rant.

I've come to realize that it's possible to love too much.

I'm preparing myself. What else can I do? I can't be caught off guard. Which is ironic, because I've never allowed my guard to be down for anyone before. I finally do, and well, I reflect on the consequences of that. Yet so easily, I let it back down again after all was said and done. This time, if there is a "this time", I'll be ready. And most likely, I won't let it back down again, if there is a "this time"..

I stood in the living room and argued with my father over the sincerity of the things I feel and of the promises I've been given. Telling him, "you don't understand. This is different.", is entirely undoable. He insists that I've been lied to and much more.

I wish I could prove it.

But I can't.

Then I think "maybe we'd be better off."

You make it very clear that you don't need me, when I eagerly admit that you're all I need.

If you don't need me, then what use am I to you anyway?

This only adds to how much I already hate my life.

The one thing that made it bearable, that made everyday something to look forward to, now has a dagger for a tongue, towards me, of all people.

I always find myself hated in these things.

There's something very wrong with me. Something unlovable.

It's been proved far too many times to deny it.

Time to fly.

It comes down to two options simply. Continue in a supposed state of security, subsequently miserable, or take the biggest chance of my life so far, and perhaps, be happy.

Why things aren't easy, I'll never know. I'd like to think that struggles make us stronger in some way. But it's more than that. I feel bound. Mostly by guilt, also by fear. I'd love to cast it all off, but I'm very aware of the consequences of that. I know the consequences of this choice. Still, there's a nagging in my heart warning me that if I pass this up, I'll one day regret it. Is it better to go out on a limb for your heart, risk it all at the chance of losing everything, or to hold onto security, live a drab life, wondering what that Summer would've been like. Wishing you could relive that choice. Sure, this is all I've ever known. Yes, I'm terrified of taking that first step. I'm terrified that I may have to come back with my tail between my legs. I argue with myself that there's nothing in this world more worth it than what I've chosen. There isn't, afterall.

"This above all: to thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou cans't not be false to any man."
I believe it whole heartedly. Now to put it into practise.

- I realize how much I've missed. I'm ignorant to the things I should know so well, and for that, I hold resentment. It disheartens me,and makes this much harder than it should be. I'll not have my wings clipped any longer. They have long been beating against the walls of this cage, bruising me even more.

Time to fly.

Flight.

I feel so out of place here.

At this point, I want to get away more than I ever have before. I'm 18 now, an adult legally, though I've mentally been an adult for much longer. - I could so easily leave everything behind in a fleeting moment. There's not much that I would miss, and it would be awhile before I began to miss. But.. I keep a level head about things. I must have the start of my future in order before I jump and to be honest, I find that discouraging. I'm bound by responsibility, as I always have been. I've never tasted the teenage freedom of being able to just say "fuck you" to the things I need to do. I've never been carefree. Always worrying about this, that and the other and never feeling that I meet the standards that I should. I tire of it, though it is what drives me, I guess.

Mostly, I just want someone. Not just anyone. My someone. I'm restless for a warrior.

You are impossible.

But I have faith.

Only Richard Wagner can describe how I feel at the moment.
He and the thunderstorm raging outside of my window..

Amidst a house of sleepers.

The burning light of my night stand lamp welcomed a moth into my bedroom. Bouncing against the searing hot bulb, I can hear it's wings flip-flapping with pain. It knows what it wants. That light. That incandescent, perfect glowing that brightens everything around it, yet sears to the touch. It's something to love and adore, says the moth, something so beautiful must be touched, held, kissed. But it burns with a cold hatred. The moth knows the pain to come, insisting on fluttering around the perfectly shaped glass, touching again and again, each time burned. I wonder if the moth ever asks herself if it's worth it.

I'm laying in bed, turning into an insomniac. I only have a couple of chapters left of Platoon by Dale A. Dye, and when I've finished them, I think I'll lay here and contemplate the theory of reencarnation. I have one hour til I have to be up and dressed anyway.

03:11

I'm so tired. But I can't sleep, and neither do I want to.

It's seems that I complain too much, analyze too much, express too much. I say how I feel and I'm told that I feel too much, which still bothers me. I can't help how I feel.. or what words I use to describe it. My vocabulary is limited for what bounds in this heart of mine. I think it's very important for you to know how I feel, and likewise, I love knowing what you feel, think, and your general take on things. It interests me, YOU interest me.

