I can't keep up

I have a problem with disposition of feelings. I take my stress/feelings out on things rather then the things that are causing them. It really makes people crazy. Disposition of feelings + Alcohol = My first fistfight.It happened about 2-3 weeks ago.Now I’m not really proud… I can pinpoint the two factors that made me explode but I won’t ever tell anyone.Too bad I can’t remember anything, which makes it just a little bit easier that everyone else can. Thanks, Jager. How embarrassing I had to reduce myself, lower my own standards. I’ve never had the same standards as anyone else, my values have always been a little different then all of my friends. But that didn’t mean that they were lower. I’m not a fighter, I’m not someone who dwells on things to get angry enough. But still, I guess I sort of seen it coming. In the last year there has been a lot of firsts. It doesn’t help that you can’t rationally say that you were not you that night, that Rhonda had exited the body. Rationally saying that you didn’t recognize the person in your body just isn’t rational. It ain’t nothing to me.. I have no bad feelings towards the girl but if this didn’t happen I probably still wouldn’t like her. Just saying.. Buuuut there are a lot of other things that wouldn’t have happened if that night had gone good. I feel guilty and sad because in the past I had handled situations like these in a way that made them smooth out.. … It seems I was more mature at 17 then I am at 21. [in 3 months] But I seriously can’t remember what happened. I needed more relaxation and less alcohol. All I have is five people’s stories…. All different. Somehow my boyfriend and I got into a fight with his brother and his girlfriend. Call it crazy, call itdisposition of feelings, butsomehow asituation became bigger then it needed to be. If it had just been between me and that girl, I'm sure it would have blown over by now. Nobody wants to feel like a wedge or be a scapegoat of Yoko Ono similiarity.It’s a lot easier to place blame and point fingers. It’s a lot easier to put physical appearance before mental competency and say that the skank was at least 70 pounds heavier then me. But I could care less about all of that. .I care about my boyfriend and I care about his brother, sothis is seriously the last thing that’s cool with me.I miss my brothers soooo much... We were extremely close until I moved somewhere whereI don't know ANYONE. It was from one extreme to the next.When everyone got along here, it was nice being reminded of thatagain.. But obviously everyone has their own baggage, some that I didn't even know about.I'm not psychic.I would love it if they could get over the past… and not hold grudges but if they can’t do that then they shouldn’t try again and again. Ihave never understood picking at a scab.Sometimes you just have to let things calm down to forget the past. So fuck off…. That’s all I’m saying.I really hope certain people can be less aggressive, more understanding.... and above all -- everyone make sure their girlfriend isn't their distant cousin by marriageand that they properly wash their assso that your brother's skinny bitch girlfrienddoesn't say something stupid when she's had way too much to drink at the end of a bad week of medical interning.Me looking a little bloated, Alex & his brother Mike pouring a beer in A's mouth.Looking for a career as a boxer.

don't mind me... I'm just testing the temperature

People, things, places have been very 'uncooperative' lately.. to put it nicely. Friend of mine believes it's because I rejected the superstitious bad luck value of a YELLOW lighter that I've been carrying with me the past week. Yesterday I threw it away.I am so over this whole "college experience" here, I've enjoyed the classes but not too sure about the whole medical asissting thing. So maybe I have been sabotaging myself... Whether I do or do not get a degree that I don't even want anymore, I'm over it. I am mostly healthy [despite the shittiness in my brain], young and capable of bettering my life the way that I want to instead of gaining a degree of technical skills to make money.I am always quick to figure out what I "should" do. I have no idea what I want to do.I felt so let down yesterday.. Sitting in a booth yesterday in one of the few restaurants that still allow smoking.. waiting on a club sandwich I just had to let the scab heal.I wanted to go out. Re-apply the eyeliner and lipstick because looking at myself looking all put together in a mirror somehow always makes it better. I wanted to get shit-faced instead of wallowing in my repercussions. But no comfort drink was in my hand... I couldn't stare at the glass while swishing the little red mixingstraw or crunch ice in my mouth to avoid conversation. Instead I just avoided it head on... Blank, glassy, eyes, pretending to be more fixated on the bong, dull smiles that do the bare minimum of just smoothing things over.And eventually just passing out because my eyes were blurry. Fuck iiiiitttt.I acted out my dreams verbally. Which was confusing to Alex in the bed next to me who was still half-awake watching t.v., since I was dreaming of a conversation with him. haha.I still see a lot of potential in Alex. It's going to be a battle though, I can tell. He still doesn't like my friends, and we've both grown tired of his. We've been spending a lot of time alone, which can be well because that's all we really need. None of my friends really seem to understand this. But I've never been one to put a label on someone else as "not being good enough". I've never believed that people are a product of their enviroment and he just needs a little more room to grow. My lease here is up at the end of May, his is up at the end of July, after that we're moving. Yayyyy. ♥

