Things I learned on my trip up to Washington:

-When you're in the car with your family, no one cares what you look like.
-Always get the stick out of the Fun Dip before you open the powder.
-Snow is a fickle entity.
-5 hours of driving is usually the point when people get loopy.
-People eat weird-smelling things.
-My brother obsessed with the temperature, asking inane questions, and the difference between a freeway and a highway.
-There is no difference between a freeway and a highway that anyone cares about.
-My brother will tell you about them anyway.
-Glowsticks are an excellent idea in the car.
-Music and amazing texting conversations will save your life.
-Even with snow on the ground outside and frost making your windows all foggy, it can still get absolutely sweltering in your car.
-Other places have trees that actually lose their leaves.
-Snow is actually soft and powdery sometimes!
-There is an endlessly amusing town called Weed, California that is a source of endless amusing jokes that my mother does not find amusing.
-Oregon's State Lotto Powerball: $106 million.
-Gas station attendants fill up the tank for you in Oregon. Apparently it's a job that requires highly trained professionals.
-No matter how fucking cool it would be, normal people just can't Skype on the road.
-I'm not sure if I just never noticed it before or if people just don't do it in the desert, but every fast food place that we stopped at had a full-on Christmas tree in the corner.
-Shoe on head pictures are endlessly hilarious.
-"Electric boobs" does not rhyme with "mohair suits".
-Sunnyside smells like shit. Literally.
-Andrue is consistently amazing.

"So Sorry, It's Over"

I got the Beatles' Abbey Road for Christmas #1. So appropriate, that it be the first Beatles album I own. I mean, this is my fucking album. It pretty much spearheaded Beatles Self-Education and Appreciation 101 for me. This time last year it was all I listened to. It's so crystal clear. Sounds like Ringo's drummin' in my room for me. Thanks, Starkey.


I got Blink 182's Greatest Hits for Christmas #2. Of course, "Man Overboard" would be on it. It is a greatest hit, after all. It's strange. Nothing reminds me of what it used to, and even the chemistry's different. When she's here I feel like she's farther away than ever. Blink 182 reminds me of Elisa, save for MO. But honestly. All I need now is Pink Floyd's Greatest Hits.

"I'll never forget you, with the girl at the rock show."

Blah, poetry time.

Christmas

Christmas time is here. And lemme tell ya, I couldn't be more excited. The cold deters me, I admit, but I love this season. If there was anything that could cure me of my ridiculous obsession with my dubious depression, it's Christmas time.

Although, I don't care much for the music.

"I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes. Love Christmas is all around me, and so the feeling grows."

Selfish thing that I am,

it never occurred to me that people could be having the time of their lives. For all my transparent cynicism I believed in the haze of sorrow that drifted over my world, icy and inspiring, not remembering that my world is not the world.

Selfish little thing.

"What is life without your love? Tell me, who am I without you by my side?"

Also iambic pentameter, inspired by Lucy

Frustrated to no end with everyone
but you; there's really no way out of this.
I'm tired of his questions, of her games--
This love triangle is pure hit or miss.

The bond 'tween brains keeps me safe in this storm,
He is the sign at the crossroads of thought.
Beautiful in words and lovely in speech,
his comfort is the kind cannot be bought.

She holds me up with strong words and bright eyes,
I can think of nothing new to say here.
So often am I filled with gratitude
I have already said it all, I fear.

Light of my life, the reason I am strong;
I know what you are, what you can become.
Don't let the tyranny lead you astray.
Be who you are. She'll see her mistakes someday.

Wheels turning, the flames keep burning, and I
am at a loss of what to say or do.

Golden Slumbers

There's a whole other side of life I know nothing about;
there's no real way to fake it, no shortcut to figuring it out.
I love what she is, who she is, all she can be,
but she can't see herself as she is in reality.

I love the way she talks and the way her laugh's like mine;
I love the fact that I am hers and she is unconditionally mine.
I love that she knows that I'm talking about her.
I'd give anything to get things the way they were.

