4:13 Dream

Okio, I've seen this on two blogs, and I just feel like doing it now. Since the literate and intellectual part of my brain is a little dead lately..

TEN Things I Wish I Could Say to Ten Different People.

1) I love it when you make pasta for lunch. I love it when I wake up and you've made your coffee and your plate of finished breakfast is still on the table. I love it when I don't have to eat Chinese take out for lunch for two straight days because you have work and so does he. I love knowing that the house isn't as empty as it is every other weekend. I love it when you're home.


2) I say your name more than I say anyone else's name. I just have a complete sense of security when I call your name because you always respond and you always hear me. No one has stayed longer than you have to see me peek my head out of this hole I've been digging myself out of. I love you..so much.


3) I really miss you, you know. The happy sun is waving hello to me and it just reminds me of our 24/7 company last year when I'd brought myself back together and listened to the most painful sound or ride shot gun or waste money like we royally exist. I know you think you're a bad friend, but you're the best to me. We just have a lot going on right now, you know?


4) I go to sleep looking up at the shadow of the dreamcatcher. I wake up blinking to the sight of that feathery yellow that patiently waited for me all night. Or so that's how it seems. There is no other ache like the mark that you've left in my heart. We never really have to say anything at all. As long as our eyes will find their way to meet at any moments of our lives, I am happy. As long as my heart melts when your scent passes by me, I am happy. As long as I can listen to a painful song, want to cry, and think about you, I am happy. As long as I still matter somewhere inside you, I am happy.. I don't think this world has any idea how much I really love you.


5) You're not home right now, but I just wish I could tell you at this very moment to stop wearing my white fuzzy slippers. You've already contaminated my pink ones with your nasty feet sweat, and I really don't want to lose the white ones either. By the way, you made the computer bat cave smell really repulsive. That's why I bare with this shitty laptop. I feel like listening to The Honorary Title. It's just so sunny.


6) I had a lot of fun with you yesterday. I know it was the first we've spoken since this year began, but it doesn't take much to bring old friends back together. I just realize how different we were when we'd first met, who we were, what we did, what we loved, in comparison to who we are now. And I'm glad to know that the radical changes didn't necessarily mean it would be a tougher friendship. Because it's so damn easy.


7) Sometimes I still think about going to college in San Diego with you beacuse that's exactly what we spoke of back in 8th grade. And I loved the things we talked about because we have such great chemistry! We don't scheme anymore and we don't really have insane plans anymore. We don't have lip piercings, and we don't have tattoos of the "chaotic heart" stamped on us somewhere. But I love you just the same.


8) The card that you gave me for my birthday takes so much space in my room that it's cruel. I want to see you so badly on your birthday that I just might. One day, you'll have a wonderful boy to make mama Ange proud. One day, I'll get to hear you tell me how happy you are with all the sincerity that fits your giant heart. I hate thinking about our "dark year" back in freshman because it makes me believe I'm going to hell. How you could possibly have forgiven me is tremendous of you. I love you!


9) Right now, I feel a little upset with you, and you know it too. I know I'm being insane right now but I was just so excited to spend the sun's love with you today that my heart sank to my ass and now I'm sitting here wishing I could see you. But if there is anything that I'd really want to say to you right now, it's that... I know I've still yet to really say it to your face that I love you. I took the first step though! I put it on paper and hoped the best. I am always good on paper. But it's scary for me. You have no idea how much you scare me. I'm doing things I said I wouldn't. Saying things I said I wouldn't. And I'm falling in love like I never intended. I hate you.


10) I want to thank you. I want to tell you to keep loving her with all you have. I want to tell you that since you are who she wants, then give her your absolute best beacause she doesn't deserve anything less than the prime. Anything less and the respect that I've found for you might obliterate again.


NINE things about myself.
1) The sun puts my pieces back together and I feel the most alive. The sun makes me feel everything that matters.
2) I really don't know how songs do this to me, but music is my biggest influence. You don't know anything that matters about me unless you realize what music is to me.
3) I like movies that incorporate fate. What Dreams May Come. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless. Wriscutters.
4) When I see pretty brown eyes, I have to tell that person that they have pretty brown eyes.
5) I like to wear an accessory with someone, with people that matter to me. It's a nice way to think about them during the day.
6) One day, I want to have my own house. A white house. I want a garden, I want a swing set, I want shelves of vinyls, I want a grand piano [though I don't even play or will ever], and I want a nice porch.
7) The sound of guitars is an incredible kind of pain to me. Just the sight of it is fucking..MM.
8) My love gets really intense. I think that's why I'm so afraid to say it sometimes.
9) I like to be able to open my own doors, pull out my own chair, pay for my own meal or others', hold my own books, and take initiative.


EIGHT ways to win my heart.
1) If you're verbally or musically or literately eloquent, you've already got me.
2) Manners matter, folks.
3) Give me something to wear.
4) Appreciate my cold hands, or the strangeness of my feet.
5) Confidence is sexy.
6) If you know the real kind of romance.
7) Talk to me beyond the small talk range. I am a listener.
8) Be clever, be crafty. Sense of humor can always win a heart. But if you can brood as intense as you can make me laugh, oh man, head over heels.

SEVEN things that cross my mind a lot.
1) My future.
2) My words.
3) My music.
4) My love(s).
5) Badminton.
6) Fate.
7) The past.

SIX things I do before I fall asleep
1) Shower
2) Wait if petit copain will call.
3) Decide on calling TRy if he doesn't.
4) Turn off the lights, and on with the night light.
5) Crawl under the covers.
6) Look up, think, and wait for sleep.

FIVE people who mean a lot. Not in order (Exclude family.)
1) Tyler
2) Nikki
3) Josh
4) Dean
5) And of course Bella.

FOUR things you’re wearing right now.
1) A shirt
2) Cache Creek jammies
3) Tyring
4) and Creature.

THREE songs that you listen to often.
1) Stolen - Dashboard [Lately]
2) Deja Vu - Yeah Yeah Yeah's [Lately, my before-the-game song]
3) After An Afternoon - Jason Mraz [I never let myself listen to it anymore, but when I do I play it all day and not even get tired of it]

TWO things you want to do before you die.
1) Own my white house.
2) Let the world know..

ONE Confession:
1) Don't Confess - Tegan and Sara

Till whenever...

I'll leave you with these thorns of a song that matters.

It was the cold. I have the cold. It was the sun. I ate the sun. It was the rain. I'm soaked. The sun came back, then I ate it again. That's when blood. It scraped on the charcoal bliss that tied us together. Now it's rain, and I'm throwing jackets on your face, all over the place.

-
PS. Wingman says she wants to get married. They all want to get married, someday. My organs are shifting, alternating. I said we.

PPS.
No, it was not remotely about you.

There are other losses that swim through my mind.

I cringe at the thought of you so knotted by the drudgery you so tightly refuse to untangle. I just cringe.

PS. You are so cut up, and so unpleasantly bandaged.

PPS. I know what matters out there, do you?

Hello!

It is beautiful.

I...feel so different that I could just swallow the sun,

then be the moon.

Body heat

Ahhhhhh. Makes me gleam with all my teeth, all it seems at all the seams. I don't want to take a breath, unless I take in the summer air in thought, where I stay and get lost. Hair at place, and out of pace and run-on sentences dribble down with tongues set to multiply. Face at hand, legs on legs, feet like the flirtatious innocence if we we're ten years old again.

Sweaty palms

Mmmm. Stifles of giggles and chuckles, disgusted and attracted with all the while indulged and our pulls retracted. I run through the heat, hand secured, locked and loaded at our retreat. Triggered and slowed as the bright traps some height for this high and some weight as we wait under the inattentive magnifying-glassman. Heels and head through ears to smile. Arising heat with a searing style . I won't inhale, until the summer air heals. Hands at knees, chest to chest, and a handful bites to last passed our lust of the past and pulling up in front and between us like we have never been a severed body part.

I can't even get through a paragraph with out stamping you right across it. I didn't even mean to. At least, I never began meaning to.

