I’m sorry about today.
I know it felt off. I was off.
Honestly, when you walked in, my heart skipped a beat like it was February still and we had just met. I was awkward, and I didn’t know how to look at you.
I think my page refreshed in my heart or something. Like I’m falling in love with you over again. Not as if I had fallen out of love with you, but I had fallen into stability with you before, and then disaster struck it’s usual course with me and I fucked up. And I told you.
And maybe it’s better now, I’m honest, I’m here, I’m trying my best but I feel like my best isn’t good enough. Like my best won’t ever be good enough.
And I know you know that too, you said it yourself today. “If only it were easier”.
Simplicity is unattainable in a relationship, nothing is simple when it comes down to human emotion, there are too many variables and inputs you can’t discern one from another because they are inseparable. Life is tangled in us, like I am with you, and I get farther and farther drawn into your life the more I think about you and keep you.
So I’m keeping you. On one side, it is because I am so tangled into you that I feel like to be without you here in the wilderness of the world I’m putting myself in I need you, more than I’ve needed anyone (other than my family). I need you to be here to love me, to help me, to make me feel like I have a home, to make me love someone else like I know I can but thought I never could, you’re here to watch me fuck myself over but still love me after it’s all done.
On the other, I am keeping you because I’ve never tried so hard for a relationship ever before you. I’ve never put my all into someone like I have with you, I do you know? I gave and continue to give everything to you. And maybe that’s a bad thing, maybe it’s a good thing, but those words don’t actually mean anything. Good and bad are the worst descriptions anyone could ever use.
So let me try again.
Maybe it’s gonna kill us both. Maybe staying with you will tear my insides apart because everything I have is all in my head and other than that I’m worthless. Maybe it’ll kill you to put up with that. It’ll bring you to the point of madness because I’m so damn difficult.
But maybe it’ll teach me how to be here. Maybe it’ll teach me how to edify and not feel superfluous and actually do what everyone says the right thing to do is. Love you, love you forever, love you for always, as long as I’m living, my man you will be?
Sometimes I just cry though, cry and cry, and cry and I can’t stop and I don’t why I’m so sad. So I blame it on the fact that my freedom that I used to know is gone and I feel guilty for everything and I feel like the smallest slip with shatter the world I’ve built with you and it’ll be over and I’ll have to go home because I’m such an emotional wreck.
I think without you I would be suicidal. But you already know that.
I’m might be either way, but I know post-you, I don’t know how I feel.
Because obviously, right now, I’m not in post-you mode. I’m present-you. I’m here, I’m honest, I’m trying my best, and you are too. I don’t know if you are honest, but I’m pretty sure you are, I know when you lie. I don’t know if you are trying your best, because I know you are in a slump right now. I’m hoping you can come out of it and get yourself in the right direction, wherever that may be.
But now, I’m present-you and I’m crying every time I see you, and I’m crying even when I’m not seeing you. And I was crying in the beginning when the curvature of the earth was separating us and I was crying because I knew what I would come to, but not knowing what the future held scared me so goddamn much I couldn’t even voice my fear because I knew you wouldn’t understand.
It’s not easy having a brain that never stops, a mind palace that is infinite. I’m stuffing my closets in my brain with things I can’t say to you because they will upset you. I’m hoping when I’m with you and I’m in my head that I don’t walk past them and smile, because that happened today and I knew it would make you mad to know about the things I stored away in there. They are becoming blue memories because of you, when they used to be golden, funny and light.
I don’t want to ignore all the good things, but right now those are too easy to see, which means they are in such plain view they are hiding the things I probably need to pay attention too. I’m trying to pay attention.
You can’t pay attention. I don’t know how I’ve adapted to that, I guess adaptability truly is one of my greatest strengths. But with your ADHD I don’t have to change my personality and DNA. I don’t have to change my frontal lobes neuron language. But being monogamous, that is trying to tell me to change my DNA. I don’t think that way. I never will.
Since you told me you didn’t like red, I haven’t worn a single thing red. Some how that small phrase you said months and months ago stuck with me, and I recalled this:
I’m not saying this is true, but I’m finding it hard to not relate with.
I know you have changed me, which isn’t a surprise. I’m glad you’ve influenced me. You’ve helped me to see that life can be simple and you can be happy. You’ve helped me understand street smarts and how to avoid scary things. You’ve helped me see what I dislike. You’ve helped me learn how to trust.
