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phantasmic / alright now... / - Subscribe
time to be honest with myself here, my rejected feeling isn't just from tonight's "later" but "no" that is all too familiar....i feel this way because of all the "let's hang out"s, the "i miss you"s, the "we should catch up"s, and all the other empty phrases that go unfinished. it's not always the thought that counts. intention isn't always good enough. i want things to be said, and done. not said and left alone. is that so much to ask? maybe it is. i try my hardest to do what i say i'm going to do. i guess i just wish people could do the same for me now and again.

yeah this is a lot of silly thought vomit, but maybe it'll allow me to get some sleep if i release this emotional buildup. ha. right. i always bottle it all up. but it never really explodes. more like a pop bottle, i'll fizz over and make a mess, but no real harm done. i need an outlet, something other than this blog. besides, i hardly use it anyway. no point really with no feedback. then again, maybe i don't need the feedback, i tend to sort it all out in my head after a while. would be nice to have someone to speed up the process though. oh well.

and oddly enough, the randomly associated mood is just my personality. the boy tells me often enough how i need to lighten up, have some fun.....but how can i when no one seems to want to have fun with me?
Comments: 0
Mood: demure

dreamoway / throwing it all away. / May 15th, 2008 9:01:14 pm - Subscribe
Need I say I love you
Need I say I care
Need I say that emotions,
Something we dont share
I dont want to be sitting here
Trying to deceive you
Cos you know I know baby
That I dont wanna go.

We cannot live together
We cannot live apart
Thats the situation
Ive known it from the start
Every time that I look at you
I can see the future
Cos you know I know babe
That I dont wanna go.

Throwing it all away
Throwing it all away
Is there nothing that I can say
To make you change your mind
I watch the world go round and round
And see mine turning upside down
Youre throwing it all away.

Now who will light up the darkness
Who will hold your hand
Who will find you the answers
When you dont understand
Why should I have to be the one
Who has to convince you
Cos you know I know baby
That I dont wanna go.

Someday youll be sorry
Someday when youre free
Memories will remind you
That our love was meant to be
Late at night when you call my name
The only sound youll hear
Is the sound of your voice calling
Calling after me.

Just throwing it all away
Throwing it all away
Theres nothing I can say
Were throwing it all away
Yes were throwing it all away...
Comments: 0
Mood: heartbroken

dreamoway / It's been a while / Apr 22nd, 2008 12:38:56 am - Subscribe
Life has changed, drastically i might add.

What's happened? Honestly I don't even know.

It's weird having just about no girlfriends. None, zip. I have like one who i really talk to. I guess i just don't get along with girls. And it's hard to have guy friends, because well it just is. I've lost my best friend, I know it for sure at this point. She's completely different now at this point anyways.

So much for building up relationships and trust. It seems like such a waste now. Now that i've seemed to have lost the most important people in my life. These are the years you look back on. The memories you make in high school.. are not ones i want to remember when I'm older.

I don't want to graduate, but I can't wait to leave. I have no idea what I want to do with my life.. I don't want to go to college i really don't. It just feels like it will be highschool all over again.

More bullshit.
More heartbreak.

Waste, a fucking waste.

I try to get close with others. Then I just pull away. Farther and farther away I go. Off in oblivion.

Take me away.

The empty pages of our scrap book kill me. KILL ME. The memories we wont make, the memories we have made and are now nothing. I fucked up. Because of my stressful life I fucked it up. I'm so sick of fucking shit up. i know i making a bunch of mistakes as the days go by.

Seriously. I've just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life in the past week. And for what? To feel something?

What i would do to feel something.

Take me away
A million miles away from here
Take me away
Find a place for you and me
You're taking me higher
High as I could be
Take me away
Forever you and me
Take me away


Fin.
Comments: 2
Mood: desolate

playwright / That's another matter, Brandy Alexander / Feb 5th, 2008 4:08:25 pm - Subscribe
Love, and that's all.
Comments: 0
Mood: O joy.
: O music.

playwright / What makes you forgettable / Jan 29th, 2008 8:58:02 pm - Subscribe
So yeah, I've thought about you recently.