Sensationalism Sells

God Save the Queen. Recently I had read on some AOL music blog that a band called The Artic Monkeys were better than the Beatles. Of course, this made me dislike this band, originating from Yorkshire, that I had never even heard of. So I did what lurkers of the internet do -- pulled up their myspace page. Their headline read "don't believe the hype" and their bio exclaimed about their recent releases called "'WHATEVER PEOPLE SAY I AM, THATS WHAT IM NOT" and "WHo the fuck are the arctic monkeys?" But none of their songs worked. So I was made my way to the Domino Records Website, the same record company supporting Franz Ferdinand and some band with a hot singer called The Kills... But besides a bio exclaiming that the arctic monkeys have been popular by word of mouth for years, and therefore did not need to be picked up by a label to be "Successful".. there was not much, still no audio I could get to play. So I fired up the ole' limewire, paused my Sims downloads so it wouldn't take as long, and typed in ARCTIC MONKEYS. After judging a book by the cover I decided to give the song "fake tales of san francisco" a go, as the English would say and see what took place to these boys from Sheffield on the West Coast. Singer Alex Turner, with instances of that accent I do love, sounds like a mix of the Strokes vocalist, Jake White, and that Wino on the cornerseat of every bar missing the ash tray and eventually crying along with elvis on the juke box every night at last call. That's right, I was mistaken. Oy Vey, It is charming. I'm not saying the album isn't worth listening to, but Another Fab Four on our hands? Can they even compare to the beatles? I am right up with the next person in hoping that we can find another band this day in age that is credible & talented enough to take on task. But until further notice, I think it's safe to say that American Girls are alright missing their birth control pill the day that the Arctic Monkeys come to their town... but then again most American girls are a sucker for British mop tops and slang, I would probably know. So I decided, Why would AOL say that? Well, according to a poll of the "best british albums ever" conducted by UK music weekly NME [New music Express], the beatles came in NINTH place with their 1966 album 'revolver'. While the Arctic Monkeys album, released just a few months ago came, in fifth. Now this made me realize it was not a personal attack on my loves, but merely another advertising propaganda. A weasel word here, a glittering generality there and before too long I had downloaded songs, read every Arctic Monkeys fan site I could find, checked tour dates and ordered their EP to find out what all the rage was about across the pond -- which is exactly what the headline was hoping I would do. I am still not sure why exactly they are ranked so high... maybe the youth of the UK are just too eager to be pleased now a days, but one thing is for sure Corporate America is still doing what they do best -- auctioning off yet another fine foursome of British Meat. Now, I am off to find some party favors for 4/20... If you don't hear from me still assume that I remembered to shut my stove off. http://www.myspace.com/arcticmonkeyshttp://www.arcticmonkeys.com1. THE STONE ROSES - THE STONE ROSES2. THE SMITHS - THE QUEEN IS DEAD3. OASIS - DEFINITELY MAYBE4. SEX PISTOLS - NEVER MIND THE B**LOCKS5. ARCTIC MONKEYS - WHATEVER PEOPLE SAY I AM, THAT'S WHAT I'M NOT6. BLUR - MODERN LIFE IS RUBBISH7. PULP - DIFFERENT CLASS8. THE CLASH - LONDON CALLING9. THE BEATLES - REVOLVER10. THE LIBERTINES - UP THE BRACKET. This leaves a person even with ADHD to ponder for several hours two things -- Why were the arctic monkeys the only current group on that list & what is "B**locks"?

It's not a good...

It's not a good thing, but I still miss it.

