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your idyllic muse
It's hard to believe now that I'm going to be carrying books like a geek all throughout the day. I need splotching paints and canvases to keep me grounded--something artistic to keep me sane. I might just splinter like wood if I hear anything else about the SATs and the importance of our futures.
The water stole everything away: buildings, sand, you, & your optimism. The water choked everything; wrapped its watery tendrils around your possessions. I still taste the chlorine on my tongue.
Waves of emotion wrack through me; makes shivers ripple through me. My skin loosens, my pupils dilate, and my lips dry out. I feel energy coursing through me, like unsteady ebbing currents. Your emotions are twisted and intense for me. You don't have to be in a room for me to feel the cackling slivers of your energy that you slowly reveal to me.
Kisses were never meant to be stolen on cold, cloudless, & gray days.
hey, did you really mean it when you that i'd break down and crack like overheated play dough? would i really fill myself up with bitter beer until my body would give out like a twisted coil of wire? do you really believe that my innocence would leak out as soon as i meet and kiss the Georgie porgies of my college? you really think i'd lose my aging soul like that--in stale cigarette smoke & kush & shattered promises: 'i love u, i love u' txt mssgs & stolen virginity with blood bubbling in my abdomen? you really think that, brother?
Stop treading on broken glass; you'll break the osseous in your toes. I can't stop you from dying inside.
I'm confused about this all: He died but someone logs onto his account (MySpace) everyday & changes his mood. You're web of gold lies is growing old, dear . . . he only died in your mind or maybe I am feeling the palpable sadness that comes with death. I'm starting to think more and more now that he did die, that he did fade away into the earth. It's a possibility . . . it happened.
My English teacher goes through these periods of happiness and frustration and total pre-maternal mood swings--the kind you get when you realize that you're going to push out some foreign embryo from your secret place soon. It didn't disturb me--that she was teaching still while she was pregnant--but seeing her seat vacant for three days in a row actually frightened me. I hope that child will pass out of her calmly. I hope . . . my will to not cry is stronger today. Ha.
Happy Birthday person, I kid, I kid. But honestly you've hit that mark and you keep on getting older. I'm sorry, I really wouldn't know what to get you . . . you're too practical. Ah, I think that wishing you a happy birthday would just suffice for now. You're great you know that, even though I was so terrible to you before, (for my own odd hormonal & strange reasons)yeah you're great. Take care of yourself, alright?
You keep growing taller and taller, brother; soon I won't be able to reach you. ^^
Dad I'm sorry about having to tell you how I felt in such an informal way. I hope you know that you tore through me for ten years with your invisible chainsaw. I hope you know . . . You'll never quite understand what it's like to yearn for something that you only knew bits and pieces of. Your life was like shattered glass in my hands and it still is. Thanks for actually taking an active interest in getting to know me nine years after you should have. But yes I'm sorry for telling you the truth so harshly but I'm not sorry that I told you. You should've listened to her when she told you that I'd grow up and understand what it was like to be abandoned eventually, like you, like you . . . You repeated his pattern and that's just . . . mind-boggling, how egotistical are you? Who are you, sometimes, I have to wonder . . .
Ah, so you and him and I whatever--that was probably wrong structurally but whatever . . . We're one step closer to holding hands and singing, "Kumbaya" but I don't know if we'll ever be "normal." Oh yes and stop staring at the underwear in my bag, you perv, you.
is such a complex thing -- an intricacy -- a beautifully tainted web. With it comes for some, the unnecessary want to die. The emptiness that fills our lives, compels us to drain our selves of that life-essence in us. When we breathe we yearn to stop and we yearn to go to sleep and to never wake up. Why must our friends die while we lay here hopelessly alive, some of us think. Why are we so unworthy, so dreadful for others to look at, we muse. Why were we abandoned, left to wonder why there's a gap where a father or mother should be, we ponder. We miss things that weren't there, that aren't there, that we believe should be there. We sulk and over think and when we do, when we recycle these thoughts, and we're alone those thoughts of death trickle through us. It's a bitter poison that taints our souls and our thoughts but know this . . . Whoever is out there, know this . . . you are not alone because I am your brother, your sister, your lover, your friend, your mother, your cousin, and I am you as well. I am all of you, I am the ones that you knew before they decided to end themselves, to erase themselves. I once thought of doing this, yearned to be needed and wanted and fulfilled. I once thought to end what I believed no one else could. Know though that death is not so scary when it's natural. When you are taken naturally then it is fine and right but do not defy the order. DO not take your own life for you will gain no happiness and there will be no second chance to . . .
That is the worst way to die . . . to give up on yourself and your loved ones.
I like hot chocolate. I like feeling the warmth settle in my stomach in the mornings, only to make it cry out because it's emptier than I thought it would be. I absolutely love it when you make it though because it somehow comes out creamier when you do it, mom. I love you.
