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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?
Mood: demure

phantasmic lost Jan 10th, 2008 1:47:26 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.
Mood: wretched

zanjui Encumbrance Jan 15th, 2007 9:37:06 pm - Subscribe
It's a peculiar feeling, really. The dusty mist that hangs over the head, and the silky cobwebs that tangle themselves in the brain. An infestation of black widows with icicles draped from the bottom of their legs and images of barren landscapes burned in their eyes. With the sudden poisonous bite, blankets of ice cement the mind with a oppressive emotion. Sips of venom bleed into the cerebral galaxy and glide across neurons, jumping across flashes of electricity. It continues to travel through the mind, passing by the paleocircuits that has been poisoned for quite some time now. Within just a few glistening moments, the ballet is over and a community of arachnids crawl back into microscopic crevasses in the skull to tend their nests that shelter scores of eggs.

Although the venom can be deadly, it is not guaranteed. An anti venom can be released, but first, one must taste the bitter bliss of toxin. Fire can melt ice, but a fire needs a catalyst, and a catalyst needs to be found.

It's a numbing feeling, really. The arctic wind that howls in the chest, exhausting an icy breath. The freezing temperatures corrode muscle tissue and bring stiff aches to the bones. A character of carbon crystalizes, forming a cold skeleton. His mishapen head sits upon his spine of frozen rose petals with two blue irises. Two shades of frosty azure, with pearls shining at the bottom of pools of aqueous humor.

Although it's a chilling gaze, it rests above rosy cheeks, biten by the winter. All is not gloomy in warm comfort of the sunrise.
Mood: Troubled.
: Simon and Garfunkel

phantasmic the fall interrupted. Sep 10th, 2006 10:29:39 pm - Subscribe
We fell together as we found each other in the surrounding dark. Clutching each other so tightly, afraid of losing one another, we whispered "Don't let me go...never let me go." And so we continued to plummet for ages silence screaming all around until....

Finally we gave up the fight. Meagerly we loosened the grip we had on one another and let our fingers slip.

"I love you...always."
"I love you...forever."

Suddenly the rushing wind stops...and....we're mid-air, wondering what has happened and questioning what is to come next, grateful to be alive. Not only grateful that we live, but to still have each other. forever.

But which forever will we be granted?
Mood: tormented

Zanjui A hint of inspiration. Jul 24th, 2006 4:11:49 am - Subscribe
An open window stretches from horizon to horizon. Countless specs of light shimmer down upon puddles of an early rain. Their light glistens off of the drops of water that dive through the leaves of trees. The water creates an echo as they hit that races into the streets.

Shifty shadows lurking in the corner of vision send the illusion that you're not alone. Desperatly searching for light, the eyes begin to cheat and create figures that dash out of sight once they have been spotted. Dull transparent blades pierce the fog that hovers above the ground.

Dust bones lay quiet in the cemetery lots. Graves create a library of memories and secrets that have disentigrated in the fast flowing stream of time. If only the dead could see the stars tonight. If only I could see the stars tonight.

Bullfrogs, cicadas and crickets sing broken yet beautiful notes that create the music of the night. Tranquil sounds of warmth spread across the water, through the cat-tails and into the dead of night before disolving into a faint echo. The only orchestra that will follow you no matter where you go.

Metal spokes revolving around and around carrying the body in control. Wet rubber speeding on top of pavement that is just as wet. A deep voice remains silent while a racing mind works feverishly to describe itself poetically. My mind drifts across the canvas of the sky with open sails to catch the winds of time. Soar across the fourth dimension, leaving my body behind.
: The sounds of morning.