Or Maybe It's Time I Face It

I don't want to write anything on this thing anymore. Ever. I outgrew this blog a long time ago. Or blogging at all. I look at this thing and I feel obligated to post something. Like I owe it my time. I've shut it down just to bring it back. After I took the longest hiatus, I can never do it again. Ace is the consistent now anyway. Memories will still be documented. I can still jizz and reminisce.

Oh well.

Like Licking a Bar of Soap

That's what I feel everyday now for these passed weeks. These passed, unbearably long weeks. I feel uneasy, unsettled, uninviting, unapproachable, unkind, and uncooperative. I started to feel shitty about myself a little while ago, and I thought it was just a funk. I thought it was a side effect from the drone, or from the limp start of the year, or from not caring too much about anything but being a shithead. But then it started to weigh on me. It started with sadness. It was this warm wave of break downs and sad stories. But I was able to talk about it. I'd just get sad. The sadness led to denial. Denial meaning parties. Meaning wasted, and wasted, and wasted. My system got really good with alcohol ingestion during those times. Shortly after, the parties turned into a desire for quiet, alone, and stoned. This is when I stopped talking. Then it turned to emotional attachment. But every single emotional attachment I had for anyone hailed on me all of a sudden. It brought me to frustration and a desire to be apathetic and alone again, where I'd screech through terse outbursts of tears. When I couldn't get myself to detach, my chest started to panic. I was feeling like I should be six feet under where I can't hear or see anyone. That turned into hate. The hot, unrelenting fever of hate. And now I just hate. I'm a hater. I hate on everything and everyone and I want to talk shit and make people feel like shit because I feel like shit. And when I can't take the fact that I feel this excessively hateful, I cut myself out of pictures and lay low in my head. But all I really picture in my head is shattering glass. Or bashing a face with a baseball bat. Or driving 90 the other way on one-way streets. Or kidney failure. What. Or lung cancer from the indulgent amount of cigarettes I smoke.

THIS IS HOW I FEEL.

Things I Cannot Recollect

I don't remember this year. Or being here. Or even being this person at all. It doesn't even look like me. Hair extensions and lunch with people who aren't my homies. Except for Ace, of course. I think I faked my entire senior year in highschool. But if I did fake it, I look pretty happy in this photo. Maybe I was just good at it.

Things I Cannot Recollect

I don't remember this year. Or being here. Or even being this person at all. It doesn't even look like me. Hair extensions and lunch with people who aren't my homies. Except for Ace, of course. I think I faked my entire senior year in highschool. But if I did fake it, I look pretty happy in this photo. Maybe I was just good at it.

No We

It could be the weather. Lately, I've been finding myself craving the perks of a relationship. I crave lazy days, shared meals, play time, adventure time. I miss the bestfriend in a relationship. It makes me miss all the good moments I've shared with my past flames. Picnics, walks, talks, trips, naps, and laughs. Letters and gifts, phone calls and photo shoots, secrets and sexy time. Can I rent a relationship? Juice out all the fun in a week, then break up, no hard feelings?

"WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO GET SOME INTIMACY AROUND HERE??!!!!!!!"

Suit Up or Shut Up

I kept hearing your name and I shook my head at each of them. I thought about your old belongings that I began to own and my belongings that I've debated to ask for in return. I'd even deliberated specific, proper words to be my greeting. But then I'd remember how endlessly infinite this could go on for and how ridiculously far futility goes on for.

I heard someone say, "Mortified..." And I immediately thought of you.

They Look At Me Like I'm Crazy

I just don't want to be a nurse. I know it's safe and I know it's stable and I could probably make my parents incredibly proud if I ever change my mind and settle for it, but I don't fit in that picture. I don't want to fit in that picture. I can already imagine working myself to exhaustion to be a nurse, become a nurse, marry my really nice, Filipino, steady boyfriend of a few years, have little Filipino babies, attend Filipino parties, and continue being a nurse so my kids can maybe try to do the same. Maybe one day my mind will change, but right now, all I know is I don't want to be a nurse. I don't want to fall into that category. I want to stubbornly be a fucking scum until I know exactly what I can live with. I want to do something that will keep me from feeling like my insides are rotting with routine. I just want to be able to say I did things through out my life. A lot of...things. But what the fuck am I talking about? I have to let the party end some time...do I?