Apparently I'm a prime target for tickling fests now. ^^ Ah, I have crazy friends.
So where do you go from here: left or right? I'm asking you, which path do you choose: Life or Death? How do you know where the spinner will stop on the choice that you want . . . in life?
I feel like a drugged banshee, too much chocolate and oatmeal in my system, I guess. Today was great though, I did feel relatively happy and content at the beginning of the day. Then I started to warp and change, my mood just dropped 20 notches below normal. I can't really pick myself up now and I'm finding that to be mildly irritating. I feel like I'm scrabbling to get to the surface, to climb up that cliff, to hang on for dear life to that ledge. I feel like I've tried and tried and flippin' tried my best to keep everything the way it should be. I feel like something--some odd phenomenon--some weird occurrence held me back. The weirdest part is . . . I don't know why or how I'm feeling this way when the feelings from this morning were truly my own.
For once, for Christ's Sake, act your age and stop telling me about your damn girlfriend. I don't care how perverted of a Freshman you are, I want to take photos now! I want to stop focusing on everyone's damn emotions, just shut up! Stop bombarding me with your exhaustion and your eagerness and your fluctuating hormones, just STOP!
To the boy in my Math class: I didn't really want Basic Algebra and I'm not sure that I even fancy our teacher too much. When she explains Math to me it feels like I'm trying very hard to translate Japanese into English. Do you know how hard that is? It's hard to remember the meaning of words like, 'Gomen nasai' and 'Konnichiwa' and flippin' 'Itadakemasu'. Anyway . . . you, boy, you don't make it any easier. You stupid greasy-haired, ugly, blue-eyed mofo, shut the heck up and put something in that darn empty rattling skull of yours--oh sorry that's your brain. I forgot that you actually had something called intelligence because I used to think that all that locker-banging screwed you up and made you have the intelligence of a dirt speck. Guess I was somewhat wrong . . . Look, the point is, you frustrate me beyond logical comprehension so for once just stop coming into class and humming, 'OHHHHHMMMM!!' Stop making your little friend distract me by walking ALL the way over to the other side of the room just to have some stupid 2-second conversation with you! Stop mentioning your girl friend, honestly, no one gives a flying rat's crap about her except for you and your friends (maybe)! Just stop being such an irritating idiot! You know what I realized . . . this is pointless. You can't stop helping it, that's just how you came into the world. It's not your parents' fault that you're stupid, it's your own. You poor piece of crap, you.
I can't believe it . . . you're alive. I know, why wouldn't you be, right? Well if I told you I think you'd be a bit disturbed . . . or at least amazed that I spent that much time pondering over such dark things. Either way, I'm sorry that the storm swallowed up your life and that work and obligations and responsibility claimed you. Responsibility, work, and life are all necessary but they're still evil sometimes. So yeah . . . I hope you've managed to patch your life and everything else that's dear to you, back together again.
I wrote you a message. You're always waaaaaay too busy but I have a feeling that I know why. Anyway, I hope that one day you can 'mysteriously' pop up when I need you to so that we can just talk. Take care, love.
Love me, love me not, love me, love me not . . . you know these stupid things never work. You can always make it stop on either, 'love me' or 'love me not'. In a way you'll feel happy knowing that your crush only likes you back in your head. However how they really feel for you is only a mystery to you; see they'll always know the answer, you just have to ask them yourself.
Slowly but surely, I'm starting to truly think that my calling was either to help people or to just teach English. So I'll either sit there and take notes about people's lives while simultaneously thinking about what their specific issue may be . . . Or I'll be a frustrated middle-aged teacher who has to assign multiple assignments to equally frustrated children. Option #1 sounds very nice right about now.
There are times where I lay back and dream of blurring, running images, that flash like lightning tearing through an indigo sky. These images are not connected but they certainly are intense and scary. Can you look into my eyes and tell me just what they mean, O dearest counselor? I don't think so. So for now I'm going to decline that offer for that group. You don't know that I can sense what the world is feeling. Your support group can never help me deal with that. No, dear counselor, this is something that I have to learn to harness on my own.
I'm too scared to know why my friend keeps feeling frustrated and saddened and burdened by invisible weights all the time. I'm too scared . . .
Chocolate-anything is just absolute love. Pass this to your friends. ^^
Whisper secrets that you know you can't keep but make sure that they're your own and not someone else's. Cleanse your soul that way . . .you know.
You're all my lovely addictions--like wrapped up individual chocolates. I just want you to know that: you've kept me sane for the past week. Thanks for holding me back from grinding my molars into crystalline dust.
There's something oddly unnerving about the fact that I have to conquer school again. Ah, I just have to hold my head up and do it then. I'll pack my bag and get a fitful rest; and tomorrow I'll be ready to attack those questions with my own answers.
I'm Alice so save me now before I drop down that endless Rabbit Hole. I'm not ready to grow up and tack on new responsibilities to my growing list yet.
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