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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in rukihime's LiveJournal:

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Sunday, December 21st, 2008
6:27 pm
My Winter Poem
Thinking about where I have been
and where it is I want to be
There's this recurring theme that I
can't seem to
s h a k e.
There's the ever present
ever unpleasant
presence of me within my life
but there never seems to be
enough diversity
nor stability
among the you's within my life.
I constantly have this thought
it has my attention caught
by this "without" after the "not"
because despite the way things have been
I find myself wearing a grin
with a tree so fit and trim
with lights so brightly round it
wanting for nothing
Nay not a thing
not warmth
nor food
nor pity

Except for you.

I have no mistletoe
hung in my home
and it's probably for the best
but if I did
I'd wait beneath it
until you could come to test
the limits of the game
we've been playing
since Jove and Juno walked the land
I'd tuck your hair
behind your ear
and we'd be undone by that one hair's strand
FINISHED! if you would,
in that same great brilliant fashion
that enchanted Dante to his divine Beatrice
Paolo to his Francesca
and like Lancelot and Guinevere
crush your lips to mine beneath the solstice
where secrets and betrayal
mean life and death
and consequences
no longer a game
can induce phantom limb syndrome
where it feels as though whole
chunks of you are
entire limbs lost to the disorder
and poison that love
subtly seeps into the brain
that makes you think
you cannot be whole
until you are with that person again.
Are we to let ourselves
become so sick
to think such physical treason?
And yet -- truth be told
in this season of shiver and cold
I can't think of a better reason
to cough
and fit
and moan
and groan
with infirmity and with fever
then the now
absence of

But I suppose
wanting naught for Christmas
but the sweet caresses
of wonton angels who've lost their way
makes me a grateful
and humble child. And who
among the host of humans
who poison the air
with entire stacks of smoke
can say the same themselves?
But hold

do you hear what I hear?

do you see what I see?


Nevermind -- twas just the demons
rattling the bookstacks and the shelving
that keeps my mind in order.
I'll be okay again by spring.
Tell me angel
can you speak?
and tell me angel
why have you no wings?
Are you bereft of tongue and speech
torn clean from your throat
for speaking blasphemies 'gainst God?
Your wings -- they are torn and tattered
like ragged stubs bit clean through
how enraged you must have made Him
to entice Him to so freely use the rod!
Tell me angel
are you lost?
and tell me angel
is your time of redemption nigh?
Your tear streaked face
so cold and frozen
like marble 'neath my fingertips
tells me more than any journal
with footnotes and spirals and twist of mind
those pages filled with all your inner bits
ever could.
But darling angel with hooded eyes
and jaded lips
know you not that His love is never ending?
Boundless and without end
His love and forgiveness is always there
and we have only to kneel to ask for it
and no church
nor priest
nor holy script
can tell me any different.
So tell me angel...
have you no hope?
and tell me angel...
can you not taste the winds of change?
Like snowflakes on the tongue
extinguished in a second
like hundreds of lives that fade into and out of existence
the world is ever changing
so who are we to stand still
in the wake of such strong forces?
In my life
there's the ever present
ever unpleasant
presence of me within my life
but there never seems to be
enough you.

Wednesday, December 10th, 2008
1:59 am
There's nothing wrong with being an incurable humanist. There's nothing wrong with believing that every single person has an inherent amount of good at the core of their being. And there's nothing wrong with being in love.

So I don't care that you call me too optimistic, that you tell me I am hopeless, that -- above all -- you think I am crazy for wanting to wait for a girl that won't even give me the time of day. The good news is, I don't have to think with my heart, so I can carry it around full and overflowing and passionate as Niagra Falls or the raging waters of Phlegethon and still function as a normal human being.

I have found my Beatrice, for whom I would not just plow through the depths of hell for, but also purgatory and fall to my knees in redemption in order to become worthy of her sweet sighs that are paradise to my ears.

And this time, I will not falter.
This time, I will not doubt.

And if she never comes around to see that I am a stronger, better, and enlightened person -- and if she never comes around to see that I have loved her all along -- and if I never get the chance to taste the sweet discourse that comes from two lovers in love again, then I'm okay with that.

Because on the minuscule off chance that someday, I might catch her eye again and someday, she might let me graze my fingers with childlike fascination across her skin and someday, we might get all of the somedays we were ever promised and meant to have -- we would be legendary.

Helen of Troy has nothing on the girl that's been imprinted across my heart.
Cleopatra would be jealous of her alabaster skin and even Medusa herself holds no comparison to the power in this girl's enchanted jade eyes.
And above all, there is no soul sweeter, no spirit more tender, no mind more rich nor heart more pure, than that of my angel.

Here's to people you want but can't have -- here's to unrequited love and all the heartache that accompanies it -- here's to being in love with people who don't want to know you exist.

Monday, December 8th, 2008
9:14 pm
Burning Bridges Is A Form Of Suicide
So the good news is that I'm okay.

Well, I have a cold, but other than that, I'm finally, substantially, okay.

Thank God.

Monday, October 6th, 2008
8:02 pm
Empty Handed
I miss you.

It was... strange. I had a dream last night that you just so happened to be in the same place as me, and you were stand offish and didn't want to look me in the eyes so I was being respectful and gave you space. I went to sleep. And you... you came in, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, head bowed and you stopped in the darkened doorway and paused. I sat up, waiting for you to yell at me, for you to tell me you hated me, for you to tell me how much I disgusted you for leaving. But instead, you looked up, and you looked at me with those viridescent eyes that never fail to make me weak in the knees and you were crying, and you just... you dove on me and I held you. I held you until you fell asleep and then I stayed up and watched you for as long as I could before I fell asleep too. And then I drifted off into darkness and slept more peacefully than I have in a long time.

I'm trying so desperately to let you go, and yet even my subconscious won't let me move on. I know I love you more than life itself. YOU know I love you more than life itself. You know I'll always consider you to be my one and only and when this is all over, if somehow, someway, you and I can be together, you know I'd do anything to get you back.

But I know that right now you and I being together is BEYOND impossible.

For starters, no one knows where I am. I wish you could see how fantastic I'm doing though. I'm taking time and I'm building myself. I'm building myself to become someone worth loving baby girl. When this is over, I hope to be able to walk back into your life and simply sweep you off your feet.

But I can't depend on that because we both know that you've already met someone else. We both know that in the time it will take me to fix this you will have given your heart away to someone infinitely better than who I used to be.

So why, dear God why can't I get you out of my head? When you love someone, they're supposed to love you back, and it's supposed to be something beautiful and amazing and incredible... like what we used to be. Like what we could have been. But this one sided unrequited darkness is breaking me. Even if I had a smidgen of contact with you, it would be better than this. Even if it was just for you to tell me that I'm an ass, it'd be better than this.

...I'm going to email you. Maybe you'll respond there.

