.1.

As she set down her coffee and opened a new document, she had every intention of writing a story of hope, of happiness. Characters had been carefully developed, scenarios written out in detail, and an ending that could only be described as perfect planned. All she had to do was clean it up a little, put it together, and she would hopefully have something worthy to send out in the envelopes already addressed to publishers.
She quickly began clicking away, descriptions of places and people she could only ever imagine knowing. Making sure to add little quirks and nuances to make those in the story more real, she noticed that they seemed to be developing the personalities of people she knew- far from the perfect creatures she had mapped out. This didn't discourage her, but made her wonder if the flawless creation she had been working diligently on for months was really as wonderful as originally thought.
After 75 pages quickly flew by, she decided that it was about time to proofread. She almost could not believe the repulsiveness she found herself reading. Had she really written this? It seemed more like a poorly written Teen Romance book than the prodigious story she had planned. Rubbing her eyes out of frustration, she groaned out loud, ad reached over for her cigarettes.
Starring off into space, she wondered where she went wrong. She knew deep inside that the talent was in her, that she had a story to give to the world, but apparently it wasn't the one she thought it was. Now all she had to do was figure out what was.
Deciding that fresh air might help clear her head, she pulled on her shoes, put on her headphones, and ventured out into the world. Even with the drums pulsing against her eardrums, and the bass line so heavy she could feel it in her head, she took in the world around her, looking for inspiration and details. Children playing in their yards, mothers planting flower beds, fathers washing cars, and dogs chasing their tails. Simple, mundane, yet real aspects of life that she hadn't thought of when plotting her tale of the perfect life.
As she continued on her journey, the landscape changed. She saw teenagers hanging out around a car, one young girl vogueing to whatever sounds were coming out of the speakers. A little further on, peering down an alley, she saw two men, huddled together near a dumpster. She couldn't tell what they were up to, but it was no doubt something that wouldn't have any place in the original narrative she had created.
A young man, standing near an abandoned warehouse, playing a battered acoustic guitar, caught her eye. His hair was falling into his eyes, and he attempted to smile as he sang for the people who passed, some throwing spare change his way. She stopped to watch him, taking off her headphones to experience everything he was giving to his not so captive audience. Immediately she was drawn into him. The sound flowing from the dilapidated instrument seemed impossible. Golden notes seemed to hang in the air as his fingers swiftly shifted over the strings. He was humming along with the melody, occasionally singing a few words. His voice was raw and imperfect. Slowly she took in the details of the boy, from his worn sneakers and fraying jeans, to the faded t-shirt that was too small and washed out flannel shirt that was too big. His hair was dark and choppy- an obvious self given cut, but it fit perfectly with his oval shaped face. His lips were uneven- the bottom was larger than the top, but you couldn't tell when he smiled- which also caused the corners of his eyes to curl up, losing their wideness. The blue orbs that peered out at her seemed inconceivable. The first thought that crossed her mind were that they were the same color as the water in Monet's Water Lilies. So dark and deep, she was lost in them, not realizing he had finished his song until he cleared his throat and looked up at the sky, a slight blush crossing his face.

But the day pressed on like crushing weights, For no man does it ever wait, Like memories of dying days, That deafen us like hurricanes...

Can anyone take the weight of the world off my shoulders?
I can feel my bones begining to break.
Who can stop the flooding of affliction that has permeated throughout this week?
I can feel my lungs growing heavy, as I struggle not to drown.
Who can keep the impetuous emotions from causing more than punctures in my head and in my heart?
I can feel the unknown weapon digging deeper with each thrust.

I feel very weak and vulnerable right now. I hate this feeling. I feel powerless as I watch the world crumble around me for so many, and there doesn't seem to be anything I can do to stop it.
Maybe if I exile myself from everything for the next 48 hours, I'll be able to cope a little better on Monday.

Ramblings

You're like a book with no title
Giving me no clue as to what I'll find
Once I look inside

But you leave me hanging
On ever last word
Wanting more, needing more
I just can't let you go

Pieces of you slip through my fingers
As the last word leads to a new page
But each memory stays etched in my head
I get lost inside of you
Yet, I feel something's been left unsaid

Nearing the final chapter
I'm not ready for this to be over
So many things left unanswered
Not looking forward to
The End

...I Brought Down The Sky For You But All You Did Was Shrug, You Gave My Emptiness Away...

Tonight, you came in late again
No smile comes my way
You slowly crept along the floor
Hit the showers before I could count to ten


Lie next to me without a sound
I can barely hear you breathing
But I can feel your heart pound
And once again, for love I miss,
My heart beings grieving


The petty secrets that you keep
The half truths you give are more than a little steep
And I can't tell the truth from a line
I can see the darkness in your eyes
When you tell me everything is just fine

...And The Pain Still Hates Me, So Hold Me, Until It Sleeps...

I'm becoming complacent with life,
And it's kind of scary.
But enjoyable at the same time.
I'm learning that it's okay to love what you have,
Even if it's not completely what you want.
Not everything turns out happily ever after,
I'm pretty sure the world would be boring if it did.
The relationships that I do have mean the world to me,
Though they haven't all formed as I had hoped.
And it's okay.
I'm okay.
I'd much rather have the people that I do around me in any capacity
Than not at all.
The little bits of time I spend with them are better than not having them in my life Ever.