I get to the point of wondering "Should I shut up? Have you heard enough of my ramblings?". Then I think that maybe you're just not used to having someone who cares so much. Maybe you think that I take things much too far, move way too fast. And I hope that you don't see that as a problem.

I'm so used to being able to make things better for other people. People that I don't even really care about. When it's you, the priority to turn things around goes up 10 city blocks. But I can't always make things better. In fact, here lately, I can NEVER make things better. So naturally, my mood goes down with yours, and that never makes for a good evening.

And even when I've overreacted at something you've said and am probably acting childish about it, I still wish that you could be laid against me, your lips on my shoulder, falling asleep as I scratch your back gently. Because truly, I just want to make things better. I'm sorry that I have a tendency to make them worse with my sharp tongue.


I know what I feel and you know what I feel. I love you.

Reactions.

They say opposites attract, and in some cases that is so. But not always. From personal experience, I can say that it is possible that two cut from the same cloth can fit like hand in glove. I believe that attractions happen chemically, without even so much as being aquainted with a person. How else do you explain that in most friendships, both parties magically "hit it off" upon meeting? Mind you, some people start off hating one another, and then one day run into each other and decide that they're best friends. Their chemicals mixed wrong.

Relationships can start like a science project. Smoke, bubbling, success! Or... foul smells, bubbling over, and in some cases, even an explosion. You could be casually walking down the street with friends and happen to look across the way for no particular reason, and spot someone. Someone whom you're immediately attracted to. It doesn't have to be a sexual attraction at all. You suddenly have a general interest in this stranger. And then, you lock eyes. Yes, they feel it too. Before long, you're immersed in conversation, or have at least swapped numbers. (Unless you're a shy person like me, in which case, you'd look away, shuffle off and never see them again, and regret it for days and days and days.. )

And in the case of hating someone's guts upon meeting, the chemicals meet mid-air and it's like a Mortal Kombat match. You can't stand the way they smell, look, speak, stand, OR you love everything about them and that confuses you, so you pretend to hate them when really, you just don't understand. But let's just say that you do hate them. Your chemicals and their's just weren't made to mix.

Now, I'm no scientist. But how I do love theories. Most of them probably seem silly, and I welcome retorts. I truly believe though, that chemicals and atoms and pheremones work around us to draw fellows into our midst. That's how people fall in love. It's also how people fall out of love. Chemicals can change, become stronger and weaker with time, different elements and temperatures. Unless of course there's more than just a chemical connection. A fate connection.. well that's in the heart and heavens, and nothing can change that.

Ick.

I have a terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible headache.

My head feels like a concrete block; except that it's also dripping like a faucet. And my eyeball is leaking. YES, I'M SRS. You see, I rarely get sick. But when I do, it hits me like a softball to the nose. (I know this because I've been hit in the nose with a softball before. Cue waiting in ER for 6 HOURS just to be prescribed benadryl.) I digress. ..And along with this hard hitting sickness, the cold always, alwaysalwaysalways, sets in my eye. Not a particular one, they take turns actually. And for as long as the sickness lasts, one of my eyes puffs up, turns red, pours liquid, and generally feels like there's an ice cold needle impaling it. Not fun, and certainly not pretty.

But anyways.

Revelation of the day: Being able to say "I'm taken" is much more effective at ridding oneself of admirers then saying "I'm not looking at the moment". Why? Because these mofos think they can change my mind. Sorry. But you can't. Please fuck off?

No questions asked.

I've found ways to go numb. There are just some things that I'd rather not endure. Sometimes I'm tired of being strong. I need a break from being the one who puts on the brave face when the going gets tough. I've been scared. Here recently, I've been terrified. Instead of holding my chin high as I've been known to do every time before, I expressed it (loudly, I'm afraid) and did my best to escape the pain of it, and I can't be blamed. It'll not become a habit. No, I do admit that I'm proud of my 'hard as nails' exterior. Even when everything aches away inside, I can still manage to brush it off as though it's on the topic of weather. But I do have a breaking point, just as everyone does. This happened to be something that I couldn't dismiss with the weather, and I didn't even try.

I've been called 'level-headed' by 2 very important people in the same week. I don't always feel that way. In fact, most days I'd love to hold my head under water to compare the pressure of it to the pressures of everyday life. I have a strange view on the world and how things work in it. Blame my anti-social mindset.