I bother to buy vanilla ice cream. No one would ever suspect it.

I like the slower version better.

I remember I thought of dead ends and cut shorts. And the tunnel of my thoughts either led to hopelessness or the absolute nothing that I've made out of myself. But I shivered this afternoon, and I didn't even mind it. I heard myself talk for what seemed like hours and I felt him breathing next to me. And I knew that he was intently listening, grasping every syllable and every lisp that came out of my mouth. I was cold, but all I thought about was this sun setting for me while his eyes grazed every part of me. I never thought I'd really ever let my guard down. Not this soon. Not at all. I don't know. It's always strange.

"You're staring at me more than ever..."

It's happened to me before. When I'd looked into someone's eyes and all I see is the most painful beauty I'd thought I had ever encountered. And astonishingly, my heart melts down to my stomach, and I can't help but smile so wistfully and I breathe these heavy breaths and air just rushes through my ears like he's whispering to me the most incredible song I had ever heard. But he was inches away, and I couldn't take my eyes. But unlike before...it's so different. Like I'm a different person. The person I've always wanted to be. Time was mine, these breaths were mine, and the softest brown eyes that yearn for me...

My shell has cracked.

I have cracked.

He has cracked me.

I could've wagered my life that this was impossible. He said he'd make it happen, and I suppose I'm not surprised...

PS. Wingman, if you're reading this, I knew you'd be the one I wanted to tell. I'm in trouble, I'm in love x:

I feel so light, I'd be fooled that I was drunk. I am featherweight, clouds and air. Gray and thick and raging of embarrassing admissions. Arranging the white I see and the black so sleek. I'd think I was so fucked up, you couldn't recognize me. I'd be whistled away like the leaves on the other side of this pane where I sure hope I couldn't feel pain. I'm limped on the branches and scattered at the roots.

These eyes, you see, they want to ripple in, roll backwards to the darker side where we're illusioned with the cowards in the dark. And the cowards, they're among us. In fact, you might be one of them. If I don't watch myself, I might be one of them.
I can feel myself slithering stationary. I can feel myself shaking and shuddering. But I never really give in. No, I'm not going back there. Not as I've built these great, silver gates that remain untouchable.
They're my fingertips.

They're my heat.
And with my heat, I feel so light, I'd be fooled that I was drunk. Featherweight with the clouds and air with the blistering cough of my lungs. Up here, it's gray and thick and I close my eyes to see...

I don't know but I feel strange. Like when you fight with your significant other and cried all night and hoped to sleep it off. But you wake up and it's like you never slept at all...

That's how I felt that morning. The strangest part is that I hadn't fought with a significant other. I hadn't cried all night. It was just as if I was left alone, and left completely hopeless for the next day. Waking up that way, with the sun away, my heart weighed so heavy I couldn't even pick myself up. And all I managed to do was writhe in this agonizing teeth-grinding way that led me to almost beg down on my knees with my head down just so it would stop. Just so this weight would descend away and buried for another day.

I am in desperate and vital need for a shovel.

I always love the sun. I always look for the sun. I've yet to take it for granted. Not since it's rained so much. Too much.
-
I am a land of inconsistencies. A day so excited and so indifferent. So incredibly broken and so incredibly full. I always love the sun. And one day, I will be the sun. And like the nights that I've spent listening to that voice, arguing with that voice, sighing with that voice, and being as gentle as I can possibly be to that voice, I will one day be the moon. One night.

And everything that doesn't matter to anybody around me will be mine. Everything in the world that no one takes a second glance at will be mine. Like the smiles that no one knows the meaning behind. The stares that are living around us unnoticed, bursting with fulfilled satisfaction that this is all we ever want to see, all we ever want to watch. Embracing that the only thing ever really worth it is if you can catch those gazes and those eyes. The only eyes that will ever matter. Just the way. There always has to be something in the way. And as no one claims anything now, it is all mine.

You know, I cannot wait to build my own home.
-
PS, It felt like Cache Creek up there. The world finds its way to hurt, and that's when I know how much I really love...

J'ai sommeil mais je suis en train de faire mes devoirs...
-
My brain is freezing up, my body is melting down, my heart is self-sufficiently happy, my stomach is malnourished and deficient.

Il fait froid, tres tres froid. Mais il fait beau aussi...

Je vais dormir maintenant.

Bonne nuit Monde.

I just felt like saying.

World,

I need a good slap across the face. If my spirits are broken now, then I'll repair them now. I owe myself that much. Whatever's best for the team.

Smiles and fists, my friends.
-
The sun loves me. The cold wants me. I am bouncing and I'd met Killaaaaaa, and he's just like Petit Copain. They're like two peas in a pod. And I accidentally called Killaaaaa "babe".

"And you're always there..."

I guess I'm always here.


World,

I can't explain well how I felt during dusk. I was chilled, I was calm, I was completely at peace with myself. And I had never fully realized how utterly beautiful he really was. In the most innocent wreckage. In the most apparent subtlety. In the way that I'd just acknowledged what was really up against me. In the way that makes me heavily whisper to myself, "Oh my god..."

Today was the day.

J'aime le soleil...

It's a very strange thing to know that you are in love with someone. Maybe not strange, but I do not know what to do with myself. This sounds too direct and too mundane for me, but I just wanted to say.

It's a very strange thing. This lust. It is strange, and I do not know what to do with myself. I feel strange. Like this is all strange. But I just wanted to say.

It's a very strange thing to yearn for dawn. Actually, it's quite familiar, because I have yearned for this before and I think I always will because that is what I do with myself. I just wanted to say, this yearning is so familiar.

It's a very strange thing saying this. This is all strange. I feel strange. I am strange. And I do not know what to do with myself because knowing this is what I've been doing with myself. It's so strange to say that I strangely feel so good all of a sudden.

And I just wanted to say.

Desolation Row

It was just so strange seeing them. Like someone I'd once been in love with but now can't even recall the name.

The Swiss Army Romance

I saw the sun today.

The rain and I have a love/hate situation. It has the potential to make me feel so good, and so amazing, and so torn all at the same time. I hate it. I hate how it rains. I hate what song plays in my head and I hate how it feels.

But what I keep from the world... is how truly in love I am with the rain. I'm afraid that if they all know, I won't have it mine in me anymore..

So I wait for it to end, like all the songs ended.

One can only imagine how much I perpetually yearn for the sun.

Step 1 : Shatter

Step 2 : Avoid shattered

Step 3 : Find another

Step 4 : Breathe

Step 5 : There's always the sky.

PS. Lethargy is my long-lasting, ever-loyal companion. But we can't anymore.

Someday This Pain Will Be Useful To You

I am in love with the sun, the sky, and dusk's dramatic arrival.

PS. When the desert ends, I ask the dust.

Keeping Roots In Mind

Dear World,

I have the key to the door that I will never find.

A door that if I find, the key won't turn. The key will stick. The key will steady itself unamused and indifferent. The key will plea itself mistaken. The key will beg me to stop. The key will stay there with me, stranded and planted unknowingly and aimlessly.

Then it will sadden me, because I will always know that this is the unmistakable, right key. And that I will always be unable to open it because I choose to open the wrong doors with their right keys.

That is...until whenever.

Unattainable

And it hurts tonight.
Like the prime of the quiet dawn, the passion of the afternoon, and the heart ache of the twilit sky. Like the breaking could never break as broken as this, as I am, as you are, as we are.

"Sometimes it just feels better to give in..."

What worries were willing to wait even for winter to end..

Chances; like the warped withering of a stray's hope. Wrapped in the attentive ways of welcoming the weather that so generously windowed an arch through this apparent wasteland of filthy cleanliness. That of whispering to the awake would miserably find the proper manner to begin again from the waist up to the waist down, and then waste away the familiar clarity that we'd be asleep anyway. In a sleepy kind of wariness that isn't aware of a witness at all, but of a self-absorbed watching then disregarding.