But you’ve also instilled the knowledge that I know a simple life will never satiate me. I’ve tried. I’ve pursued the simplicity of monogamy, the easy life of school, job, boy friend. Which would evolve into : Employment, marriage, children. Retirement, settlement, grandchildren. I don’t think I want those things in the white picket fence, sepia filtered sense that you do. Life is rainbow too me, everything is something different than you thought it was, I don’t see things as black and white with rose colored accents. I see it like a flower child from the 60’s would. Like someone tripping on acid but retaining a sense of self.
Deanna pointed out something interesting last night, she said: “It’s funny, how you like being caged by things, but not by people.” She referred to my love of clothing and obsession with belts and accessories; the fact I can’t sleep without my retainers (AKA teeth cages). Being caged by people, or restrained physically, (as you well know by now) makes me fall apart and have a panic attack. Then she said to me, “Take this and apply it to what is happening with you and Shane.”
11.22.15 I can’t be caged. I knew this before with Cameron. See, he and I started our relationship right before he flew out to school his freshman year to Stanford University in California. It was magical and amazing and I was in love with him. But I also knew that I couldn’t be with him if he was away, and it would be wrong of me to keep us monogamous. I also knew inside me that I would never stay true to that anyways. I was 15, but that feeling hasn’t changed.
Fast forward four months and he is back from school, we see each other and fall back into the pattern of things, we are intimate and it’s wonderful, but we also talk for hours and simply enjoy one another. It’s nothing comparable to you of course, you are the absolute opposite of him, which is honestly great. If you were anything like him I wouldn’t truly love you, I would love the shadow of you but be holding onto the memory of Cameron.
Back to 2013, Cameron left, he went back to school and I was alone. We didn’t discuss our terms, we didn’t need to. He knew I would be with other partners, and I knew he would too. At the time I was 16, and I wasn’t interested in getting any more involved with someone longer than a night. Maybe a week. The point of dating was lost on me.
That summer, Cameron returned and he asked me to be his girlfriend, but he already knew my answer, I think he just wanted to show how he felt. I said that when he was here, and we were talking affectionately he would be my boyfriend, but when he was gone, and we had space he wouldn’t be. But this did not mean monogamy. No, I was with other people, and I told him that. He knew and knows that I am a free spirit that won’t be tamed. I even told him stories and struggles that I had with other partners and friends and he shared his, as my friend.
Friendship comes first, if I can’t talk about the intimate matters that happen with others or the intimate thoughts I have I am not fully expressing myself. As strange as this may seem, I find that story telling is my way of expressing, sharing, and showing my loved ones what is going on inside me and around me. I don’t know if this “socially acceptable” because as you say, “Kissing and telling is just wrong” and the like… I don’t see it as “kissing and telling” I see it as having an experience and telling someone about it, just as if I had climbed Mt. Hood with you and I told my mother. My definition of kissing and telling is like being a huge gossip whore and involving people in your business that shouldn’t be involved. But you see, by my definition, telling you the experiences that I’ve had isn’t being a gossip whore, it is sharing my life with you, a person who is very much in my business and I in yours. If you considered yourself not involved in my business I would be offended and run off dramatically like in the movies (or like a twelve year old).
So Cameron and I continued in this way. No labels, no monogamy, no terms and conditions, just that we were friends, who loved each other very deeply, and knew that without each others support (in what ever way we gave it) we would be sad.
The summer before I met you, Cameron was very entangled with me, but I had no idea how to feel. I went from “please stay” to “I never want to do this again” to “come back”. These emotional swings are still baffling to me, but maybe I was just tired of the condition-less conditions. Our unspoken rules were eating at me.
Now I told you that Cameron and I were still “on” when I met you. I mean you can’t tell me I was doing something wrong because Cameron and I weren’t monogamous. And for all purposes I would have stayed “on” with him even after you asked me to be yours because he was just south of you on the other side of the country. He wasn’t going to fly to see me, no way, but he and I being “on” just meant that I was still hearing “I love you”‘s from him. Because he loves me. Me, me. He isn’t like my crazy x that is in love with the idea of me as a pony, fetishized and objectified. Cameron loves who I am, and I love who he is.
Then I told him one fateful night via text (because I am obviously the worst human being. Hypocrisy beyond compare), that I was trying monogamy out. Let me emphasize trying. Not to be confused with doing and achieving. I’m still trying.
