October 30, 2004

For my sister on her birthday

I want you to know that I love you. It's undeniable that I do. And yes, it is the forever kind of love. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you if only you asked.

I want you to know, that I think you are perfection. That you are like a flawless diamond, beautiful and worth so much.

I want you to know that you are poetry. One of the best poems ever written. That you speak volumes, and revelations, truths of life and love, in just a few moments.

I want you to know that you have change my life by being in it. That I am a better person because of you.

Your strength of conviction, your belief in people, your belief in yourself, the trust you put in those around you, and the strength you share so freely; you are a true example of how the world could be. You mean so much to me and everyone else who's life you have touched because you've cared. Thank you for everything you do to make the world a better place through the little things.

Happiest of birthdays to a young woman who deserves nothing less.

October 27, 2004

Postmark of the soul

I want so badly to believe that "there is truth,that love is real"
and I want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd
I know you're wise beyond your years,
but do you ever get the fear
that your perfect verse is just a lie
you tell yourself to help you get by?
~ "Clark Gable" by The Postal Service

I do. I really do.

I write my poetry to find the peace of soul I crave.
I reread my words and find them empty.
I'm trying to be happy, I have the rose colored glasses to prove it.. but everything just comes out gray...
I find happiness in the little things, but it all seems so momentary, like this life.
Nothing lasts forever.
I'm crying for my lost innocence, because if I couldn't see everything around me that is wrong I wouldn't hurt, I wouldn't need to be held.

I've been told I seem like I've been through a lot. I don't know anything about the world. Everyone either has their eyes open and their mouths shut, or their mouths open and their eyes shut. But thouse precious people who have both open, they are the ones who can move mountains... I don't have that power.

And the feelings of being lost and alone slowly reclaim my soul...

So I won.. just a little victory really.

I entered this DEF poetry contest for my creative writing class, and they can only send three people to the actual competition from each school, and I get to go. There were four of us who tried out and I am one of the three, so its not like it's a big deal. Besides I feel bad for the fourth girl, her poem was awesome.

I got my report card today; 3.75, best grades I've had since beginning high school.

Halloween party on friday, me hosting, lots of scary movies and such. Should be fun, murder mystery dinner I was going to do has been rescheduled as a birthday party for me, if I can swing it. I hopeses so.

So, got a complement on me today, from someone I hold in very high regard. I smiled and said thank you because.. I like complements, but I don't usually take them well, something I should work on.

I really want to win this poetry competition! But I have no idea what I am up against.. But I think that getting up on stage is just going to be awesome.. but winning would be just spectacular, I'd be recognized at the actual DEF poetry jam that is coming here in November.. I want to go to that too. Ugh... well, the competition is next week so wish me luck I'll let you know how is goes..

October 25, 2004

*standing ovation*

Read Hamlet.

It will overwhelm you, it will make you cry, it will make you feel; it will give back things you didn't know you lost.

It is life-changing, and intense, and worth every word.

Shakespeare is timeless, and yet, still ahead of the times.

October 23, 2004

Yes, the second paragraph is one sentence, and yes I can say it all without taking a breath.

I hate work, and if it wasn't for the money I'd quit.

Okay, it's not a lot of money but it's enough for the gas for my friends who drive, because I don't, and well they do and don't work, well not at jobs anyway; but that's not the point, the point is that I work one day a week for six hours, ONE DAY!; (I feel like God, only reversed and on Saturday.. okay maybe not God, but someone high up there, like an arch angel or something.. (yeah I just signed my "I'm going to hell" thingy)), anyway since they are "cutting hours" and it was "dead" tonight, they sent me home, not Diana who works like four days, no me!, who works one day and isn't technically closing, I could close I've done it before, so it's not like I am some kind of mutant freak who can't do it I'm just never given the chance because no believes in me at work, except Chris he believes in me, and maybe Gathel too, cause she's cool; but anyway I got sent home at 8:15 and that means I only got 3hrs and 45mins to work cause I took a dinner break not knowing they were gonna send me home so that means no money for me and that is a sad sad thing indeed; bastards.

October 17, 2004

Why should I say?

I have no real passion for anything.

I want to write, but others always seem to be able to convey what I am thinking better than I can. The poetry I write seems so childish and rudimentary, and it feels like I'm not really saying anything. The stories I write all end unhappily and feel as if they are over descriptive, yet when I try to change, it just ends badly.

I say that I want love, the forever kind, but I have no drive to go and find it anymore.