I can see this shadow pass over our lives,
and though it is dark I know we'll survive.
The darkness is consuming; as bleak as it seems
I know everything will be righted in dreams.

"Sleep pretty darling, do not cry; and I will sing a lullaby."

Lady Madonna

"Lady Madonna, children at your feet. Wonder how you manage to make ends meet. Who brings the money when you pay the rent? Did you think that money was heaven sent?"

My silly little hat, and my new jeweled Chapstick. I applied to three colleges today. Only one that I care about.

I have no real reason for posting. I just re-read all my old posts, and transferred some to my other blog. Felt like posting.

reoccurring motifs

Old things in my life that are simultaneously new,
new people who feel like I've known them forever.
Common misconceptions and the transitive property;
Trying to find the strength to pick myself up off the dank, dirty ground, even though it's the last thing I want to do.

"Though I know I'll never lose affection for people and things that went before; I know I'll often stop and think about them. In my life I loved you more."

I wonder

how many Beatles references I've included here. Sometimes they just suit the situation so well I want to throw up. From happiness. You know. Lately I've had Lady Madonna on the brain.

I've realized that I'm lost. I have no direction, nowhere I want to go with my life. I have no passion and it's killing me slowly. How am I supposed to make these decisions when I don't know where I want to be? It's downright sick timing.

All I really want to do is travel. Before I go to school, before I take one step anywhere permanent. I just want to travel. I need to see the world before I can ever hope to know where I fit in here. My eyes are still closed; this time it's beyond my control.

"All I really wanna do is love you, the kind much closer than friends use. But I still can't say it after all we've been through."
Jason Mraz, If It Kills Me

Strawberry Fields

"Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see."

I knew my eyes were closed, I suppose. I just didn't care; I didn't care about anything.

Oh, baby, I'm back.

For today, for tomorrow, for the rest of my life. I hope this feeling lasts forever.

Good Morning, a

Guten morgen, guten morgen, guten morgen

I cut my hair. I hated the song that was playing while she did it, and vaguely I wondered if that was a sign. Once I thought it the idea wouldn't leave. Persistent motherfucker. Maybe the universe was telling me something. Or trying to, at least.

Letters to a girl, from a girl, written by a girl, for a girl, about a girl, around a girl.

"I've got a feeling, I think that everybody knows, oh no. Oh no!"

When I'm Sixty Four

I'll be a crazy cat lady. There is no doubt in my mind of that inevitable fact. I should start making a list of names for my various cats. It'll be fun.

Maybe I'll spice it up by playing strip Bingo at the gentlemen's club down the road.

But my cats will be my life. I'll probably be some creepy old woman furry *shudder*


It's my 64th post. I can't wait until 69!

Day Tripper

playing in the background, she tells me I'd be better singing.

He told me Beatles songs don't sound right without my voice. I don't think he realizes what that means to me.

Another Sunday where I see someone's secret splashed across the page, and I wish it were mine. Today more than ever. But it wouldn't work anyway. So I'm glad that it's not.

Basketball games are infinitely better than football games. Just saying.

"When I get to the bottom I go back to the top of the slide, then I stop and I turn and I go for a ride, when I get to the bottom then I'll see you again, yeah. Do you, don't you want me to love you?"

Then you think it's over... But it's not.

Yin and Yang

There's a certain clarity that comes from balance. Not that I know much about balance. My life is so one-sided that I'm surprised I function at all. But I try for her, always for you. No'mo soul mates, wouldn't you know it?

I look forward to tomorrow with a rush of eager anticipation.

No 'mo

So, you're the reason I get up in the morning, just so you know. Without your words and your laughter to guide me through my day I'd wander deeper into myself, certain of the validity of the feeling no one cares about me. You love me because you want to, not because you have to. And it means so much to me. It'd be futile to try to explain how much.

I hope we do get those Tarot cards and learn to read them correctly. I hope we do develop our psychic abilities and learn to make our own luck. Maybe this brand of alchemy will become our new magic.

I cried

then again, I always want to.