11.24.15 Whatever decisions we talk about, whatever thing we are working on, it is always your way or the high way. Sex, food, sleep, conversation, anything. Everything I do is to accommodate for you. I can’t be changing all that I am and all that I think about for you. I need freedom of thought, I need freedom of speech, I need freedom to be the person I am without being afraid I’m going to hurt you by telling you something from my past. I can’t go on accommodating for all that you can’t handle or refuse to handle. I am complicated and difficult, I recognize that, but can’t you comfort me? Can’t you understand that I love you more than I’ve loved any one else in my lifetime and I want to be with you, but I can’t because I am not who I want to be with you.
I’ve thought long and hard over this, and delicately so. I thought about how I would feel after, post-you. I know both of us will be fine. We will live on. Life goes on. I will always love you. I will always love the taste of your skin, the feel of your arms around me, the way you smile when you are truly happy.
I made my choice to be post-you. I’ve decided and you can fight back all you want. But I’m taking the highway option.
You say I can have you and be monogamous, or be without you and be polyamorous. Well, there isn’t an “or” for me. I AM polyamorous. I DO love more than one person this very instant and I will always love more than one person because that is just how I love.
One day, maybe a few months from now, maybe a year or more, I’ll say hello to you again. And I want you to know I don’t want to cut you out of my life, my heart, my soul, and my mind, no I want to stop the cycle of pain I’ve been experiencing. I want to heal us. Because ever time I’ve had suicidal inclinations, every time I’ve needed support, it never really went away. It isn’t your fault that I have these feelings but it is your fault for triggering them.
I’m not saying this to be awful, I’m saying this because it’s true. Every time I “make a mistake” that I know will hurt you or could hurt you I feel like I’m worthless. I can’t feel that way, it’s driving me to the edge.
I want the best for you, which I know you might think “It’s you! You just need to change!” Well if I need to change to be with you, then I am not what is right for you.
1.2.16 So I love you. That’s undeniable. I have been trying to sort out all the things left unsaid and all the thoughts I had.
I’m thinking of the plans we made together, that look like old memories now. Obviously, neither of us know what the future holds, but we can at least write an outline.
When we met, you said you wanted three princesses, and my heart immediately jumped and I responded in a way I had never reacted to that future thought. In the past, (I know dredging it up again) I had always cowered away and scoffed at people’s proposals of children and marriage. I thought it was nasty. But, when you said that you wanted children in the sweetest way I’d ever heard someone talk about children, I had a feeling I was going to enjoy you.
It was the first time I let myself contemplate a future with someone. The first time I let my mind and heart wander over a thought and actually commit to this fluffy cloud idea. I call it a fluffy cloud idea because it is unpredictable and can change fast. I like those kinds of ideas though, as you know.
I know this must suck. I write and write, and write… It’s awful. I hate to do this to you, but I’m trying to find closure. Which probably doesn’t exist. But I’ll keep trying for our sake’s, I don’t want to lose you.
^^gross, “I dont want to lose you” is the nastiest— I take that back, the nastiest phrase I’ve heard is the one you told me while we were in your bed: “I’m not angry, I’m disappointed” HOW COULD YOU? we talked about that god awful phrase and cursed its existence and then you go and use it! In all seriousness.
Don’t you dare tell me that again. Don’t tell me you are disappointed. Find a better word.
Exemplia gratia/για παράδειγμα
- Crest fallen
You get the idea.
Anyways. I want you to know I don’t hate you and I don’t want to cut you out of my life like I have done to so many soul-sucked person. Being soul-sucked doesn’t suit you, I prefer you being soul-filled.
I remember blushing; sitting on the eroded shore of a small river in New Hampshire, he was holding my hand and I was so happy, Isa and Kitten were flirting in their usual preschool way and he was just staring at me, so softly, like he was looking at the stars absent mindedly but was fixated on a small point in the sky, I sparkled.
Then he had to leave and it was very dark except for the little flickering street light a two stories above us. He hugged me tightly. “I don’t think I can leave now,” he said into my hair.
I knew this was the part where we kissed but my first kiss had been a catastrophe and I didn’t know what to do. I said something stupid and he said ok, and then he kissed me so softly and gently. He smelled like everything wonderful. He hugged me more and got into his car and drove away, into the dark of the small street in the middle of nowhere New Hampshire.
I went inside and Isa and Kitten looked at me as if I never left. “I kissed him,” I said.
“We know,” Kitten said and nudged me. “That makes two?” he said.