But what I've come to realize is, even with the hard knocks, things still pull themselves together. As impossible as the situation may seem, life does work out, if you let it.

"Fate controls who walks into your life, but you control who you let walk out, who you need back, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go"

Empty.

This has possibly been the longest day of my life.

...

My last post stated that I would be making a list of things I need to do this summer. It's pretty clear to me now that there is no list. I currently have no goals.

~ The little world that we built together with our day dreams, has just gone under, and I can't wrap my head around the reason you gave me.

I've sobbed my heart out. Probably will continue to.

I've never begged someone to stay before. I guess I figured you were worth it.
You're still worth it.

I can't help but think back to the time that I told you I knew I could live without you, but I never wanted to try. You agreed, and said that you doubt you could be happy without me. You said you wouldn't trade me for your next breath.

I don't want to turn bitter.

Would you like to be my inspiration?

I've come to rely on tomorrow. Each hour brings me closer to my goals. Each day feels the same except for the little voice deep inside of me that says, "soon". Without it, I'm sure I would have given up long ago. Thank you, little voice. Thank you.

I'm compiling a list of things I want/need/must do this Summer. Stay tuned.

You should listen to this song. Youtube wouldn't let me embed. "Invasion" - Eisley

"You would take the breath from my throat.
And you would take the cherished people that I hold.

All in time you will be one of us painless, us blameless.
Go to sleep, this wont hurt a bit,
Shifting your shape to our shells."

Rambunctious.

We fixed things yesterday morning.





I just want to dance.
Herp derp.

Speaking of dancing, I've finally found a girl band worth listening to. From Sweden no less..



The lead singer, Linnea Jönsson.. OMG I WANT HER HAIR. That is all.

Diet Sprite and rocking horses.

I love it when I go to a garage sale and stumble across a dusty box of antique avon perfume bottles. Whiskey colored glass, shaped like rocking horses, high heel shoes, busts of George Washington. The plastic lid always reminds me of that 70's plastic the old barbie cars were made out of. You can just smell the antiquity in the flimsiness of that  kind of plastic.

But what I love most about those old avon bottles is that when I take off the lid and get a whiff of that ancient perfume, no matter which scent it is, it somehow reminds me of my great grandmother.

I found a bottle of avon lotion today. Not quite so old, but it was one of the scents that were popular back when the perfume was bottled so uniquely. It made me miss her. It made me miss sitting in the living room floor of her trailer, sipping a diet sprite (because that's all she drank), and watching episode 1 of Star Wars on vhs. Or sitting quietly on the arm of her recliner while she stroked my hair and told me how beautiful I was.

And then I thought of Jerry and how he used to always ask me if I'd been to a garage sale lately. I'd say yes, knowing what his reply would be. He'd always ask how much I'd bought the garage for. At 9 years old, I'd explain to him that I was outbid and that the garage wasn't in that great of shape anyway and watch his laugh lines gather around his glittering eyes.

I miss Popeye, the lunatic parrot that Jerry would yell at when he got angry at the world. Popeye always yelled right back, much like the world does.

There's just a tiny ache in my heart for those days.

I wish life were like a photograph.

A perfect wreck of a moment, frozen in time. The smiles genuine, the setting faded yet familiar. When you look at a photograph like that, you wonder if you'll ever feel again the way you felt at that moment. It's distant. It could have been taken in the very room you stand in as you analyze it, but still, it seems far away. A place that you'll never be again as long as you live.

I want an album full of photographs like that one day.

Friction.

My life is a mess. A lovely one, though I must say.

I'm bursting to start life. Rushing, maybe. I feel that I haven't lived, neither will I live til I've struck out on my own. The beautiful thing is, I won't be "on my own" other than the fact that I'm out of my parents' house. Because these days, there is no alone when it comes to being me.

We have plans. Plans that no one else in the whole wide world is privy to.

"Summer is going to be like a Manchester Orchestra song. Glowing and upbeat."

Everything else is complicated. Troublesome in my mind. I get so frustrated at times at the things that refuse to work out the way I want them to. Nothing moves at my speed, in my class,.. in my world, even. I'm a dreamer and always will be. I can't help that. But I need to learn patience. I realize that before I can leave anything behind, I have to be prepared for the worst, and there are things that I must do before I jump the gun.

