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.