| don't think twice, it's alright. |
[22 Jul 2008|12:33am] |
I want to say, "that song came on today and I thought of you", as silly and cliche as that sounds.
I want to play with your hair and get drunk and laugh at nothing.
I want to share cigarettes on the back porch and try hopping all the roofs in sight.
I want to dance and play broken telephone.
I want to run screaming and singing through alleys and streets.
I want all the words in the world at my door-step and I want you there when they arrive.
I don't want to think about the fact that this is going nowhere. That what I hope for is so far from plausible it is verging on insane.
That I am doing this to pass the time.
That I am really looking for someone smarter, someone who sees all the meaning,
all of it.
That you are such a pretty face and I'm afraid that is all you are and all you could be for me.
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| This one, that one, someone. |
[22 Jun 2008|10:03pm] |
I'm just like I was at seventeen. Running around, trying to make it big.
I feel the same but they treat me differently. No, I feel completely different. Not changed, just caught between two ghosts. Love me, hate me, love me, go away. It's not for me, you are not for me.
Oh, but love me.
Put it out there, insert me into a place where I fit snug. I never found it. I tried and tried, I am still trying. But the ghosts keep swirling and I keep crying and all of the hate and misgivings, all the fucking insecurity gets unleashed in some blatant attack on the soul.
I throw down bills and no one questions my motives. I'm on fucking repeat: stare, breath, deep breath, down it. Bite the lime, suck it.
Fuck it.
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[17 Jun 2008|04:38pm] |
I want to know what happened. I want to find where the hatred in your voice came from.
I CARE I CARE I CARE so much about you. Still, I do.
The message you left was sad and sweet and the way I remember you. I saved it and lately when I want to talk to you I play it over.
I gave in, I caved. I called and for the first time, you really weren't there. I called twice more. I called one last time and left a message saying that I wouldn't call anymore but that I was going crazy not knowing if you were avoiding me or not.
I couldn't do this to you and if I said I could, I was always bluffing.
You called and it wasn't your voice.
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[31 May 2008|11:38pm] |
I know the feeling of needing something to grab on to. A plaid collared shirt, a bare back, piercing eyes, boyish charm, a winning smile, ratty hair, anything on most days.
I will ALWAYS listen to the old music, I will ALWAYS cry at the stupid little things. Because the real concepts, the meaning I pull out of them is so much greater than I could ever be and bigger than any one of them could understand.
I just want someone to see the meaning with me. The talent of relation, or is it derivation. Someone with a vocabulary, a heart. Who won't leave me hanging but is as pliable as wood. Someone who won't break or change their mind.
The truth is, a lot of me wants to stop everything and lay with you.
But not because you're you, because you are something to hold on to.
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| You're not worth stopping for. |
[28 May 2008|11:52am] |
It's fun till I get nervous. My eyes take control and halt everything else.
I try but something is wrong. I work but nothing gets done.
I'm throwing stones in every direction.
"How do you feel?"
"Like I've hit every bird and now I'm alone."
I'm always complaining but my heart is pounding when I do not want it to and I am afraid to answer the phone.
What am I getting at?
What do I want?
I'm doing this because it has no future. I'm doing this because the end would be easy. I'm doing this because I am in no fucking rush. Are you?
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[13 May 2008|09:12pm] |
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M.C wants to die of awkwardness.
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| It's a self-confidence thing. |
[11 May 2008|03:54pm] |
There is a procedure to owning a room. Just be happy and healthy and sufficiently drunk.
I know all those hipsters and belly dancers, they are just me different clothing.
They're only Gods if you want them to be.
It's pushing without trying. It's ease and swagger. It is who I want to be.
I'm getting used to myself again. I am getting there.
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| I feel filled to the brim for the first time in a long time. |
[18 Apr 2008|12:49am] |
I know it's because I'm just not used to this anymore. I know I only want to call because I can't. I know this is what I enjoy and that when it hits hard in my chest and my eyes blur and I drive anywhere just to get somewhere it's because this is what I wanted.
I'm trying to remember feeling numb and empty because that is how I felt.
As it was happening I was staring at the back of my door where in crayon she wrote "Aren't you glad he's not the One?" It was happening because I made it happen. Because he is not the one.