I went ...

I went to bed with the wrong girl. I must have let it all go... All the people are laughing .. & pretending they know. She said "honey let them have their fun, they've never had it with anyone."Took a lot of love with the wrong girl, to get over you. Hello, Hello. I know I'm shy I'd like to sit anyway... Hello hello, isn't her style. She seemed to move a little quicker than me. I went to bed with the wrong girl. I must have let it all go... All the people are laughing .. & pretending they know. She said "honey let them have their fun, they've never had it with anyone."Took a lot of love with the wrong girl, to get over you. Hello hello. called her tonight... The sun had taken her placehello hello. only to find.. i know she loved the sun, its better this way Went to bed with the wrong girl, i must have let myself go. All the people are laughing .. & pretending they know. She said "honey let them have their fun, they've never had it with anyone."Took a lot of love with the wrong girl, to get over you. http://www.myspace.com/thewestminsterabbeyhttp://www.thewestminsterabbey.com

I had a ...

I had a dream last night that the world was being attacked by zombies... & eventually we just decided it was easier to give in.

Christmas i...

Christmas is over "Where's the camera?" hahaha. Michelle, Me, Tabitha & Derek.

2

Seasonal InfluenzaOne"I don't know what the big deal is," She said, watching it snow through the ground level window, dressed in her hospital issued white scrubs. She sat in my office, in the hard chair in front of my desk. Knees bent, orange slippers pulled as close to her ass as human anatomy would allow. Her long brown hair, greasy and nappy, stayed where it was pushed to - out of her face. "Out of sight, out of mind" I wrote in the notebook that sat in front of me. I looked up quickly, my glasses slipping a little more down my nose and she was still watching that window. Her face was drained of any color - any life - and that was the reason she was here. She just didn't care and her parents were tired of dealing with her. "Attitude towards life reflects attitude of parents" I wrote."Let's talk about why you're here," I broke the silence. "Do you know why you're here Stacey?""Yes," the jerk of her head straight towards my eyes made her hair fall in her face. "It's like girl fucking interrupted. I'm not crazy like those psychos but I'm not conservative enough to fit into my parent's life." She didn't bother to move the hair in her face. The last thing any type of doctor wants is resistance from the patient. Patients have to let you examine that puffy, pain inflicting arm before they can tell you it's broken, before it's set for a cast, before it's healed. I tapped my pen a bit, realizing what any teenager wants to hear. "Do you know what the word dramatic means?" I asked her, folding my glasses and putting them on the desk. "I'm not being dramatic," She said in her best spoiled little whore voice. "No, but I think your mother is," her facial structure softened as I said this. "And your father does nothing but carry on her charade." I leaned back, throwing the pen on the desk. My arms stretched out behind my head, as if I could relax during our hour together. As if she required no psychotic work at all. As if I wasn't remotely worried that she was going to slip through the cracks in the sidewalks. As if the kids are alright, after all. "You don't think I should be here?" Her voice very much child-like now. I leaned forward with my elbows on my desk and looked toward my office door as if I was getting ready to tell her a secret. "You're not eating glue are you?" I asked, squinting my nose. Finally a smile, even if only for a second and directed to whatever dust bunnies the janitors had forgotten that were on the floor. It was a start & when it lasted for longer than a second into my face, she would be ready to go home. "Why don't you excuse yourself and go on back to your room. I'll see you on Thursday." I put my glasses back on and grabbed my pen. I didn't look up until after I heard her close my door. "Mother states suicidal tendencies, moodswings, thought to be promiscuous, drug use including narcotics." I read what was wrote on her commitment papers into Elmore Psychiatric. My notes would go into the same manila file folder, the identical file folders that fill the file cabinets. Just another name on the tab, this one marked Stacey. Under evaluation I began to write: " immediate signs of BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER. Signs of depression to be later diagnosed. Recommended for further evaluation. Meds not yet prescribed. Date: 1/6"__Even though I could buy my own home, I hadn't. I still lived in an apartment like I had through out all of college and through out all of my life, actually. The noise level and neighbors didn't bother me and if it did then I always rented month to month anyway. Even when I couldn't rent month to month, the lease was never longer than a year. Sam didn't really care for the moving, which is the only reason it bothered me. My little Samantha, if I could diagnose her she would surely have ocd. She didnt' respond to change well. The minute I seen her I knew I had to have her & she was basically begging to be taken away from the place I found her in anyway. Perfect green eyes. I later found out she required little attention but was also very playful and affectionate. She was perfect company. My hair, which I kept longer than most in my profession, kept her captivated. She would never complain if I need to shave, as most females do, and my face is normally scruffy. My physical appearance screamed a semi-reclusive newly college graduate who painfully had to give up his dreams of being a rockstar, cowboy, or the next Geraldo Rivera. My eyebrows often drawn together by a scrowl above my shady eyes, sandy blonde hair unbrushed... always in the way. I looked like I could be one of my own patients."Samantha," I cooed as I came into the kitchen. I found her sitting on the counter, barely acknowledging me as I came in. She meowed and brushed against my arms as I reached for the can opener to open her food. "Tonight, Sam, we're eating fish," I said and ran a hand through her silky black coat. But it didn't really matter what I said. It was all just Blah, Blah, Blah. Nobody cares about the equation, they just want to see the results. Feed Cat. Microwavable dinner or take-out. Fall asleep in front of the television. Feet propped. Loose Tie and Unzipped pants.Wake up around 1 a.m. Turn off T.v. and step out of your pants. Go to the bathroom, leaving the light off. You live by yourself and nobody cares if you miss the toilet, hold yourself up with the wall to your left because you are tired from talking to psychos all day and learning to fix them. You can barely open your eyes as you finish undressing and climb into your $1,200 bed you ordered one night when you couldn't sleep from 1-800-sleep2niteIt is your best investment yet.