~A STILL very happy, just lonely Alisa
Thursday, September 18th, 2008
12:24 pm
Pull Your Head Out

I. Each blogger starts with ten random facts/habits about themselves.

II. Bloggers that are tagged need to write on their own blog about their ten things and post these rules.

III. At the end of your blog, you need to choose ten people to get tagged and list their names.

IV. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.
Okay, let's start.

1. I started smoking when I was eighteen, outside the Burger King in town, with a Camel Wide, because the girl I had recently broken up with (and still had major feelings for) told me she didn't have the 'emotional energy' to be my friend. This eventually led me to me trying drinking (8 shots of Crown Royal in my friend's basement without chasers) and smoking weed (7 hits of Alaskan Thunderfuck) all within a week.

2. I carry around a giant hunting knife in my car not because I'm scared of being raped and not because I want to intimidate people. I carry a giant hunting knife in my car because there have been threats against my life on many occasions and I have very valid reasons for taking them seriously. I don't honestly believe that I could fend off attackers with guns with a hunting knife, but the fact that I wouldn't be unarmed brings me indescribable amounts of comfort.

3. I love music more than I love women. Music has saved my life on more occasions than I can count. So yeah, I get a little grumpy when I let you borrow my car and use my gas to go do something that you want and I get back into it and my CDs are gone or my radio has been fucked around with or my CDs are scratched or strewn around. NOT OKAY WITH ME.

4. My body is covered in scars. I let people think that they're all from cutting or self-mutilation, but the truth is, only some of them are from that. I didn't start cutting until my freshmen year in high school, and the reason why I started at all was because I was locked in my father's basement without food and was only allowed to come out so I could go to school or to cook food for other people in the house that I wasn't allowed to eat because my step mom and her therapist thought I was crazy and needed to be 'contained'. The scars on my thighs and a couple from my knees down are from cutting. The scars on my forearms and biceps are intermingled by ones I've created and ones that were created FOR me. The scars I have that weren't created by me have typically almost completely faded away because they were so long ago. The kanji on my left bicep means "strong". The kanji on my left calf means "to keep hope". I carved "strong" when I decided to quit cutting. I carved the one on my calf when I was not strong enough to quit cutting and regressed back into it, to remind me that strength alone is not enough.

5. My tattoos have MEANING for me. The html on the back of my neck that says

while funny and yes, seems incredibly nerdy and stupid, has deep meaning for me. I graduated early from high school and was working at Arby's when I was offered a job by a guy my mom went to church with. He had his own software development company and wanted me, with no prior experience, to come and train and learn how to do a job that required a four year degree to do properly. I accepted. I spent six months learning first hand and studying in private how to do a job I totally wasn't qualified for. After a year the guy I had been learning from was starting to ask me questions. When everyone else from my high school was working fast food and struggling through college, when they were living at home and working shitty jobs and maintaining shitty relationships, I was getting paid extremely well to do a job that to me, was beyond a blast to do. The tattoo is there to remind me that I need to be grateful for the skills I have, for the opportunities I was given, and to remind me that I can do ANYTHING.
The tattoo on my bicep that reads "SFC punk RIP" is because when I was ten I watched my best friend (and someone I called brother) get curb checked, senselessly. I watched him get curb checked because someone wanted to send a warning to me. I had to carry his lifeless, mangled, and bloody body six blocks before I could find people to help me get his body home. I had to watch them lower the coffin into the ground because of something I had done. I had to stand by as the police did NOTHING to catch his killer, had to watch as they brought him in three weeks later for drug charges, had to watch as the police dropped the murder charges because they "had no evidence". I have that tattoo because I needed to remind myself that I have done everything I possibly can to make up for the actions that led to his death, and I need to let him rest in peace. I need to let it go and stop blaming myself. I need to let it go and not be held back by the guilt.
So yeah, I get grumpy when you make fun of my tattoos too.

6. I've known I was gay since I was eight years old. I spent eight years trying to literally purge the desire for female flesh out of me. Eight years praying to God every night that these 'feelings' would be taken from me. Eight years walking on eggshells, so terrified that if I said the wrong thing people would realize what I was. Eight years scared shitless to even look at girl LET ALONE have any physical contact with one in case I made her uncomfortable or feel awkward around me. Eight years respecting women so much that I refused to have contact with them. I haven't been out for that long. It's been a little over two years now. The words "dyke" and "lesbian" and "gay" still instigate a little twinge of fear in me because when I wasn't out yet, and some kids found out about it, I got the ever living shit beat out of me in a girl's bathroom and had to use a crescent wrench to shatter one of the kid's kneecaps before they left me alone. Needless to say, I'm a little sensitive about my homosexuality.

7. One of my best friend's old bands got signed. He's moving to Seattle so he can become a famous heart throb trumpet / ukulele player. I'm going to miss him terribly and really wish he was taking me with him.

8. I'm incredibly perceptive and have a fantastic eye for detail. It comes from years of shutting up and watching people. It makes me a fairly decent artist too.

9. I love singing in my car at the top of my lungs, but I can only seem to do it when I'm alone. You can always know I trust you when I'm willing to sing in my car with you.

10. I know there's a higher power out there keeping an eye on me. When I feel like praying, I prefer to disregard the whole "one God" theory and instead pray to the Greek pantheon. The awesome thing about it? I know for a fact some of my prayers get answered.

III. Yeah, fuck tagging. I'm waaay too lazy to tag people.

IV. But um, if you stumble across this and you feel like doing it, you totally should. It's actually really cool.
Monday, September 15th, 2008
11:14 am
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
It's like waking up and quietly realizing you'll never be with me. It's like waking up and realizing there's no oxygen in the room anymore and you have to get up and make your own for breakfast.

It's waking up and realizing it's got nothing to do with me, it's got everything to do with you. You'll never see past your parents, past your religion, past your, well, past. You're not ashamed of me as a person but you are ashamed of acting on these feelings.

So alright baby girl. I'll make my own oxygen, make my own way, make my own life because I'm pretty sure I'm right about this but I'll never give up hope. I'll keep filling these brown blue pages with letters to you and hope that someday I can give it to you. I'll keep clutching my blankets at night pretending it's you that's holding me close and not the empty fleece.

Because everyone has to believe in something; everyone has to believe in someone. You are my rainbow, my loch ness monster, my aurora borealis. I'll spend the rest of my life waiting for you to discover yourself and me.

Sorry for the lack of moratorium, but sometimes I just can't keep these things inside anymore.

Regardless, have fun. I'm gonna go be superserious in St George and hopefully meet someone who doesn't just like the way I make her feel, but also likes the way I can open the world for her; who doesn't just like the butterflies I give her but cultivates the butterflies she gives me too. Someone who can hold my hand in public without feeling a dull burning deep within her.

I'm always going to wish that person was you, but I can't wait around for something that will never happen.

Sadly, it's not like this will really even effect you or your thoughts or feelings, because hell, really, like I'm going to find someone who likes me? You could probably fuck around for twenty years and I'd still be single and eager to take you back. And there's nothing I can do to even spark jealousy in you, possessiveness in you. Guh. Now I've talked myself into a really dark place.