But I still feel like the world is crashing around me. The worst part was that he says he is still in love. He's as happy as a year and a half ago when we were new and my heart was pounding. My heart hasn't pounded in a long while.
I just felt so god damn trapped. Like I was owned and certain things were final. There were people I could no longer see. Maybe I just didn't like being called on my bullshit. I know he dealt with me stumbling in wasted at three in the morning. I know I could be harsh.
He could be a baby. He could be irresponsible and overbearing. I never wanted anything serious. But I met his family and I moved to a new city and suddenly he was all I had. He was all I fucking had. I'm either really brave or or a huge idiot and overall bad person.
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| It is NOT a teenage girl thing. |
[07 Feb 2008|04:00pm] |
Some days, I still want to die. To create endorphins, see red. I want to curl up and make everything around me disappear. The city is no different than the town, the white room's no different than the pink one. I let things build and clutter, I won't even take off my boots to lay down. I shower for forty minutes. I stare and stare and stare at the computer screen. I test out different music. He calls me eleven times.
unhappytogether.
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| Fuck. |
[16 Dec 2007|12:19am] |
When I think about you I get nausious. When I think about how many people I have pushed away, how many times I defended you. When I think about how oblivious you are to everyone and everything around you.
I have justified every selfish act so that you wouldn't have to.
When you say you can only take things lightly, I think you mean if they got into you you'de break. You'de be poisoned with all the things you have done. They would kill you.
I've finally been pushed too far. I am not coming back. If you were a boy this would be a break-up. It is life shattering. I can't even begin to explain how upset and alone I feel when I think of how the one thing I regarded as steadfast and true, truely amounts to nothing.
I Guess I've never known friendship.
I mean nothing to you. Everything means nothing to you.
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[10 Dec 2007|05:40pm] |
We could afford to be selfish
Because even dead-beats would take the blame. But this is real-life, or the closest thing to it.
This isn't Orangeville, you don't just leave. Some bonds are real, some people do care. I just hadn't found any.
I have now, I have endings.
I have people that matter and you are not one of those people. You don't matter because you don't care. Hell, you probably like it that way.
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[17 Jun 2007|01:09pm] |
This is a rough draft.
Reasons why I like you:
You call me "babe" and somehow I like it, you tell me everything that pops into your head, your obsession with previews, the fact that you always forgive me, burying my head in your chest, you play with my hair, you get self-conscious when I stare at you. Sometimes, when you're with me, you can't stop smiling, I still get nervous when I'm standing at your door, you make it so that nothing bad can happen, our lack of communication that I still blame on time(ing), your king sized bed, that you won't let me see you skateboard or play guitar, that I'm the first girl you slept with and even better, swam with.
That we make plans and never follow them, your new found love of being naked, that youve had the same book at your bedside table for months trying to impress me, that you have three sisters and I have none, that when I go over to your parents house you insist that I get your bed & you sleep on the couch. The way you look at me in the morning, your nails, our combined laziness, your optimism and irresponsibility, oh god, you're everything I'm afraid of, that we talk about my kids and your kids dating, how enthusiastic you are about the dumbest things, how when you tell me I'll like something, I usually do. How you tell me you will never know what I'm thinking, how I got you right away.
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[24 May 2007|10:23pm] |
I could kiss you
& fuck you
forever.
IT'S NO BALANCING ACT.
YOU'RE MY FRIEND. YOU SHOULD AT LEAST TRY AND UNDERSTAND
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[18 May 2007|01:07pm] |
sweet heart, bitter heart, now I can't tell you apart.
.
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| smiles real. |
[01 May 2007|11:09pm] |
Did I tell you
Did I tell you that I think I was wrong. That love can be casual if you let it. & that
hurting won't keep me moving.
I was hoping to say that I'm smiling, and that there is no way I'm faking, because no one is watching. I was
hoping to scribble somewhere close to you that I've been waiting for this and that it can only get better.
Just deeper,
and that it's moving slow and steady so so rock bottom won't seem like the end. We'll just rest there, waiting to
be snatched up again. Like the children we are, like all the emotions I'm teaming with. I'm infested. I'm
seeing doctors and taking pills and yelping with joy. I'm barely human, I'm barely me.
