Today will be a good day.
Parents are out for the weekend, and I have 20 bucks.
Eating ramen noodles watching Sister Act and drinking diet coke
Gonna get my cute clothes on( hopefully) and go out on a date.
I'm nervous as hell.
But I'm learning to trust myself.

My hair whisked in the wind like a tangled jungle. Your bitter sweet smile transformed this petite girl into a confident tiger. My hands slithered on top of yours, and your fingers caught mine into a trap. I felt lost in the essence of you, your fine lips, your beautiful dimples. Staring at your eyes, I already missed you. I fell into your pupils and the curves of your soft arms.

Everything I touch turns to shit.
When is it my turn? I keep asking myself. The world keeps revolving, but it left me on mars to smoke cigarettes with a foul meteoroid...
There are some days when I want to run away to Indianapolis, become my own woman, and run with the clouds. What college am I going to. Where the fuck am I. I don't know.
There is an open field, with dancing wheat crops and flowing dandelions. I'm searching, I'm running, the clouds behind my tail and my eyes focused on what is in front of me.
Yet, I don't see it. yet.

I haven't written in here in (which seems like) weeks. I'm lonely. I think that becoming homeless in Europe sounds more exciting than my life at the moment. I'm scrounging for new music and avoiding cleaning my room. I feel disgusting, devastated, and definitely depressed. All I do is sit and dream and wish that my life would pick up, speed ahead of the torrent, and wind itself into my head. I just want to go to college already and leave this wretched place behind. Television doesn't satisfy me anymore, and my heart is cracking, bruising, and bleeding through all my hushed up tears. I want to cry. I want to get a piercing. I want to get a tattoo. I want to just change, have something mind blowing, mind altering.

I dragged my feet on the carpet as the sun quickly rose out of my drapes to pour on my bedsheets. The sun just felt like another lonesome emotion...

I cannot stop listening to the Counting Crows, sitting here, contemplating my life like an 80 year old woman.Wishing I'd done more... looking at how far I've gotten all for nothing. My sentence structure is fucked up. My mind is splattered. My hands feel like arthritis. I think I left my soul somewhere else. Or mailed it somewhere better than here. I can't remember...

Have you Seen me Lately? The Counting Crows

Get away from me
Get away from me, this isnt gonna be easy
But I dont need you
Believe me
You got a piece of me
But its just a little piece of me
And I dont need anyone
And these days I feel like Im fading away
Like sometimes when I hear myself on the radio
Have you seen me lately?
Have you seen me lately?
I was out on the radio
starting to change
Somewhere out in america, its raining
Could you tell me one thing you remember about me
And have you seen me lately?
I remember me
And all the little things that make up a memory
Like she said she loved to watch me sleep
Like she said:
Its the breathing, its the breathing in and out and in and...
Have you seen me lately?
I was out on the radio starting to change
Somewhere out in america its raining
Could you tell me one thing you remember about me
And have you seen me lately?
I guess I thought that someone would notice
I guess I thought somebody would say something
If I was missing
Cant you see me?
Come on color me in
Come on color me in
Give me your blue rain
Give me your black sky
Give me your green eyes
Come on give me your white skin
Come on give me your white skin
Come on give me your white skin
I was out on the radio starting to change
Somewhere out in america, its raining
Could you tell me one thing you remember about me
And have you seen me lately?
Have you seen me lately

She awoke to the hands of the moon on her pillow.

There's no outlet. It's just... too much.

Quiet Girl

I love writing in here. If anyone stumbles upon this, I hope they feel that there is someone in this world who understands them and will definitely love them for who they are. That someone is me...
I will always love you for who you are. I'll always be there, through telephone cords that wrap around my ears and the twirls of ink that can suffocate my hands...

Langston Hughes - Quiet Girl

I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

Goodnight.