“That makes two,” I replied.
I would find out later my brother was watching from the driveway. What a creep.
I saw him one more time before he left for College in Los Angeles, we went on a real date, our first.
It made me so happy to be around him and I cried for weeks when he left.
I cry for weeks every time he leaves, and this is the third year.
My dreaded, and also exciting, search for colleges and now applying for them has been so exhausting in so many ways. The horrors of touring giant colleges with my crazy parents who never get along has been very real. My first campus tour last spring at UMass Amherst wasn’t totally a disaster but it was rough, and at the end of the day all I wanted to do was call my boyfriend and cry all night. So I did, while sitting in the empty tub of the hotel while my brother played video games on the bed. I didn’t particularly like the college. My mother had attended there for 8 years, and she hadn’t even visited the college before throwing herself into the application process, she had just wanted to get out. But the cement covered valley with its high risers that stuck out harshly against the barren landscape didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t want this ginormous campus to be my home, it felt too much like a evil institution like in all those dystopian movies I watch. I felt incredibly alone in the crowd and lost in all the commotion of schedules and 100 kid lecture halls. Even though the tour guides said the only 100 person classes they had ever taken were their first semester ones, it didn’t assure me that I would find my place at UMass. No, this place wasn’t for me.
I toured one other college that I got infatuated with, Hampshire College, or as my parents called it while going to UMass: “Hamster College” since all the weirdos went there. I felt like the curriculum was really me. Yet again though, I found that the barren fields, and awkward buildings that I was getting lost in were making me feel unwelcome. But mostly it was my tour guide telling me to “Get off my high horse and realize you aren’t special.” That was a very big blow to all my philosophical beliefs. He recommended I read a bunch of books about the insignificance of my existence and people’s lack of ability to be different from one another. I looked down onto my pin that I got from the college. It had a picture of a sheep and an red x across it. Don’t be a sheep. Don’t follow. Be a leader. Be a world Changer. Be different. Be special. That was the college’s motto, and I wondered how a person could go to a college with that motto but come out saying “No one is special.” It made me doubt some credibility. I still like Hampshire, but I have some philosophical wars going on.
Next stop was Salem State University. It was smaller and sweeter and newer than UMass. The library was way cooler and the facilities rocked. Even the dorms were better than UMass Amherst’s. I was impressed with the peppiness of the guides and welcomer’s and the enthusiasm and honestly of the admissions adviser who spoke to us. Then we went to another lecture for the “undecided”. This was a disaster. Absolute cacophony of horridness. The man speaking to us must have been having a mid life crisis of some kind since he just ranted about politics and when he was actually on topic I asked a question about something and announced I was home schooled. He said. “Well, college will be a culture shock.” and a few other comments of similar views. I was so insulted I almost left the room. I simply do not understand how a college professor could be that ignorant. Educate thyself and read some Socrates.
I’ve toured BC, Suffolk, Merrimack, and Bowdoin since then. Bowdoin was another catastrophe, but the college was pretty. I won’t tell this story since it was such a strange day. I also hate the person I liked at the time. (I wrote another post about him, but it got deleted accidentally) Now I am applying to an arts and communication school, Emerson. I’m applying for Writing, Literature, and Publishing, crossing my fingers they accept me!!!