I like cake, indie rock, and playing with matches.

That's better. Back to my regularly scheduled life.


PS: I am going to be a politician. And I don't give a fuck if you don't believe that I will be able to spark change or be something different in the sea of assholes, but it'd be nice to have SOMEONE have faith in me. Please don't try to drag me down or mock me? I really want to do something amazingly good with the world.
Thursday, September 11th, 2008
10:54 am
This is not my megalomania speaking. This is not my pride, my craziness, my bipolar mania talking. This is me, as a human being, standing up and taking notice of the world and environment around me and deciding I don't like what I see. This is me realizing I was built for this. This is me realizing I lost sight of the vision, of the big picture and I want it back. No.

I'm TAKING it back.

I've never, in my entire life, felt so incredibly and overwhelmingly sure of myself. I've never felt so happy, so complete. This will be the hardest undertaking of my life, but truth be told, I was meant for this. EVEN BEFORE I WAS BORN my whole life has been leading down this path. I just didn't realize it. I knew as a kid, but then I forgot, got lost in the everyday and let it go. I'm baffled at myself, that I let that happen to me.

I'm sick and tired of being handed two options and liking neither of them. I'm sick of being told what to do, where to go, what to say and who to see. I want my third option. I'm demanding a different path. We as an American people have been setting demands for decades, but from who? We have been wasting our efforts, blinded to the real problem, and to the real solution. It comes down to one pure, perfect, and simple theory.


We have been demanding that our government fix our problems, and yet it's not the government that caused the problems, it's the people. We as humans have let ourselves fall into despair. We have lost sight of what is truly important, and we have given up on believing. WE caused these problems and now WE have to fix them. And no, it's not going to be easy. No, it's not going to be pleasant, quick, painless. It will be hard, and it will be difficult, and at times, even, excruciating. But I'm willing to do it. And I think, if you stop and think about it, you would be too. America is the next Roman Empire and I've decided to try and stop history from repeating itself.

...And I know what you're thinking because there's a little nagging voice in the back of my head thinking it for me too. "You might as well go throw yourself off a bridge because that's about what you're going to accomplish in life by choosing this goal." And I know that you're thinking "People are too set in their ways, no one wants to listen and no one wants to change. It's a great idea but it's just that, an idea and it's idealistic. You need to stop living in a fantasy world." I know you're thinking it because I'm thinking it too.

But do you know what else I'm thinking?

Everyone needs something to believe in. Without something to believe in, we are left alone, lost, and hopeless. HOPE. Hope is the greatest tool and gift that we as humans have. So yes. I'm going to be idealistic. And yes. I'm going to be decried as insane. But I believe in the human potential. I believe in the human instinct, the human strength, the human ability, the human perserverance, the human connection. I believe in people.

Because in the end, when you step back from your cell phone, your laptop, your wireless internet and high speed connections, and you look at the entire world as a whole, you'll see -- just like I do -- not nations, governments, commerce and continents, but people. People just like me. People just like you. No matter where you go, it's just people.

So I'm not out to save the world.

Just the people in it.


Monday, August 11th, 2008
10:03 am
My Heart Isn't Broken And I'm Not Dead
If everything goes according to plan, I should be out of this city by October 1st, if not sooner.

I keep getting asked why I'm leaving, why I feel this innate desire to get the hell out of here.

I don't expect any of you to understand. Not a single one. Which is one reason why I'm going through with it, because I realized that I NEED people to understand me. I need people who don't think they know me well enough so they don't ask. I need people who aren't content with what they know about me.

I'm leaving because I fell in love with a woman that I never can and never will have the opportunity to be with. Not because of the woman herself, whom I believe I will take my love for to the grave, but because of the person I am becoming because of this ungodly situation.

I'm leaving because I have an ex girlfriend who promised me when we broke up that when she went to college and turned eighteen that she and I could give it another chance. I'm leaving because if it hadn't been for circumstance, she and I would still be together right now. I'm leaving because since she made that promise, she and I have both realized that it could never happen, not after the shit she and I put each other through. I'm leaving because she is going to college soon and I don't have the heart to tell anyone that this city will be empty without her here. I'm leaving because if she isn't here, these memories aren't worth re-experiencing every day.

I'm leaving because I've become addicted to drugs, addicted to the self-medication that they provide for me.

I'm leaving because my mother is growing more and more unhealthy by the day, both mentally and physically. I'm leaving because her mental illness is pushing me away so quickly that I can't even care about her physical illness, and I want to help her get better.

I'm leaving because I've stunted my growth here, burnt many bridges, and killed many friendships. I'm leaving because I can't stand to tell all of my friends... no, my family that I have come to love deeply and tenderly these past few months that I'm not strong enough to hang around them and not be pulled in by my addictions. I'm leaving because I know they'd want to help, but I can't do that to them.

I'm leaving because I need a change of scenery.

I'm leaving because I need to know what it's like to be on my own.

I'm leaving because I've been hurt too many times in and by this city for me to continue living here happily. I'm leaving because every time I see Andrew my thoughts become clouded because all I can think about is how she hurt me, and how she has hurt him in the past as well. I'm leaving because I love Andrew and I can't handle having thoughts like that about someone who I am proud to call my best friend. I'm leaving because I don't want to be an angry and bitter person. I'm leaving because I want to start healing. I'm leaving because I want to someday come back and give Mary a huge hug without feeling sick to my stomach or resentful.

I'm leaving because I have seen the best this city has to offer and the absolute worst. I'm leaving because it's like my world is a skipping CD that I can't get to work so it's just time for a new track.

I'm leaving because I have trouble finding time to read up here.

I'm leaving because no matter what you say and no matter what you think and no matter how many different people tell me it's a waste of time I LOVE FILM AND THEATRE. And no matter what you people tell me, I HAVE FUCKING TALENT. I'm not just your average day dreaming kid who wants to grow up and be a famous actress instantly. I want to work hard and be respected. I'm leaving because I'm sick of people telling me what to do and how to think. I'm leaving because I don't ever want to cry myself to sleep again.

I'm leaving because I want to make music, and wake up in the mornings HAPPY and EXCITED. I'm leaving because I want to get a tan. I'm leaving because I want to see what else is out there. I'm leaving because this label of 'lesbian' has overwhelmed anything else I could or might want to be.

I'm leaving because I need to be free.

I just wish I knew a better way to save myself heartache than pushing everyone away so when I leave I won't be missed. A jellyfish has more spine than I do.

But I do love you. Each and every single one of you. I just need to get better so that when I meet someone I'll be worth loving too.
Thursday, June 19th, 2008
10:54 am
It's A Hell Of A Good Day To Die
And for all my medication, for all the pills I've swallowed, and all the hours I've spent lighting up, I still cannot purge you like the acidic cancer you are in my life.

All of you.

What kind of friends are these, what kind of people are you? What do you see when you look in the mirror? Is it the dim and vindictive demon reflected in my eyes? Can you read the signs?