Oh, but I feel I could leave right now. Fill a paper bag with underwear and vintage jewelry and books. Live in a car for a year, wandering the states. Meeting new people in new places, taking photographs with them and forgetting their names. Sleeping under the stars in a shared sleeping bag. And of course, falling deeper and deeper in love with the guy of my dreams. Sounds like something you'd see on the Sundance channel? Probably. But it's something active in my mind. I want to live.

I will make the leap. It'll all be worth it, I'll make sure of that.
It's just not going to happen as soon as I'd like.

Long forgotten poems of mine.

It was a different time in my life.
That's all I remember.

Early morning something-ness.
What's going on in that head of your's, then?
Surprise me;
I want to be eveloped in your tastes.
Tantalize my soul;
Close your eyes and I'll wait.
Like bees in my head, buzzing to honey.
Or the flag on the horizon, warning of storm.
Wrapped. Lost. No trace.
You find me; no one else.
I'll wait.



I spiraled; haunting the ground.
Yellow, blue, and brown surrounding.
Reaching up toward the atmosphere; cold.
I can't breathe.
Follow.
You're breathing.
Time stops and sounds shatter my ears.
You're climbing down, below earth and reason.
Still reaching. I shiver and you feel it.
Tethered to air.
Spin.
Give air meaning.
It calms. Then rises and breaks upon your feet.
See me? I reflect on the waves of your mind.
Turn and look. My arm's no longer outstretched.
Moving to water.
Fallen.
It's too late this time.

Meh.

Sometimes I wonder when enough is enough. I've been apologizing all my life, for being me, for things I've said and done. I seem to always be apologizing for something. It's always heartfelt. I mean, from the bottom of my heart, I truely hate myself for whatever I'm apologizing for, even if I don't know why it was wrong. I don't know how to change something that's already been done, neither do I know how to make it better except by my feeble "I'm sorry". Sometimes "sorry" isn't enough. No matter how much I beat myself up for it, I'm still going to feel guilty and you're still going to be mad at me for the rest of the night.

Thus my night goes from bad to worse.

This stuff is in my blood.

Summer is coming. The heat is creeping up my legs, I can taste the thickness in the air.

I want to kick my shoes off and run on gravel rocks, sit in a ditch and watch snakes writhe by whilst listening to the woods screech with life behind me, drink from a water hose, and yes, cause lots and lots of trouble.

I don't have many memories of past Springs, Autumns or Winters. Only Summer. Laying awake til the wee hours of the morning, letting the cool breeze sweep over me from my open window as I lay uncovered in bed, soaked with sweat. Ankle deep in itchy mud in the swamp behind my house. Catching all sorts of critters and carrying them home to live in my backyard. Turtles and field mice and injured birds. Picking my way through the thick jungle that we call the woods with boys my own age, arguing over who should be leading this expedition. Falling out of trees and just laying there, wondering if I'm dead.
I miss the Summers of my childhood.

Dancing. Kisses and sundresses.

This Summer is going to be the best one I've had yet. I can feel it in my hips.

Allow me to physically pick myself apart for a moment.

(yes, this is me. or my hands, at least.)

My hair is 18 years old. Frankly, I'm tired of it and it's tired of me.

I've been asked to keep it the way it is by a special someone, at least for a little while, and I've agreed. But eventually, I'm going to dye it red and possibly get it permed. I'm proud of it's natural length, I admit, but many, many years from now, I may just cut it all off to spite myself. You know Michelle from Skins?

I want her hair so bad.

I absolutely, positively, without a bloody doubt HATE the dark circles under my eyes. I would do nearly anything to be rid of them. My pale, pale complexion paired with purple insomnia bags, does not bode well with me. I look in the mirror and pull and pinch at the skin on my face. Then I say "ugh" aloud.

Thirdly, I'm skinny all over. A bean pole, I've been called. Except in one general area. It bugs me, man.

But my eyes, I don't mind one little bit. Ever changing. They're unique. I've learn to love my feet, smaller than most. My high cheekbones, showing heritage. My prominent collarbone. My heart shaped lips. My long fingers. My shapely legs. In general, I love the skin I'm in. Mostly because I'm finally comfortable with myself. I am me. These are my thoughts and this is my body. I'm not going to change anything permanantly that was given especially to me to be mine.

By loving me, you are teaching me to love myself.

Sweetness.

I have come to the realization that I love sleep more than anything in the world.

Except for my boyfriend.

He makes being awake pretty cool.

"We can always rendezvous in our dreams." -My Slade

Loss for words.