I'm not usually so emotional, in reality. I just sit there and let the feelings, or lack thereof, wash over me and I feel too light and lost to be anchored to the ground, and so my head fills up with tears but my stingy eyes find no joy in shedding them. So I sit, and I don't cry, and I think and I wonder.



I wake up every morning, exhausted, with a question on the tip of my tongue. I look in the mirror and ask myself the question. I stump myself every time.

What do I have to live or?

And it's not in a suicidal way, and it's not in a death wish way. It's just that I can't answer the question, day after day.


It's moments like these, the times between action and sleep, when the phone rings and you're not sure if it did, where a cat hisses and it's almost mistaken for a person.


Who can we ask now, please?

I'm a policeman, she's an old Western marshal
long neck double barrel shot gun
sleep tugging at my eyelids now

Good night, dear.

tchochke

lolwut?

Trotsky?

lolumad?

Sharpie words all over my body, spelling out late night conversations
hunger reins, restlessness, I want to walk and smoke and smoke and walk forever

Good Day, Sunshine

by the Beatles, endlessly circling 'round in my head.
They have a song for everything, wouldn't you know it

I didn't expect it, how stupid of me
Of course it would happen, how naive of me
To expect to be free when I said I would be,
the audacity

Audio city

I looked at baby pictures of myself today.
I was so cute, I wish I could go back in time and smother myself with love.

I wonder what little Me would think of big Me.

PlayRadioPlay!

We've been searching the sky for answers, I look to the stars so that I feel small and my problems don't seem so big, buh-buh-buh-big, oh.

She said, "I know what it's like to be dead,"

I know what it's like to be dead too. And I didn't need acid to tell me.

I love the snippets of paragraphs, the first few sentences and a title, stuck on the page. No matter how many times I try to link the chain breaks. So it's up to my feeble mind to fill in the blanks, to finish what they're all trying to say. But it's okay. Because I do a good job. Because there's nothing unexpected said. Not that pertains to me, anyway. Everything's redundant and blackened and, when pressed against this backdrop of high school emotions, it's meaningless.

Everyone's so happy at the end of the movie, and I feel good. Then I remember that life doesn't end when the credits do. So I don't.

Sometimes I can't bear to listen to music; it speaks to me too plainly and my heart fills fit to burst. I could lie here my entire life with my eyes closed and the sunshine dripping in my window across my still form; if I could hear the music pounding in my ears I would still feel as if I had lived life for the glory, for the cheap thrills, for the religious awakenings. I wish I could, I truly wish I could. Music can break your heart as fully as a girl can, and it takes a lot less effort.

I think I'd love to live in a bathtub. It's taken me this long but I've finally realized that bathtubs are where I am most at ease. Dubliners is so much easier to understand with bubbles up to my chin and a nudist lifestyle adopted for an hour or two.

I Need You

Dear Pineapple in French,
I'm sort of proud of you. I say sort of because my pride basically comes from your words on the interwebz. I'm not really sure how you've changed in real life, but you're not with him. So I suppose you must have. So I am proud.
Sincerely,
Vibtorria

Dear Mary Jane,
I miss your tantalizing aroma and your sweet, enthralling charms. But I'm afraid the love affair we've had is over. Perhaps one day we will be reunited. I doubt it. Goodbye, forever. Don't forget me!
Always Yours,
Viktorria

Dear Sister,
You don't realize how beautiful you are. And that's so selfish of you. So stop it. You swine.
Love, love, love
Vikplorria

Dear Dolores,
I meant what I said.
Truly sincerely,
Margaret

Dear Irish Kid,
I miss the days when we were best friends. I don't want anything more. I honestly don't. It'd be too overplayed. And it wouldn't work now anyway. So be my best friend again. God knows I need one. You are the IK to my PM, I'm nothing without you.
Love,
Panda Man

Dear Female,
I understand why you do the things you do. I understand why everything is my fault. I understand that you want me to take responsibility. But I don't understand why you won't talk to me until it's come to this. You said you'd get me help. My problems didn't stop just because insurance didn't go through.
Good day,
Viktorria

Dear Knight in Shining Armor,
You continue to surprise me and to defy my expectations. I expected you to bore me, and instead you made me laugh. I expected to forget you, and instead I dwell on pointless memories. Choose a side: good or evil. Don't continue to hang on the balance with me.
Sincerely,
The Invisible One

Dear Moonshine,
If you are wondering why there is no real letter for you, it is because I have already said it all.
Love, for as long as I live,
Viktorria

Ya da, da, da, Ya da da da

Look at me, wearing my Junior Park Ranger vest I swooped on from my little brother, sitting on the computer at 4:40 am, next to my best friend and my other brother playing with Lincoln Logs. I love the debates they have, how everything is so real.

