March 29, 2004

Scattered thoughts

I've learned that I can live without him. That he is not needed for my survival. That he was nothing more than a learning experience and is not fit now to wipe my shoes. For this I am grateful. I don't need him, but it was nice having him when we were happy.

I am going to be okay, even if it does seem that a lot of my problems revolve around guys. They are not the most important things in my life, my friends are. It just works out that a lot of my friends are guys. I just seem to connect better with a lot of disinterested, hormone-raging guys.

Hooray for a world of video games, where reality has no hold, and no meaning. Give a cheer for those in power with their summons and their healing. Let the vampires walk the streets and prowl the rooftops watching for the fallen, and disgraced. May it be that the woman is no longer at the men's mercy, but they at hers...

March 28, 2004

Twisted teardrops

My body is committing mutiny. I hurt all over, I worked all of Saturday, and my hair is decidedly thinning itself out. And the worse part is that I know it can get worse, so I feel bad about complaining.

I have a serious martyr complex. Let me take the pain if it'll stop hurting you. I'll die if it'll save you. I'll drop everything no matter the importance, if it'll be helpful to you. I will not give up my friends for myself. But am I doing it just for the glory, or the recognition? I don’t know; it’s just how I am, and then when I do anything for myself I feel bad for letting others down.

They wonder why I cut, why I feel the need to slice myself up. It is my one selfish act. It is the thing I do to make myself feel better. Other people and their opinions don't matter when it comes to this, just mine and mine alone. I know that it hurts them to see the scars, to see the scabs, to hear my stories and possibly my excuses on why, but in this respect I have stopped all caring.

They don't completely know what it feels like to have warm blood trickle down the cool flesh of your arm. They don't know the patterns it creates; the rivers it mimics, or the tears it so dutifully reminds me of.

There are other ways to bleed, and in turn there are other ways to cry.

March 25, 2004

Shredded dreams

Is it wrong that I want to cut? That I want to slice my arm up until it looks like my insides feel? Everyone is telling me that what I am doing is wrong, but if it is why does it feel so right?

I feel better for it, my pain is released and I am okay for a while longer. So how is it wrong if I am only hurting myself?

I just want the pain inside me to stop; not even music brings the comfort it used to offer. I want to feel alive again; I want that spark of life I used to have back, the one that drew everyone to me. I am not that person any longer. I haven't been for sometime.

I miss her. I miss how easy her life was. I miss nap times in the morning and I miss not thinking of how cruel the world really is. I cry at the thought of my mother's tears on my shirt. The world has been so unkind to her and I am no better. I am just like the world and it scares me, because I don't want to be like those people who forget everyone but themselves.

All she asked for was the love of another, the same thing I am searching for, but first I must find a love of myself. For how can someone love an incomplete painting? I am a work in progress...

I see in myself all the things that are wrong with the world: hate, anger, unacceptence, cruelty, malice, and ego.

Let it be about someone else...

Soul-ly musical

Music is the thing of my soul.

It does not care if I am smart, or failing US history. Music fills the voids of my soul. It provides the comfort I need when I cry. It makes me cry, but when I cry it is sincere.

I am alive at the sound of a major chord. I feel my heart beat in time with the syncopation. I find pure joy in a run of triplets. I find the meaning of life in an aria.

You cannot damn music, you cannot hurt it. It is never jealous and always there when you need it. It is what completes me, and I am at peace.

Music allows you to feel. It brings peace to a turbulent heart, and tears to unwashed eyes. You cannot listen to music and not feel anything.

Music is the stuff of life.

March 24, 2004

Forever doormats

One day you will ask me, which is more important, you or my life? I'll say my life, and you'll walk away; never knowing that you are my life.

I was his life; he says it there. I was his life and he stomped on my heart like a brush fire. Do I have the word "doormat" engraved into my forehead? Do I just emotionally scream for people to use and abuse me? It feels like it.

I have some growing up to do? I am not the one who needs the same attention as a five-year-old. I can be left alone for more than six seconds without needing someone there to tell me I am going to be okay. I am not a child, nor have I been in a very, very long time.