There is this burning emptiness inside me that consumes all thought. I can not silence its cries and I can not find a way to make it cease.

I have no desire to finishing saying all there is to say.

October 13, 2004


You're coming home tomorrow, and I don't know what to think. I want to see you, I miss you, I need some of your laughter and light. But what happens when you see my darkness?

Sure, it's not as bad as it was two days ago, but it's still there. So what do I do?

It is one thing to have my mother disappointed with me, it is quite another to see the same thing in your eyes.

So I sit and wait. But I'm wondering, no one else has noticed, and if I hadn't sad anything, would you have?

October 11, 2004

Thank you Rainy Day Bear for everything you hide.

I'm running on caffeine pills and five hours of sleep in three days. I am stressed, freaked out, pissed off, and get to smile for everyone else.

* * *

I hate school, no wait, I hate my school. I hate my school system; I hate my superintendent who allows this bullshit of a paper to still be forcibly written.

I can write a paper, probably better than the fools you pay to write them for you. And you sit there in your comfy office shitting all over my tax dollars, and my parents tax dollars, giving yourself a raise while you still don't pay my teachers and everyone else's teachers enough. Those wonderful few who work their asses off to make this world a better place through inspiration, are barely paid enough to get by. And then after you give the 800 or 1000 dollars to my public school's music program, you turn around and give 6 million to the magnet schools?

What about the cockroaches that run across the carpet in my band room? The ants that infest my creative writing classroom? Or my auditorium? Where is the money for that? Where is the financial support needed to make necessary repairs to the buildings that are as old, if not older, than my parents?

Thank you Dr. Pughsley for making my educational career something memorable.

October 08, 2004

Prince Charming and the Brown Bear

Yes, my thoughts turn to him when I feel alone. Yes, I still long to hear his voice when the silence closes in around me. Yes, I find myself dialing his number when I pick up the phone, but then remember who's number I was supposed to be dialing and hang up before I push the last digit. Yes, I still love him. You can't walk away from two years without feeling like you've lost something. You can't just expect to break the habits in a moments notice, especially ones built through love.

I miss him when I feel lonely, or when I see his name anywhere. I won't deny that because I never stopped loving him. But somewhere along the way in loving him, I was killing myself.

Yeah, it occured to me that after a while that maybe I was more in love with the idea of being in love, of having something I had dreamed of for so long finally be real, and that the love he and I had wasn't really love at all, but simply curiousity. That thought was total bullshit.

It was love, once; before it became obligation to continue his existence. He was everything I thought I wanted, but that was based on a child's dream of being needed. I know that he loved me, but perhaps it was because I was there to love and I could love him in return and at the time, for each of us that was enough. It isn't anymore. I can't live in a child's realm of need, because I have grown beyond that and my needs as an intellectual woman go beyond the simple definition of prince charming; beyond that of a tattered soul who needs someone to love him and live with him in the shadows he created. And I can't save him if he doesn't want to be saved.

* * *

Did you ever wonder what went on when you closed the storybook? Like what exactly went on to be able to live that happily ever after? Did you ever wonder what the ideas of the "perfect man" or the "perfect woman" would do to your perception of the opposite sex? Or what would happen to your future relationship that would become based upon these flimsy archetypes?

I didn't. And now that's all I want. Someone with courtly manners who can waltz. Someone who will love me, no matter my station, and who will slay dragons to see to my safety.

This doesn't happen in real life, yet it is what I have come to expect. I don't want the ordinary man and in the end isn't that really all there is? Aren't we all just struggling to be something better that what we are? Plain, simple, barbaric, and just like the person sitting next to us. The only thing that separates us is perception.

Do you remember the book "Brown bear, Brown bear, What do you see?" It was based upon the perceptions and the sight of the animal of varying colors on the beginning page and the sequential pages of what would be on the next page.

"Brown bear, brown bear what do you see?"

An ordinary girl denying the fact she is just like everyone else.

October 07, 2004

He can't handle the truth.

He thinks I lied about us, about my love for him, about there not being anyone else. He called me a lying bitch. Told me that I was going to have to deal with myself for the rest of my life, and with what I was.

Then he sends me an email a day later to apologize, and say he won't be talking to me again because it's too hard.

It was too hard to reprimand me on hearsay? It was too hard to call me a bitch, something which no one has called me with animosity except my mother. Yes, it was too hard to act like you always do, to over-react with out having all the facts.

