It was supposed to be a short story but instead it became you

It felt like a Sunday evening. There was the usual yelling and bestial roars coming from all angles. Sadly it was noon on a Wednesday, midsummer, beginning of summer, something of that heat wave sort. High noon bright in the sky and the floors were shaking in anticipation. One hell of an algorithm or parabola, some kind of messy mess that only few can distinguish as simple sun stroke.

Secrets and secrecy and yet the same mistakes are repeated through and through out. I see you and feel estranged, like I was placed against a wall, hanging from a hook, to be questioned. It’s not you, it’s definitely not, and you... you are tremendous in all ways. The thought of it though, the sight, I just am immediately urged to hold and touch and caress your soft stomach, and newly formed, or forming biceps. I think so well, but I get so lost because of this emotional hypocritical ideological blasphemous you.

You had me where I wanted to be. I feel great usually because, simply enough, I am great usually. But gosh have I ever lost my mind. Since I saw you’re face lit with laughter, I’ve just pictured it so many more times, not because I miss you, but the thought of you being happy ravages through my veins and all I can think of is that small joy I wish you had so long ago. The yelling was a reminder of how great my life is. I watched this madness unfold and kept thinking of how the worst we ever did was discuss gently what may or may not be wrong. Who were we fooling though? I said you were right, and you were. It hurt really terribly though. But you were always so right, and so pretty.

I never felt betrayed by you in any way. You were always so honest. Completely brave and yet the utmost careless fool I have met in all my time. There were no games, except hiding pain, back and forth, just pretending it was always ok.

I think you will never be off my mind.

I could fall and break

Next door is a market with all the berries and greens a girl could need. And across the street lay an ocean of adventures, like iced desserts and fried dinners, a park, a bench or two. So we take chances, go out on limbs, usually two limbs.
It's not a walk in the park, but we keep trying to bowlegged walk through that same damn park. I'm tired of everything, hate everything and it's because of people like you. High heads and hollow hearts, it's so repetitious.
My mistake, I thought it was something different.

I have no idea what more I am waiting for. Honestly I don't think anyone really is to blame but you are such a perfect target. I wish you the worst and best and all in between. I wish you feel everything there is to feel in the process of living.

The thrill

There is a major thrill to be attributed to the creation process.
It shakes and moves and makes you sweat and cry.
Forward motion, motion, porgress, change.
It's so amazing to just try, even when I fail everytime.
I get shivers thinking of possibilities, and beauties.
And creating...
This process of amazing thrills and bounds unseen,
And catastrophe lurking.
And never ever doubting a fucking single step.

It`s like being high without paying the toll.

To do list

I am a feminist, it's almost a given when you see me.
But like seriously what on earth does that really mean,
Am I supposed to continue dead protests and kiss in's?

Yes a documentary
Yes a tour of the museum
Yes this is living it up.

I'm pretty much useless except to kill a few stones with a bird and such on occasion.
I entertain only 1/3rd of the time too.
Spyrographs are more enriching.

And my coffee should be ready.


and iron, bcomplex, flowers

I'm so sick

I really loved him and this is why we can't spend time together.
I wish we didn't act like 4 year olds when we flirt, and I really wish we didn't flirt.
I want to say you started it. You always do actually.
I get anxious, and I hate being anxious because I get so sick to my stomach.
I cry and cry and cry and feel like I'm going to blow up.

And of course now things fall back to shit because I thought, I THOUGHT this was going to be the month where my life turned around. I hate everyone.

Are you sure?

So cold but finally not damp,
not digging deep in my bones
and turning me weak.
Combustion and pressure
I really do have to work on decreasing my anxiety.
Raw throat and dried eyes,
odd enough combination.

I feel fine

It's and histoire de family. And I wont rest until I forget about it

Machiavelli

As Nicolo said, it is best to be what is in your control, otherwise the power is lost. So it is better to be feared than loved because love is far out of control and as great as it is, it's vapid. So Nicolo, I getcha. I really do.
Reality shows a roaring thunderous temperment though, so what I know isn't in practice because, as you know Nicolo, we are but human, I am no Prince. It's early so I'll say a new day is dawning, but it's the sun has his head still burried in clouds.
I'm a giant cliché. Two eyes, two ears, and one hell of a mouth. Relying on logic, going blind and being battered emotionally, logic hasn't really worked just yet. "I'm sad and I'm lonely and I never had a pony.
Ti voglio molto bene, Nicolo. IO STARE ATTENTO. Non stare bene. Desidero divertimi.
I really wish this made sense.

