10/13/14

   Today has been odd, I don't know if it's the combination of exhaustion and nostalgia but I have found myself in quite the mood today. I guess you could call where I am at happy, although I would could classify it as content. My relationship is finally where I want it to be, oddly enough after I tried to end it. I guess it takes almost losing someone to find value in them, I don't know if that should be something that okay or not. I'm not going to over think it, after all we've been though this is the last time, it isn't something that I'm lying to myself about either. I have't thought about a lot lately, it's been a swirl of alcohol and late nights where the stars hide behind the clouds and faces swirl, kisses are given, and forgotten, and I forget who I am. I can see how in the books that I read why Vampires would choose to reside here.  Yet I know who I love but I cannot stand to not be loved back, that is not something I think anyone is equipped to handle. Yet I know that it happens more times than anyone would like to think about.  It would be too easy to lose myself here and forget it in the starless night sky. 
   I bought candles at Walmart on some rushed occasion to get my teammates candy for a 'secret pumpkin' excuse, and I thought about Nick, and those who I've lost. I guess lost isn't the right terminology to use though, losing something that isn't yours isn't losing at all really. Simply an empty hum in my brain where they used to be. The good die young and the rest of us are damned to live in this misery that we create, at least that's what I like to tell myself.
   Death is strange, I recently watched a play about it, and it was about how when we're gone we have infinite knowledge but cannot move on and I've come to the conclusion that if there is a god he must be asleep.  I hope those who decided to leave and those who were swept out the door without their consent, are happy. Wherever they may find themselves. 

8/24/14

I'm so tired of thinking, it's all  lost time that is never found. Therefore without grace, chocked full of sympathetic irony; trying to close the gaps in the past because we are not that yet.  People come and go like faces on subways that i've never been on at 3 am because I live in a new money suburbia full of blonde women and black Suburbans, something I find most fitting to the California stereotype. I've come to find this faux way of life seems to breed an egregious form of human being. Or quite possibly I am bitter, but it seems that those I have felt the closest to, due to the measure of time I have known them for,  really mean nothing at all. 
To put it quite simply, we have known each other for a long time. And that was all. It seems that as I grow older I realize that this rings more and more true. I do not know why humans put some sort of abysmal meaning behind time. There isn't anything incomprehensible that's all it is, days and hours and months, and the past is becoming a fog within me and i'm constantly stuck wandering through it. But who am I to make assumptions on the rest of the world, the part that I have seen for my self is so infinitesimal that for being alive for almost two decades I have yet to live. Which I find slightly disturbing, something I want to let go, but can't quite bring myself to. So I have come to the conclusion that I should love myself, so no one has to. It seems that my presence in most areas are insignificant. Filled with this subconscious effort not to succeed, because I am hellbent on the idea that I do not have much time left. "I hate you, don't leave me alone."  I feel like there's a name for that, some sort of mental disorder that I read about somewhere, anything that you do is now a severe disorder, or extreme character flaw. Nobody has the leisure to die of old age. Everything has a diagnoses. And as I sit in this empty florescent lit library on a Sunday night I start to wonder why this is even relevant, I understand how contradictory it sounds to want nothing but change but fear it with all of your being. The allure of starting over was always too much temptation over me, but now I am here. I am no longer relevant in any of these peoples lives, not that I was before contrary to how I have felt. Suddenly my past is following me, why are decisions made always inedibly the wrong ones one way or another. Why did something I want not want me until I was gone, although that is an entirely different topic completely. The amount I have already wrote about it is painfully pathetic. 
Everyone wants to be loved in one way or another, but why is it that we go to sleep in all of the wrong peoples beds at night. So now I am here, one thousand miles away from my home. And there is still something empty inside of me.  
I cannot fill the cracks.

7/26/14

Sometimes i really start to question the validity of these relationships that we lead ourselves to believe are necessary. Up until today,  I believed that I loved someone who treated me worse than I treat myself, something someone should never do. I don't know if this is something applicable to only my thoughts and how i treat myself, but if i could; i would change everything about who i am down to my very being. And the sad truth is that i didn't get butterflies anymore. I wonder if that's how i knew that it was the end. I had been thinking about the beginning for a long time, replaying that night over and over again in my head. Ghosted over the one I had last night, the one where he took me to a party and pretended that he didn't know who I was, as I sat freezing outside playing drinking games with people I didn't know, and trying to pretend that I hadn't pictured that it would go differently when he asked 'what did you expect' as I tried to come up with an acceptable answer.  I couldn't even feel hurt anymore, just overwhelming sense of disappointment.
By the moment when you feel disappointment over anger or hurt, it's over. It was such a beautiful, wonderful idea in my head. You can imagine the way i felt when the guy i had been daydreaming about since the fifth grade, the very one who had kissed me on a Friday of 2013 had asked me to stay with him, this was a big deal. People we both knew would see us together, I was so proud  that he could finally get over whatever childish fears he had to be hanging out with someone that was attached to his old life. Now, picture the worst outcome to the situation. He didn't want to go out, there weren't any parties, i was cold? Should have not dressed so slutty, in my jeans and halter top.
 I wasn't even angry. I was just disappointed. The kind of disappointment you feel in the very corners of your heart, when you aren't entirely surprised but still  holding onto this idea that somewhere deep down everything will be alright. And maybe it will be, then again maybe the books i read and  the people i romanticize on the street have all simply been what they are. Stories. It feels like a part of me is being buried alive and I can't scream. I'm screaming and the world is still turning, and the sun is setting, and life is going on as the world i created is disappearing and i need to sit down. I wonder how many times we're bound to feel this pain in our lives, how many times we will experience this hurt over and over again before we decide that we are finished running in circles. I wonder what i am doing wrong. I wonder why it is so hard to be wanted by those you long to want you most.
If my life were a book some handsome dark price would have waltzed into my life long ago. I don't know if I would change anything if i were to go back and do it over that friday in the summer of 2013 though, because my god. Before I hit the gravel, I could have sworn that I was flying.