They demolished my awesome castle, what with its back courtyard opening up to the Swamp that Transcends Space and Time, and Batman and Spiderman posted at the front gate. Their shit better be real.

Time for some candid pictures. *sneaks on the webcamz*



SUCCESS!

I often wonder about the glorification of hippies in the sixties. I mean, what was it REALLY like? To be completely natural, just the way we were made; sweaty, hairy, drugged out kids who laughed, loved, and had fun doing absolutely nothing. They went wherever the wind took them, they believed in beauty and connected with things I can't know about. They were utterly disconnected from the world but completely in tune with the planet. What were their personal demons like? Were they all happy? Did they wish for something else? Were there internal hippie standards they felt the need to conform to? I wonder how the world saw them, how children grew up amongst them. I wonder if it's possible to become one again. I know how my generation sees them, but nothing is as it seems. There's always the ugly side no one talks about.

Final Thoughts:
-I swooped on this 'Final Thoughts' from Av'ry. Thanks!
-I need to work on my summer assignment. FML. I honestly have done next to no work. I annotated exactly three pages of Dubliners. THAT'S IT. Get a move on, beezy! >:O
-I'm going up to my grandparent's for the next few days. Hopefully getting out of this shit hole will help my outlook on life. After all, my outlook on life is me main compensatory factor. But I know the psychological pattern. It plays havoc with me drum skins. (If you get that reference, I'll love you. Unless it's you, Miranda. Because you would. You SO would.)
-Good norning, world!

disconnected thoughts

Does any of this really matter?
The words we choose to set down here, they're lost amongst the copy-and-paste generation. Anyone can be a philosopher, we're all religious oracles. We're all leaders of our own personal revolutions.

The foundation for a bohemian revolution: freedom, beauty, truth, and love. I'd gladly trade them all for happiness.

Perhaps it's the Thespian in me, in my kind, that creates such dramatic situations. Emotion is lost through terrible miscommunications, and the loss of emotion translates directly into the loss of importance, the loss of reality.

Do you ever wonder what it would be like to travel back in time dressed in the height of today's fashion? That in and of itself would be a tremendously influential thing to do; one wouldn't even have to speak to turn a town on its head. After all, ankles are outrageously and unspeakably scandalous to some time periods.

There are a lot of instances in which I can go both ways. Like, sleeping. Or my sexuality. What about the word bisexual, anyway? Just the thought of it sends shivers of revulsion down my spine. Bisexual is nothing more than a term used to describe a young teenage girl seeking attention, trying to draw it to her "wounded soul". I suppose it could very well be a young teenage boy. If you want to get technical.

Don't sweat the small things.

If you say you've forgiven them, forgive them. Forgive yourself above all else, because if you don't no one else will.

If you get the chance to stay up for well over 24 hours, do it. You might be surprised what the Internet holds in way of entertainment.

Recognize the fact that you are not different to the world. To the world, you are just a clone with unoriginal ideas, thoughts, concepts, words, and looks. The trick is to find someone who is not the world to see you for what you are. It only takes one.

Love. For once in your life, love. Love wholly and unnecessarily, ridiculously and naively and cliche-ly. Love like you know you won't get hurt. But only once. At least once.

I got swooped!

Dominic wants to know why things are changing to Hindu....

ANYWAY!