The world is coming to a brilliant and violent end, and I plan on being there, on the forefront of destruction, tearing with my teeth and bleeding without care. You have no idea what I would do to you if I had the personal strength.

I've been nice to you. I've been nice to all of you, and sometimes you even tell me, "Alisa, you're too nice."

Fuck you.

You think I really want you to be happy? You think I really enjoy going out of my way to pick you up every single god damned time you need a ride? You think I'm okay with constantly being out and about, doing favors, buying food, taking care of all of us as a whole? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I'm finished.

Do you see the sanity slipping?

Manic bipolar medications doing nothing for me anymore and so it's a gamble it's a game of how to stay sane how to stay sane how to stay sane CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?

My thoughts are skipping like a scratched CD and what a remixed world I live in what a state of velocity and what a state of united ignorance we pledge our allegiance to.

Just a little longer. Just hang in here a little longer because soon enough, I'm going to go through with my fantasies and you have no idea. I will be gone, and I will never come back, and they will find me by the trail of fire I leave behind, scorching the earth clean and cleansing it from your poison.


You have no idea.

Stop underestimating me. Stop pushing me aside like I'm not a threat, like I'm nothing, like I'm worthless. I'm not fucking worthless.

And guess what? I'm willing to do this alone. I'm willing to grow a spine and stand up for myself by myself. I don't need anyone else. You will not kill me, because someday, I will find someone who appreciates me. Who loves me, and doesn't want to change me at all.

Someday I will find someone who will give of themselves to me the way I will give of myself to them.

So dance fucker dance.

It's a hell of a good day to die.








We are... ever so beautiful.

Wednesday, June 18th, 2008
11:23 am
Somedays & Secrets
You have no idea who I am.

You have no idea where I have been, where I am going, what I want to do with my life, what I want to wake up every day and see. I have been to places you cannot possibly imagine -- I have built worlds that you will never be able to comprehend.

And I'm lost. Turning around in panicked circles smaller smaller smaller until eventually I'm gone and disappeared forever. I hate you for haunting me. I hate you for giving me a taste of something divine, something heavenly, something beyond this world.

I will never find someone else like you.

But I'm glad, because while I felt something so incredible with you, someday...

Someday I will find someone who loves me back.

Someday I will find someone who isn't afraid of reaching out to take my hand in public.

Someday I will find someone who is willing to really, truly, do anything and everything to keep me with her.

Someday I will own the world.

Someday my body will tell a story more complex and deep than any novel.

Someday my art work will be examined in museums and gallery shows.

Someday my writing will be analyzed and will save someone's life.

Someday my name will be precious and painful for you to say.

Someday I will leave this place and never come back.

Someday, the somedays will kill me.

But until then, I'm holding my head up high and dealing with the consequences of killing you. I need you gone, forever and always.


...even though at one point in time, you were.

I am strong, and I am beautiful, and I am one of a kind and I hope you never see me again.

Tell me a secret?

Drugs have destroyed my life.
Drugs have saved my life.
I'm proud to be a stoner.
I'm proud to be an intellectual.
I have wristband tans.
I think I look good these days.
I haven't cut in nine months.
I'm going to go home, and smoke alone.
I haven't done any work in weeks.
I pray at least once a day.
I am addicted to smoking.
I eat too much.
I have books on my shelves that I bought with no intentions of reading whatsoever.
I'm positive my cause of death will be suicide.
Given the choice between you and drugs, I would pick you every time, even though you are so much worse than any drug I could possibly do.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
I'm terrified of ending up like my mother.
I'm leaving, and I'm never coming back.
I hate you for fucking up my world.
I regret ever bringing you to the fire.
I'm glad you got an alcohol ticket.
For all of my talk, I'm sure that I will end up forgotten and none of this will ever matter.
Quite a few of my best friends are total douchebags.
I feel like I get taken advantage of all the time, but that never stops me from wanting to share even more with you guys.
I think I would be better off in a prison.
I fantasize about running away and never coming back all the time.
These aren't even my good secrets.

Monday, June 16th, 2008
1:45 pm
Save The People
I have a dream.

In this dream, there is no race, gender, sexuality, nationality, or classes. In this dream, there are no cliques, racism, homophobia, discrimination, hatred, or inequality. There is love, peace, hope, and belief in one world, one people.

There is love for every human being we ever meet, no matter where they have been or where they are going, no matter what they have done or what they will do, no matter whether they are our dearest and oldest friends or the harried woman in front of us at the check stand. There is peace among all the cultures, because one human is just as important and deserving as the next, and we have learned to coexist with our differences, rather then despite them. There is hope in every single human being that we can constantly improve the planet and the people for the better. There is belief in heaven, hell, one God, many gods, no gods, death, reincarnation, purgatory, limbo, angels, demons, endless space and a finite world. There is belief in everything and nothing all at once. There is respect for everything and everyone we ever meet, and yet there is personal definition in who we are and what we believe in.

There is strength in our individuality and our unique ideas.

I have a dream in which there is no war, and there is no anger, and no one is ever, ever alone. I have a dream in which the entire world is one never ending network of caring and support, no matter the dilemma and no matter the decision. I have a dream in which death is simply a natural part of life. Where people look both ways before crossing and stop at stop signs and are constantly aware of their surroundings. I have a dream where humankind is educated and alive. I have a dream where crying with joy and crying with fear and crying with anger and crying with loneliness is never, ever frowned upon, but instead is embraced as a way of physically expressing our emotions. I have a dream where children always have a safe haven and never question whether they are loved, where teenagers respect themselves enough to take care of themselves by dressing appropriately, living healthy, and are free to express themselves without fear of repercussions, and where adults can live any life they choose.

I have a dream where the definition of what is wrong and what is right is clear and precise and the consequences for both are apparent and real. I have a dream where nothing is impossible.

I don't know how to make this dream a reality, but I've decided to dedicate my life to making it happen.

Friday, April 11th, 2008
4:38 pm
My Megalomania Makes My Schizophrenia Seem Insignificant
Wow. What... what a horrible month.

I don't know that I have it in me right now to be poetic, so if that's why you're here -- if you're looking for those eloquent words that help make this blog so ubiquitous -- then I would suggest turning elsewhere, because I doubt I have the energy, I doubt I have the heart.


Oh wait, perhaps I do.

Lying on the greasy cement in a broken garage attached to a broken home, the knees of my jeans starting to bleed with oil and crimson from the glass I shattered across my back and I am kneeling, praying, begging for anything, everything all at once -- can you see me God are you listening God because I'm so alone right now Oh God I'm so alone and I'm coming home God I'm coming home -- and the music swells in a cacophony of my tears and my throat is raw as I throw my head back mouth gaping releasing all of the evil all of the darkness inside of me and I pick up the can of gasoline that I siphoned from the poisonous thoughts I can't help but perpetuate and I douse myself in it -- feel it run off my back and across my forehead and the smell gags me but I continue -- I have to continue. When the can does nothing more than drip down on me I toss it aside and grab for the kerosene because I, I am explosive. I am combustible and I am flammable and I am more dangerous then you could ever even imagine and I mix the kerosene with some precious Crown Royal and down it like a champ, just like in the good days, just like when I was goddess of the underworld. And I leave, the fumes roiling off my clothes in literal waves as I drive and suddenly I am there and I stop and standing on top of the city, the world watching, I pull out a cigarette.

