9/30/13

I am so very tired.
I am afraid that it is starting to show.

9/29/13

God I'm getting old.
What a thought, the days that we thought would last forever seem to be stretching their last rays of light in my mind.  Playing mermaids in the pool, and Hayao Miyazaki week, and Reat, oh Reat. I am so scared, I don't want to lose that. I am so, scared.

9/28/13

18 years old, slipping into the void.
Talking all the time saying nothing, youth gone cold and shriveled like the autumn leaves, they fall spinning down into the darkness of faint recollections of a time once alive, something on the lips of a word that feels familiar like a memory you should have.
But now you sit at a bar shriveled and old a prime relic of the times past all blurring into one large distorted mix of blue and black, wondering if it was really worth it.
Gobbling pills that the doctor gave you, to fix what's now cracked and torn inside it's not working.
it's not working
as just how thousands have died so do the words on my lips frozen with the inability to decided on when is too far.

9/27/13

The current feeling of falling into the the dark hole that once held my mind rattles through empty streets and allies of the paper mache buildings I have built that once housed the things I called my own. And now it rains anger sprayed in no particular direction melting those cities into the sad remains of a third grade project I faintly recall doing.  Teenage angst at its finest until you find yourself all alone and come to the realization that all we have is our meted paper mache cities full of things we have killed, and killing things doesn't make them go away; it makes them dead.
Now those too crumpled and tossed in the corner dark blurs unable to read next to the glitter coated childhood dreams.  Life gets real, and so do we.  Turn grey and crumble just like the long abandoned cities. And so I'll break my toes as I grow sad and I get clumsy yet you're still too young to understand, how I am too desperate to be seen. So fall like fools for gold, that are now painted black like the cracks in a youthful heart just before it breaks. And it makes me want to be a part of that but like the seasons inevitably we have changed, into a swallowing darkness that plays hide and go seek in our minds it's only a matter of time before you find it, and then it's your turn, run and hide don't let it find you. All games are won or lost and I surly have lost mine, is this what it means to grow up.

9/26/13

The things that matter.

I can't seem to handle the things that allegedly matter in life.  And god damn I just about called it quits at 18, and I'm an honest woman.
 All I get called is a liar.
And no one will understand when I am gone. That's just how it goes, everyone pretends to have only seen the good. Not the sadness when you're all alone in your head or the darkness that rims souls.
And if actions speak louder than words, then my gaunt eyes and torn skin should be the most defining thing that you have ever heard.
But it seems that all of the worlds eyes have fallen out, so they haven't got a point of view. Only loudly voiced opinions on matters that they cannot see.
Oh, tragedy. How I have never felt the need for love, books have always been able to fill that void. And I'll be forced to face the fact that I'm just fine.
But I'm not. My ideals and points of view on life are so twisted that only the ones that have themselves been broken seem to show empathy.  And now I know that it's too late
And it tears me up. Not even my family has seemed to take note of my slow detachment from life. And sooner, rather than later, I will be gone.

9/25/13

bleeding into each others blood, into each others cracked laughter under the impression that you can laugh no matter how sad you really are.
Looking at those bones, a model from Auswich with bones like flowers they're starting to wilt slipping into the void, weekend visits more like prison, visiting hours not family time.
The city has turned blue the ship still hasn't sailed it's stuck in your frozen city.
Fill your belly with sadness it swells like the tide on a full moon, they're coming for you whispering like trees or ghosts their roots anchoring your ship down,
making patterns out of the cracks in your bedroom walls.

9/24/13

I can't seem to keep track of anything anymore.
Everything seems to be spinning out of control into a perfect haze of discontinued thoughts and half slept nights. The ideas of what I want.  Have long been lost in the repeated questions of  what do you want to do, and is that practical.
Maybe I lost it in those long nights, where the patterns on the walls seemed more important than anything going on.  Or in the dark circles of the bubble in questions that are constantly placed in front of me, never quite matching my own.  Maybe I lost it in the faces that have started to blur together in my mind, or the sleep that I continually can't seem to get enough of.
Maybe it was never there.
 Something that I created in the hopes of a carefree childhood, memories that you should have.  Covered in the adventures stolen from books.
There is a rotting hole in my heart, that cries out for the lost days and adventures. Where the time was never, and there were no days to come.
I don't want to leave.