Here are my college essays:
Q: Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family Settling down on a name was hard for my parents before I was born. My mom wanted something interesting, different, not the Sarah, Emily, and Elizabeth’s of the world kind of name, she wanted it to be a creative and interpretive thing. My dad wanted exactly what my mother didn’t. He wanted tradition continuing to honor ancestors. I was going to be Alice Marie, May Eddie, or Willamina. Don’t get me wrong, Alice Marie, May Eddie, and Willamina are beautiful names, but I am not an Alice, nor May, and even more so, I am not a Willamina. Samantha suited me for a while, but it felt uncomfortable. I felt like it was a whiny, nasally noise people were yelling at me across the baseball field, up at bat, and then when I got hit with the ball a thousand times it was cooed out by my couch and that silly Tyler boy who still is lovesick for me today. “Samantha, are you OK? You get to walk.” That’s all I was doing, walking through the pitches, taking the hits, never swinging into a ball and hitting a home run then racing across the field for a winning game. I was standing in the outfield, waiting around, picking boogers, and staring into the sun, asking it, “Why do they call me Samantha? Who gave them the right to call me something I never signed up to be called?” As I grew up I liked to play make believe, and I would take on my make believe names for years. I was Mike (4-5 years old), Isabelle (6-7), Amber (7-8), Crystal (9-10), Landia (10-11), and then I found something I fell in love with. Zanthia. I wanted that to be me. Zanthia was beautiful, Zanthia was complex, Zanthia didn’t whine, Zanthia didn’t sit in the outfield, Zanthia hit home runs, Zanthia was a good friend and team player, and Zanthia was a Queen. But also, Zanthia wasn’t a stuck up girl, she was a transforming butterfly, she was becoming something she didn’t even know could be. Zanthia was ready to take on the world, or what she’d like to call her fairy kingdom. I decided to be Zanthia. Just like in the Bible when Saul realizes he was wrong about life and turns to God and is renamed Paul, Sarai and Abram realize they are called for something more and are changed to Sarah and Abraham, I was changed from Samantha the listener to Zanthia the fair haired. I claimed myself as my own, more than just claiming my body and personality, I made my identity. My parents may have needed to have a starting basis on what to call me, but I knew Samantha wasn’t a tattoo that was going to last forever on me. Samantha was little leagues. Samantha was playground talk. I was now the Queen of the Fairy Kingdom and Queen of Me. Zanthia.
If you could title your life anything what would it be? : I consider my life a building work of art. The hardest part of being an artist is naming your art. Sometimes stories are easily explained in a banner (headline) phrase: “Don’t Do Me Wrong”, “Love Me Do,” and “Good Girls, Bad Boys”, but some stories need more of a lead-like or thesis title, which a lot of punk rock songs use: “This isn’t a fashion statement it’s a deathwish”, “This mirror isn’t big enough for the two of us”, “Here’s that song you wanted”, or “Where can I stab myself in the ears”. The only reason I do not name my songs like the untitled versions of Shakespearean sonnets is because I am simply not allowed to. As a singer songwriter I’ve been forced to take my beautifully self titled songs like “I Really Shouldn’t Be Doing This”, or “My Soul’s Seasons of Drought”, and “Build Yourself A Home Inside My Heart” to be cut down to “Home” which does it no justice to what the song is actually about and is easily confused with the famous country song. At certain points in my life, namely ages 11-14, I would’ve liked to title my life: “Sometimes I Scream Aloud”, “Failure to Assimilate”, and “Would It Be Weird If”. Now I am almost 18 and many things have changed since my preadolescence and I can say that “The Uselessness of Trying To Be Human” is among my top three titles. The other two are: “My Reputation: An Apology” and “I Tried The Best I Could To Write You Songs.”
Totally doesn’t apply to this post, but I like this gif ALOT: I love you Roozbeh <3;)
These past weeks have really sucked. Not because nothing good happened, but because all the good things were spoiled by disappointments, and disaster took ever shining moment into a tainted crimson version of what it could’ve been. Which was a nice sepia, but that’s not what these weeks look like now, they are sad.
Lyrics that I relate to right now: (Here With Me by Dido)
Oh I am what I am
I’ll do what I want
But I can’t hide
I won’t go
I won’t sleep
I can’t breathe
Until you’re resting here with me
I won’t leave
I can’t hide
I cannot be
Until you’re resting here with me
“Let’s still be friends.”
Ha. You’re funny.
So maybe I’m not motivated at all to do things like:
1. finished the last 11 chapters of my Algebra 2 book.
2. Study for the ACT.
3. Be polite to certain individuals.
4. Learn how to control my emotions.
And all these things, I really need to do.
I need to finish my Algebra in order to graduate high school. I need study for the ACT in order to get good grades so I can apply to schools that are worth my time.
And another thing.
I’m feeling really useless. I’m feeling like nothing matters. I’m feeling like no matter how much I study, how much I learn, how much money my parents spend on my education, I will never be good enough. Doesn’t matter exactly what I’m “not good enough” for, but that I’ll never get there anyways.
Or maybe, I’m just hitting the cusp of my teen angst and there is no looking back now. Maybe these are my defining moments and I need to make the best of my algebra 2 and ACT while I still have time, or maybe this is just the end for you my friend. (New Found Glory). Sometimes I have a better hold of what I’m trying to say while I’m typing then when it actually is read… Context is all there is in my brain.