You need your ego and another person to justify your actions. You need something no one can give, you need a pothole in your soul filled and no one can do that, no one but you. You have to face your issues of abandonment, and stop abandoning people in your life. You need more help than I could ever give, or would ever really want to. I wanted to believe that things would work, but you proved me wrong...

Where was the flame of passion from the beginning? Where were the fiery flames of love? Where was the unquenchable heat of your love? Where was all of that when you met her? Long since burned out, into a pile of ashes...

I won't trust you again. You won't be close to my heart. You have no control here, I do.

I am a phoenix. I am forever. And like the phoenix, I shall rise again from the ashes.

March 22, 2004

Forgotten character

He's talking to me. There he is on the other end of this phone line talking to me. He broke my heart again and he's talking to me like nothing happened. I cry when I think of him, and there he is, as perfect as can be, talking about prom.

How am I supposed to move on if he won't give me time to heal? If he is all, "here I'll break your heart and you'll just have to deal", how am I supposed to be ok? I have sincere feelings for him, maybe not love, but it still hurts.

We have so much history, I was his first kiss, his first date, a lot of his firsts, and he a lot of mine. We go back with good times and bad. I miss the way were, but isn't that how it always is?

To go back would be easy, because I know that way is safe.. I've been there. Yet to move forward, to press through the pain and heartache, to grasp onto what might be, and pull out of it, takes strength and courage.

It is the true test of character to keep living.

March 20, 2004

Parted tendencies

I am just angry. I'm not angry with a person, or even at anything really, I'm just angry. It's like I'm angry at everything and yet nothing. It hurts, but in a way it's cleansing.

I want to scream and I can't. I want to run, and I won't. I want to be left alone, and held.

Part of me wants a quiet life away from it all, spent with lazy days full of children and with love overfilling my heart. Part of me wants to belong to something no one can speak of. Part of me wants to laugh so hard I will finally know what it feels like to have it squirt out of my nose. Part of me wants to watch Gone With the Wind 6 times in a row, and constantly rewind the part where Rhett finally kisses Scarlet; part of me wants him to beat the hell out of Ashley. Part of me is shelving books at the local library. Part of me is running through a field of dandelions. Part of me has painted the sky purple with polka dots.

Part of me wants to scream at the world, and tell it how wrong it is. Part of me wants to be alone forever. Part of me wants to fall into the total oblivion that is my soul. Part of me wants to cry until the tears are no longer flowing, but have soaked me to the core. Part of me wants to watch a fire blaze and take everything someone else has. Part of me wants to take all the books of the world and keep them for myself. Part of me has collapsed under pressure. Part of me lies in the fresh dirt of a grave.

Two people cannot inhabit the same body and still be sane. Yet there I am, one person torn in two.. lost and alone, wandering and loved.

Part of me doesn't want to be loved, Part of me doesn't want to be alone.

I want peace.

March 16, 2004

Watercolor rain

I am lost in a sea of unsorted thought. They run together in a whirlwind of color like watercolors in the rain. I haven't slept, not lately anyway; everything is getting to me. No time to sleep, have too much to do. Too many people to make happy, nothing left to hold onto.

Nothing left in me but the void, and the barren desert of my soul. How is this a life? How is this living?

I am a hypocrite.

"Give up everything you have if it'll make you happy. The point of love is to risk everything on a single all or nothing shot, and to get up and try again, or win, and be fulfilled." These are my words, and my damnation.

I am so full of it. When was the last time I risked anything for love? When was the last time I cared about love? About truth? About justice?

I've forgotten, I lost it, in a sea of watercolor tears...

March 12, 2004

Taking a stand

Let me run, let me hide, let me go, let me break 2 years worth of promises to myself all for a few mistakes. Get mad, chain me to the wall, force me back into my black oblivion, kill me if you must, just release me from this pain, this torture, your arms. Let the blood run, let it coat my words, feel the malice, the hatred, and be glorified. Feel better for my pain? Feel better for my tears?

Good, you proved to me who you really are. You don't know who I am, but you hate me just the same. I knew it and yet you denied it.

Bite me.