I love you, missed you and everything else

.....yeah. Have fun with your spock doll!<3

I love you,
elisa


oh, inset that creepy image of that man in a wig that's searching your profile here

Hey, Elisa

Dearest, you mean the world to me. Thank you for my birthday present, a limited edition Mr. Spock collectible Ken. (Yeah, as in Barbie's Ken.) Thank you for the wedding ring, and for putting up with my body paining me. Thank you for being there, for hopping fences, for finishing my sentences and completing my life. Thank you for laughing just as ridiculously as I do. It makes me feel so much less alone.

I love you!

So what if they know?

That simple phrase, so at odds with what was said. It's hard to hear you, what with all the smoke.

The fire's always been there,
smoldering,
waiting,
biding its time.

Once the fire starts growing it's almost impossible to stop.

Nightmares

I miss them.

The waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, seized by illogical fear.
Finding comfort in numbers, in the flicker of the television screen and the sleeping forms of family.

I miss the dawning realization that it isn't real, and talking yourself into falling back asleep.

I miss the sweaty palms, the beating heart, the shaking hands, the panic and the courage that arises from it. I miss the knife wielding murderess coming after me to finish the job of destroying my family, blood spattered and insane, deadly and crazed.

I should watch scary movies and see if they return.

Elisa Heather

she's back! she's back, she's back, she's back, she's back!

Even watching Ninja Warrior together makes me the happiest I've been all summer, stomachache and all. Fuck you, Aunt Flo!

Happiness, happiness, peace, love, serenity, happiness, eventual normality.

I love you, Lucy <3

ps: if you are a Harry Potter fan, or are ready for some really, really shitty fanfiction, copy and paste: http://myimmortalrehost.webs.com/chapters122.htm

5:53 am

I love my fishies! ^-^ *scroll down to become enlightened*

I got really brown today. But it's faded away. How mysterious.

I found this picture on Photobucket today.


I wonder if he's happy.

It's time for something new. That phrase could mean the world.

3, 4, 3

"Everyone has 20/20 hindsight."

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Just for a moment, I'd like to touch upon the subject of words.

Words, Words, Words. So say something. Say anything. It's hard for me to find them sometimes. I imagine it's hard for everyone at one point or another. But you know. You get through it. You swallow your stutters and think and finally spit out what you were trying to say, much to the dismay of yourself and probably others. Words can be sharp, and swiftly sting, much like a ninja star. Words can be quiet, softly spoken but unexpectedly powerful, like an infamous one-inch punch. Words can be loud, nonsensical and meaningless, much like a karate yell.

Ninja star, one-inch punch, karate yell. Words kick some ass.

Then there are the words that defy genres in that they are individual to every one. For instance, one might think there are several hidden references to a particular love interest embedded in this very blog. Consequently, there will be undertones of love that you will pick up on, for better or for worse. On the other hand, one might pick up some wholly nonexistent malevolent threads in these words, and therefore this whole thing will reek of dislike and petty hatred. It's all individualized, my, my.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

It's the simple things; late night games of Marry, Murder, Screw; burning incense; watching porn with a plot; laughing and sounding like a bunch of dying animals; lighting up and taking pride in our homemade pieces; it's the little things that I miss the most.

पेनिस

There's a method to this madness. First, the strenuous deciphering of words reflecting thoughts of others. Then, a flash of inspiration supposedly not about her, my situation, or blandly put, love. But it's always the same.


Am I missing out?


The music calls to me again. It's been so long since I've felt this urge. It makes life seem so much bigger and manageable. As opposed to redundant fights with my mother and the urge to sleep all day. I wake up at two, wonder where my day's gone. I need a job, need a car. I never thought I'd say this but I miss guys. The illusion that girls are easier to understand is based on fact; being a girl it's obviously easier for me.

Buuuuuut. Buuuuuut!

Here comes the big but.

But it doesn't matter. I love, therefore I am. I recognize my faults, therefore I am.

I miss you. It's times like these that I realize how much I depend on you, Lucy <3

Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope

I guess this is my outlet. My marijuana, my therapist, my friend when no one else listens.



And that's really sad.

I've been

gently but rather suddenly slapped in the face by updated familarity brandishing nostalgia like a cold, dead fish.