Then I heard this song, Selfless by New Found Glory, and they say “I’ll catch up on my sleep when I’m dead.” I really appreciate this. I dont get very much sleep anyways, since I think very well between 9pm and 2 am, but also that I like to get up at 9 and still enjoy a morning cup of tea and feel the morning breeze, and listen to the birds. I dont want to miss any second of the day, which means I dont want to be sleeping through the wee hours of the morning/night.
Yesterday’s check list:
1. Not know how to feel about who you had lunch with.
2. On one hand, they were acting fine, being fine, treating others kindly.
3. But on the other, they are also all those people you can’t seem to form a proper opinion of.
4. Question the definition of “proper”.
5. Environmental Issues was canceled so I made friends with my classmates in our empty time.
6. Reveal more about oneself’s life and hear about others more than you thought you should.
7. Here about That Pirate Kid’s strange summer sex.
8. Try not to look at The Fucking fuck face.
9. Be instructed by Dr. Teacher to contact Teemo.
10. Regret ever telling Dr. Teacher I still had his number.
11. Have bloodshot eyes, all day, errrday.
12. Be concerned about my own two faced actions,
13. I hate bisexual girls.
14. Why can’t they make up their minds.
15. I need better friends.
16. Crush on someone
17. Become irrevocably disappointed in myself.
18. Forget to reschedule counselling.
19. Don’t tell therapist about You’re In Fucking California X’s return……
20. Try to forget about it.
21. Cry because he doesn’t want to talk about it
22. Wonder why we have to “talk” about these things.
23. Forget exactly why I keep feeling this way.
24. Psychoanalyze self.
25. Remember that I like philosophy better.
26. Philosophize about why I’m like this.
27. Metaphysics sucks.
28. Is it Cause to Effect? Or Effect = Cause? ugh.
29. Listen to really bad indie music.
30. Have band practice.
31. Remember why I love music and laugh hysterically with my mates 🙂
Here is a totally random blog post for your entertainment, Minecrafter, Fey, and D the Lead Girl
I found this on Cyanide and Happiness’s Face Book page:
Then on that feed I found this:
So, I had heard this before but this confirms my suspicions. Guys have a rule that you just cant pee standing next to someone. And the middle urinal is the urinal only to be used if you are the only one in the bathroom. I’ve heard of “Guy code” and “Bro code” but this is far past that. This is the unbreakable rules of the men’s room. THE MEN’S ROOM as in the only room where they get to be men and dick around. I find it very funny they have this rule because in the lady’s room, most social etiquette get’s tossed out the window. But I guess we don’t exactly share the same space when actually peeing, we have our little boxes we sit in to protect us.
Quotes from this feed: (From all men mind you)
“Who uses the middle urinal??” (1,000 + likes)
“Urinal etiquette goes out the window when there’s a lit candle in the middle urinal.” (40 likes)
“Men who use the middle urinal know, that it is the rule of men to leave one space between urinals, so when you use the center urinal, you’re basically saying fuck you I piss alone, since most bathroom urinals have 3 urinals.”
“An asshole like me who’ll make eye contact with you to make you as uncomfortable as possible.”
This is just a bunch of blah blah from the other day… if you feel inclined to bother.
I always remember the little details of things.
1.What song my friend and I listened to the first time we met in subway when they still sold 5 dollar personal pizza’s. It was You’re Gonna Go Far Kid by The Offspring. He thought that when he said “far” he was saying fuck… haha dumb ass can’t read song titles and recognize chorus’.
2.I remember what outfit I wore when I first made out with a guy. My Tripp.co black and white ripped skinny’s and a black Jackson Pollock t-shirt. I was wearing a red bra, and I also had a sweatshirt that was my brothers. The song’s we played: Perfect Weapon by Black Veil Brides, More Than A Feeling by Boston, and some other awful bullshit.
3.I remember the outfit I was wearing when The worst X broke up with me. Vintage pink cashmere poncho with rabbit fur and white fish nets under a white fluffy skirt.
4. The talk Mr. Teacher gave me about hate.
5. Rosa telling me she felt like we were friends in another life and then never speaking to me again. We must have fought in our other life.
6. Calling Sarah, Rosa because I was thinking about how much they hated each other. She was pissed as fuck.
7. Endless mistakes
8. Clashing teeth with the Fucktard.
I like this:
And that’s all.
If you name a dick Uncle Sam does that mean the Government is a dick?
She is amazing.
This is to the tune of : Inside out by Eve 6 , Machinehead by Bush, and Hey Man, Nice Shot! by Filter.
