i'm just surrounded by all these people who know what they want, and everyone's growing up. and it's like my whole life is a mistake.

=/

i keep having thoughts, either early in the morning or late at night, and i don't seem to be able to write them down
somewhere between sleep and life, i'm aware of the mysteries of the world for just a second
and then it all disappears
and i wake up with a sadness deeper than when i went to bed
the pieces i manage to scribble
feel false after the minutes, hours,
days it takes to stumble upon brilliance again
find home again
the rigid lines and the blank pages have lost their warmth,
don't beckon like they used to
and everything disappears in a moment's hesitation

today i learned

that whole foods makes a decent guacamole
my dreams are feeble
and that there is such a thing as too much cream in tea
i learned sometimes four stamps on an envelope still isn't enough
and that even if the day starts gray
the sun in its full glory can bear down on you by 2pm
my heart skips to multiple beats, colliding
that it's silly to worry about the future
it will come anyway
that harry potter has taught me the majority of life lessons i may ever learn
and that sometimes it's okay not to know or understand
a good night's sleep is all we ever really need

untitled for now

she has the limp arm of a writer, toned only for a few short and swift movements
constantly lifting a mug, cigarette, pen
pausing to watch the dreams
fall
maybe waiting until the motivation fades and the lies
drip
away
or possibly biding its time until another limb finds
and captures, tip-
toes along thin bone and transparent memories
until it creates a new territory of
fingers, filtered sunlight, gasps, smooth whispers
of shared pots of tea and shared packs of cigarettes
jointly making the ink run dry
shaking
shaking
reaching for a new one

huh. didn't/don't know where i was going with this, but it's reached an interesting point. maybe will make something more of this.

head horse hit [unfinished]

i never noticed how much meanings change
how words when we're five aren't the same words when we're twenty
didn't notice until the deep purple of the sharpie bled into my retina
familiar shapes, unpleasant memories
i thought back, wondered what i knew then
that i may know now
i left the classroom wishing i could be five again
hoping those words would transform again
we could be children again, maybe
maybe not, never

insufficient lighting

insufficient lighting,
it makes it difficult to read.
more difficult to sleep
than engineer dreams

the emptiness burns bright
in a world so dim

scribbles scribbles
illegible.
silent parties
for the failures

missing links
ancient

ancient sorrows
overlooked.
yes, we'll need another lamp.

this is nonsense. i was just tired of not posting anything new on here. blah blah stressing about a lot of things blah blah blaaaaaaaaaaaah.

8/11/10

she was the type of person who was far more impressive when she didn't say anything. not that she said stupid things. she just had a presence.
she once said that all she wanted to do in life was drive an ambulance.
i want that kind of power, she once said.

less than fabulous

he walked over the piles of clothes and the crumpled photos, shaking his head in disapproval
no, no, no, he was saying
darling, you never let anyone see the room you breakdown in
and definitely not the mess you create
no, we don't do that
he sat down at the edge of my bed, leaning in to get a closer look at my tear-stained, ugly, sad face
you never, ever let the world think you are anything less than fabulous
he looked back at the floor, his eyes hovered over the bare walls
no, love, i shouldn't even be in here
without looking back at me, he stood, straightened himself
without turning his head he said, 30 minutes and we're leaving
i am leaving with the most marvelous girl in the world, and there's nothing this room can do to stop us
as the door was closing, he said, wake up, darling, you've lost at least four pounds and will look wonderful in that little navy dress, don't keep me waiting

birthday breakdown

my insides burn
and i was kicking and screaming and
i was crying
blind eyes tearing photos from the wall
ripping the only pieces of my existence
a collage in its separate pieces,
hours later i look at the damage i've done and i mourn for
hours later and my mom doesn't know a thing
a new plant to keep me company a new plant to freshen a new plant to kill
i was crying and grasping,
never enough hair to pull or tissues to use
acid mocks the throat
pancakes are funny, the way they go down so easy
and then scheme with the eggs and hashbrown to fight their way up back to daylight
up and back to normalcy, back to lies, back to disappointing reality
there's never anything to do but lay in bed and recognize the ugly laying with me
there is only ever these moments, this bed, the world outside with you with them over there there far away, that world doesn't exist
just as i don't exist
so tempted to text him, let him know that i'm going to die alone that i'm dying alone and he was right
sobs so loud i wonder how my ears hold such pressure, a heaving silence, always grasping rasping
one day i'll die in this bed i know it, maybe not today but someday
and my stomach will churn in emptiness and medicine
laying paralyzed in the days of
hours later and no one knows
hours and days and months
waiting to

most of this isn't good, but i'm too afraid to write the words, not ready to write the things i want/need to say.