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.