I am bewildered by the things I wonder and the things that I know are the only things I know. Way down an alarming defiance of the natural being that it is I should be. But suffice to say that I've let this impossible be the probable forward for me to slowly sweep enough dust for my treasures.

This is wired. Wired like we're ready to untangle from a fatal togetherness that will burn us down a whist kind of screaming. And then we'll whisk away the airy empty that a wishful thought like us, and a desperate keep like us will inadvertently wilt away back to the haunting vibrance that I'd once thought would be the way out.

It was one of those moments when you feel you have never heard the word before, and you cannot believe it means what it means, and you think how did this word come to mean that? It seemed like a bell or something, shining and pure, disturbed, disturbed, disturbed, I could hear it pealing with its true meaning, and I said, as if I had just realized it, "I am disturbed."

-Cameron, Peter

The tides are coming in and coming up, rapidly for us.
...

A tease of rays and of intimacies and of breathless full demands undeniably distant and remaining the count hashed by the urgency of my very heels that I cannot be grounded. I cannot be taken. And I cannot be tamed. Like the beast in the dark that only peeks through small to the light. Maintaining a quiet moan and quiet demand, and the shrill cry of breathing depths within the constructed reaches of abandoning the pack. Like the beast.

A ray of playful sounds and of reactant nerves and of careless intents of keeping my heels off the ground, with my chin searching the highs of the heat and the seeping red devoted to lend me a brand of deserving arms. Acquainted like an old, childhood friend with the face that conveys solely of smile-worthy recollections. The way it had been when embraced the innocence of being undisturbed and untouched by adversities of all our collected drudges. Like the nearing dusk of a summer sky. Darkening gray and warming orange and a scattering of a well-spent day calms down at a central park. Shoulder-to-shoulder, limb by limb.
...
These thoughts alone ascend up my spine, nudging red and raw, and to my skull. Like the inhale of the most sensational, prime breaths you will ever take before the water flows over pass your nose, and the last you see is the sight of light blurring you right into darkness.

A change in the key feels like a change in the season

Let's call this the hole that I'm digging. The gape that I'm hallowing. The rain that I'm fighting. And the laugh that I'm taking.

I hurt him all the time..

Shuffle

I still feel like I'm in Scotland. Where ever that really is in my mind...

It is safe to say that I continuously lose touch with reality, with the present, with the tangibility of my very life. This I refer to as "life" doesn't even seem vital to me. It just is, and it will be. I have a problem with escaping myself. And I have my own solution to escape some more.

It's in here. The planed shapes of 6 that I'm so confined by. Confined in a sense that I don't feel imprisoned. I just know what matters out there, and until I know I can grasp it, touch it, feel it, and let it engulf me, then I remain attached to my roots as I build myself and fend for my ever growing desire. The dream that seems to find me delusional and mystified by the possibilities of optimism and pessimism and realism, I'm studying to separate those of which I know, those of which that are probable, and those of which will never be. But if I listen to myself well enough, if I kick a little harder, breathe a little more, and look out there, I can't think of those that will never be. It is all mine. Realistically, I guess not. But if reality is all we'll really accept in this life time, then who'll it be that kills the impossible, and tells the shit of this world his story that there IS such thing.

My appetite for life will probably never exceed those that strive for a successful life with their professions, their house, their income, their car, their fame, their fortunes and misfortunes, and what ever else will let you believe you'd live a good life. I am as simple as a wooden pencil, plain as a plane probably. I know what matters out there. Do you?

Daisies make me want to play.

World,
I want you to know that mon petit copain is always so.good.to.me.

J. Gorbel

Stolen

Dear --,
I decided to make this direct to you because you are my right-hand man, my wing man [er, woman?] And when I get like this, I can only imagine venting to you because you know me when I get like this.

Yesterday, the very words were threatening to burst out of my very lips. And mind you, it frightened my very core that I wanted it very much. Astonished, I pressed myself to him to close up what ever infinitesimal space we had there, and hoped that he'd somehow know. And he did it. He always does that. He looked at me with his squinting, caramelized eyes that relentlessly know to soften my knees and tighten my hold on him, and I lose it. I forget why I'd been so apprehensive and why I'm waiting for time to stop so that we were all that mattered.
Do I even deserve this? I want to be better. I have to be better. And now that I realize it is possible for me to...love him.. I question myself. And I beat myself up that I'm being more selfish, more wrong than I've ever been.
It always feels right to do wrong, and wrong to do right. "We all look like we feel..."
I can't go back now. I shouldn't turn around anymore. Because this song is playing now. Playing over the song before. I'm sorry...
"Tell me you're happy, one more time," he said. And that's enough to him. Because I'm enough to him.

WhoElse.

PS, Thank you for listening, --. I knew you'd understand.

World,
I'm trying to write a Valentine-related French poem pour ma classe, but nothing is coming out of me. It's like I don't have any love in life. Which is completely untrue because I'm afraid that I might have..tooo much love. Or maybe I just can't of mignon things to say. C'est vrai.

"I wish I had a heart like yours." That really made me happy.

I had a nice day. My heart crashes and the car crashed. I kiss and I kiss and hold and I touch. And I'm such a mess, it must be something to watch.

PS, Forget those deep baby-blue eyes, or a magnificent pair of olive-green eyes, or the hypnosis of silver-gray eyes. I am so in love with brown eyes that I put myself in trouble.

I need to get back to work.
Bonne nuit, je suis desole about my lack of soulful blogging. Je ne sais pas. My witto soul is in hiding since the rain.

Doesn't Make A Difference

Quand il pleut, je suis triste...parfois. This is my rainy day music.
-
I am lacking some sense of a muse. It's irritating. I feel like listing.

1. Everyday I wake up, I come across the thought of my being so dull, so lifeless now. I don't know, it's like a blue moon that a fire burns inside of me. And when it's set, I swear I can't put it out till I flame it out into one explosion. Then I burn down.
2. I still doubt that I'll live passed the age of 20-something.
3. Anxiety is one of my companions. I'm like goddamned Happy Feet when a clock ticks at me.
4. My tear ducts have dried out or something. Maybe not dried, but I can't find myself crying. Like I've become so exhausted that I just let a tear fall, not even fall but well over my eyes, and I'm done.
5. I play Tetris to keep myself from daydreaming. I think I might do too much of it.
6. I can't look at a guitar with out hurting anymore. I know I should have taken the chance every time I had it, but every time gets me closer to a little too late.
7. Ty and Ry keep my feet grounded. If they didn't bring me back down to reality, I'm not sure where my head would be most of the time.
8. I can be so mean to mon petit copain, I wonder how he puts up with me.
9. People are either grossed out or fascinated by my feet. But honestly, I love them more than any other part of my body. I love my outrageous arch...
10. My impeccably soft hands are softest in the morning, and the warmest. I want to wake up with the right someone beside me, so they can see I'm not so cold...
11. I've been waiting for summer since the last day of summer.
12. Scents hurt almost as much as songs.
13. Sometimes, I want to share my love for The Honorary Title with someone. I just want to love it together.
14. Zooey Deschanel reminds me of Katy Perry. Katy Perry reminds me of Zooey Deschanel. They both remind me of Peyton Sawyer.
15. I might name my kid Peyton.
16. I might or might not have a kid.
17. I might or might not get married.
18. Ironically enough, I have this weird thing for wedding rings. I want to wear one! I just do. A pretty, shiny, silver band.
19. This one Jason Mraz song gets me every single time. Guess which one[:
20. And now, I think I've spent too much time sitting here hoping something brilliant and profound comes to me while making a list of insignficant and significant things about myself. And nothing. Irritating.

Ou est ma muse? Ou-es tu?

Bonne nuit.

PS, I lied. I trimmed my hair. I couldn't have the long length. Reminded me of being just a little younger..

It's 3:52 in the afternoon and I am in my room, like I have been for the past 3 days working, sitting, listening, playing, and thinking. Thinking is dangerous.