Some good 90’s rock.
Lyric of the day for my friend GirlyinGold
“I’m not as ugly, sad as you
Or am I origami, folded up and just pretend
Demented as the motives in your head”
Girly and I have had some issues with a certain someone and both going in circles with each other and this mofo. So I made my final decision and she did too. No more sharing because manwhores are not going to be encouraged.
This is what life is like now, things are a tad dramatic, but I can deal because angst is a powerful motivator. Very powerful.
Some views on Marijuana:
Doesn’t really do anything seriously beneficial except for make you feel “floaty” and light.
Makes people really unmotivated.
Kills brain cells.
Has bad effects on certain individuals and makes them very irrationally emotional or angry.
Smells like shit.
And stoner’s are just sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo obnoxious.
Fuck’in Schizandra berries.
Pick up line of the day:
“Dang babe, are you my most recent Calc grade? Cuz I’d say you’re a 10 with a curve.”
A common theme in my life is being nauseated by people that disgust me.
My most recent facebook status: ” *Empties breakfast out of stomach onto lit room table*”
Remember last post about that S.W.M.N.B.N. (she who must not be named) and The Queen Bee? yeah that is not going to end for a llong long long long time.
I hate high school, and I dont even go to real high school. I only take 2 classes twice a week. I don’t even want to know what its like to be in school all day. I would die. I would be dead. I would not have survived middle school for goodness sakes.
Anyways. Fey is helping, although I did desperately want to restyle her hair, but I resisted the whole morning and she was beautiful anyways. I also got to dance with her in front of her boyfriend. Very satisfied.
Away from those things..
I read H.O.N.Y. all day now. (Human’s of New York) It’s amazing. Please go find it.
It’s all about this guy Brandon who is a photographer who goes out on the streets and parks of NYC and takes pictures of people while asking them about their story, or “A piece of advice to give to a large group of people”. I love this. It’s very inspiring to me, both as a performing artist and a writer. I also love the “Today in Micro-fashion” pictures, which are posts of small children in the most adorable outfits on the planet, and all very unique.
I wish more people did this day-to-day, all of us would benefit from listening to each other a little more, and truly appreciating the lives we live. It always brings to mind how small things can affect an individuals personality and idea of life. My philosophy has been rapidly changing since I started reading HONY. No regrets.
I am in 2 bands right now and still writing my own music, but my second band still does not have a name or even a lead guitar player… very unsettling…. Any suggestions?
My best friend Worry Wart: “Ya know the real thing I can’t live without is you.”
“I love you SO MUCH!!! I miss your face. The way you understand me more then any other. The way you make me so happy.”
“I think of you as an opal. You shine like a rainbow, and you are my absolute favorite.”
The Favorite X: “I just want you close to me again. You’re absolutely right – nothing compares to that feeling.”
“Can you just teleport here so I can fall asleep in your arms?”
“And when I hold you in my arms I can sense your kindness like the warmth of a thousand suns.”
My favorite favorite from him: “All my pretty words can’t come close to how wonderful you are.”
“Though I don’t think ‘having fun’ is enough to describe what we share when we’re together. If fun makes every minute seem like thirty seconds, bliss makes every minute fade into nothing…”
“You have beautiful lips.”
“I could get used to kissing you.”
“Just make sure to always keep that beautiful smile,
“Wolf of Warcraft Ruined My Life” is a song by ALL CAPS. Nerd techno bands don’t ever go out of style it seems. I stumbled upon them when I watched this video by Mika Kitty, (awesome youtuber who always has something new to say.) If you are a PotterHead you will enjoy this video by her and music by HeyHiHello.
I have literally just been listening to a lot of different music from every genre, (except for country….) and have found that I am enjoying more soft rock. I know its like heresy, but its still good stuff. Acoustic and piano soft rock songs have been easing their way into my playlists on Spotify. (<= BEST MUSIC SOURSE EVER. FREE BTW.) …they should hire me to advertise… seriously.
This blog is about nothing. 😀 Most likely because I have nothing really nice to say, tough times are passing. “This too shall pass” – OK GO. but then I find myself singing: “Hate” -Hawthorne Heights. That song never gets old.
I haven’t updated the Guy List in so long because my guy life got so complicated I couldn’t decide where to organize them… sad I know. It seems to get worse every year, but I am not doing anything different.
Hey Adam? I can’t decide where to put you… Give me some advice.