I've been properly and abruptly PWNED.

explanations

I don't know if I should post this. Because it's pretty late at night, and some say the moon affects your judgement. I know things always seem like a better idea at night. But maybe I need it, to release my inhibitions.

So I suppose I owe some people explanations. And so here I am.

First, I'm sorry. My brutal retaliation was pretty much backlash for so easily letting go of me, like our friendship meant nothing to you. Which I'm still wholly convinced it did. So congratulations for still having the hearts of our friends. And as for hers, well, as much as she says it's mine I know better. There's no way to win, for either of us. For any of us.

Secondly, to you I am also sorry. If I had known, I would have chosen to be your best friend, not the one you love, because then you could have had everything you wanted. I thought about it honestly, to myself, and I realized that I wouldn't handle things the way she did. But we're different people, it's to be expected. But I wish. I wish, for our sakes as well as yours.

Thirdly, I'm so glad you're getting away from this shithole. I want you to spread your wings and do things I can't imagine, go places I'll never go. Meet a cute boy and have a meaningful relationship in a short amount of time. Make up with your mom. Become a grown-up. Because lord knows one of us needs to.

I

hope you're happy. Truly.

nameless, faceless, hopeless, clueless

I'm so sick of half-hearted words and fake smiles and missed calls and worrying and not understanding what you're saying and not knowing what's going on and not having the courage to tell you to stop the bullshit and tell me what's really going on between you and her, you and me. I don't understand and I'm afraid to offend. Fuck me.

*censored*

I love you, Lucy. You bear with me through so much, and you hardly ask for anything in return. I'm really going to miss you. I can't wait for senior year together.

Av'ry, you deserve better than being ignored. That's all I'm saying.

इ लव योऊ

I feel like there's an explosion just waiting to happen, and we're caught in the middle of it. Pain is assured, but I can't disengage. I can't let go. I can't let you go.

I don't want to. I want to be heartbroken because then I'll know that what I feel for you is real; that this whole thing wasn't just some fever dream.

If I could wake you every morning with a quiet kiss and a soft touch, I would.
If I could tell you I love you as the clock chimes the hours every day, I would.
If I could fall asleep next to you with arms around you every night, I would.
If I could wake in the middle of the night and check that you're breathing, check that you're still alive and here with me, I would.

I'd quietly marvel at your beauty and silently pray for you, to a god that I don't even know exists. I'd run my fingers over your face and preserve your memory, to think about when that day comes and you'll be gone from me.

इ लव योऊ

without purpose

we have no reason to live.

Right now, and for the next two short months, my purpose and sole reason to live, is to make you happy.

it's all so confusing,

actions versus words.

I try to see the actions, and read between the words.
But those words!
How can I ignore what she said when it's all I can think about?

As much as I hate using this word, sometimes it's just appropriate.

FUCK!

no matter how you phrase it,

obsessed with this medium,
consumed by these words,
enchanted by her looks,
bewitched by her touch,
addicted to her voice,
tormented by her heart;

no matter how you phrase it,
I'm becoming it.

so help me, Buddha

It's okay that I'm not enough for you.
I'm okay with the fact that you need more than a stupid girl who made a mistake.
I've tried and tried and tried to convince myself of that wholly. I thought I'd succeeded.
But my heart skipped a beat when I saw those three words, and what a cruel twist if fate if they weren't meant the way I thought; or even worse if they weren't meant for me at all.

I don't think I could live through that.

yesterday, tomorrow, today

Yesterday was about the excitement of seeing her,
the novelty of unfamiliar children; the aftermath of a wonderful, spectacular night together.
It was about giggles and nonsensical musicals and those who are blind, deaf, and dumb while still being able to see, hear, and speak.

Today is about tears, and being incredulous that people are capable of believing one another; physical pain and wanting to destroy what was around me to reflect what I felt inside. It is about stealing, and losing, and getting all the pain I put her through dealt back to me.

Tomorrow will be about downcast eyes and blackened words,
unsuccessfully hiding my tangled feelings from the world. It will be about touching music and poignant monologues; cupcakes and juices and cookies and missed connections.