The reason for my being home so early is an aggravating thought. I feel like my school life has never been busier. It's as if it has all just dawned on me from the corner of my walls and I am now taking it head on. I chose school over badmnton! That is unlike me. But I know that if I chose badminton, I'll never get to my work. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day. And by better, now I'm starting to hope for warm and sunny. Forecast reads rain. Rain showers in the morning that will evolve into a more steady rain in the afternoon. Doesn't that sound lovely? Mm, I can't tell if I'm being sarcastic either.
-
World, I love eyes. And eyes love me. I'm in twouble.

Shuffle

Color! The influence of color is washing over me, neatly, pleasantly.

Beside me is a mutated fist of an orange that keeps me quite happy. Behind me is the blue chill of the outside of my window. Pale blue eating bluer blues, and white, respectful clouds making nice. Under me is the comfort of my stiff, cold, and brown wooden floors. They seem ecstatic to have me for three complete days for themselves. And all around me is the green that elevates and descends down on me. The green that could solely look and sound and feel and smell like the summers gone by and the summers to come. Pink lips are the effect of my greenhouse cause. Black hair browning and growing, like an introvert, aimless growth of a tree. The edge, post-hardcores; dying for a scissor and excruciating heat. And gray, I'm lookin' grayer than gray. Or pale, or a washed out brown. But I feel better than I look. Maybe.

This is like a filler paragraph. The intro's of the beginning of chapters when the author begins describing every leaf of a tree and every grain of sand on some cold beach. I might be very well bored.

500 Days of Summer - Something to look forward to folks. July 24, 2009

iPod on Shuffle

The good news is that I've just finished my geometry homework, and yes I did the complete assignment, oddly enough. It was a liberating feeling, like it's the first time I'd ever finished a math assignment. What a funny thought.

Tetris is my new friend. We are a two-headed, self-antagonizing function. I think the whole game is bettering my focusing skills, and my strategical and logical decision-making skills. Every time I make one minute mistake, one wrong square, one false finger movement, all the pieces lose place and intention. And one wrong goes on top of another and another. Then I repeat in my head, "You'll dig yourself out of this hole, you'll dig yourself out of this hole." Like it's some life-changing dilemma that requires me to gain my senses to scope through. And I prevail! For a second or two. Yeah I feel silly.

But now my iPod is messing with me or something. I put it on shuffle and it is playing strictly my most painful playlists. From summers to winters, bad days to vacations. Taking Back Sunday to AFI to The Strokes to Tegan and Sara to MCR to The Used to Paramore and every single other song in between that pins a needle in my little heart till the next song begins. It's telling me to reminisce or something, but I'm refusing. Aha, right now, I need bigger distractions.

Just felt like blogging.

Bloodflowers - The Cure

I feel the frustration of losing absolute signal and connection when I plant myself inside my greenhouse, where all the heat falls when the sun is enticed. I can feel myself losing it. I lose it. And I always lose.

It's like a heaven kind of loss. Like I've died. Yesterday was just a dream, and today's production was the hour of my death. Amen?

Stepping foot through the threshold is my kind of pearly gates, but instead of being welcomed and invited, I crashed this fucking place. It's like the forsaken collection, a prison where you are freed when you please to be. You'll be damned, in front of me, beside me, on me, under me, with me. My regrets will be yours to regret while my memories are yours to wash your hands with. The sins I've committed that let the outside of this place be a reality that makes you as human as possible. Possibly primitive, and maybe you'll pray away the dirt off your feet.

But I won't.

I let the acid burn of my wrong become the tight skin I wear now. I peel and squeal and curse for it away as I always take it out of the closet and put it back on again. My teeth bare themselves so hungrily, angrily. Intensely, the intent of the famine in my chest, down wholly to the trickling echo of my very core, I clench them sharp on top of one another, shut myself tight with my jaw, and hope that I won't spill out and over the edges. Not now. Not today. Not when the sun is watching me. But here, tonight, any night, when the sun knows to trust me, I disobey, I rebel, and I lash. I take, then I grab, then I stare. I hold, I beat a thunder out of my chest, I breathe, just to lose my breath. Then I lose my words, open my mouth, and keep them apart. My hands know to do it wrongly right. And here I am, shattering and breaking apart inside as I become. Yes, I become the being of the only thing I know.

I'd rather have the whispers, the secrets, the sighs and the moans, and the grazing to be with here, tonight, any night.
The mirrors turned. The lights off.

In darkness we trust.

Je suis tres fatigue.
Mais... je suis heureux
Parce que !

I know it's not a big deal, but it is to me. I am the beating epitome of mediocrity. I can strive all I can in my mind, and dream the biggest dreams, but I don't apply. I never apply. I find reasons not to be, not to have, no to do. That's just me! It's not an excuse, it's just something I know of myself. I am just proud of myself, that's all. Because I excel above everyone else for the first time in a long time.

If you're proud of me too, then thanks so much.

"I was thinking to myself how could someone be so happy"

He's lucky. He had the chance to see me at my prime moments first hand, with out the exposure of my monster.

Ange Yesterday: "So tell me, is happiness a choice?"

Dean Today: "Right now, I don't think happiness is a choice. I'm just so happy."

I want to shut up. He's making me run out unintelligent. My brain thrashed around with gooey, heart-shaped thought-clouds. My embarrassing admission.

PS. Eye exams are way too intimate.

PPS. Rich brown eyes, intense.

"What the hell Angie! So ungrateful!" My goodness, his plan was well enough to make ME seem ungrateful.

I am spoiled. It's bad. I'm getting it bad. I'm losing me. And I can feel him dissolving in me. Or maybe it's me that's just dissolving at all.

Note to self: Get a fucking grip. He.just.loves.you.

Goddamn? Those very words scare the living shit out of me. I just squirm inside, like trying on a new pair of shoes after loving my ripped and torn and amazing Shitties, my trusty 6-year-old Converse'. I am reluctant to let my instincts take the damned lead. I am reluctant to let my guard down. I am fucking reluctant.

I just squirm inside, like when I first let MCR go after I'd translated my all into them, loving them so strange enough that it actually hurt me. But I had to, like I always have to. It always hurts too much when I stick around by myself, waiting for a guitar solo that takes my breath away for some beautiful seconds, then the song ends, and i limply lay, shattered.

That's how it goes everybody, songs end. I'd led myself into making it through by living in the moments. That moments could be perfect on its own, with out the thought of its past or future. It's hard you know, 'cause you're reluctant sometimes. Just so fucking reluctant.

Why it scares the living shit out of me? Because I'm just not ready for it. I can't say it, I can't begin to say it, and I can't say it back. And I never want to tell him something I don't mean. No matter how good he makes me feel..

Sigh.

I just have to tell myself, I've everything I need.

So tell me, is happiness a choice? Because I can take it right now, and forget about everything else. But I tell you, I'm reluctant. So fucking reluctant. Because MCR made their mark on me, my shoes meant something to me, and all that was then can't make it now because of inevitability. Understand what I'm saying?

I need some sign. I need to know if to keep it going forward, and forget about...everything else.

Mrs. Lake's class exudes everything that makes me feel summer is here. Her voice, the threshold to her class, the tennisball-ed chairs, and the memories that come along just sitting there. I just felt good in there.

Makayla and I shared an insightful conversation today in Geometry. And I learned something about myself again. But sadly, this new found self-knowledge makes me a little sad. Like I should have always known this, which I'm sure I did, but'd done nothing about it.

17 years of my life and I still am not quite sure who I really am. The influence that I keep soaking up is so impeccably contagious, it's hard to help. Being with someone different every time means I become someone different every time. Some days, I can't even grasp who I was for that day. I tell myself that everyone must have multiple personalities. But I get so sucked in the endlessly changing characters I play, that I must be doing something wrong. I must be all wrong.

Very rarely, I find myself acknowledging the moment when it feels like this is probably me. This is who I am. But like day turns into night, I change. In some sense, I'm getting the feeling that I might be afraid to really be who I am. Even though I continuously make a firm claim on who I know I am, as to who I think I am. It feels like it isn't true, so I have to repeatedly remind myself just to keep my feet on the ground and my head on my shoulders.