I thank you all- you are the reasons I am still here, the reasons that I strive to be better.
When you're not looking, I steal bits and pieces from each of you to piece myself together, to fill in the cracks.
And while I'm still not quite whole, I'm getting there and finding myself.

There's a plague inside of me, Eating at my disposition, Nothing's left

2 day old make up
And 25 year old dreams
You make think you can see me
But nothing's as it seems.

I live mostly as an open book
But many things are hidden
You'll have to read between the lines
To find the truth within.

We're human shapes burned on concrete walls, These days the sun don't shine here anymore...

Some days, there's nothing left to give but honest words,
And what little of myself I have left to sacrifice.
I hide away in my 10x10 cell and let the world revolve without me.
No one notices I'm not there.
I can try to make an appearance, and I'm in the way
I can't give them what they want, because they've already drained me.
I'm told I'm selfish for being upset.
So I exist on water and sleep alone,
So everyone else has what they need.
No chance to be self-serving when everyone else is in need.
I don't even get the comfort of dreams anymore.
Sleep is for everyone else,'s
No matter how tired I get.
If they wanted my blood, I'd probably puncture the wound myself,
Just to get them to leave me alone.

Everywhere I turn, someone wants something from me.
All I want to do is let these tears fall,
But I might disrupt someone else's smile, so I hold them in.

My thoughts are all I have left that are all mine.
And, as scattered as they are,
I gladly share them with you.

And Everyone Wonders Why I Let My Dreams Fade Away With The Morning Light...

Not pretty enough
Not smart enough
Not tall enough
Not thin enough
Not talented enough
Not quiet enough
Not girly enough
Not organized enough
Not sane enough
Not friendly enough
Not compassionate enough
Not outgoing enough
Not focused enough
Not attentive enough
Not good enough

Too lazy
Too messy
Too tomboyish
Too daydreamy
Too fat
Too loud
Too wild
Too inattentive
Too random
Too strange

When you've heard these things almost every day of your life, even when you're hoping for something good to happen, it's hard not to believe them.
Thanks for all of the non encouragement, and tearing me down just a little further than I already was today.

I wonder how many times she's heard this...


She's not a size 2, she has more tattoos than I do, she's gone through a lot of what I have, and she's still come out on top. I don't know how she's done it.

Don't pull me down, this is where I belong, I think I'm different, but I'm the same and I'm wrong

Eyes burining red.
A sign of the restless night before.
Where answers were searched for,
But nothing was found.
Questions of past decisions
Battled new found peace of mind.
Former mistakes cause me to be
Held in this isolated state.
Trying to find a pious place
Something to fill my incomplete soul.

Wake up it's time, We need to find a better place to hide, Make up your mind, I need to know I need to know tonight

And when we're lying in our bed of dirt,
Our regrets won't matter at all.
Nothing left but the shells of ourselves,
That protected our souls while we roamed the Earth.
Our past mistakes will be erased,
And only pleasant memories remain.
And I shall always think of you,
Just like I did before I went into the light.

More old stuff

Dim the lights,
Lock the door,
Spread your pictures upon the floor.
Wipe the dust off of our past.
When it all starts coming back,
It aint easy being strong.
And when I can't forget your gone,
I just surrender,
And have myself a night......to remeber

Every light in the house is on,
The back yards bright as the early dawn,
Front yard looks like run way lights,
Almost like noon in the dead of night,
Every light in the house is on,
Just in case you ever do get tired of being gone.
Every light in the house is on.

Rhyming is lame

A million miles between us,
And a million words were said.
A millions tears have fallen
As the scene replayed in my head.
I bare all the burden,
Of all your past mistakes.
You're the one who's still running around,
And my life's the one at stake.
But now no longer,
Do these thoughts remain.
And no, I don't want you to explain.
I'm glad it's done, and I'm the one who's won,
Because I'll never have to see you again.



This is probably the worst thing I've EVER WRITTEN.
But, I had the urge to purge words.

I want to be the one you land on
When you're playing spin the bottle with your heart.

You say "Hey, I Never Fall", as you're falling down. Your blood is all around you now, but you see nothing at all.

Friendship is never a static thing.
And words are like fabric softener,
Nothing sticks together once the right amount of things are said.

Being a good person does not include giving away someone's personal life as a form of entertainment on the internet. Conversations between two confidantes should not be made public. Especially when the one doing the spewing claims to be a best friend of the one being spewed on.
We're all guilty of looking at gossip blogs, reading all of the he-said-she-said on the internet. But we never really stop and think how the person being discussed feels, knowing that their life is under a microscope, being studied by people they don't know.
Now that this has happened to me (and I'm sure will continue to happen), I have more sympathy for those who are constantly scruitinized.

Oh I've finally decided my future lies beyond the yellow brick road

Add another pill to the arsenal.
My cabinets are an ever growing army.

Can't wait to escape- even if it's only for a day.
There will be dancing, and singing, and general jackass-ery all around.

If only Johnny could have opened up his heart...

They don't know what I do when the silence surrounds me.
When everyone's gone to bed, and I'm still roaming the halls,
Sitting on the bathroom floor, or in the corner of my room.
Lining all the little yellow bottles up in a row,
By size and by amount.
The smile the next day covers the desperation of the night before.
The words do nothing but lie.