Shapes and smoke signals

Listening to ideological tunes
Sharing features and hense heritage
Feeling passive
And of course offensive.
"Do you like my thighs"
Interested only in interesting things,
But of course,
Not everything can be.
Animated tunes glistening like beads of perspiration.
Just animations,
Simple figments of altered realities.
Or was it realistic reality in real time?
An analysis of life by living
Or analysing dying
Whichever tune fits.

Smoke that cigarette

I'm going to make a list for everything I was found guilty of and apologize for it. I wasn't guilty in most cases.

• I'm sorry I made "your" daughter run away from home to Toronto.
• I'm sorry you never had a child graduate with honours.
• I'm sorry the administration believed I lacked respect.
• I'm sorry YOU stood by me while I was not in my right mind in that bathroom stall.
• I'm sorry it took you so long to realize you love me.
• I'm sorry I got expelled from Dawson.
• I'm sorry everything I say isn't cool enough for you.
• I'm sorry I talked about him so much when nothing ever happened.
• I'm sorry I embarass you so much.
• I'm sorry I said I love you on Skype.
• I'm sorry I complain more than you, apparently.

Now you try!

For a second...

I thought t myself that maybe I try too much to not be so lively. And when I noticed this, it died instantly.
Now I'm lifeless and ill. I want to sleep and can't. I want t eat but can't. Days of recklessness and passion lead me to a grave in the snow and I'm lying here. You'll see it under my eyes, and in them. You'll notice something died.

My word

I have to stop using words at all because they feel so empty and useless. It's remarkable how much I'm exactly what I say I'm not.
self centered self pitying self righteous self deprecating self involved self destructive
selfish
and of course I'm many times worse than that. I finally admit it.
I'm a bad person, deep down inside. I'm not good.

Ok. I admit it. It's been a long time coming. I don't need to cry about it, and I sure as hell wont change it.
So, take it me for who I am.

and My Word is honest from now on, in that my word is manipulative and conniving.

And I really think he's the coolest kid I ever met and I mean that too.
And I don't manipulate the cool ones. I can't. I feel rotten enough. I have no value today.
I just wish I had some way of making this all work in my favour and I don't even have the will to stand up.

Why Am I by Kevin Blechdom

Why am I intoxicated by you my friend?
I see your face at night when I close my eyes.
I send my thoughts to you whether you need them or not.
I can't help it, I've tried to get you out of my head and home.
I pretend your stupid, ugly and disturbing.
It doesn't make a difference 'cause if you were I'd think that's cool.

Maybe it doesn't really exist

I've been wondering about intentions. Do people actually want what they claim they want or is there this whole other side to it in which we just can't be honest at all? What's real and what isn't is a massive blur based on what the perpetrator is hiding. So... it's the question of my belief in happiness I suppose.
I'm just really concerned about art. And to further that, I'm concerned that it's existence has really ended now. I feel a little down but it's really normal. There's a constant bargaining between having thoughts and being able to admit you may be the only one having those thoughts. Like this.. I guess.
I watch a short film about "artists" and life like actions, and coming of age and all that jazz that we read in high school. It's easy listening, but do people like these characters exist. So I figure they must because it's hard to create something of thin air and call it a reflection of the world today. Right?
Maybe it's not the end of an era but it's a very very weird time.
And a weird place.

And I think it's time for me to go somewhere else or just sleep longer hours and go veggie and be trendy in a non trendy forum.

Or just go somewhere else. And watch a movie.

Old yet satisfying for my eyes to re-read

Headache Appeal

Blankness in an aching mind

Treachery, treachery, what's the time?

A pulse, a beat

So nervous and neat

The kindness of an empty letter

Like a vowel alone, I, U, A?

Only difference is nothing is personal

Nothing empty at least

Blankness and it still aches

The pulse still goes

Extensively.

Nothing at all though

It's becoming very personal

Or is it still hollow?

An I, I, I…

Followed by a "like you"

Still hollow?

An empty mind never aches

But an empty soul?

No one writes about money or material

Not at face value at least

Oh… wait

"America" does, a little…

This is not a love poem

Nothing must be felt by a reader

Not a word

The cure had a horrible view of love

Pity to them

Anyways, it's sad

CIBC building is the taste of freedom

Free to…

Invest?

Yet are we not free now?

Free to learn and achieve other people's standards

To reach the goals everyone has set

More pain in the mind

A cold caused it though, not the lack of sanity

Everything is so beautiful, when you're happy.