And the orchestra swells.

Time to reminisce, time to grab you by the shoulders and tear you to pieces until you understand, until you feel the way I feel right now because this is my moment, this is where my life flares into a climax and it will mean nothing if there is no buildup and you must understand otherwise you won't be emotional, you won't feel connected to the destruction of myself as a human being.

Flashes too quick for me to grasp at, images and words and phrases and people bombarding me in such succession that I can't help myself -- I begin to cry.

Meeting at an Evanescence concert, my shoulders sore from keeping people off them, her smile so perfect and the electric lights creating such beautifully familiar shadows beneath her incredible eyes as ours met for a flickering second.

Coffee developing into discussions and four hours later we're both late to where we needed to be.

Holding her close and cuddling into her and I have the first night free of fear like I haven't had in almost a year.

Love notes, love letters, sweet tender expressions to prove to her that I could be her everything, that I could be her anything if she only asked -- white roses and red roses and precious proposals all to no avail.

Standing beneath that street light all dressed up and everywhere to be she was the last stop on my way to find nirvana because I had business to attend to and I looked incredible because I had no fear and I had no sadness and I had no anger only a present and then I was gone and instead she held me close with tears streaming down her face like she cared and I believed her, and I let my suicide note slip from my hands like ash in the wind to take the necklace that I -- to this day -- keep in my wallet as a reminder of the life she saved.

Her asking to come to the fire to see my city, to meet my people, to see my world. I agreed. A date was set and when it came we were ever so excited to see each other.

People have gathered to see me at the brink of my insanity, cigarette hanging from my slack jaw and attached by dry spit to my bloody and split lip and with empty eyes I make no movement, let the people gather beneath me, let them see what they have created. I stretch my arms out, my deadpan face still staring emptily into the sky.

And the orchestra swells.

Her smile so piercing and so beautiful and I felt like that was it, that was the moment and she finally felt for me the way I felt for her as she got into my car and we began to drive down into my realm, into my kingdom and that treacherous scent that drives me crazy starts creeping into my skull and I know what she has done and we share a moment of warmth and laughter.

The show is powerful and Alan is incredible with his screaming energy and I don't know where he gets it or where he keeps it and introductions are happening left and right and yet she still chooses to sit in my lap, to wrap her arms around my waist and careful self, you seem to be glowing.

Gathering around the fire pit and starting the ritualistic burning, the sacrifices and the incredible discussions and raucous laughter and we can't help it we just tend to be quotable and my jealous streak showing as she goes off with Andrew and they begin to flirt and I'm a little hurt but I think nothing of it.

Beginning to doze off, exhausted and she is curled against me and the world couldn't be more perfect until he asks that question -- won't we be joining him at his house where the party will continue? I pawn the question off, wanted to keep her happy and she wanted to go so of course, we went.

Pulling into Andrew's house and piling downstairs and then climbing onto the roof to inhale the universe until we were larger than life and no longer entirely aware of what we were doing until suddenly we were downstairs and naked and in a sauna and she suggests a foursome and we are no longer sure if we are joking or not.

Naked guitar hero and Brains and I are being Greek Gods in front of the television set and they are behind us discussing condoms and sex and I am mildly uncomfortable but am unsure how to voice my opinion when they leave to hunt down the necessary accessories for a sexual escapade and I have my mind set to white noise so I cannot think about it.

Realization that I have the only car and so I am stuck driving them to a gas station and we aren't joking anymore and that tiny voice of who I really am is screaming on the inside to leave, to stop, to not let this happen because I will be hurt, and I will be lost, and I will be the one who suffers in this situation.

We are back and Brains is excited and she demands me to kiss her but I am frightened, I am terrified because this feels like his basement, unfinished and my eight year old body is shaking and my naked skin is covered in goosebumps and shivering beneath the paisley blanket, my only protection against the brute with his large hands and large forehead and demanding demeanor and how do I explain to her, this dear girl that I love so desperately that I can't have her here, I can't kiss her yet because the atmosphere reminds me too much of my sexual abuse?

There are people with cameras and ice cream cones and sweaty hands and backpacks beneath me, and they come like waves from every direction to peer up at me and they move as one sentient being, shifting their weight to their left foot and then their right and the wind brings me one snippet of a conversation "...I have to go..." and it makes me want to smile because now they want to pay attention to me, now they want to focus on me and I have disrupted someone's daily life.

And the orchestra swells.

Frustrated, she turns to Andrew instead and he is unfettered by my memories, he is unmoved by my thoughts and so without hesitation he gives in and suddenly I am a million miles away as we are being led into his parent's bedroom and I am ashamed, far too ashamed to partake and I sit in the corner and sob, tears streaming down my face as the three of them crawl across each other's skin and each other's bodies and as much as my mind was screaming and my heart was aching the entire world was silent except for the sound of wet skin against wet skin and I wanted to vomit.

Andrew suddenly sitting straight up and I am concerned for him and he is muttering about a reality check and we go down stairs as Brains is opening the condom and I hear the package tear open and I feel her smile as I shut the door behind us and go downstairs and there are tears streaking my face as we play a song and I have to leave Andrew, I have to go to my car because I can't handle being here anymore and don't touch and don't talk to me and don't tell me not to walk away because I'm waiting for them and tell them to come out to my car when they are finished.

Constant text messages and I don't want to answer any of them and an hour later Brains comes cautiously out to the car but I don't know how to feel and I don't know how to act and I don't know what I should be saying because this isn't okay, this isn't alright and I tell him I'm not angry with him, I don't blame him -- and I sincerely mean it.

Crawling into my backseat, her hair is disheveled and her make up is smeared and she looks forlornly out the window and I begin to drive, joking with Brains and trying to smile and I am, I'm smiling but on the inside I am dead and I can feel nothing anymore as I climb into my bed and she hesitates but eventually follows me and the entire next day is a blur of breakfast coffee and dropping her off and trying to keep it as normal as possible and then breaking down in my car afterwards.

It's a bizarre few weeks filled with sadness and defenses and anger -- so much anger that I can't contain myself and I begin to take it out in ways that I shouldn't -- I begin to fight again. Unexplained bruises across my face and arms and I can't remember what time I went to bed last night but why does my shirt have blood stains on it and I'm spiralling into a whirlwind of self-loathing and self-destruction the likes of which has my mother frightened to death for me.

A phone call from the girl I spent two and a half years in a long distance relationship with, a girl I've known for over four years since freshman year in high school, a girl whom I was in love with and who -- as she professed -- was in love with me and she was no longer in college and would she like to move out here with me and perhaps we should start with a visit and I have some extra money and I could certainly use a pick me up in the form of seeing her and so a date is set and the ticket is purchased and the wait begins.

