back down a million times; it's put up and shut up and been left on a shelf.

It's underpriced and underloved and it's almost falling apart.

But there it sits, diligently, waiting for the right patron to take it home.

Never Enough

I am not enough to make up for:
1) Old loves
2) Missing pieces of your heart
3) Clinical sadness
4) Current loves
5) Et cetera.
6) All of the above

Sorry boys; move along, nothing to see here.

Four Letter Lie.

I've been meaning to post this on here for awhile, but I never got around to it. So here it is, I suppose.

I think that there is a point in everybody's life, where they stop chasing fantasies and come to realize that there is no such thing as true love. And that the one thing you've been waiting for; that perfect kiss, those three magical words, are not all they're cracked up to be, not all that you had hoped for. And sometimes, you just have to work with what you've got.

And so true love is shoved into a category with dragons and fairy tales and damsels in distress, never to see the light of day. But every once in awhile, you awake to find that you can almost feel it, you can almost taste it, or touch it, and before you have a chance to grab higher it is whisked out from under you.

It is all the same, every relationship is the same. You think you have true love, but it's just a cheap knock off, something you could get for a third of its' original trouble and value. What you have, girls and boys, is nothing, it's a sham of an emotion. Love gets you nowhere. Love will never save you. Love will never conquer all.

It's a slow, sad, realization, but eventually you will get over it. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you.

Be my Peter Parker.

Except don't fall in love with Gwen Stacy.

I don't want Gwen Stacy to get in the way.

I will be your Mary Jane Watson.

I almost forgot

twenty four days to



freedom.

With great power comes great responsibility.

I can't decide if indecision's a waste of time.

You've really always had me. Even when neither of us knew it; you had me, I was yours.

And I think that now, since we're up to our elbows in this, you will always have me. Even if neither of us know it.

Clarity is just a word, a conjunction of symbols that are supposed to mean something.

But honestly, it doesn't mean anything to me.

xo

Be Still My Heart

Wow.

What a great song.

I wish the whole world were like a great song.

That would be wonderful.

Bananafish.

Today is a perfect day for bananafish.

I have nothing more to say.

Tension speaks,

"But we're singin' it."

I had a crap day at school but things instantly became better when I returned home. I went to the library, picked up some Vonnegut and Salinger and I'm wearing new clothes and everything feels decent again.

Today I smelled summer, and now it's all I can think about.

The wind blew my hair into my eyes and it whispered "Twenty eight days, twenty eight days until you are free," and it made me smile.

So here's to you, sunshine.

Twenty eight days.

In With the Outro & Out With the Old.

"I know we'll be together in the morning."

Today, I had the most beautiful moment of my entire life.

My friends and I climbed a gigantic hill by our school, and we all stood at the top and held our breath. It was like something that bonded all of us, kept us all from moving until several seconds later. It wasn't so much beautiful as it was completely breathtaking. It literally took the breath from my lungs. Maybe it was seeing the building that made our lives hell seem so small, or maybe it was the way the wind blew or the sunshine in our eyes. But it was fantastic. It is one day I will never, ever forget.

Breathing deeply, Walking backwards.

Heavy eyes are a bummer, but I like to think that it's you I have my arms around.

I pray for absolution, because nobody's ever gonna set me free.

Flawless

It's not that I'm blind to your flaws, I just soak up everything about you that is beautiful.

And to me, that is the definition of perfection.

She's a landslide with the city beneath her.

I'm not sure,

but I think that this may be real.

Calling all cars; Hillary's got it bad. Once again, once again.

I'm not sure where this particular post is going, but I think it might be headed in the right direction. Or at least the correct direction for someone who is possibly crazy, a registered insomniac, and falling hard and fast. I'm not sure. I'm not sure.

But that's what life is about, I suppose. One step forward, two steps back, never fucking sure if what you're doing will turn out fine or a big goddamn mess all over your face.

Fuck 'em all. Fight for what's true and close to your heart.

I love you. Good night.

Wonderwall

So I am sitting here, thinking, and I am slowly coming to realize that I am completely dependent on the one person who doesn't need me, not even a little. And that all these pills I'm taking are just chemicals, and that all the thoughts I'm thinking are just waiting to be dreams, and that all the words I'm typing will never matter, not even a little bit.

I wish I could write poetry sometimes, because I lack in anything interesting enough to fill this blog with. I want to change the world but every time I try God knocks me down a peg; irony at its' most ironic, I think.

Lullabies

Your idle lullabies
of things we could have been
Sang me to sleep.

---

More and more I find my train of thought slips away from me as easily as the progression of dreams. Maybe I'm losing my mind or maybe it's already gone, all I know is that something is missing.