Then of course, the concept of my passions tag right along. Do I find my passion when I figure out truly who I am? Or is it the other way around? I find my passion, and bam, there I am. Maybe? Maybe I've even found it, just not fully acknowledged it. Maybe?
The Seaching for Oneself Crisis.

Like always, I'm only ever certain of one thing. That's all I can fit in me anyway, at the moment.

In this place, I thought I'd lost.
They thought they'd lost,
We thought we'd all lost.
In this place, no one relinquishes,
No, not ever really.

PS, Infinite tomorrow

The sun is quite friendly today, and I intend on spending some time on my porch, like I know summer will be here. I've been buried under books all weekend, just how I like it. With my companion Jose Cuervo, and the slight anchoring of a wonderful voice that I can't figure out.

The first book I finished was very empathetic. I felt everything, even having to pause because for a second or two, it felt like someone'd been watching me and I'd been exposed. I learned something new about myself, which I tend to when I read. Last night, I understood the concepts of falling and lack of communication. I was actually a little creeped out at some point. I'd been dug up, or so it felt like. And the little pieces that I needed were somehow right in my grip. I had to repeat to myself that I AM capable of continuing to reading. And now I just feel silly. I'm not much of happy endings, but I beared it. I must admit, one of the most difficult books that I'd read.

And now, I'm alone dans ma chambre verte, waiting till I'm ready to step out.

I held the dark, and it held me back
Soft breaths to last till the morning, I thought
As the sun cries out to me
I see my roses starting to die
And I ache a different way I'd ached
That night before.

Je suis dans ma chambre avec les DVD de mon petit copain. Je veux dormir, mais je ne peux pas. Alors, I have a dozen sleepy thoughts, along side Journey faded from the living room. I'd make my calls. But I need some time to choke on my own. I am exhausted. Finals are over, my first term classes are over. The only things I'll miss would be the adoring company of Tyler and Cassidy in my Algebra 2 class. Mr. Irish sounds like Robin Williams sometimes, and hates my boyfriend. I'm ecstatic to have Spanish off my hair. I've been in approximately 6 Spanish classes since 8th grade, and I'm well beyond done with it. French on the other hand is my new little passion. My only solid goal for this next term is maintain my having the highest grade in class. I just can't give up that title. I won't let it happen! Another upside, no more Ms. Liao. I've found a way to somehow resent having an English class because of her. If she is permitted to teach English, or even teach at all...my faith in humanity has just gone down by another 30 points. This term: Francais Deux = Super parce que je suis une bon eleve !..en francais. Chemistry avec Monsieur Abrahams = C'est dificil? L'histoire avec Madame Lake = I am excited to have her as my teacher again Geometry avec some teacher whose name I cannot pronounce...or spell. Badminton very soon. I cannot wait to play. I've a lot of work ahead of me since I'll be playing girls' singles. And I intend on being good, very good. I miss the hard-earned sweat and the post-conditioning soreness that just leaves me moaning and groaning. Excited. Mmm, if there's anything else for me to rant about...it's the silly realization that I'm out of girl friends. Tyler's my buddy, and I love her with all my little heart's got. And Ace is a serious pain in my ass and she's Ace, my Ace afterall. But I guess now I'm wondering where everyone else went. I miss Kim very much. I always hope that in some moments we'll be like how it used to be. But those moments could only last a few seconds, minutes if I'm lucky. I just miss having that close girl friend that I can be a girl with. And do lame girl things like be able to mall and hub and pig out with ease. Things are moving forward now. Forward. I try my very best not to think of Leo's graduating yet. It makes me sad, though I know I'll still see him. I mean, I do own shotgun forever. BGFx3 Anything left would be Dean. I swear, he drives me off the bloody wall with his stupid self sometimes. We take turns playing immature and retard. I'm too aggressive and he's too passive. We clash like two boulders, one that jumped off a cliff while the other was just pushed off. He can be an emotional wreck while I'm just an indifferent nonsense. He's sad I'm mad but gahd. When he looks at me like he knows exactly what he wants, and his eyes get all small and squinty and dark and broody and partially smiling, I know exactly who to be. And I could be as solid as I thought I really couldn't be. J'aime Dean beaucoup, mais...I just can't tell him that just yet.. Not yet. My foot is asleep, I've black smeared across my eyes since I refuse to wipe it away, and we've no more Panda Cookies left. This rant has gone far, way far enough. Je suis desole, mais bonne nuit Monde.

WhoElse.

PS, Yo necesito un bueno libro para leer. Recomendaciones? Oui, j'aime etre multilingue. D'accord, tulog nako.

Coming Home

Close To Me

"I make the shapes come much too close
I pull my eyes out, hold my breath, and wait until I shake"

The concept of my childhood
-

Like I said, my friend. I was a disobedient, lazy, and rebellious child. All I ever did was cause trouble for myself and for anybody else around me. I recall my parents' attempt of hunting me down through the maze of the little city we lived in. I always ran away. I always shook away the world off my shoulders, and just rode. I constantly lied about where I really was. Then it gets dark and I very cautiously make my way up our stairs, bracing for the vocal fiasco I'd nearly memorized. Though it never got old, I did. I tell you, every time I ran, that I was away, that damned ordinances were way behind my trail.. That's when I knew I was alive.

Year later, I am now...a disobedient, lazy, and rebellious adolescent. The lively feeling I get is when I know I'm doing something wrong, most of the time. When I'm taking something that isn't mine. When I'm yearning for something I'll never have. When I touch the DoNotTouch's. When I let myself down my addictions. When I know it'll hurt but I continue anyway. I am only alive when it's wrong.

So now that I'm right

I'm trying to find something to feel.

_

Anybody Else; Isn't that More Appropriate ..

Someone Must Get Hurt

"I can tell you'd like some company but I can't fix you
And you don't want me"

The concept of synthesizers, and I don't know
-

No matter how irresponsible I urge myself with my health, my immune system never let's me have it. I am always well, with my legs the strength of mustangs! I am getting discouraged. Some time since the past 2 winters that I've been so conscious and healthy, I NEED A DAMN FEVER. Just let me have it! I promise I won't ask for anything else.

I think I'm dying anyway, so consider this a simple death wish!

_

Disregard the Virgo

Vingt-Six

Slow Dance

"Let the music soothe your soul"

The concept of cliches
-
The things I never really see
Never really notice
Because I shut my eyes,
Lost in the empty
Wanting.

Though where it's filled
I don't want to close my eyes again.

_

Committing to My Committments, Finally

The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

"I lie only for you
And I lie well"

The concept of hopelessness

When you're undeniably hopeful.
-
I need to stop ..because I have everything I need.

Let go

For someday.

_

Rain and the Concept of Being

This. Here and Now. With You

"Your black eyes burning into me So slow
The sounds and lights and others fade and fall away in symmetry
Your black eyes burning hungrily and unafraid I know"

So I'm reading Dickinson and swallowing The Cure.
-

Desire

...exhausting that I love
...would have me by the throat
...and let me burn to ashes

Fate

...smiling patiently pained
...would save me a light
...with the most graceful of tears

And with this I yearn.

-

You pull my shaking body close To make the most of tangency I bite your mouth so fearfully And slow The taste of summers yet to shine A perfect time to change the scene I bite your mouth in urgency and terrified I know

They always know.

_

Temptation and I Am Damned to Hell

Just Like Heaven

"Spinning on that dizzy edge
I kissed her face and kissed her head
And dream of all different ways I had
To make her glow
'Why are you so far away?' she said
'Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you
That I'm in love with you' "

So much, you're so much like a Cure song.

Strange between my lips, and I can never resist. And you always resist. And I wish anybody would let me.

Just let me.

You're so much like a Cure song. You get trapped in my head, and the only thing that wants to burst out between my lips. So strange that I can never resist. I wish.

I only wish.

If I know this, I want to know that. And I want to know this, and I want that. And I know what I want, and I want to know what you want.