After years of twiddling with my eyebrows,whining about my weight, and lathering make-up on my enormous eyes with my pale skin as my palette, I've learned to enjoy my features. Of course, I do not know what tomorrow will bring of this circumstance, because my self confidence comes and goes like a bad pair of lace underwear. I've stopped listening to boys who call me pretty or beautiful. I've kind of gotten into that don't care mantra about compliments in particular. I've realized that I'm a certain type of beauty. I do not particularly enjoy using the term beauty- because when I think of it, I imagine beautiful blond bombshells with bone hips, carving out their posture. I honestly never know what to describe myself as...
I like being by myself. I only have myself to make stupid gestures or remarks. I don't have to care what the opposite sex thinks of me. I like being my own individual floating in this world. I've learned alot about myself. Like how much I love playing SIMS or how my writing really reflects who I am as a human being. Diet coke rules my body over water, and I feel perfectly confident in that opinion. I like helping others, and I read the news religiously. I check my e-mail almost every 45 minutes and I feel no shame. I still think of ex boyfriends way more than ever, no matter if they were 5 months ago or 3 years my senior. I always have a place in my heart for the people that have really captivated me, no matter how much I try to conceal it by being a badass listening to H.I.M. and painting my nails black. I realized that I feel confident in the color black because that's what my heart feels. I'm like a gigantic black hole, an indestructible power that soaks up light. I have no problem with that.
This blog is like my therapy. If I didn't have it I think I would've gone insane way long before. Is it true that only yourself can make you happy? I think so...

life is always unfolding perfectly - GD

You say the word
You know I will find you
Or if you need some time
I don't mind
I don't hold on
To the tail of your kite
I'm not like the girls that you've known
But I believe I'm worth coming home to
Kiss away night
This girl only sleeps with butterflies
With butterflies
So go on and fly then boy

- Sleeps with Butterflies by Tori Amos

I question life alot. I always lay in my bed, watching myself disintegrate in my mind. Where would the world be if I just flew away, if I died... The future is the only thing I have to hold on to. It's the only thing I want to hold on to when the world crumbles under my feet and only time can sew it back together. I don't know why I do some things- letting my mind come back to irrational memories that have evaporated in other's minds.
Sometimes I want a friend to hug. A guy, who will show me the wonders of the world and the wonders of the present time. I'm so tired... sleep must have me.

Skeptic

I'm sick of studying. Sick of dragging people on the brink of insanity, bugging them with newspaper deadlines or my latest whine. I finally found the time to sit down, browse through some Distiller tracks, and take a chill pill.
Me and my father watched Escape from Alcatraz with Clint Eastwood. Very interesting, but I felt incredibly sleepy and ready for a nap 85% through it...
I've been reading like a madwoman lately and I think it really reflects in my writing. I took my SAT today, and I'm pretty confident in the outcome. If I get a horrible score, It's only myself that is the ultimate failure, and in nothing else. The way I retain information may not be the the most blessed but the confidence I have in my writing and English skills can go a long way.
I'm tired, I have to take a mock exam for history tomorrow. The JOY. I need to study art history, get my ass in line. All I really do is look up pictures of rock stars and drool. I want to be Brody Dale. :)



Ever since I actually, truly thought of becoming a journalist and pursuing the least bit of confidence in my writing the outcome was fierce. Music journalist, maybe? I've kind of come to the conclusion that I am just a delusional miscreant in this world and I just need to be myself. Not this hardworking, sickly skinny lawyer that every man finds attractive.
I'm tired but the steps to my chair and bed look a mile away. Today I realized that the Richard Nixon Museum is incredibly boring and I wish I didn't waste my mother's money, but I desperately needed APUSH extra credit. Why did I take so many damn AP classes? I don't even have time to write to my pen pals, let alone breathe.
Okay, okay, okay. I need sleep.

Skeptic

Far star that tickles for me my sensitive plate
And fries a couple of ebon atoms white,
I don't believe I believe a thing you state.
I put no faith in the seeming facts of light.

I don't believe I believe you're the last in space,
I don't believe you're anywhere near the last,
I don't believe what makes you red in the face
Is after explosion going away so fast.

The universe may or may not be very immense.
As a matter of fact there are times when I am apt
To feel it close in tight against my sense
Like a caul in which I was born and am still wrapped.

Robert Frost