The wind whips past me and I hear the sound of sirens, red and blue candy lights dancing in the ever growing shadows and the clouds part above me and the sun begins to shine and the entire city is on fire, and in the window's reflections beneath me I see the concerned faces of the people begin to melt away and burn.

And the orchestra swells.

She arrives and I have been ever so anxious for her arrival and yet when I first see her I realize she is not who she used to be and I am immediately saddened, sedated from the beginning by her lack of passion and lack of desire and lack of ambition that seems to encompass her entire soul.

A long drive home and we go to sit by the fire and we are fine, and introductions are made but she is exhausted, so we go home and she crawls into bed with me and we are cuddling and though she is not who she used to be nor who I thought she was it seems as though things could work out, as if this might be a possibility if I just give it time and a little bit of tenderness.

Days later and I have come home from work and I am exhausted, I am coming down sick and so I curl up on the bed and try to look pathetic so that she'll cuddle with me but instead she goes to the bathroom and comes back much later and asks if there is a fire tonight. Frustrated because I am ill and she doesn't seem to realize, I make a phone call and a ride is on it's way and she leaves and I go to sleep.

Five hours later and three in the morning she stumbles in with Ever clear on her breath and a slur in her speech and I feel the anger coursing through my exhausted body and she crashes into my bed and I move to the couch and then go to work in the morning and I don't see her at all that day and when I call her after my show I am informed that she won't be coming home she'll be spending the night out and I can't help it, I am suspicious and mistrusting since the last time I brought a girl to a fire and I begin to wonder who she is staying with rather than where she will be.

Business to attend to in the morning and she comes home while I am out and then leaves before I arrive and so the day progresses until it is time for my play. When it is finished I call around and discover that she has been drinking and has passed out on a friend's bed and I am embarrassed for the mess that I have somehow brought down on everyone's heads and so I drive to Payson to pick her up.

Pulling back the covers to find her bare ass hanging out and displayed freely to the world and I am disgusted, appalled at this and the fact that I have forced myself to become associated with this and my hands are literally quivering with rage and I feel as though if I could grab her by the shoulders and smash her skull in with mine that the world might be a better place.

Half an hour battle of getting her pants on and her speaking Spanish to me and it just setting me off beyond belief because not only do I feel degraded by her actions I feel degraded by her speech as well now and we finally get her thrashing, crying, panicking body into my car and I call Colby to pick him up to help me get her inside my own home.

Carrying her inside, her breath disgusting smelling from the alcohol and I drop her into the bed and she begins to cry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you and I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't mean to embarrass you and Sorry isn't going to cut it right now and I am too livid to even speak decently to her so I leave, and tell her we'll discuss it in the morning when she has sobered up and we drive to Combo's to calm me down and I get a phone call from my mother, "Lori's gone."

I feel it now, the sun warming my back through the gasoline soaked t-shirt I have on and I lean my head back, close my eyes and smile, and the tears begin to stream down my face because I am almost there, it's almost time.

And the orchestra swells.

Anger raging through every fragment of my body and I am red faced and belligerent and I am going to break every bone in her body until Colby calms me down and gives me one of his amazing hugs and it's like the world is melting away and suddenly we can deal with this as she calls me screaming and crying and drunk and she's on main street at one in the morning on a Saturday night and we're driving as quickly as possible and Colby jumps out pull her stumbling body into the car and I drive around the block to park and then we see the police cars cruise by.

Panic panic panic going off in my mind because this can't be happening this can't be real and my knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel so hard and I know they are talking to them and I feel horrible because Colby doesn't deserve to have to deal with this -- it's my fault she's here at all and I jump as my phone begins to ring.

Pulling in behind the third police car in front of the Public Library and I'm joking around with officers because by now I am dead on the inside and I can feel nothing, I can understand and fear and taste nothing as I walk up to see her red tear stained face and begin answering the officer's questions and smile at Colby and sign paperwork and then they have left and they are gone and we walk to my car and drive home.

Putting her to bed for the second time that night and she promises she won't leave but she's talking to Colby about killing herself and I can't handle it because I DO still have feelings for her no matter what and I hold her close until she calms down and then I leave and spend the night with Colby and Shae smoking and watching movies and passing out on their couch in a blur of illicit activities.

Going home and talking the next morning with my mother and her about it and being unable to express the emotions I'm feeling because I honestly can't feel any as she tells me she's kissed Andrew and Brains and I am in a barren wasteland, the sun cracking the ground beneath me and the skyline shifts and degrades but I cannot move, I cannot care despite the fact that my clothes are being torn off and disintegrated in the face of the sand-blasting wind and I am alone.

Trying to balance out my life and whether she comes home or not I can't care anymore because she's leaving at the end of the week after her court date and it couldn't happen soon enough until I find out while hanging out with Josh that they've slept together and I'm not angry with him and I'm not even angry with her and I am just filled with absolutely nothing and I'm back in that inebriated wasteland, and it's not my clothes the wind is taking -- it's now my skin and I still don't flinch. I don't even move because I can't feel a thing.

The crowd gasps in unison and the world is suddenly silent as I lower my arms and take the cigarette in my fingers and I open my mouth gaping wide -- but nothing comes out.

Being stuck in this horrendous situation where Andrew and Mary are falling for each other and sleeping together and congratulations I hope you two strangle each other into misery and I can't show my face around town anymore because my reputation has been so severely damaged by both Mary and Lori and not wanting to get out of bed in the mornings and not wanting to eat and not wanting to exist at all anymore.

Instead the entire world is flooded with music and the sun sinks just one more inch and I am nothing but a highlighted silhouette to the world below as the chorus climbs ever higher and ever stronger and ever more powerful and the world is speechless as all their eyes are fixated on me and I can see the sounds racing down every street and throughout the entire city heads are turning to see me and as the music climbs into a frenzy I bring the cigarette to my lips and reach into my pocket for a lighter and I can feel nothing I can taste nothing I can sense nothing as I pull it out and flick it open.


Being trapped in a world where no matter what I do it's never good enough and sitting at my desk miserable because I don't want to be working, I want to be wasting away and I want to smash everyone's heads in and just be left alone because I hate myself, I hate myself because I'm the only one that I can logically blame for all of this and I drop her off at the bus station finally and now I'm free, free to handle this situation the way I want.

And the music climaxes as my body, engulfed in flames plummets from the edge in a burning pyre and the windows burst as I pass from the heat and the concussive force of the glass bursting from their frames sends the glass shards showering down with me towards the crowd below.

No one screams.

Driving home and parking in front of the garage, slowly climbing out with a gas can in one hand, a container of kerosene in the other, and a pack of cigarettes in my pocket and closing my car door with my foot and with a resolute look upon my face, going into the garage.

Then I hit the ground, powerful and bone-crushing and the sound is on as people are screaming and sirens are wailing as the heat finally hits my stomach and I literally am torn to shreds from the explosion that ensues but on the final police report, it will be written that my body was found with a smile upon my face.

And the orchestra swells...