Because

You're so much like a Cure song. Curing and causing me, then severing me then killing me. In tiny pieces. In tiny pieces that you puzzle back together just to shuffle them away.

Oh I love, oh I love, oh I love what you do to my heart when you push me back down and you pull me apart

Let me steal another day,

Be mine.

I'll talk to you whenever.

_

Something I Never Do Myself

Just with you.

February 3, 2009

High

"And when I see you
take the same sweet steps
you used to take
I know I'll keep holding you
in arms so tight
They'll never, never let you go"

So...

October 3, 2008;

Remember the night sky was red? And I kept looking up and I knew you thought I was crazy. But you never said anything because you never say anything and I looked up and I knew you looked at me. As soon as I said, "I love nights like these..." I knew you weren't going to go anywhere.

I remember the night sky was red. And you were there glancing at me. As soon as I said, "I want a night like that..." I knew you wanted it too.

I hate it.

No matter how stupid I think you are. And how much of a bitch you are. And how you never seem to say the right things at the right time... The puppy eye thing you do, and sometimes your lips tremble. Like you're the most fragile thing in front of me...

I hate it. Beyond the exterior that I've so stubbornly built with my hesitant and forceful hands, I have an embarrassing weakness for those eyes that make me think I'm young again. Those eyes that cried in the most shameful silence. Those eyes that let me believe that the red sky was just for me, and just for him to see me under.

Remember?
He remembers.
_

J'aime Jouer Avec Toi

A Late May's Gaze

"Salty sweet on the sand my friend
A late May's gaze that stole my soul again
Kisses for all your insides, a smile for the priceless
I bit through your wrists, watched your blood bathe the crabs"

So send me the right messages and the right punctuations.

In this house where time never caught us right, never looked us right, is where I'd like to stop it late. There will always be two destinations, one of which would never matter to me. Destination one is for the hopeless and the hopeful. Destination two is for the flow goers and the fuck its. And if you can guess which destination is taking me in its tide, then I hope you help take me out.

This house caught the time wrong, and looked at me wrong. So we held a contest only for the best. The contest that held all my requests and strangled everything I detest. In my dreams I mean. I'm only mean in my dreams. And I dream profuse beneath the mundane and the calamities where I refuse to take my eyes out of their place, away from the prize. So I leave them at peace and infuse a new mood to simmer in the darkest brewing of my time to brood and focus. Confuse, then eliminate the extreme seduction of a game gone wild in the hands of the strangest stranger. But only the strangest stranger could be so obsolete, so romantic under this light. Wild in the hands so bloody that I'd remain still pleading innocent. It's absurd to let it all fall, to let the best cheat. This contest held no good intentions because we all pleaded innocent. And you're as guilty as the evident crumbs screaming to the judge and jury that those hands were in the cookie jar.

Inside the house where time held no interest in following the rules of duration, I stopped and stepped in insane. All is one twisted game with bluffs and lies and faces only better than poker had. Emotion and logic swallowed in between breaths.

_

Dean Wants Angie, Dean Loves Angie

She's A Tiger

"Now we'll make room for female behavior
Cause her mind is set now
And no one can save her"

So much love for legal pads.



Letter #15; Kill me now while I'm smiling, unless I deserve to be killed.

_

Angie and Tweety

Unsafe Safe

"No you won't disarm my heart"

So much to say, but it's all better left unsaid.

It's one thing to brew over what or who I want--which with out a doubt is the only positive and definite piece of knowledge in my brain, in my heart, and the movements of my body--but it's another thing to not know who I want to be.

I can't even be who I used to be. I refuse to be. I cannot be, and who ever it is that I will be..might be who I am. Who ever that is. Who else?

To be. I am. Is. My ability to subconsciously alter these states of mind falls right on the tops of my eyelids. And every night and every second that I close my eyes, all I see is the past that passes before me as the red raw thing in my chest convulses with what it possesses.

I am not getting better and I am not letting go. The trees are shaking away their seasons like they should and I am telling myself it'll get warmer. But I cannot get sick as long as I'm this sick. It's hard you know...having my mouth shut because I know, and this I know that I know, I am not as alone as I am just on my own. Because I'd rather take the alone and save you from some predicaments I've already begun. And so I know, but what now?

I cannot walk around with my heart weighing me down. I cannot walk around with these pictures in my head that I could be enough someday because I don't really know if I ever could. Not in this world I'd forcefully taken because it was the only door open. And I beat myself everyday with this knowledge and what I could've done, what I could've said so I wouldn't be so far down in this hole I've dug.

Because in this hole, the soil is heavy and moist. The textures beneath my feet are taking me under with other and unknown substances to be decomposed and swallowed away from any search. And so the humidity of what could only be the cause of the quantities of my thoughts float up my nose to linger in my head as the pungent haunting of everything I could never be, I could never have, but I could always just want.

So I'm torn. And my heart is always on the verge of ripping down and apart and never belong to anybody, not even myself. And for someone that has much to say with it all better left unsaid, I have said way, way too much.

_

I am not ready for...

I am not for...

No.

I want.
_

I Think I've Severed My Mind-Set So Far From Reality that I Let Myself Delude Myself at Any Given Day

Cheated Hearts

"Kept my high from the second one
Kept my eye on the first one"

So easily it ...

Sometimes I sit down thinking, "I'm not really here right now." And I don't realize I exist after a long time. And then something happens inside me, and I realize I'm in little parts. And I forget it just does that... All the time.

Sometimes I sit down not thinking at all. Or at least I think I don't think. But really, I've only one thing in mind.

Sometimes I sit down so empty that I think my insides left me for the floor. Because at least that way, they rot in front of me and I can see them decomposing. And they tell me that I never really blame any one else but myself.

Sometimes I sit down so pissed that I think I'll never be able to get rid of these shudders. I think that I'll never get myself to get up. And then I think of accidents and incidents. And I think I'm just so sick.

Sometimes I sit down so sad I wish I'd just cry. But as breathless as my heart is left, my eyes are dry and stinging and as empty as I think I could be.

Sometimes I don't sit down at all. Not even on chairs. I just forget about my spine and lay down for what seems like a whole life time when really, a minute has just passed me by and all I'm doing is staring at the clock as it tells me to fuck off already.

Is this good enough for anybody? Because sometimes I think I just need to shut my mouth. Even if it's always shut.

PS I Love You

Why can't I say it back.

_

"Face to palm
Tear to tear
And mouth to tongue
Heart to ground

I am in love"

x:
x3

CryBabies

Yesterdays Never Tomorrows

"The dark winter snows bright, please stay here tonight Walk on my face straight through my pillow"

So we had a good conversation.

It's so funny, I might just love you in the funniest ways.

But I don't want to say. So I'll hold back till the day I know you're ready for me.

It's so funny, I had a hard time looking into your eyes.

But I didn't want to look away. So I saw how dark they were. So small and so sad.

It's so funny, I still want to be your friend.

But I am afraid to step back. So I ran back and told you to chase after me. So exhausting. So much patience chasing after passion.

It's so funny, we can't be together like how they're all together.

But I want it just the same. So I called you a fucking douchebag, and you cussed me right back. And we had a good conversation. And it's so funny. And I swear, no two people has ever stared at each other like we stared at each other before.

_

The Cookie Crumbles

These Things

"Let's make a fast plan, watch it burn to the ground
I try to whisper so no one figures it out"

So apologetic, all the time.

These things have their way of fixing themselves. Good night.
-
I used to be a pack rat.

Now I just want to empty all the shelves.

_

Woofers

Timberwolves at New Jersey

"This is me with the words on the tip of my tongue
And my eye through the scope
Down the barrel of a gun
Remind not to ever act this way again"

So, it's a new year.

My room is trashed.

My memory is lagging.

And the essence of last night has yet to be washed off.

I think in between ecstatic and moody, I intended on listing my New Year's Resolution. But in between ecstatic and moody, I couldn't figure anything out. And now, I just can't think of anything.