I've never cried over a girl before,

the pain is so different and physical.

I thought I could do this.

And I can't.

tonight

No one has ever held this power over me.
And it scares me, beyond belief.
I want to get out now but I just can't hide,
this rope she's holding on to keeps my hands tied.
I can't get away,
I'm like an animal chained to a stake who can smell the fire coming closer and closer, the burning wood crackling and popping and terrifying.
All my instincts tell me to just drop it and let it be, to walk away, to let her win.

Have I done this to people before?
Will it happen to me again?

please ignore

I wish there was some way for me to get this through to you.
This burning desire I have to inform you of yourself won't let me sleep;
Even as I write these words sleep scratches at my brain and pulls at my eyelids, but I cannot give myself over just yet.
Words cannot describe the potential I see in you, the potential that makes itself gradually more apparent each and every day.
Your eyes are as bright as the stars on a clear night, as dark as the stones that surround us.
Your smile, ever elusive and shy, appears at the sincerest of times and melts my heart.
The fire that I know burns in your heart for someone else drives me wild on nights like tonight,
reminding me of all I have lost and all that we could have, if only you weren't so blinded.

फुक्क में स्पोच्क!

And so here I am again,
uploading this page for the thousandth time.

After prying your mind apart and reading your emotions like the convoluded novels that they are, I've realized that I have no hold in your heart. I tried to keep myself away to protect you, never realizing that I'd actually get hurt.

But deservedly, as always. At least I have that comfort, of knowing that all the hurt I get is deserved. It's more than a lot of people can say, those victims of senseless pain. It makes it easier to sleep at night, knowing that karma exists and does what has always been said to, and that the people who have done me wrong will receive their comeuppance.

But I don't want her to. I want her to be happy. So I'll be the heartbroken one this time around. It will be easy to pretend like it didn't matter much, that she was just like every other guy. I hope.

She'll forget me. Every other guy always did.

And you, Mr. Spock; you made my prom night.

extraordinary

your words are surprisingly biting
so much poison in such a small dose
I almost think you take yourself too seriously
after all, we've only just arrived here.

what if

what if
you could simply delete people out of your life?

i wonder who would delete me

anything but this!

old feelings:
"A" describes them

older feelings:
I've tried to hide them

oldest feelings:
I can't recall them

old feelings are gone,
they drifted out the window and onto the breeze
almost instantaneously and unnoticed

older feelings are back,
I am so, so, so pathetic
you effortlessly drag me back in

oldest feelings are still out of reach
and at this point I'm hoping they'll stay that way
stop making me laugh, just stop, please

from A to R, that's all you are

A

it's so distracting,
your unobtrusive height and your hair that you flip constantly,
your eyes that actually hold mine for longer than a moment,
your lips that form such intelligent words!

this feeling I get when I'm around you
I haven't felt it for a while,
and while it's still young I can feel it growing
perhaps someday soon into certified butterflies

i give a infinitesimal jump,
my heart skips an unnoticed beat,
surprised me, each day, when our period rolls around
and disappointed me, when the lunch bell rings

and here we go

the voices start,
they whisper,
make me uncertain
so i call her out
and it's all downhill from there

the voices start
she says,
how can you be so cruel?
so i reply
but it's all misunderstood

the voices start
they fret,
maybe i've made a mistake
so i think, and i think
and i don't get anywhere

Californian skies

i wonder what other people think of California,
if it's all longboards and ocean waves,
cut-off shorts and wavy locks and beach bums,
bonfires and smokes and alcohol and skinny-dips amongst the ocean tides.

it's really only blazing sun,
burning heat and lack of clothing
sweat dripping down and throat always dry,
chapped lips and dark rooms and oppressive heat and smothered people.

you're jealous

of me?
the akward one with bothersome hair and an overwhelming family?
the one with barely a hop, skip, and a jump in the right direction towards love?
with the one who knows no other way than to be what she's been taught not to be?
no sense of guilt,
no real sense of pride,
no sense of hope for the future,
but a very real sense of fear?