I am done ...

I am done with school until January 17th. : ) That pretty much is the best I know.

Freetime.

Seasonal Influenza"I don't know what the big deal is," She said, watching it snow through the ground level window, dressed in her hospital issued white scrubs. She sat in my office, in the hard chair in front of my desk. Knees bent, orange slippers pulled as close to her ass as human anatomy would allow. Her long brown hair, greasy and nappy, stayed where it was pushed to - out of her face. "Out of sight, out of mind" I wrote in the notebook that sat in front of me. I looked up quickly, my glasses slipping a little more down my nose and she was still watching that window. Her face was drained of any color - any life - and that was the reason she was here. She just didn't care and her parents were tired of dealing with her. "Attitude towards life reflects attitude of parents" I wrote."Let's talk about why you're here," I broke the silence. "Do you know why you're here Stacey?""Yes," the jerk of her head straight towards my eyes made her hair fall in her face. "It's like girl fucking interrupted. I'm not crazy like those psychos but I'm not conservative enough to fit into my parent's life." She didn't bother to move the hair in her face. The last thing any type of doctor wants is resistance from the patient. Patients have to let you examine that puffy, pain inflicting arm before they can tell you it's broken, before it's set for a cast, before it's healed. I tapped my pen a bit, realizing what any teenager wants to hear. "Do you know what the word dramatic means?" I asked her, folding my glasses and putting them on the desk. "I'm not being dramatic," She said in her best spoiled little whore voice. "No, but I think your mother is," her facial structure softened as I said this. "And your father does nothing but carry on her charade." I leaned back, throwing the pen on the desk. My arms stretched out behind my head, as if I could relax during our hour together. As if she required no psychotic work at all. As if I wasn't remotely worried that she was going to slip through the cracks in the sidewalks. As if the kids are alright, after all. "You don't think I should be here?" Her voice very much child-like now. I leaned forward with my elbows on my desk and looked toward my office door as if I was getting ready to tell her a secret. "You're not eating glue are you?" I asked, squinting my nose. Finally a smile, even if only for a second and directed to whatever dust bunnies the janitors had forgotten that were on the floor. It was a start & when it lasted for longer than a second into my face, she would be ready to go home. "Why don't you excuse yourself and go on back to your room. I'll see you on Thursday." I put my glasses back on and grabbed my pen. I didn't look up until after I heard her close my door. "Mother states suicidal tendencies, moodswings, thought to be promiscuous, drug use including narcotics." I read what was wrote on her commitment papers into Elmore Psychiatric. My notes would go into the same manila file folder, the identical file folders that fill the file cabinets. Just another name on the tab, this one marked Stacey. Under evaluation I began to write: " immediate signs of BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER. Signs of depression to be later diagnosed. Recommended for further evaluation. Meds not yet prescribed. Date: 1/6"__Even though I could buy my own home, I hadn't. I still lived in an apartment like I had through out all of college and through out all of my life, actually. The noise level and neighbors didn't bother me and if it did then I always rented month to month anyway. Even when I couldn't rent month to month, the lease was never longer than a year. Sam didn't really care for the moving, which is the only reason it bothered me. My little Samantha, if I could diagnose her she would surely have ocd. She didnt' respond to change well. The minute I seen her I knew I had to have her & she was basically begging to be taken away from the place I found her in anyway. Perfect green eyes. I later found out she required little attention but was also very playful and affectionate. She was perfect company. My hair, which I kept longer than most in my profession, kept her captivated. She would never complain if I need to shave, as most females do, and my face is normally scruffy. My physical appearance screamed a semi-reclusive newly college graduate who painfully had to give up his dreams of being a rockstar, cowboy, or the next Geraldo Rivera. My eyebrows often drawn together by a scrowl above my shady eyes, sandy blonde hair unbrushed... always in the way. I looked like I could be one of my own patients."Samantha," I cooed as I came into the kitchen. I found her sitting on the counter, barely acknowledging me as I came in. She meowed and brushed against my arms as I reached for the can opener to open her food. "Tonight, Sam, we're eating fish," I said and ran a hand through her silky black coat. But it didn't really matter what I said. It was all just Blah, Blah, Blah. Nobody cares about the equation, they just want to see the results. Feed Cat. Microwavable dinner or take-out. Fall asleep in front of the television. Feet propped. Loose Tie and Unzipped pants.Wake up around 1 a.m. Turn off T.v. and step out of your pants. Go to the bathroom, leaving the light off. You live by yourself and nobody cares if you miss the toilet, hold yourself up with the wall to your left because you are tired from talking to psychos all day and learning to fix them. You can barely open your eyes as you finish undressing and climb into your $1,200 bed you ordered one night when you couldn't sleep from 1-800-sleep2niteIt is your best investment yet.