Monday, November 19th, 2007
3:28 pm
My Lack Of Sobriety Is My Ticket To Sainthood
Everything is out of focus except for what is in the distance and for the first time in my life I can see it clearly and I know what I want and I'm no longer afraid to do anything I have to do to get it. What a fool I've been. What a crazy, selfless, sick fool. I haven't been this happy in such a long time; cloud nine and nirvana and last night was a New Found Glory sort of night, with memorable tunes given a new riff worth screaming to and though it was nothing that we haven't done before it felt like it was brand new because I saw it with new eyes.

"The only real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes." It was beautiful. My city, my hometown and I've never been more proud and suddenly my life is just opening up to me and I feel fantastic. Considering dropping out of college, and coming back to work full time. Jeremy already thinks I'm an idiot for continuing, and I'm beginning to wonder if he's right. The only reason why I would even consider continuing would be to take foreign language classes. Come back to work full time, I could pay my own freaking bills and not have to worry about relying on me mum for funds when I'm short, and what's more, get my real estate license and get that business off the ground... Dreamer's Anonymous is already coming along nicely but I don't have the resources to be able to force it off the ground like I'd like. It'll take time, slowly but surely but I have the rest of my life for that to become successful. I don't know what the hell I've been thinking. I'm an adult. An adult, and really, truly really, what can anyone make me do anymore?

Good morning universe I'm here to make a name for myself and I'm no longer worried about how long it takes me to get there and how long it takes you to notice me and so long as I'm happy along the way, I don't care where I end up as long as its in the arms of another human being who loves me and wants to be with me as much as I love them and want to be with me.

I grew up too fast, but as long as I'm here, I'm going to stop myself as much as I can before its too late. Last weekend was amazing, if not slightly problematic. Thinking someone is cute and attractive at a glance is one thing when you're at a concert and you think you'll never see nor hear from them again. But to get to know them and to kind of... *click* with them as well as I did... But I'm sick of analyzing and whatever happens happens and as beautiful of a person she is I enjoy her company far too much to lose her friendship and I'm sick of always being serious. I want to have flings, I want to experience it all, and most of all, I want a reputation that consists of more than just, "Oh, are you talking about the lesbian with the glasses?" I want people to hear my name and laugh at the fantastic memories. I'm a college student, I think it's time I acted like one instead of a thirty year old who prefers to stay home and act pretentious. There is a time and a place for everything and so for now? I'm going to enjoy my life; something that got set on the back burners a long long time ago.


PS: Christmas is coming soon. I a new X-acto knife set as my old ones are almost all dull and a new sketchbook with the thick paper so I can continue spewing out beautiful stencils. Speaking of which, new model friend? Thinking Landmark would be fun location for photoshoot. Considering doing some lesbian shots. Would need another willing model. ALSO: Self confidence? Where the hell have you been and its great to have you back!
Friday, November 16th, 2007
2:48 pm
Aspirations and Asphyxiations
Scream scream scream because these aspirations are filling up my lungs and clogging my airways and my lungs are decaying from the lack of oxegyn and there is music, sweet beautiful string music filling my ears and taking me away to where I belong and the poetry that you heard me whisper in your ear is just beautiful poison for your mind and I hope you don't mind I hope you don't mind if I swallow my pride and devour your soul because where else can I exist as an erotic anachronism of chivalry and honor?

Tell me sweet child, when did you grow up to become my lover?

How long have I known this was going to happen and prevented it by doing nothing? I scream, and claw at the coffin lid only to find its just my sheets and then I'm upright standing in the line for the self checkout and the bright red light is suddenly something I'm running from in my bright red car and it's red blue red blue red blue and those aren't Christmas colors except at the police station and then there are bars and orange and alcohol and tattoos and then I'm singing on the cliffside with my acoustic guitar and I'm as peaceful as can be despite the tears running down my face as the beautiful sunset faces me and warms my body and you're already gone and never coming back and then I lay my guitar down and walk away because there is nothing left for me here.

There isn't enough paper in this world for me to fill up.

I don't know who you are anymore and I don't like who you have become.

I don't know who I am anymore, and I don't like who I've become.

Concert tonight. And anger today. People are always so angry. I have a paper to write. I wish the world was more beautiful on an everyday basis.

Depression depression depression.

Manic Bipolar. Just another excuse.

Good bye beautiful eyes.

PS: www.twilightmoon.mindsay.com It's... interesting. And kind of my newest project.
Tuesday, October 16th, 2007
1:52 pm
A Secret Society Of Lovers
I'm going crazy.

I've been making stencils like crazy because they're the only things these days that make sense and are the only things that are consistent and I feel so damn accomplished when I finish one. I can't wait to try them out. I can't wait to put the project into motion but I have to wait. I'm not... stable enough to make this have the effect I want it to have. The sort of... overnight transformation and appearance.

I fell asleep on the couch last night and woke with a scream bubbling out of my mouth. And when I say bubbling, I mean it. I had bit my lip so hard it was bleeding. Nightmares. I stayed up a little later worked on some more stencils, trying to exhaust myself to the point of dreamlessness, but instead, the moment my head hit the pillow when I finally crawled into bed, I had another nightmare. Terrible, worse than the first one. I woke up and really was screaming... but there was nothing but silence. I don't think I've ever felt so alone in my entire life. I just sat on the edge of my bed and sobbed. Finally I got up and took a shower, the entire time just this lifeless figurine. I'm so... numb these days. Don't want to go home tonight because I know what'll be waiting. Sarah, and all of her life sucking glory, tearing me and everyone else down around her. That's fine. But I don't have the energy for a human being like that.

I'm so... tired.

And incredibly lonely. I just feel... really, truly alone.

I'd never tell her this, but... I still miss Kele. Desperately. But there are no more somedays. Just the here and now and I am alone in this here and now.

Caught myself looking at the bottle of pills on my shelf. Might need to hide them.

I don't know why I'm writing this.

Mostly, I just really need a friend right now and I feel incredibly weak for it.


Friday, September 21st, 2007
4:34 pm
Dice World Friday Update
The comic is updated, but it just doesn't display on the front page. >< We're working on that.

We're just really really tired. Me in particular.

So if you click on Comics it'll show you the third installment of Dice World. I wish you would.

I feel really lonely right now making this thing. But it makes us laugh. And it is an accomplishment of some form, right?


My webcomic

Have a great weekend guys. I'm gonna go sleep now.
Wednesday, September 12th, 2007
1:25 pm
The Dice World Launches

So Jeremy finally got around to launching the site. There probably won't be an update this friday, but there will definately be one NEXT Friday. Yeah, it's not fantastic, and yeah, it's not great, but you know what? It's a start of something grand. Or so we hope. Yeah, I'm really not that funny, I know, but... we can try.

Go on, check it out. Give me some feedback. SPREAD THE WORD.

*choruses of angels*

Pssh. Please guys. It's not that amazing.


I'm tired. I have buttons and icons to make. I might even post some here.

And in other news... Kyle's farewell? Possibly unresolved feelings?


