They open

This is weird. I haven't talked to you in god knows how long, I haven't seem you in 5 days. It's almost like you've disappeared. It doesn't suprise me. What surprises me is that I'm OK with it. Sure it hurts, now and then, but I'm learning, I'm expanding my repertoire. I'm opening my eyes and the view is nice, now that you're not taking up my whole perception. You're still part of me, without a doubt, but things are changing. An I'm not so scared anymore.

love in a pile of dust

Today i went to a poetry reading for my first time. It was beautiful, how an art form can bring so many people together like that. people that I would not assume like that were there, so many generations and lifestyles and characteristics, all there for the beauty of literature and life. A sobering account, a learning experience. The friendly passing of a joint around the little circle, you have some or you don't, it's all the same. Three generations smoing up together, no judgment, no feelings of stupidity or guilt. Just being happy and loving life. The older crowd is more refined, it seems to me. They understood us and appreciated us but to listen to their stories, their experiences, was a welcomed experience. A whole new scene, new people, new convorsations. I was happy there. Reminiscant of my childhood when I would sit and listen absent-mindedly to my parents and their friends. Now I know I should have listened, instead of just wanting to leave all the time. The things they have to say, the wisdom that comes forth and I don't even realize it, and maybe they don't either. Maybe I should start hanging out with an older crowd. I think they could tell me things I could really appreciate and value. I'm getting tired of these barely-18s, so caught up in attaining some perishable high, like it's all that matters. I thirsted for substance, for something different to open my eyes. And now I have it. I've always loved the arts. But I never had enough self esteem to want to further my repetoire, to share and be critiqued. This was good for me. I don't have a clue who I am but I know this is something I like. woot.

Maybe, I'm not better than I have to be,
They're just worse than they should


que serra serra

Today I cleaned the bathroom, including that bathtub. I picked through Nella's puke then cleaned it up. Yesterday I thoroughly cleaned the kitchen and combed the dogs. Does it count for anything? You always want us to do things without asking so I try, but it doesn't seem to matter. Tell me, do you notice? Do you care? If not then I'll stop. I'm just trying to help. Is it working?
oh, and Iread your reply.



i'm sorry i left. i was freaked out and i didnt know what to do.


It so hard on the knees

I really need someone to help me. I've been thrown into this and now I'm finally letting my eyes see cleary. I'm afraid I've dug myself too deep and won't be able to get out when I really need to. It's as if I'd been blind all this time. Last night i re-read a book we'd shared, and I made this all seem so much greater than it really was. Maybe I felt that way then, but now the words seem cheap and meaningless. I laughed at myself for having those silly romanticized notions. So young and inexperienced was I. When looking back I realized how many things I wish had been different. That's not something that helps a relationship, always wanting it to be something better but putting up with it none the less. I was such a silly little girl. So naive and easily swayed. I wrote a fake break-up letter to him as my english diploma personal response. The only fake thing about it was that I wasn't really giving it to him. I meant every word of it, but I still don't know what to do.. It's so difficult when I'm such a vital part of his life right now. Somehow he's managed to stay happy through all that's happened to him and I wonder if I'll push him to his breaking point. I still love him, I still want him, I still care about him. I guess I wont leave him, atleast not yet.


I'm afraid of depression.
I've lost my mother so many times because of it.
I don't want to lose you too.
I don't want to lose myself.

In the summer time

Simmer me down to the raw emotions, to only the most basic most essential situations. Dont place me in this world, I don't belong, I won't be happy there. Everything's a blur these days. I've almost forgotten who I am. Looking back I'm so confused. And looking ahead I lose the will to go on. Is there any point? I'm searching for an ellusive happiness. I often wonder if those movie directors were on crack, illustrating a rediculously hopeless dream, the luxury of knowing when something is indisputably meant to be, and never having any second thoughts. Those perfect happy smiles a painful poison to me. Some unattainable emotion, event, ending. Good things come to those who wait, though. I'm too young to complain, I just need to do what's right for me now. maybe one day I'll have a story book ending, but my story's just begun.


An Edge? A gun or a knife, something the other guy don't have

What now?
How did this happen?
How did I get here, again?
Should I have seen this coming?
Now all that's left are dead memories
A vast repertoire of half-eaten sensations
of incomprehensible accents and mannerisms
the footsteps I can hear are slowly coming nearer
I've slipped from that perfect cloud, now I'm hanging
And not sure how I'll get out unscathed and with my sanity
Who really knows, who really knew? Who could have claimed to?
There aint no instructions here, no predictions or manual and I'm lost



Of Course

The flame is slowly dying, I'm really sick of crying. I don't know why I keep trying.


you wanted one.

can you feel the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine
heavy lungs, a heavy heart yet another sign.
the sighing desperation, another dragging day
again this endless heartbreaking dismay.
I dont really know. Poetry is really hard to write, to rhyme and still convey the words giving them appropriate justice. i want to just write but then i'm droning on and on and no one really cares. they've heard it all before endless times. from me and others. i'm a little boy calling wolf it seems, everytime it's just a false alarm.
Here we go again. will this be the time i'm eaten alive by my countless miscalculations.

"don't cry hun. Please don't cry.
I always find a way out of it.
I have in the past and I will again.
So don't cry..please.."

I don't know what to do anymore. I'm waiting for something that never happens. I'm no instigator. This is...I don't know. This is hard. Really hard.