Numerology, l...

Numerology, link stolen from enodia A taste of numerology, taken from that dashing charmer, darktor http://www.astrology-numerology.com/num-lifepath.html 8With the Life Path of the number 8 you are focused on learning the satisfactions to be found in the material world. The Life Path 8 produces many powerful, confident and materially successful people. You are apt to be very independent, forceful and competitive. Your routine is involved in practical, down-to-earth affairs, and there is relatively little time for dreams and visions. You will want to use your ambitions, your organizational ability, and your efficient approach to carve a satisfying niche for yourself. Most of your concerns involve money and learning of the power that comes with its proper manipulation. This Life Path is perhaps the one that is the most concerned with and desirous of status, as an accompaniment to material success. If you are a positive 8 you are endowed with tremendous potential for conceiving far-reaching schemes and ideas, and also possessing the tenacity and independence to follow them through to completion. In short, you are well-equipped for competition in the business world or in other competitive fields of endeavor. You know how to manage yourself and your environment. You are practical and steady in your pursuit of major objectives, and you have the courage of your convictions when it comes to taking the necessary chances to get ahead. The negative 8 can be dictatorial and often suppresses the enthusiasm and efforts of fellow member of the environment. Often, the strength of their own personality excludes close feelings for other people with whom they come in contact. Material gains and rewards often become issues of utmost importance, even to the neglect of family, home and peace of mind. Dedication to success can become an obsession. Emotional feelings are often suppressed by the negative 8, resulting in isolation and loneliness. All Life Path 8 people must avoid discounting the opinions of others.gotta go to school. seee ya ♥

If i h...

If i had a dime for every time....

hello....

hello.

you're not the only one who's shown me the darker side of you

http://qojak.com

Post a mem...

Post a memory of me in the comments. It can be anything you want.Then- post this to your journal and see what people remember of you.

