Wednesday, April 1, 2009
borderline twenty nine
ive practiced patients and slipped through many fingers before, so im about to start taking bets that im teetering off the edge of, maybe... over tired of being seen as only a sexual object i have calmed the predator side of me down to barely a whisper.. my wardrobe of confidence and control has become old and warn.. soon to expose the inner fear and insecurities... the line im walking is thin and the consequences are astounding.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
December 2008
It’s not great
I walk the streets, an uptight shell of the carefree wild child I used to be. I've some how lost myself in the shuffle to simply shut down completely. This disease grabs a hold of me inside to destroy a chance of the only thing I have ever wanted in this life. The pain that tears me from sleep is a constant reminder of how short life could ultimately be, it has confused my priorities and forced me to lead with feeling over reason. My body has fallen victim to its onset over and over again and is now a breathing time bomb. I wear love like a dress and beg for someone to return the favor. D is for desperate, desperate for attention, desperately awaiting salvation. Salvation from the solitude I've been keeping.
I walk the streets, an uptight shell of the carefree wild child I used to be. I've some how lost myself in the shuffle to simply shut down completely. This disease grabs a hold of me inside to destroy a chance of the only thing I have ever wanted in this life. The pain that tears me from sleep is a constant reminder of how short life could ultimately be, it has confused my priorities and forced me to lead with feeling over reason. My body has fallen victim to its onset over and over again and is now a breathing time bomb. I wear love like a dress and beg for someone to return the favor. D is for desperate, desperate for attention, desperately awaiting salvation. Salvation from the solitude I've been keeping.
October 2008
Hazy Shade of Winter
It's been about two weeks now where I have just been craving to write. But about what? The immense heartache of loosing not only my love but also my best friend, and my partner in crime to there own selfishness? Or do I write about how amazing it is to feel your emotions begin to heal because you have met this new incredible force that completely blind sides you just as you are beginning to give up? Both sound like the beginnings of an easy write, right? However, my problem is merely this, I cannot bring myself to write another story about love lost then found again. My brain is in a spin with its own creativity and overactive thoughts, which is driving me to the edge of insanity. I either lock myself in my apartment or take a walk in the cold at an obscene hour of night. I have become a recluse avoiding all possible socially interactive activities that do not pay me. I intentionally leave my phone at home when I know I have made plans when the thought of having to step out side my head and interact face to face with other people makes me physically ill. So I walk the streets alone with headphones on blasting the same song on repeat for and hour. Wandering the streets of where I live feeling the cold fall air on my face, and smelling the onset of winter. I wonder what happens in these houses, who is living there and what is their life like. Is any one sitting down to dinner? Do families even eat dinner together any more? Is the captain of the football team telling his parents how he scored the winning touch down or is he sitting in his friends basement telling them which girl he's going to get drunk and "score" with this Friday night? Is the tortured artist able to show her parents the new painting she is working on that is inspired by Andy Warhol, or is she up in her room with a razor to her wrist wondering why her parents don't see her at all? And is the romantic young musician serenading his girlfriend with the new song he wrote for her on the floor in her bedroom, or is he driving around aimlessly sobbing listening to his new mix tape of songs about heartache because the girl he loves laughed at him when he gave it to her? Regardless of what is happening inside these houses as I pass them I feel love, pain, fear, happiness, and laughter from every one of them and I have never felt so lonely and I have no idea how to feel anything different.
It's been about two weeks now where I have just been craving to write. But about what? The immense heartache of loosing not only my love but also my best friend, and my partner in crime to there own selfishness? Or do I write about how amazing it is to feel your emotions begin to heal because you have met this new incredible force that completely blind sides you just as you are beginning to give up? Both sound like the beginnings of an easy write, right? However, my problem is merely this, I cannot bring myself to write another story about love lost then found again. My brain is in a spin with its own creativity and overactive thoughts, which is driving me to the edge of insanity. I either lock myself in my apartment or take a walk in the cold at an obscene hour of night. I have become a recluse avoiding all possible socially interactive activities that do not pay me. I intentionally leave my phone at home when I know I have made plans when the thought of having to step out side my head and interact face to face with other people makes me physically ill. So I walk the streets alone with headphones on blasting the same song on repeat for and hour. Wandering the streets of where I live feeling the cold fall air on my face, and smelling the onset of winter. I wonder what happens in these houses, who is living there and what is their life like. Is any one sitting down to dinner? Do families even eat dinner together any more? Is the captain of the football team telling his parents how he scored the winning touch down or is he sitting in his friends basement telling them which girl he's going to get drunk and "score" with this Friday night? Is the tortured artist able to show her parents the new painting she is working on that is inspired by Andy Warhol, or is she up in her room with a razor to her wrist wondering why her parents don't see her at all? And is the romantic young musician serenading his girlfriend with the new song he wrote for her on the floor in her bedroom, or is he driving around aimlessly sobbing listening to his new mix tape of songs about heartache because the girl he loves laughed at him when he gave it to her? Regardless of what is happening inside these houses as I pass them I feel love, pain, fear, happiness, and laughter from every one of them and I have never felt so lonely and I have no idea how to feel anything different.