Funny, how we miss things that we never ours 

6/1/14

I sat alone on the couch staring at the TV as if it could somehow play out my memories in a way that seemed to make everything mean something to me

5/23/14

I will shrink and disappear,
I will slip into a grove and cut myself off,
The only catch is the lonely hum in my brain where your name used to be
now I understand why peter pan never wanted to grow up.
You will never grow old with me.
we were,
and then we weren't
like the indian summers or glances upon faces on the 3 am subway,
day filled nights where you used to breath.
lost in waiting for trains and people who were never going to come.
One day,
the thought didn't make me smile.
kissing stone faces turned hard and cold from the reflection of your memories.

4/29/14

You were gone before you left.
I realize that now,
We build homes out of people and places that we can't find on our own.
It was probably nothing,
plucking at the skin between my ribs and my spine like an out of tune violin cracking on the high C's and low G's
humming tunes from a fragmented song we had the audaciousness to call our own,
It felt like the world.
Disintegrated around us, dust caught in my lungs,
Now I know why storms are named after people.

When will i not be an eulogy to you
i was meant to be poetry.
Death leaves no beautiful corpses.
If I am always left always gasping for the life i've lost,
I know that in twenty years I will not remember today so why am i sitting here remembering yesterday there is no blood on my hands this day dream was not my own.

Suddenly love doesn't matter as much,
and I remember.
You were gone,
Long before you left

2/23/14

I am supposed to be doing my English homework, or college work, or cleaning my room. Quite possibly all of the above. Instead  I sit and fantasize about a world devoid of all human beings. No crazy apocalyptic storm, coupled with screaming mayhem.  Just simply waking up one day to absolutely nothing.
I wonder if that's what death's like. I
I know that it's human nature to crave the attention of other beings. But i can't help but fantasize to absolute nothing. It would be a great burden taken off of me. How I adore the sardine stuffed cities, and the minute tendencies only granted to see after great time. But I still crave that nothing world, left behind by almost everything.
How I would sit and watch the weeds grow in places I used to know. And feel the sun sink upon my soul, and know. That furthermore I am alone.
The worst kind of alone is surrounded by ones you pretend to know. An alone felt by many and all, makes me wonder if they too wish.
For the world alone.

2/21/14

Watching movies always makes me sad, even if it wasn't the overall thematic intent. I suppose the sorrow that seeds from it is the fact that, the world is beautiful, and that hurts me. I want to have a first class romance, with first class adventures, and quirky friends. But these thing s simply don't 
exist. 

I suppose they do in someones' reality, somewhere. And their books will end just fine, but mine. is a different story. The author has all but stopped writing, and simply dumped ink all over the page. 
The thing about being used, is that you can't be, if you're aware of it happening.

stupid.
seven
stupid
months

And what am I doing? However pathetic I may be,  I will at least admit to feeling. I am all but aware that at one  point in time it was shared. Now I am simply an object. Was that not my original intent? I may say it how every many times, but I know deep down that it is not what  I want. But I, too stubborn to ever admit will continue on in slight distaste of the dream I will never live.
I wonder what happens to forgotten dreams, do they wither and wilt? Rot like fruit in a panty. Flies grazing as they decay. Or do they stay, somewhere.  Their shine long gone, like unpolished silver. Waiting for a day when it will be stumbled upon. Like forgotten heirlooms, accompanied with  a faint recognition of distraught panic, of something inevitably lost, but not able 
to 
quite
remember.  

1/11/14

Getting high and washing away your existential crisis's away with darkness that floods into your head pulling the memories like the moon during high tide away from your consciousness. I am standing there somewhere awash the confused thoughts and discontinued dreams wondering if my name tastes the same hers somewhere far away from the time that we used to spend sitting around doing nothing. Crumpled like the aspirations written on papers crunched tight smeared black from holding too close.
You were never real to me, now I to you. Out of sight out of mind, fading like the last rays of dusk on of the full moon as you wash away from me.