Immensely

I sit around all day and wonder what you're doing. I wonder how you're walking with that position of "i know it all" and how you're talking in that position of "i could tell you it all" and how you're constantly in that position of "what's in it for me" But than again you're constantly aware that everything you know, you've learned from everyone else so you're constantly in debt to them. And sometimes i wonder if i give you too much credit, but that facial expression takes it's position on my face and before it's even out of my mouth you're shaking your finger at me telling me "ah ah ah" Not too close. I remember moments when i've caught an unsheltered & unprotected glance or unsheilded look in your eye... moments nobody is suposed to see but i've caught them because i'm always watc-i'm always looking at you. Staring, gazing, yearning... whatever you need to call it to make it sound fit. To justify why i'm looking at you and make you stand that one inch taller.The moments that stick out the most are the ones that make me smile... the ones where you feel that rush of adrenaline like you've been caught taking cookies out of the cookie jar - but your mother is always nice enough to just ruffle your hair and than give you one, the one where your eyes light up for just a minute and than quickly dart away because you've been caught. You've been caught. hah. you've been caught - looking at me. And i know - when it comes to you.. when it comes to anyone, really... that's when the world of trouble begins. You're just stable in your thoughts and maybe when you're looking at me, looking at you, looking.. and when you're staring at me do you sense that the story's finally begun?So think about those moments over and over again. Dwell on them & analyze them into each minute.. and each minute into each second.. each second into each half a second and so on. Stamp it out and decipher what it means. Than take that meaning and crumple it up...remember that sound of crumpling.. crumple up a piece of paper and remember it everytime you over-think about something. do you ever think that what you think means nothing? That you have no idea..and when all you do is think... your life is a lie. "Your mouth is slowly murdered, talking got you nowhere"

It�...

It’s like I woke up one morning, out of nowhere, and decided that I had no life. Nothing had changed from my prior pseudo-busy days, although now I felt as absolute as gravel roads I have once road upon, wasting my brain cells. And now I feel more lost inside than anyone can ever imagine… and why? Because I live here. What is this?! Sometimes I have feelings of such fondness for the Midwestern place that I live… and others, I wish it would just disperse, along with everyone else captured in it’s torment. Singing along to an awesome band, I watch the singer kneel on that white box he always has. I suggest to myself that I keep starring into his eyes… and bounce along with the sounds of the music until I give myself whiplash. And although these nights are the reason for my admiration towards him -- . Just like a tree, music makes it easier to breathe. It’s a constant battle and I don’t expect either one of the two exceptional races to win, leaving the world a more pungent and badly written place to breathe -- let alone live, in. Combine all of this nothingness with fading ambition and it equals something along the lines of depression, angst and mostly questions and the yearning for psychic abilities. What’s going to be harder; pulling the trigger, pressing the blade, or taking enough sleeping pills to never wake up or actually waking up for the next 70 years? And when it’s put that way, it doesn’t really make a difference whether I have a life or not because what is life… I know this isn’t it. These feelings of everything crammed into two separate viles, how the hell am I supposed to let them out onto paper and into your hand? But I know I have to keep trying, because if you don’t even try in a game… how are you supposed to win? The over achiever in any standardized fixture always comes out looking better in the end. I just have to know how to roll the dice and flip the right cards and I won’t come out quite so inconsolable and disreputable looking in this game. Because I’ve found out that’s all life is; a game. And like any game, you just have to learn how to play it. I believe I have a good start. I’m just hoping someone up there will throw in some enjoyable surprises. Maybe a card for an extra turn. I'd take it back.

brought up being told i was sick when i wasn't

ohhh demo...while i dont wait for it and never really have recieving a phone call because thats all there is at the time being and hearing your voice would have been really great today. Not that i had a horrible day because today was fun but I miss you. I've finally hit a plateau in life... a great one that is more life changing than any other one. I see different colors that you lead me on to see.ANd i'm sure i would have seen more than the rainbow had to offer had you called me, thats all. But i understand you're busy with your junk, and i know that any free moment you had would have been mine. Please don't turn your back again though? Don't put that wall back up you started building!Yes yes i know you'll be home this weekend, but spend time with me. I can live without you, oh believe me.. but i'd rather not... it wouldn't be a pretty thing and i'd feel sorry for any bloke that'll have to put up wtih me SOON after that because i can picture that happening and i can picture myself becoming completely robotic. With that in mind, robots dont express love.. but i fucking love you man for anything it's worth. Thank you for being my best friend and listening to me. Thank you for finally believing me and putting spark behind me. Thank you for creating something inside of me that you never would have thought you could have... Just for taking the time out of your day one afternoon to talk.