I'm just tickled.

Ink.

I can't put into words how much I want this tattoo.

But for now, my fair skin remains unmarked. /sigh



And as a matter of interest..

And to end an otherwise shitty day..

I hate misunderstandings.

I pride myself with the talent of being able to read people, especially those that I'm close to. Interpretting ones actions and tying it to a thought or emotion that the individual is thinking or feeling, is something that normally comes to me with ease. Even for a mere aquaintance. But occassionally, I judge wrongly. Just as I did tonight. Instead of being there for the number one person in my life, I misjudged that maybe he needed time to cool off. I figured that with my bad mood, I'd probably just make it worse anyway. And that's exactly what I did. I made it worse by not being there.

Realizing that fact probably hit me harder than anything else today.
Sometimes I'm such an idiot.

The sort of seeds that grow and choke.

The sun lied to me when I looked out my bedroom window this morning. Bright rays shooting every which way on the frozen ground. I thought that it must be warm, and I was possessed with the sudden desire to feel it burning on my skin. But instead, I was met with a bone chilling slap to the face as I stepped out the backdoor.

Even with that, I decided that I would be in good spirits today. Hasn't exactly worked out that way.

The after effects of an ugly dream won't leave the back of my mind.
The more I try to push the thoughts out of my mind, the stronger they linger.
I know better than to doubt something so pure and all I want is to be rid of this silliness.

I fear loss.

The trees swaying over my neighbor's rooftop, are calling to me. I want out of this chilly cage. My bedroom is decorated with toys and vintage costume jewelry, as though I'm trapped in some time warp. I'm no longer a baby. Let me go.

I Can Feel a Hot One - Manchester Orchestra

Rare Lion.

"Poetry is the soul, standing naked."

Hence my change in name. Though it is ironic that I'm known as the girl shrouded in mystery. I've come to discover that many people find that attractive about me. I suppose that I represent a challenge in some way.

Words are going to be my Summer. Written and spoken and kissed.

One day, I am going to watch the sun set all over the world.

No loose lips here.

I have just awoken from possibly the best sleep of my life. My legs are trembling.
You want to know why? Well, I think I'd rather keep it to myself. You see, my blog still has some level of privacy. It's not like your average "my experiences as a prostitute" blogs or one of those blogs posted by a middle aged woman, revealing every detail of her non existent sex life and how much she loathes her husband for forgetting to take out the trash and worrying that maybe little Johnny has unique sexual preferences.

The reason being, in this age of reality tv and internet, no one has privacy anymore. I believe there is a time and place for everything. And there most certainly is a time for keeping your own secrets.

Nowadays, drama spreads like wildfire thanks to texting. Think about being a highschooler back in the 80's. Word of mouth was exactly that. Word of mouth. You either heard it or saw it in person, or your best friend called you after school on her pink rotary phone to divulge details. These days it's as simple as pressing a button and you've sent someone's secret to everyone you know. It takes what, 5 seconds?

Social networking takes my next hit. Yes, we all love it. At least I know I do. Keeping up with the next person's every thought and photo has a charm to it. A stalker's charm, you might say. How I do love to watch a Jerry Springer episode explode on the facebook status of a 14 year old.

I suppose it's all about information. Who knows what about who and what. Where they did it, and did they use a condom!?

But I fall away from my main point. Right now, at this moment, I want to brag. I want to tell the world every minute detail of my passionate love affair with the man called Slade. But I can't and I won't because I am a subtle person believe it or not and there really IS a time and a place for everything. Now is not the time. This is not the place. I think it better to keep my secrets, as lovely as they may be, behind closed doors. They mean much more between two people that way.

The world will never know. It's just us. And oh how I love you.

Beautiful complaint.

Reader: Play the video whilst reading. It'll make as much sense as I want it to.

Your love is very critical.

Honestly, I don't know where we got off to. Everything fell into place. The shit hit the fan and we were rolling in it.

I'm not scared of the change that I know is coming. "Hurry! Hurry!", is what I pant under my breath while standing under a green canopy of nature. I'm anxious to climb. And there will be consequences, I know. But I measure the worth by my happiness, and yours.
"I need you, and the right amount of chemicals to live." This is so right.

Loss is taken in pieces. I have lost. So much. But I've gained even more, since. Lord knows, you can't beat a dead horse of it's pride. Fuck, I'm so happy.