I'm trying to be more careful with my love. Doling out tiny, measured bits to worthy strangers, shedding some feather-sized pieces to lay in the perfect corners nature makes, and saving the rest for myself. Except

there's someone captured in my photographic brain

that makes me want to free every last bit.

I have the feeling that this sudden rush of happy feeling and artistic energy will be sewn and painted and written into new projects and plans, mapped-out dreams brought to fruition by a sudden, nameless motivation.

All this wishing and waiting, and we were living in the trees all along. I feel so silly for not realizing it sooner, but then, there were so many veils obscuring my vision, so many hands blurring across my heart before.

There's something about 2008.
Comments: 0
Mood: optimistic
: Blonde Redhead

phantasmic / lost / Jan 10th, 2008 2:47:26 am - Subscribe
Sometimes I feel lost. "Don't we all?" you might say. Well, I haven't felt this lost in a loooong time. For one thing, I'm blogging again. Christ.

Do you ever feel like your world is being ripped apart for reasons unknown, perhaps the mere reality that the life you have isn't right and fate is trying to correct itself? That's my life at the moment. It sucks.

Atypical of my OLD blogs, I'm just rambling off my thoughts rather than trying to be poetic about it. I realized awhile ago that I have trouble doing that, it is not something that comes naturally for me like some.

Redirecting my thoughts here....My boyfriend's friend is going military, HUGE impact. Obviously. In addition...the BF is on really good terms with his ex, which makes me nervous because I know he still has feelings for her. In fact he actually admitted that to me a few hours ago. Yes, yes I know he explained it well enough and it's nothing like how I fear it is, but I'm still restless because of it. Just knowing that my "feelings" about things are once again becoming frighteningly accurate (no, it wasn't this event that triggered this thought, but did add to it) is unnerving to say the least.

I had a minor anxiety attack today. Haven't had one in a few months I believe. What fun those are. Not.

Hm. I suppose that's about it for now. About as "in your face" as I'll ever be.

Think I might try to blog more frequently...I feel mildly better.
Comments: 0
Mood: wretched

dreamoway / My world / Nov 4th, 2007 3:15:38 pm - Subscribe
I gave you everything I had to offer.

I was your "world", your "everything".

We touched and became one.

Love at first sight is an understatement.



It feels like I'm dying is an understatement.

I want everything back.

I wish I was never your world.

I want to be my own person again.






When someone says the words, "You're so beautiful" it's an empty, hallow statement. It means nothing coming from anyone but you. You know me inside and out. You know my true beauty on the inside.

It's hard for me to let go of that. It's hard for me to let go of you.
Comments: 0
Mood: empty

playwright / Sorry I / Aug 28th, 2007 8:12:42 pm - Subscribe
missed your call.

x

The world is a dangerous place. So many people moving between each other, passing glances and never looking back. So many nameless faces with scraps of sentences attached to their memories, lost among so many others sewn upon the patchwork quilt that is the makeshift file cabinet of my subconscious, stretching out for miles in every direction. Dangerous

and lovely. I have a feeling that my eyes are about to be astounded. Some beautiful, inevitable combination of colors will come to them and it will be the most perfect image that I have ever experienced, because behind it there will also be beauty,

genuity. Those passing glances turned to smiles, your lips moving to speak. Acquaintances made friends.

Things are so much better now.
Comments: 0
Mood: Happy
: Islands

playwright / Sometimes I'm / Aug 27th, 2007 11:43:37 pm - Subscribe
the homeless man splayed drunk across the sidewalk, rambling life lessons in some angry new language, inventing stories as if it might stop someone on the street and hold them there, locked in momentary friendship. Spewing emotional bullshit with eyes wet and black, aglisten with the perfect orange of streetlamp glow, claiming to have reached some immaculate conclusion on the subject, but just full of shit. Just full of it,

and sometimes I walk the dark streets of these neighborhoods alone, sucking in the night air like a last breath and wishing I could solve your life with the simple brush of hair against skin, or simple words that simply float out of my mouth, or a not-empty wallet. Worrying about worrying about things, too many things, two people who can and can't and will and will, will, will.