Friday, September 7th, 2007
3:35 pm
Our Words
Reach out.

Come on, don't be afraid. I know it's dark in here, and I know you're lost, and I know you're afraid. But reach out. Follow my voice. Take my hand. Reach out to me. It's going to be okay little one. You're still going to grow up, and go through college and get a degree and become a famous psychologist or a high-paid graphics designer. You'll eventually have your daughter and your family and live in a beautiful home with lots of animals and speakers in every room. Someday you're going to make someone very happy. Shh... I know. I know it hurts, I know you're in agony right now. But these things... they happen little one. People fall in and out of love with each other and if you were to be honest with yourself, you'd quickly realize you were doing nothing to help ease the situation. What ever happened to the love letters you used to write? To the connection and the chemistry you used to have?


And while that may be, I understand that she still makes you feel things you've never felt before, and you believe you'll never feel again. Aw come on. Cheer up. Life goes on with or without you, so why sit around and pout when you should be using this drive to become successful.


She's right you know. If you two are ever going to even have a chance in the future... you have to put this mess behind you. You have to start over, completely. There really does have to be a copious amount of space. You both damaged each other pretty heavily, and you should be grateful you're walking away from the wreck and still be able to be on a first name basis. I mean seriously, you two were cruel to each other. But if you two are meant to be together, as you so vehemently say, then you will be. But even if that's supposed to happen, even if you two are destined for each other, you have to give it space. Essentially you two made a minefield, and then set a few off and kept walking around in it until you'd find another one and then another... You have to walk away from that minefield as dumb as it sounds. You have got to give you both time to find your own new plots of land, and then maybe someday, when they're both green and thriving, you can create a bridge between them. Close the gap. Build something new.

It just takes time little one. Give you both time. You both deserve that much.

Hush little one. Your tears mean nothing any more. Only your words.

Only your words.

Current Mood: drained
Sunday, August 12th, 2007
1:07 pm
Oh the thinks you can think
*sighs softly*

Enya and Jewel coursing through my veins and I'm in this utter state of chill after my state of hysterics yesterday. I'm a terrible person, yes.

But she loves me.

Or at least, she used to.

And if I wait... if I stick around long enough... someday she'll find herself again, and I'll still be here, standing on that beach where she walked away, reading a book, my feet buried in the warm sand and my over shirt flapping in the wind in the model-esque sort of way and she'll approach me, sheepish, mildly shy, with that soft smile and those freckles I love so much kissing her face, and I'll look up from my book with my crooked half smile and say, "Well it took you long enough." And she'll heave a sigh of relief and I'll take her into my arms and I'll be crying and kissing her and I'll never want to let her go again... And if that takes my lifetime... I'll wait.

There are hundreds of people in this world that you're compatible with, that you could live with and love with and be happy with and work with and fight through things with...

But there is only one person who is made of the exact impression of your heart.

Call me crazy, call me idealistic, call me foolish, stupid, asinine, call me what you will. She is my one and only. My everything. The reason for me still breathing and I have no regrets. She wants time, I'll give her time, and someday... maybe someday, she'll look back and remember what we had and think of me and look me up and call me and I'll answer and I'll still be there, waiting at the beach, getting that beautiful tan and making myself all the better for her. Maybe I won't be reading. Maybe I'll be playing Jewel songs on my guitar and she'll be all the more smitten with me. Our first kiss for the second time will be oh so exquisite...

False hope is better than no hope, right? I promised her so many things, and I broke one of those two days ago and I can't do that to her again and my honor is my life and I have to keep those promises. I promised to take her to India, to San Francisco, to these places...

Even if she never loves me again, even if we are only friends until eternity, here I am, back at the beginning in love with someone I can't have and so, with no hope and no agenda, I'm your's. To make or to break but I'm here and I'm not going anywhere and I told you if you didn't love me anymore I wouldn't keep you in the relationship but please, lets at least be friends, I can't live without you in my life one way or another.

We are not the sum of our actions. We will not be judged by our actions in life. We are the sum of the people who's lives we touched. And I------------- I am here on top of that mountainside, on that beach, anywhere you want to find me, I'll be there baby girl.

I'm still here. I'm still myself. Come home to me?

Friday, August 10th, 2007
9:48 pm
Oh The Promises We Make
You promised.

You promised if I ever needed to talk, ever needed... someone there. Anything. You promised I would call you, that you'd always answer. You promised.

You made me promise I'd never hurt myself.

We both made promises we obviously never intended to keep.

And you'll never read this. You promised... Oh God you promised me... you said you'd be there... But you just don't care. You just... everything is more important than me to you, and you'll never care. Were you at work when I called? Were you with Joseph when I called? Were you at church, with your family, talking to Kit, writing a paper for school? Are all of these things more important than someone you once loved?

The love of my life once breathed poetry, lived for it, orgasmed to it, begged for it. She was once a beautiful angel, sent to hold me, cradle me to her breast and keep me safe. I guess I bit to hard. I really am a monster. Worthless. Worthless. Worthlessworthlessworthless... I'm not even worth the time it would take to pick up the phone and whisper into it, "not now. Don't call me. Go away. Fuck you." I'm not even worth your scorn. I'm... so damn worthless... No one gives a shit. All these promises... meaningless. I'm not... God. I'm not even worth the time it's taking to type this blog. No one reads. No one gives a fuck.

...I wish I had killed myself when I had the chance, instead of ever doing this to you.

I'm such a fucking monster. I'm such a worthless, terrible person.

People say I'm not but if I were a better person, maybe this wouldn't have happened. If I were worth anything, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe... If I were prettier, smarter, more caring, kinder... maybe this wouldn't have happened. Anything.

What I wouldn't give to make this right.

And here I am again, in this paradox, in this fucking paradigm where I still think you care, still think you want to be with me, to be near me. And I sound like Toby, unable to give you up and this is just karma kicking my ass, isn't it?

Who are they?

Why won't you just be honest with me? A year and half and I tried to never lie to you, in fact, I can't remember that I ever did except the common "I'm fine" or "nothing", and even those eventually turned honest and yet you won't face me... I mean nothing.

A year and half of loving you, of giving you everything, and I get shit. Maybe if I were more interesting, more passionate, more loving, more caring, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe you'd still love me. Maybe you'd still be with me.

Paradigm paradox purging purgatory pilfering philanthropy philosophy come back and cure me hold me kiss me touch my wrists in sober fascination and then wash them in your tears be sorrowful be passionate love me love me love me taste my salt-based cure for numbness it's called tears and you're doing this to me why are you doing this why why why do you always lie to me why can't you just tell me what the fuck is going on why you hate me what I've done I can't fix this I'm worthless worthless worthless going to burn this out of me going to burn you out of me have to carve you out of my mind soul body because you don't give a shit and it's just turning to poison within me because you just don't... you don't care.... tell me this is a nightmare...

Oh God why won't you come and make this right? Why won't you come and fix this, cure me cure me cure me...

doesn't anyone have a match?
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