brought up being told i was sick when i wasn't

ohhh demo...while i dont wait for it and never really have recieving a phone call because thats all there is at the time being and hearing your voice would have been really great today. Not that i had a horrible day because today was fun but I miss you. I've finally hit a plateau in life... a great one that is more life changing than any other one. I see different colors that you lead me on to see.ANd i'm sure i would have seen more than the rainbow had to offer had you called me, thats all. But i understand you're busy with your junk, and i know that any free moment you had would have been mine. Please don't turn your back again though? Don't put that wall back up you started building!Yes yes i know you'll be home this weekend, but spend time with me. I can live without you, oh believe me.. but i'd rather not... it wouldn't be a pretty thing and i'd feel sorry for any bloke that'll have to put up wtih me SOON after that because i can picture that happening and i can picture myself becoming completely robotic. With that in mind, robots dont express love.. but i fucking love you man for anything it's worth. Thank you for being my best friend and listening to me. Thank you for finally believing me and putting spark behind me. Thank you for creating something inside of me that you never would have thought you could have... Just for taking the time out of your day one afternoon to talk.

ughhhh

you're a scab. you only hold me together so i dont make a mess all over white carpet. I pity you because i'm not the type of retard who picks my scabs and eat them... so stop trying, you're not going to get inside of me. Prick.

burnt

The girl in the corner has eyes that'll pierce into yours. She stares at the front of the vanilla and light blue classroom listening to the instructor and ignoring the mindless chit chat around her. No she doesn't care if it's raining out, or if the basketball game is canceled. She looks at you and feels sorry. Your life is a lie, and you know nothing... but you think the tables are turned and she's a senseless but beautiful tragedy, stoned. Her head is throbbing.. possibly from that lack of chemicals she's induced into her own body. But will never admit she wishes she hadn't, but she still clutches her temples trying to keep the dull pain down to a little jolt, wracking her mind for a solution, the same thing she does a thousand times a day. Her eyes are still so very tired, but they're kept up by her well chiseled cheek bones. Her stomach is flat, her face is always calm.. enough to charm any boy to the point of thinking "she'll get the job done."She holds herself like she's full of character, you know she wants something else, not you. If she keeps going the way she is now in five years her mind will be blank. I can see it running out the back door while some substance is snorted up the front. Technology pursues and she is rolled in, frozen in a tank of water, infront of future generations of classes like one of those fetuses in a glass bottle. Her eyes are still bright and opened in the murky water. Her hands are flailing about. Tubes are hooked up to her reflexes and she stares, just like she used to, like there's nothing but everything there. "Do not fry your brain," the instructor simple and calmly states. The kids gasp at the sight of the now specimen, all but one in the back.. one who also jots in his notebook about great tales, one who aspires to be the next Jimi Hendrix, Peter Pan, or Steven Spielberg, a name. And as he writes the instructor calls his name. He looks at her, his hair falling out of his eyes, she sees the same insightful, blank stare and sighs. "I've seen this world ruin too many of the right kind, the kind that can save this world," she thinks in her head and accepts the hex it has on itself. Her eyebrows are perched in question as she gestures toward the girl in the tank. "What do you have to say?" She asks. He sits his pen down and looks at the girl. Short, dark chocolate brown hair floats in the water as her pale and slightly blue head bobs back and forth. Her eyes were big and almond shaped with a slant and even though now they were glazed red with a coating from the water, they were still golden. Her lips are purple, a deep lavendar, and slightly opened. She's blank and empty, he has no idea where she went but he'll be reaching out to follow his whole life. "She's beautiful," He says. More students gasp, or chuckle at what they think is a joke, and look at him with surprise. The instructor folds her arms, lips firm and pressed when her thoughts are confirmed, and burns a whole in his head with her eyes to take care of what nature will anyway; a burnt mind.