x



Hello,
little girl lost in halos, traipsing through fields of cinnamon and snow, Christmas tree gardens beginning to grow under your little feet, breathing in childhood memory. How many empty hearts will you follow? How many empty bottles will you swallow? The numbers you collect jangle like keys in your pocket, if only you would take them out and spend them on so many waiting doors. Janitor of burdens, let go of your rusting collections piece by ancient piece, quit your job, flee the country.

x
Comments: 2
Mood: Like writing
: Elliott Smith

playwright / Sweetened with pure cane sugar / Jul 28th, 2007 6:02:42 pm - Subscribe
Had I known you were going to holocaust me in a matter of minutes I would have finished that abandoned portrait of our love and filled in all of those tiny spaces with black paint. Instead I slowly turned in that trough of old feeling, thinking, this is leading to me walking off of the edge of a cliff.

When I was three years old, and this might have been a dream, my parents took me to a beautiful park and we hiked across the top of a waterfall. We looked down from a tiny perch of jutting rock and I was so afraid to die, but they promised not to let me fall, and I trusted them with my life.

Once in high school I burned a wide line of purple on my left arm with an iron. I distinctly recall not reacting fast enough, that moment when I knew I was stupidly causing myself injury, but was unable to immediately stop the cause due to lazy gross motor skills. Today I reacted far quicker, though my wound looks somewhat dire. It fascinates me how I manage to cover myself in angry bruises and puffy red scratches. For every scab or sunken purple mark that gradually fades to a more acceptable color of skin, a new dent appears somewhere. My body could tell stories.

You're head over heels, obsessed. I can't take you on, I can't add you to a list of names, I don't want you on my plate, I am lonely, leave me alone. Your company was beautiful until you ruined it, and now I just want to shut you out of all my windows and doors and sleep you away with medicine. Come back to the person that you were.

I felt something pure. It stamped its feet on my chest with such volume and shook me, shook me up all frightened and furious and filled my head with fire. And it was ugly, and it was mad, and when it left I felt brutally cleansed or robbed as if that thing which shouted such vulgar poetry inside me had erased a memory, scrubbed some written-upon part of me clean, and the remaining impossibility just lingered like a cloud of ash over the world, stinging my eyes with realization and the inevitable misery that follows.

You never showed me that poem that you wrote.
Comments: 0
Mood: Black cherry and vicious welts
: Air conditioner

playwright / Strawberry water / Jul 20th, 2007 6:11:47 pm - Subscribe
Cars flash by, peeking in through the windows with childlike, wildflower-like eyes. Sugar pours down my throat. My pink brain is coated with laughter soft like an electric blanket, with hazy field people and cold, spilled water.

I don't wanna live through winter. I can't stand to see everything ending.

Summer covers the water under the bridge in algae. The remnants of life show their bones. A park bench, chairs, a construction sign. Angels walk by and say their hellos. They stare at me, dangling my legs over the edge, sucking on a cigarette, staring down from the middle of nowhere, my favorite place in the universe. Knowing I wasn't going to die. I decided it was a stupid idea.

The world collapses and rebuilds itself around me. I can do nothing but watch.
Comments: 0
Mood: Broken-bottled
: Black Moth Super Rainbow

playwright / Short stories / Jul 12th, 2007 6:16:47 pm - Subscribe
Where did the storm go? Now, the sky looks kinda blue.

We can't decide what kind of weather we want. It's too hot in the attic, but she can't sleep with the fan on. I can't stop putting things in my mouth; I need something to fill it. I'm singing because it's too silent. Everyone is sleeping, or reading books.
Comments: 0
Mood: Rampant
: Quiet

dreamoway / So it continues. / Jul 12th, 2007 12:22:05 pm - Subscribe
Yessssssss, life is still amazingly great.