March 10, 2004

Loving rant

How am I supposed to rant like he asks, and share how I feel, like he asked, with him if he runs away? He's playing DDR. I'm trying to tell him I haven't been feeling well, and he puts up his away message that he's playing DDR. He asks why I've been distant, I tell him and all I get is "indeed". This is not what a healthy relationship is based on. I understand that he has never had a real relationship with a girl before that has been more than friendship, but does that give him the right to ignore me when I need him?

I remember when he told me two years ago that he loved me, and I believed him then. I guess on a level I still do that the person he was two years ago loved me. I still love him, but I'm not so sure he feels the same. He doesn't seem to be so in love with me, but more in love with the thought of me, and that there is someone else out there who doesn't have to care about him but does anyway.

It's hard to be in a relationship like that; where you love someone with everything you have, but can't seem to be enough for them to be complete. I can give him everything I have and more and it won't be enough for him; he'll still doubt himself, and still question his existence. He won't stop questioning my love for him, and his deserving it. I want to be what he needs, but what if that isn’t enough?

I love you. You know who you are. No conditions, no ultimatums, no anything. Just pure love. I always have on some level, and I know that I always will. I tried to stop once, you know about that. You also know that it didn't work and I couldn't stop. I would give up everything I have to make the world right for you. I would give my life to make it so that you would stop suffering, but I know it wouldn't help, and I would just be another casualty of life. So I offer up what I have and pray it is enough, my love.

March 04, 2004

Silent cheers

I feel like it's me against the world, again. It's hard you know to have to deal with so much at an earlier age. I understand that yes it helps us to develop and to be able to handle more, but where does it say in our genetic code that it is absolutely necessary to grow up?

I have been dehumanized, glorified, and left alone. I am alone. It is hard to have faith when there is nothing worth believing in.

He wasn't there today, and all I could think about was him there, alone. I have to watch him suffer, and I have to hear about it from others. I can't help him, I want to, I need to, but I can't. He's there alone, no one to watch after him, no one to tell him he'll be fine. He has to do this on his own, and it’s unbearable to watch.

I can't play from the sidelines; it is a physical impossibility. I can watch and pray hope he comes around. Why is it you want what you can't have?

March 02, 2004

Rushing life

So much to do, and so little time to do it in. How am I supposed to do all the things I need to, plus still leave time to "go be a kid"? I've never been a kid. I grew up fast and it hasn't seemed to slow down yet. Everything has to be done now because everyone is under the impression that instant gratification still isn't fast enough. It is and people need to get that into their heads.

Time is a precious commodity and its not like we have the option of reliving a moment, what's done is done, even if it's nothing. Every moment is just as important as the next, and everything we do reflects something. Whether we are showing the world who we are or what we can do, we're showing them.

I have worked so hard to find meaning in the little things, but maybe it's not the meaning behind them but more the feelings that matter. You know like the smile that is drawn across your face when you wear crazy socks, or the rush from riding a horse at a gallop. It's the way you portray life, and the way it is presented to you.

Show them you are a neon sign in a world of pastels. Prove to yourself that you can do it, and then nothing else will matter. Why? Because it doesn't.

March 01, 2004

Crushing hopes

He won't be mine, he can't be, it's wrong. He said he wouldn't. Is that the appeal? Is it real? Is it love or lust? Is it wrong to want to be in his arms, to put my head on his shoulder and listen to Bach until I fall asleep with his head on mine? I feel what I feel and there's no point in fighting it, I've tried. I don't want to fight it, but I know that'll never happen. He said it would be weird, that he wouldn't do it, that it was just something he couldn't face, a demon he'd fought. But what if the circumstances change, what if it's meant to be, a match made in Heaven? What if he feels this too? Does he?

I'm lost in my emotions, in my thoughts, drowning and praying for your love. Are you praying for mine? I hope so, I wish...

If it's just a crush, why does it hurt to my core to see you alone? To hear you want something that I can't provide, to hear you talk about our generation and how hopeless we all are. You hear my complaints, my thoughts on God and creation, and you can't say anything, you won't, you're afraid of crossing that line.

Why the boundaries, why can't you just talk to me? Tell me what you feel! Tell me what you think, touch my heart, hear my soul's music. Listen to my aria, it's calling for you...

I must wait.. watching you conduct life as easily as a musical piece. I'll sit quietly, silently, waiting for my cue; waiting for you...