Besco Dr.

It's starting to feel strange sleeping in my own bed because this doesn't feel like my bed anymore. This doesn't feel like my room anymore and this doesn't feel like my house anymore. I've been living with Mikal for these passed months that I can't even familiarize with my own home anymore. Maybe it's best this way. I would've imagined our family living here for...ever. Soon I'll have to drive by the corner of this house, of where we will soon used to live. And soon I'll have to see cars that aren't ours parked outside of the driveway. I'll probably even get to see how they decorate during Christmas. If they'll do that at all. They'll probably never sit on that porch like we did.

I love this house. I loved when we first moved in here, and how I listened to Depeche Mode during dusk while I chose which room was going to be mine. I remember the very moment I chose my room. I just got back from being a mallrat with a good friend of mine. Dad said we had to decide who was going to get which room. I walked into mine, sat down in the middle of it, looked out the window where the sky was gray and blue and dimming by the second. I sat there for several long and silent minutes. I didn't move. I didn't inspect the room. I just sat there in the middle with my legs crossed, looking out the window, and letting my thoughts wander through leaving an old life for a new one. And I remember breathing in the smell of the empty house. And as rarely as I find them, I remember clarity at its best. I remember contentment. And everything was alright. How can I ever claim another room to be mine?

House Mourning~

Ha

I woke up and giggled. She said I just needed a hug, and she was right.

What the fuck am I so mad for

It's Sunday night now, and I'm doing homework now, and tomorrow will be Monday and my week starts again. I can't be angry every fucking week. Could I? I'd be sucked dry.

I just need to breathe again. Make myself breathe again. Have meals with people who enjoy food. Listen to music again. Watch movies again. Maybe speak kindly. Sit around and not feel like I'm wasting away by sitting down. I can sit and not be mad. I can.

Be a thug.

The Great Outdoors

I don't know why I keep climbing back up when I know for certain that someone's big, hiking boots will just stomp me down, leave a mark on my face, then continue walking.

I know I said I wouldn't, but I think I give up.

Fuck.

I began wishing I wasn't there. Like the planets aligned wrong and I entered time too soon or too late or goddamn, I don't know. I was physically squirming out of my skin. It reminded me of the full intent of wanting to set that gazebo on fire. We made a fire so big that if we just kept walking away, the entire thing would've set ablaze. And no one would have to know. And that secret could've been mine to keep. I could've smirked at overhearing anyone speak of it. But this is just because I'm angry. I'm so fucking angry. I keep hating everything around me. Nothing is interesting and I'm stuck in this rut in my mind where I can't shake anything off. I can't fucking talk to anyone because I'm partially stupid and cold and I wouldn't want to waste anyone's time anyway. Gay. Gay, gay. Fucking gay.

There isn't a single person that I can grab onto and feel alright with. I just don't understand why everything crawls under my fucking skin. It's making me sick and I can't watch any of it anymore.

The Cut Off

Living should have a cut off.

Those who refuse to grow up should have the option for life termination after youth. And those who want to keep carrying on with the burdens of life should have the option to proceed doing so. Just kidding. Kind of. Sort of. I don't want to grow up so I prefer I had the life termination option. My 20 years have been sufficient. Everything goes down from here. Unless I decide to take denial like the rest of you settlers.

PESSIMISM, yum.

FAITH??????

Trying to pinpoint as to when I started giving up on everything around me... I'm trying to figure out why and how I got so twisted up that I stopped believing in anything. All I know is that I started to practice my own shit and now I can't see anything very clearly. Everything becomes distorted and meaningless and so fucking dull. I'm losing faith in art and music and literature and family and friends and happiness. And I stopped believing in myself long before I even realized that I don't care about anything. What's a bitch to do when all of a sudden... nothing really matters.

Hate and Shit

I'm starting to lose control with my temper. It's starting to seep out and this shit's getting worse. I keep hating everything with so much of my energy. Then I get angry when I lose all of that energy. Every single person I know finds their way to crawl under my skin. Even when they don't mean to. My teeth keep grinding and my gears are already ground. What the hell is happening to me? I'm drained and I don't even know how I got here. And everyone else is just as miserable. Everyone. Can't I just stop living so I wouldn't have to die this slowly? God fucking damn it.

Enough of this bull shit.

Bring Your Own Noose party time.