Roger Waters today, which will be amazingly great as well.

Blog fin.

You've changed my life already.
Comments: 1
Mood: wonderful

playwright / Hah! / Jul 12th, 2007 12:05:59 am - Subscribe
I wrote today.
I'm writing.
I can write.
Comments: 0
Mood: Oh, television. Oh, beauty, oh, nature.
: Ambientnoise

playwright / It's getting light outside, and things are happening inside of my head / Jun 28th, 2007 5:24:13 am - Subscribe
I've been writing poems. It's something new, because it's been so long.

I've finally reached back into something that I used to be, to pull out some fragments of a personality. I stumbled down so many steps, blinded by my silly doubts and tripped over that hidden heart, a place filled with words that I used to know. I found an old path that I loved to follow, a book stashed between walls that details a history most complex and enchanting. To read it is not to relive past moments, but to taste a familiar taste, only now I am able to appreciate the depth and richness of its flavor.

A new slant of light hits our subject. Or subjects. I suppose that would be more accurate. We've boarded up this window and created another with our fists, you, and you, and you, and so many yous. And I. It's an army of battling points of view, arguing over each other, shouting and then whispering, creating hymns of scattered harmonies that rise and fall and then suddenly crash, darkening into discordance, shaking my brain with war.

These eyes are just opened. The world is fresh and bright and clean and it stabs my pupils like sharp knuckles. But to look away is to fail, for it begs to be described and understood. Alone, it is only what it is, and cannot make itself what it yearns to be.

Will I feel this way forever, wanting this so completely, feeling right with the world, though my head aches from such discovery? No, but there is something reassuring in this knowledge. Perhaps its brevity makes it all the more valuable to experience. I know it will slowly vanish, and I will look on, wondering, as it slips into the folds of lost time, leaving only tiny traces of its existence in my mind. I don't mind.
Comments: 1
Mood: Absolutely perfect

playwright / Who knows why / Jun 25th, 2007 8:15:27 pm - Subscribe
They say, It must be a brilliant match; I think of striking the match and the immediate crackle of its lighting, the burst of light before it continues to burn. Is that us?

I'd like to write poems and poems, I'd like to carve into my walls so many words that they run over each other and begin to blend together until it's just nonsense, so many sentences running together into a great illogical synthesis, and it will mean nothing, because it will mean everything at the same time, twenty-nine contradictions existing in perfect harmony, or disharmony, depending on how you will decide to read it.

I think it's funny how you just fall short, by a mere number; just, just. It's another almost added to a list of almosts that stretches on forever into history.

I'm falling off the edge. I'm moving toward a revolution, a great sequence of losses and gains. I'm headed toward the Sun, I'll burn up before I get there. I'll run out before I've run the whole way to the other side of the world. I'll run out of steam. But I will go, and it's the going that matters, that's really the point of the thing. Do you see?

It doesn't matter. Everything has become forgettable. But I'm still teetering, here. Still waiting for an answer to escape your open lips, unexpected, filled with promise.
Comments: 0
Mood: pissed
: Red Hot Chili Peppers

dreamoway / Damn. / Jun 19th, 2007 8:29:19 pm - Subscribe
Into the distance, a ribbon of black.
Stretched to the point, of no turning back.
A flight of fancy, on a windswept field.
Standing alone, my senses reeled.
A fatal attraction is holding me fast,
How can I escape this irresistible grasp?

Can't keep my eyes from the circling sky.
Tongue-tied and twisted Just an earth-bound misfit, I.

Ice is forming, on the tips of my wings.
Unheeded warnings, I thought I thought of everything. No navigator, to guide my way home unladened, empty and turned to stone.
A soul in tension that's learning to fly,
Condition grounded but determined to try.

Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies.
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I.

Above the planet on a wing and a prayer,
My grubby halo, a vapour trail in the empty air. Across the clouds I see my shadow fly,
Out of the corner of my watering eye.
A dream unthreatened, by the morning light.
Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night. There's no sensation to compare with this, Suspended animation, A state of bliss.