I realize now that I owe him nothing. If he chooses to live his life in the belief that I ended it for someone else, that is on him. I don't have to do anything for him anymore.

October 03, 2004

My life, my love, my cheeseburger, my everything

I realize that angels are innocent and perfect, beautiful and heavenly. I don't have any of those in spades, so I can't really be an angel. And why should I want to be something I'm not? Plenty of people like me the way I am. (I think.)

I now want to be somebody's cheeseburger. Yeah it's silly but hey it works for me.

I want someone loves me for me, who loves my buns (hee hee for the double entendre) my outsides, for what they are. Because well, I'm not skinny and with my body type I'm never going to be, I can look slim, but I will never be a size 6 and honestly I don't think I want to. I would lose all rights to being able to say big and beautiful.

I want someone who loves my hamburgery part. The part that makes me what I am, my soul. It is my warm center, my juicy secrets I keep concealed, and the tough exterior I show the world. It is big and overflowing with tantalizing possibilities, and just waiting for the right person to come along and enjoy it for what it is.

I want someone who loves my cheese. Those stupid one liners I throw out that many believe I should be shot for, or stop saying, or a bit of both. I am cheesy when I am tired and when I'm not. It's the little things that I enjoy and it’s those same things that I try and bring out humor in, although most of the time badly, and just really try to enjoy life when I am not sunk into a dark hole.

I want someone who loves me even in my pickley moments. Someone who can stand the sourness that often pervades who I am. The darkness that seems so prevalent when it is upon me, someone who can stand by me and hold me up when I am no longer as happy or crisp as others. Someone who believes that these moments only add to the distinct flavor that makes me, me.

I want someone who loves my ketchup, and my mustard. My sweet and my bitter. The moments where I am helping and happy and joking and the times where I lack all types of tact and stick both feet in my mouth at once. Or the times when I am spontaneous and in my element, or those where I lose my cool and completely flip out.

I want to be loved as who and what I am; a hopeless romantic young woman, with more crevices and facets than anyone can count. But I am looking for someone who is willing to try.

Yes, I just compared myself to a cheeseburger. But you know, it works. I know that I have people who already love me for all of this, mostly my sister here, and I love her too in all her potatoey glory (she's a vegetarian). I am looking for the one who will love me romantically as their cheeseburger. I am ever vigilant in my quest for my Gabriel. (Feehan reference, and yeah sis, you better love him too, but he's mine. *smile*)

So I am waiting to be someone's romantic cheeseburger in all my home cooked glory. And yes, fries come with that.

October 01, 2004

Jigsaw puzzles were never my thing.

I keep expecting to get an email, to get a phone call, something. All I get is silence and it deafens me.

I can't breathe, and eating seems a chore. I am not in the most pleasant of dispositions and I feel as if half of my self is missing.

Some may say that it has been this way before, that I won't stay true, that this will repeat and I will go back to the way things were. I want to. God, I want to. I want the pain of my heart to go away, and if going back will do that, then I am all for it, but I will become a person I will hate, someone I won't respect, someone who gave up her essence for someone else. I am not that type of person and while I was with him I was, for his sake.

Yes, we have broken up before, but that was on his terms, not mine. He said it was over and he was the one to start it up again. I constantly took him back because I promised him forever and by all the powers above I was going to hold to that. This time, yes, it is different. These are my terms, my conditions, and my stubborn strength that keeps me here on my own, separate from him. It is the understanding that I have to do this for myself and become one of the better people I talk about, knowing that when he and I were together, it wasn't healthy and I was compromising all of myself for the betterment of him.

I love him. I always will and that is what makes this so hard. It's why I can't breathe, because I don't here his voice; it's why when the pain becomes too much to bear, I want to die if only to make the pain recede for a moment. But I have to hold to the thought that I love him and I am doing this for myself and for him. That there really is that perfect person out that for him, that one person who can be the light to his darkness and really make the world a better place by just being in it. While that thought kills me, I have to understand that I was enough for now, but bigger things will come and I can't keep just pushing the monsters away, they have to be defeated and that is his job, not mine.

I love him, and not only on my own. There is someone out there wishing on the moon for him. May she find him, and be the everything he needs her to be, and may he cherish her and keep her safe. I may hate it, and may constantly wish that I was the one, but I am not and cannot change that universal truth. She will be precious to him and more so than I ever was.

I am just trying to put my pieces of my heart and soul back together and create a few that have gone missing.