In between the end and the beginning, I pulled myself out of the dark.

I hope you're all happy to begin this new year.

_

I love Katy Perry.



I don't like how the actor from Kyle XY is the guy, because I think Kyle XY is lame. But I love Katy Perry. And I like this song a lot /:

Inconsistencies Somehow Make Me Consistent

Reassemble

"Those that are tore to shreds in the moment that you were in two dimensions
Just two dimensions"

So marred by the things I can never say.

I need my silence to be broken. I need some encouragement that I don't have to banter with vague and ambiguous words that never lets anyone in. I, though it feels like I try, never let anybody in. I should understand, I should've known it'd hurt any which way how.

It is safe to say that I've left parts of my self fragmented in different house, different hands, different hearts. And I can't put it back together because I've lost count and forgot where exactly I'd left all of myself. Or I know, I remember, but of course, I won't tell you, because I won't even tell myself. I just keep thinking that I deserve to have a fork hanging out of my rib cage and a little label reading DONE.

Is it safe to say that I've tried? It's probably safer to say that I am stupendous at pushing and shoving and hanging up the phone and pretending like I really don't have anything to say. When all it is, is that I can open my mouth, but I know it'll just be me and the dial tone in the end. Or maybe just the hush sound of my breath.

What I'd done wrong was disregard the realization that no one has ever really tried before, so what was the exception this time? I am beneath the doubts, swallowed by a wonder when I'll be good enough, and wallowing what I'd really done wrong.

I know,

I waited for time to peek the profile of its self and for me to brace it when I see what I'd been seeking. And I think it's here, and it came as I'd least expect that greatness of being below the heart of someone that I didn't belong to. And it wasn't fair of me. To partially love.

Here we go,

I'm screwing with paragraphs again, to fill in the empty spaces where you left your mark. And I come back to that. Because which blankness I'd take on for the next week to tell me that this is it, it slips and I forget to get it back. There is only one thing of me,
And what is it to be broken when you were once complete?

What is it to be incomplete?

I'm sorry.

I'm always sorry...
_

I'm Not Much of a Talker Though I've So Much to Say

Endings Without Stories

"I watched the smile fade from your face
You bled till there was nothing in your veins"

So, it's always so quiet.

I was always good with secrets. Not today. I'm just so sure they know. I'm just so sure they always knew.

There is no such trust that runs its way so dynamically, not even with myself. I can't even tell myself. Maybe if the truth stays on my bed where I leave it every morning, it won't have to think of me.

I built it this way. Suffice to say that there won't be anything left but the boldness of a cold night that heated through, when denial dissipates and all of the days fall down in front of me like I'd never sinned before. It was never the fault's fault that had me questioning the momentum I'd taken. That we'd taken. Because I know that faults had been set where they display flawed cracks of chances that enveloped no such luck. There is no such luck for the faces that set like mine, where they display flawed cracks of obstructions that revoked themselves once I'd ever committed.

I built it in a way that I can shatter my own barriers. That I can set limits that gave me the opportunity to set it limitless any which way. I do not trust the hands that appoint themselves in initiative to me as if this whole hoax of a life stood a chance. It won't be long, and that's all I need to say to myself to pretend it all just isn't happening.

With all honesty--though honesty left all of us with out a choice but to believe again in this whole hoax of a notion that there is a truth--it isn't happening. The pretense to pretend that it all just isn't happening when all I mean to say is that nothing is happening, and I won't do anything about it.

If they know, then I'll seal myself shut. And perhaps in the near future I can get myself to stab it on paper, though I see it as just a chance to ignite the lighter and set it on fire, watch it burn in front of the dark and behind it is me, watching me not happening, at all.

There is nothing more perplexing than my hopelessness, hopefulness, and the reminder that I have built it in this way that you all know with out really knowing anything. Anything at all.

I'm sorry.

I'm always sorry.
_

The Curious Case...

Baby, It's Cold Outside

"Can't you stay awhile longer?"

So, hail shook and crashed down our roofs and opened my eyes to what looked like, a disturbed morning. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, not till the afternoon. It should've been so dull. The uneventful event of the constant spaghetti enjoyment and the DVD mayhem and the house only quiet to the tender music that made me think of you.
But we kept exclaiming, "THIS IS THE BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!" Well, this was the quietest Christmas. Compared to the previous year's packing to leave the country, and the year before that. I can only recall sitting in front of the computer and gaining some friendships. I liked it.

My family and I went to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I was excited to expect the theaters to be uncrowded, and nearly empty. But it was astonishing to see that we couldn't even find ONE decent parking space because the whole Landing was infested with The Nothing Better To Do's. But I suppose that's a lot for me to say, counting that WE we're there.

All of the night's complications were interesting to experience.

3 hour movie, I loved it.

Anyway, I don't feel a sense of creativity to be playful at the moment. I'll just rant. Therefore; Happy Holidays my Not-Readers, aha, 'cause like anybody really reads this.

_

So, I should let myself put it this way.

I saunter through every which way I can break it, I can go back to it, I can let it swallow me whole and maybe, like I want to, I can disappear. But as it swallows me whole, I just provoke, and provoke and it's as if I never wanted anything but the comfort of BEING swallowed whole. Never though, I never disappear.

It is too warm in my quarters. It is too comfortable, it is too unkind, as it patronizes me and unleashes the advocate in the devil. With just that, glassy eyes to the ceiling, mouth partially open, I refuse to even defend myself anymore. Just a little sensitive, they know I can't take it. Maybe he does too. Or maybe he hasn't caught on.

"There is something wrong with me..." And I stop there, right before I think I might be able to release. They won't understand, they won't look at it the same. But I feel like they know. Like they knew before I did. They just don't know what it is I have the potential to do.

Never on paper because I don't expect you to understand...

The every single night, I open the door to the cold, your shoes just put on, and you pull me out with you, I was capable of letting myself. Eyes like I've never seen them before. They're so small, so dark, and gentle as ever. You felt so strong just then, like you can take me over and take me on and even as I refuse and deny you, you could've won me. You could've had me pegged just then. Just then, but I still could never belong to anybody.

What I'd give to see you like that the every single time. What I'd give to have you look at me like that, the every single time.

Just then.

_

Me and my fucking faces, I swear I would really hurt it.

"You're the meanest person I know!" You're right babe. And you don't even know the half of it.

Leave me be. Leave me alone. Leave me at all. And I know you won't.

4 days from now, 3 months ago. "Would you like some company?" And my fucking world changed.

I keep swearing. I swear I won't keep it.

Prioritizing At Worst

Dudley

"Use me up
Use me up
Taper off and I'm had"

Dry, cold air. My favorite..

Nothing clever to say, nothing insane enough to be abstract about. I hate the weather, I hate the morning. I hate the night, awake as itself, endeavored by failed attempts, failed executions. My executions. Disdain accentuated by nothing I can really think of... Just a thought I could disappear today, tonight, maybe tomorrow. But I don't. But I don't think I'd care. But I don't know. And here we go again.

What's it take to keep me up at night? To get me up when the sun's rises? To have me standing through the afternoon?
I have an idea, I have a notion. Let me just slap myself around a few times, beat my insides out, and tell me I'm no good for nothin'. That always works. No? Too bad.

I have to get back to my quarters now. I have to find a really good reason exhaust myself with the best of the most infuriating. I have to rest it on spin cycle, rinse, repeat. And back to where my contours rest. With two...

_

Sounds Like A Rainy Day

Two Days, It's Unusual

I'm Not A Thief, I'm a Treasure Hunter

"I think it's safe to say you're deadly in your own way"

But it's safer to say that I'm an asshole in my own way.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
Sometimes, I think about it. If I'd consider. But,
Inescapable; was that the word I'd used before?

Damn.
It.

Instead of being better for you, I'm only growing worse.

I'm sorry..

I'm always sorry..

_

Even the Fox Couldn't Keep Me Safe

Give 'Em Hell, Kid

"If you were here I'd never have a fear
So go on live your life
But I miss you more than I did yesterday"

I said to him, "She's one of the most important people in my life. I thought you should know that, if anything."