Can't keep my mind from the circling skies.
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I.



Life is fantastical.
Can't seem to get you off my mind.

Blog fin.
Comments: 0
Mood: lovable

playwright / Picture in my mailbox / Jun 17th, 2007 9:48:35 pm - Subscribe
We might be alike. You're not talking much. I'm full of life.

Leaves are filling my mouth, so bitter, so gag-reflex. The moment before death, when everything becomes overwhelmingly vibrant, the catch just before the fall, the corrected misstep. That adrenaline rush, recreating the world, the transition from blurry instability to knowledge, to feeling, to names and shapes. I'm in it.

Turning into something.

And you. And you. You, you. Would you just. Will you please. I want to ask something of you, but it really must be you asking yourself, to... to.

Let go.

Yeah, sometimes, I can't speak. Sometimes I hide under blankets, letting myself suffocate, becoming warm with all the wishes I keep under there with me. But I throw them off, I write my fevers away, I carve them into memory, and they will, they will, they will disappear. I will burn them up of my own volition.

I can't take yours away. It's a vague thing, this; it's difficult to see everything clearly while in transit. But hear me, please, hear this, through the noise of traffic and look past the dizzy display of lights, the stretching lines, just understand. There's a melody out in the world, just playing over and over, quiet and clandestine, but you can hear it underneath the racket of everyday, and it's beautiful.

And I am in love. With the way the world ripens and blooms and bursts open, the velocity with which people will move, strangers becoming friends, friends, ohhhhhhhhhhh, everythinggggggg.

How the yous change and blend. How the days just keep ending, again and again, on good notes, or, perhaps, bad notes, and no matter what happens, I can't keep from smiling.

Wave goodbye. Make it a happy ending. Say hello, take my hand, let's go, let go. We'll never sleep, we'll never be alone. All that light inside, all that hope! It just beams. We all glow. Keep your eyes open! Get outside!

Love.
Comments: 2
Mood: shiny
: Arcade Fire

dreamoway / School's out. / Jun 3rd, 2007 3:22:58 am - Subscribe
Almost, anyways.

I start work this week. Oh joy? I'm not oo sure yet.

I find myself falling harder and faster.
And I think he feels the same way.
It makes me nervous.
He's different.
He's definitely the nicest guy I've hung out with... probably ever to be honest.

This time it feels different.
Haha, I say this like everytime.. but seriously a guy has never been like this with me.

So friday night, I went to a party. And had a couple drunk guys who were 19 hit on me. Myself, being only a little buzzed, was pretty much appalled.. it was like.. the most irritating thing ever. Luckely a couple good guys helped me out, which I'm very thankful for. I guess not all guys are ass's. =)

Well, I need all the luck I can get for exams...

That's about all that's really on my mind lately, sad I know. Haha.

Blog fin.
Comments: 0
Mood: tranquil

playwright / Angsty nonsense / May 28th, 2007 2:14:03 am - Subscribe
The world is muted. The pitter-patter of keyboard keys is very far away. From the other side of my window, something breathes, cool and rustling.

Should I wander, barefoot, into the night? Let it take my hair up on its invisible wings, soft against my face; let it scrape the soles of my feet and raise the hair on my arms? Follow the sidewalk until I'm good and lost, or stolen by crimes?

Hands on the grass, no keys, only paper. Tear it out with my teeth, strain through them a meaning, pull up those words from deep down, pull them out! Grab a handful of something, make it count. Words on my tongue, tired to get loose, will it satisfy to have my neck in a noose? Let me go? Throw you off? Dive into the water, black, gone under the current, "take that train underwater, then we could talk it through"?

This is a hallucination. This is a dream. This is a test, you're testing me, you're tapping into some psychological energy buried in a time capsule. Hidden in my wall. Some ancient treasure underground, under piles and piles of dust, locked in a safe. This does not exist, it does not exist. I do not exist.

But if you could read my mind (Abrupt ending).
Comments: 0
Mood: Ahhh-HA-HAAA!
: Modest Mouse