But I feel like I know who I am.
Who says touching and laughing and playing is not enough. Not everything has to be a responsibility. This
is not an obligation. I will never be an obligation.
Today was one month, I got an email to melt hearts. The kind I picture his puppy eyes to.
The kind to shock me into tracking moments
"So I can find my way back to this."
The kind to make me forget what I've crossed out, the first boy, the second boy, the three in between. The ones who left me stranded.
I will not be left stranded. It's just too soft for that. It wouldn't hold up a rope. (orarazor like the others)
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[30 Apr 2007|08:30pm] |
I was glad I wasn't there when they left eachother. I was glad I wasn't lost, crying & stumbling down drunk in the streets.
I was happy to be where I was. I was happy to be safe and held, naked & warm. They called and called and called me, only when they needed me.
I hate to be left wondering. It's the feeling of sleeping with someone you hate, or screaming at someone you love. Only,
I haven't done anything this time. Things are just changing. I still need her, she still needs me. It's still a battle.
It will always be a battle.
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[14 Apr 2007|08:01pm] |
I'm old enough to know that they're not butterflies at all. They're just hormones and fluids circulating.
It's that real.
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| pulse pulse |
[14 Apr 2007|07:54pm] |
This is making me feel
open to change.
Willing to be better or worse, just anything with you. Anything to keep this going
I've never known this to be me. But my sickness is subsiding,
there's a whole new kind of break through that I never knew existed.
Like summer, like the buzz of speakers hitting the air.
Like, there are only words for the bad things and just a feeling for the good. Like I've finally been dumb-struck and I don't care.
Keep it up. "Because you know you're crazy."
Keep it up for butterflies
and what you haven't experienced.
Keep it up because eventually you'll stop holding out.
You won't just kiss him before you get on the train, you'll hold him the way you had wanted you.
Because eventually you won't have to be on that train home.
& you'll stop giggling and just say what you mean. & if you scream, then so be it. Keep it up, because you've got this gut ffeeling he can take it.
Like, he's been holding out just as much as you.
& he'll learn what goes where. & you'll dance around the way you used to, clothes-less, without anxiety,
just the buzz of stoli & butterflies. but
We know
You're old enough to know they're not butterflies at all. They're just hormones and fluids circulating. It's that real.
Even your veins know it
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| 3 days together / 3 days apart. |
[11 Apr 2007|10:06pm] |
CHAINED AT THE HIP, WE'RE SHOWING THEM INFINITY.
DON'T SAY YOU NEVER LEARNED A THING FROM HIM, YOU'VE ALREADY BEEN TAUGHT INFINITE PATIENCE AND THE KIND OF SUBMISSION YOU ONLY READ ABOUT IN BOOKS.
& YOU'LL BE READING HIM LISTS AND POETRY AND TEACHING THEM HOW TO STOP THINKING
ULTIMATELY
YOU'LL BE KNEELING AND HE'LL BE SINGING AND
YOUR WORST TRAITS WILL BE WIPED FROM THE RECORD
YOU'LL STRIKE CHORDS WHEN YOU NEED TO
BUT MOSTLY
YOU'LL BE DRIVING WINDOWS DOWN
AND YOU'LL BE RUNNING
ARMS OUT, HEAD UP, YOU'LL REMEMBER THIS
FOR SOME TIME, YOU'LL REMEMBER THIS.
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[10 Apr 2007|10:19am] |
Why
Why
Why
I live like this.
I think like this.
Why
I sound crazy to everyone but you.
Why
we make eachother feel normal.
He knows. He knows everything. So he better stick around. Or I'll pull up to his apartment at 5am screaming like I did before.
Like before, only I care less.
Like before, only I care less.
Like before, only I care less.
care-less.
so theeres no screaming, no scratching, no banging into walls, no bruises, no fist fights, IT'S HOW I CARE.
Because I'm only happy when I'm breaking things.
You, me, him, her, the lamp on my b edside table, your desk, your windows, your bedframe, my walls.
So commit in a way I understand (it's just skin thats it)
I'm too scared for this.
BECAUSE
My shaking won't be breaking a damn thing.
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