Sara Lawlor

P.S.

My day was all over and my hearts going too far from my chest in beats of unmeasurable time. Enough drama, I'm getting old. On Tuesday I turn 20. Oh I'm fearful.

I got stories

Don't be alarmed but I lied last night. I said I knew the source of my problems but "you" were right, it was just a byproduct.
I've been holding in all my pain for so long because you all think your more important. At least you think your more hurt.
So "you" asked me to tell you about whats happened... you wanted superficial and I said "nothing" because you just wouldn't have really heard me clearly and brushed me away.
so here it is. I've finally cried, for all that crap I held in because I had to be above pain and sorrow. Because I'm your rock, and you would crumble under my heavy heart. So I finally got to cry, and you're going to ask whats wrong, but it's none of your business so just leave it alone.
And I'm the one who needs to just... chill out. I need you all to stop dropping your bullshit problems on me because I forgot that I still exist. I forgot who I was because you made me act like your rock, and I stopped writing, I stopped sleeping, I stopped using my own voice and I told rhetoric... So I'm going to start sleeping with mr. Ginsberg, and I'll stop answering your calls. I'm going to stop caring because I'm about to die. I'm not ready to die. I just want to be a teen for one more month, so stop aging me.
You're not more hurt, or smarter, sadder, prettier, better... and if you think you have bigger problems, just leave me the fuck alone. If you're willing to be a friend, then call me.

It's a grass roots thing...

But my roots are in Ukraine and Russia and Romania. I have ignored that for so long, that my ancestry is half from eastern Europe. Well, it's hard to say I'm Irish and know all about eastern Europe I suppose. But I think I'm going to try and learn something new, not just have polish food. Meatballs and beats are fine and dandy, and in my fridge... but I need substance. And I feel bad being ignorant as fuck. That's my fault, not anyone else's. So yeah... This is a challenge I'm setting for myself.
Heritage, history, tradition...
I know my family left because of prejudice but... I need more to know and hold onto.

What it's for.

Sitting around realizing that it's not loneliness the sound, it's the heart rate fluctuating based on the alertness of my mind. So coffee is brewing, my eyes are tearing and I'm alone. Right, I just said it's not the loneliness but it's hard to change how you see in such few steps.
In case one may have wondered, there is no fire in me. I'm just stirring the milk and sugar in my coffee and yawning. I take time. In morning, and evening... and always. I take time because I guess I have nothing pushing me to rush out the door.
So this is Christmas...

Fuck this...

That's all I really could think all week. Fuck this is stupid. I want to fuck this. Fuck this... And I'm serious. What am I getting at here? My god I'm boring myself half to sleep. I do too much drugs and don't read enough. I'm overly absorbed in material and useless commodities like a new cashmere wool pea coat. Everything I want is always unattainable but why?
It's these promises I keep making to myself. Work out, eat right, no more coke, stop drinking alcohol. I smoke a fucking ton and intoxicate myself 10 minutes later. I drank a bottle of benadryl for fucks sake.
Fuck this. Finally I get it. It's a Saturday at 7 pm. I'll work out a bit, take a nice shower, maybe even walk Butters instead of saying "he's not my dog." I'll be cold under covers and sleep close to the wall. And I'll feel clean and effortless. But I say that while laying on my side thinking about whats on TV.
It's this apathy. Fuck this apathy, before it fucks me.

Long Summer, I prayed for Fall

This is the new self I've been meaning to find.
This autumn will mark a new me.
Starting tomorrow, my priorities will be proper. School, exercising, eating right, etc. It'll be a nice rebirth. I'm in need of a little more relaxation and I'm dedicating fall to me. I've been overly irritable as well, so I'm going to just read more and stress less.
What better time then when the air is cool and the sun is bright?

God forgive

So I'm too serious at times, and I worry far too fucking much. But I don't need to be walking with my cock in my hand. And it's irritating to be the one who's too light hearted. I have a heavy heart and weight on my shoulders, thats just me and how I perceive my responsibilities to others.
Sure one can say that I don't need to take on the woes and sorrows of other people but I don't know how not to. If I offered you my ear I didn't suddenly take it back. If I offered you my shoulder, I didn't dislocate it... But on that note, my left arm is really fucked up, pulled some shit outta place and hit some nerves.
Back to my point, I'm having trouble with everyones tears in my soup, but... I'm still not going to turn anyone away because then my heart sinks and I feel worse with time.