Tuesday, July 31, 2007

struggling to find the connecting words.

it's like the last part of something big. the magic moment.

there is a priest in our church who has secrets in his eyes.

I'm never okay with being me.

this is all supposed to read profound but I guess you never really got it. or atleast took it the wrong way.

I am looking forward to being healed in new york. the dirty elegance the city holds under layers of musty grime. like a medical leave to neverland. the mental healing all just comes in the travel package.

I want to kill my self image.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

doctor stories. related in some way to orphan stories I swear.

my parachute didn't open.

comfortable in melodrama. I've never loved sweaters and purple nailpolish more than I do at this moment. cupcakes are my comfort food, it's alright, you can be envious of my blatantly silly ego. relating everything back to the real world and I've decided to stop. revel in the mystery and say no to your instincts.

I don't take pictures without my glasses anymore, you can see the bags under my eyes more clearly. they look so squinty and sad.

Monday, July 23, 2007

"Usually I'm a good kisser." His voice lowered to a whisper. "But I wasn't ready."

pianos play in my mind.
I am forever getting that one first kiss with that one boy who "gets me, mom."
only never really.
been thinking of a lot of things I could tattoo to myself lately. everything just seems so true and refined. the kind of old loves that never die and all that.
been fucking afraid of my body lately. trying to sever that connection between mind and self, but goddamn, it's just so well hidden.
I'm sorry I let you down.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

the dangerous angels of the globe lamps.

things I wish I would have done and written. a list in the weirdest kind of way. (things I've been thinking):

it's gotten me to look at you different, you should be thankful.
I tell the most heartwrenching lies when I'm sad.

an open mind is an open door. there are thieves in this neighborhood.

the creepers have ruined everything but you have let them. "they don't try to do anything another has done."

"the meaning of its misunderstanding is so profound."




"who am I and what is the time we are upon?"

witch baby is in my head.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

lyinglaundry.com is pretty kickass.

the vampire hours are finally working for me again. posted at 5:12 am.

Monday, July 16, 2007

always underground.

after having just watched the movie "the flats" I feel as though it has taught me to not take things so seriously. the small town relaxation recreation. friends and family. living in a surreal world makes you unreal.
I remember what she said about me once. I'm sure she wouldn't say it today.
"she's the number one underdog. screw those black clouds and such."

I don't want to be famous.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

letter from an asshole.

yeah, well I'm fed up with you and this. you're wasting your time and I'm angry at you for it. Heartbreak will kill you if you let it, and fuck if you're not giving any effort to be alright. I can't deal with you and that's probably why I did it in the first place. It's not a lack of understanding, it's more of a meaningless bubble you put me in. Well you're done with me now it seems and I'm glad for it. Shoot me for being an asshole, but if that's what this is, I've always been one my whole life. I'm cracking my knuckles, getting ready to punch your lights out, but your indifference to even this only puts fuel in the fire. take some fucking medicine and feel better, just make an effort to get out of this, or I'm just going to give up on you. Stop dwelling in it because it's not the end of the world.
You will never know how mad you make me. Stop fucking with your own emotions and smother yourself with what you've been using on me. And go jump off those bridges I was warned so helpfully not to burn. "I said I loved you but I lied."

in other sorts of news. in and out of hotels and states in the last two weeks. my bed never felt so comfortable. shopping for a new identity in fashion magazines and movie theatres. I miss three years ago. And I am forever angry at you for changing.
nothing is better than red notebooks, hoodies and sheets. the fatal combination that makes up most of my life. (And I don't even care if I got most of these words from you).

for the record, your sadness has lost its meaning in translation to me. I am sick of all the adolescent relationships around me breaking at the seams.