And if he understood how I came off, I guess I'll find out.

To dim the fact that I'm not so sick after all, well, I'm just a liar. I try to smile above it and polish it off. But in the end of the day, I lay in bed committing infidelities in my own head. Same song, same lines, and this isn't really happening.

And I try to swallow the fact that I can't feel anything anymore, that nothing can penetrate. As it's been sung to me more times that I can imagine. It's not true.
It won't ever be.

I wrote a warning letter. I'd never sent.

My sister said I'm such a bitch. She's right. Only someone with a right mind wouldn't do the things I do. Wouldn't say the things I do. Wouldn't think the things I do.

And I don't know where this little entry has taken me, but here I am.

What I deserve will come for me, and so I hold my breath for the rest...

_

Afro Picks, White Jeans, and a Nice Little Story that Hasn't Ended

Cold Light

"Cold light, Hot night
Be my heater be my lover"

Friday I'm in loooooooooooove - At least SOMEONE understood that I was wearing The Cure shirt. No Joker, you bops [sorta].

My whole left jaw is numb.

The dentist's office is cold, and reeks of clean and artificial aerosol spray berry wonders. I daze in complete nonsense every time I spend my patience in there. Today, I napped on their couch and didn't even give a fuck that I might've looked like a dead bum lain across.

I really.. I really need a release. Vent?

I have dependent and reliant problems. Being in a relationship [which, I have to admit, is still a little foreign and new again to me] requires me to let go of all these things that I'd acquired from the duration of my being single It's not difficult to adapt. It's just something...
I am...very afraid of losing the sense of my independence. It was all I'd had for such a long time. I don't intend on investing my all. I can't really afford that. I just, I don't know how much that could hurt him and I.
My friends; well my friends. I tell myself everyday to keep my eyes on them. To keep a light, kung-fu grip on them. If I'd hesitated about anything, it would've been the worry of growing away from my friends. Honestly, I shudder at the thought of me, spending ALL my time with my boyfriend. If I could, I would. If nothing in my life would collapse and fall and if time stood still, then I would be more than happy and satisfied to be with just him. But I can't lose balance. What happens if I lose him? [which I could. No forevers, people break up you know] Then I'd be more than a little alone. All I'm being is...cautious and wary. It gets rough trying though. I'm starting to reach a state when all I want is his company. Bad Angie, bad.

Fuck, listen to me rant like a teenager. How irritating, I sound like the rest of you.

Sorry ! x:
_

Precisely Indefinite

Nothing Better

"Don't you feed me lines about some idealistic future
Your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures"

I'm always stealing. Taking. Covetting. Denying. And lying.

The night was revealing. Soft and satisfied as I took some air, sinner at its most innocent. Door swung open through to the right just the television and it's right-minded lies. I sound brain-dead in a sense that you around me, more passionless than I'd ever be. I'm sorry, but it's true if anything. Oh, right. I'd been narrating about my night.
Less is more that now I feel the want exuding out of hungry hands, shoulders, welcoming chest. Bleeding lips and a gasp of air, tangling hair. They won't know, just one more to promise. Fighting a struggle to resist, rapacious strokes.
Enamored by the concepts of body parts and the imaginative intense tenses of adjectives that seem famished and inflamed. Exaggeration is the escape enough to satisfy my dismal functions.

_

At Loss of a Desire to go off on a Tangent

The Faint and Precious Sounds

"In the event of your unfulfillment don't replace me in that sorry state, oh no
Know that it all seems so intriguing
When thoughts of me start leaving you behind, behind
And I hope you, you understand that I'm not leaving, going anywhere
Hope that you, you understand that I'm not leaving, going anywhere"

The weekend has given me a good opportunity to increase the reassurance that I need what I want to need.

I am in control. I should be in control. I will be in control.
-
Team Jacob; hahax3

_

Rude and Loud; x3

Wait Until I'm Gone

"You always were...
You always were so good to me"

It's about time I stopped brooding away my ways of writing. Ha, can't take the kid from the dark, take the dark from the kid. Yes, thank you.
-
I just began writing about my day on here.
Summarizing the events I'd done and how I'd felt the past few days in a direct and completely comprehensible way for ANYONE. But it felt ridiculously tedious and unlike me. So I highlighted it all, and hit backspace.

I sit here now, with still the thoughts of today and the every type of emotion that flashed and didn't flash across my face.
-
I no longer count the amount of moments we try say good bye. Someone has to watch someone walk away.
We're just not allowed to leave...

I've stolen. I'm wanting. I'm taking. But I dream of something else.

How it goes tonight, we'll see.

Letter # 8; It gets harder, worse, and easier everyday. Kill me now while I'm smiling. Or you could kill me now 'cause I must deserve it.

_

Thermals

Drilling

'When we're gone I feel I'll never miss anyone"

The safest and the warmest, where I'd left my mark I intended on keeping, as if I'd withdrawn from my memories and rose again to rest like I'd never rested before.

"Are you happy Angie?"

When I'm right where I could be, head lain across those shoulders.

"Are you happy Angie?"

When I'm right where I could be, heavy breaths to that chest.

"Are you happy Angie?"

When I'm right where I could be, just those hands in my pockets.

"Are you happy Angie?"

When I'm right where I could be, right where I should be.

The safest and the warmest, where I'd left my mark I intended on keeping, as if I'd withdrawn from my memories and rose again to rest like I'd never rested before.

Somebody wants me.

Finally.

_

The Cure Knows Which Songs I Need to Put Me on Fire

Secrets

"I catch your eyes in the dark
One look relives the memory..."

I've arts to show and teach Passion provocative means eye to eye flesh to flesh jumping skin down throats and necks Palms tepid, sultry grazing jaws Lips artfully traveling highways and bridges Delicate breaths deep-heavy, fast-slow Motion gather emotion around and around Eyes closed hard, biting and inviting through stories in absolute direct narration Decimating any space any air any crevice any breach Cave in next to me along the lines of my muffled sounds to soothe just to crave in with me Grasping the right heat to appease the frigid arctic collection in the tips of my fingers Inside small of the back rip down shoulders laying arms smoldering neck screaming my name, sighing my name, demanding my name…

I’ve been blessed and cursed with an explosive, intensive, and vehement passion only to be fused with a searing fervid desire that suppresses anything else to a pigmented gray blur.

I’ve a burning hole in my chest...

_

A Dearth of (my) Senses

I Can't Win

"Walking on the ground you're breaking
Laughing at the life you're wasting"

I'm lacking any comprehension of images to face and lines to read and people to converse with. I'm lacking any restraint to be resilient when it crashes right by my feet and blows up my face. I'm lacking any truth, the greater good always in mind. No, no I just don't have a choice. Utilitarian, never.

I'm lacking any logic. Logic could break your heart, not mine. Just complicated and bleak. Eleven seconds till I know where you are, till I know where I'll be. And through here, I strapped down, elevated by hopeless hopes just to descend in abysmal withdrawal.

I'm lacking any diversions cutting up my mentality. December that I'd win and lose from November thresholds when who I'd been when I entered would never be if I get out. I'm lacking any receptivity. Except when it comes to the red raw thing. In my room, out of control when I'd leave my compressed and impenetrable red raw thing beating steady somewhere. It thumps itself a reception closed to all with an exception.

Honestly, honestly, I'm lacking any composure. Because I'd left it on my bed where I'd lain my limbs and bones the night and nights before.

_

Multiple personalities.

I'd take in.

I'd be roughly 9 different people on paper, print, in words.

My words.

I don't know me either.

Nice and Slow

I Love, You Love

"Still return
Still return to love
Keep coming back to love"

He's not tall. He's not outgoing. He's not even my type.
He's the shy kid that used to be in his corner, pushing and forcing away the world he never wanted. Me, who he never intended.

He seemed all wrong to me.

I want him just the same.

So I'll soak in, sink close, pull near.

Patience and passion;

Just what I needed.

_