March 2008
Recently
the worst feeling i have is when i feel myself giving up on something that was so recently in my mind something i valued as worth fighting for.. its like i try relentlessly with every thing in my power and then one day my switch is flipped and i find myself standing idly by as it slips through my fingers.. it makes me misserable to watch the smiles fade and the eyes turn away.. i guess i make it easy because i hide how sad i have become.. it would probably be better off if i just let it be and let it go... but moving on is not as easy as it once was.. i feel as if i am standing in quick sand and am rapidly being buried up to my neck .. my chest is being crushed and it is terrably difficult to breath through the pain.. to go on pretending that this wasnt going to dissapear in time is becoming rediculous.. the pages have turned and are no longer telling the same story.. and this becoming an ink stain in skin is my next big fear.
the worst feeling i have is when i feel myself giving up on something that was so recently in my mind something i valued as worth fighting for.. its like i try relentlessly with every thing in my power and then one day my switch is flipped and i find myself standing idly by as it slips through my fingers.. it makes me misserable to watch the smiles fade and the eyes turn away.. i guess i make it easy because i hide how sad i have become.. it would probably be better off if i just let it be and let it go... but moving on is not as easy as it once was.. i feel as if i am standing in quick sand and am rapidly being buried up to my neck .. my chest is being crushed and it is terrably difficult to breath through the pain.. to go on pretending that this wasnt going to dissapear in time is becoming rediculous.. the pages have turned and are no longer telling the same story.. and this becoming an ink stain in skin is my next big fear.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Never mind
i havent written in a long time and honestly i dont know what to write.. ive been in the middle of a short story for about five months now and havent even touched it in about two of those months.. all the words are stuck up in my brain and DYING to get out.. there is a huge road block up there and there is no way for my little thoughts to escape it.. and let me tell you these thoughts are HEAVY.. everything about me is heavy.. my mood is heavy.. my emotions are heavy.. the way i fall for people is heavy.. so now i have all these rediculous heavy thoughts CRAMMED in my brain searching for their way out and im getting tense.. and moody.. and irritable.. and angrey.. and DEPRESSED.. this blogger doesnt even have the font size large enough to describe how depressed i am.. all because my brain is clogged and cant figure out how to dispose of this shit.. and shit it is.. and alot of it as well.. so even writing this to maybe ease the inner tension i cant find a way to focus my energy on it.. i start thinking of things to write then fifteen other things run through my brain.. who do i have to email .. what time do i have to shower to make dinner in time... i see his face.. what was that noise down stairs.. is my dog ok.. my turtles stink.. i need to lay down.. i cant stop thinking about her face... why dont i fight for any one any more.. why do i just let them walk out.. i cant shake it.. i need a bigger turtle tank.. i need to stop writing.. its nonsence.. all of it.. i need to shake off what is bugging me and get my self together.. i cant.. this is all crap.. i hope you didnt read this whole thing.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Its the real thing
After recently reading a friends blog and then having a conversation with my best friend about a similar topic this whole battle between coke and pepsi has been an extreamly trivial thought on my mind.. i remember being a kid when the whole thing started for me.. you could go to the supermarket... or was it the mall?.. anyway you could go to one of those places and take "the test"... but only if you were brave enough to admit defeat if you were dupet into thinking one was the other... i remember my friends being hell bent on getting it right the first time spending hours drinking coke then pepsi.. and again coke then pepsi... we would go into the store confidant that we knew which cola was which.... and would be shocked at how obvious it was to tell the difference... ever since then there has been a split in socioty between the coke lovers and the pepsi lovers... i myself am an avid diet coke drinker i just enjoy the fresh crisp taste and although diet pepsi has a similar crisp taste there is just a whole lot missing... in my personal opinion ofcourse.. therefor there are very few times when i stray from my product loyality... but it happens at weak moments when diet pepsi is the only diet cola avaiable and i forget how strongly i dislike it.. i put my dollar fifty into the machine and go for mine... and why not? diet coke is delicious therefor this other diet cola must be delicious.. because really how different can two colas be... it is there with in the first sip that i get snapped back into reality and realize the mistake i made... and in my upset drink through the rest of the bottle endlessly pondering how it could be that two colas so similar in look can be so different in taste.
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