free write, still on my mind >:(

I remember the walk to your house. Well almost. I remember the walk past the superstore, where you had been banned from for stealing eyeliner. I remember your parent’s basement. The bar couches, a tv, the pictures of you as a child with mouth gear. I remember the way your teeth looked when I first met you. I was disgusted. And it took so long to fix, but if it hadn’t been for me they wouldn’t be salvaged. I never understood a lot of you. I was too young, and too in the middle of it to realize what was happening. You intrigued me so. And now you’re just a memory. Scraps of you float through me once in a while. Like I’m living in a minefield and you could be set off at the slightest touch and I’d be assaulted with recollections. I never thought I’d be free of you. You clung to me even after death, with clamped fingers. You would not lose me. And I wanted to run, far away, but I couldn’t do it. Only now have I deleted you off facebook. Now there will be no contact to you. None of your random comments, because a comment always leads to more. You find a way to grasp me again, and attempt to pull me back. But you are truly a memory. I will never see you again. Never have to be subjected to your powers of pity, of energy draining. I loved you tirelessly, but inside I was exhausted. Drained of my will of my own life, you always mattered more to me than me and now I don’t understand. My past is a stranger to me. I cannot relive the way I thought things, weighed choices. I don’t know how I loved you. If I met you today I would not fall as I once did. I have wider eyes now. A bigger heart now, a better life now. You caught me at the perfect time; When I was vulnerable, na├»ve and lonely. Scared for my future at too young of an age. You got me at my weakest. A lion weeding out the sick.
we both fell harder than we had expected. In different ways. You loved me ridiculously, like a lost puppy. And I was the one who took pity and couldn’t resist those eyes.
you’re welcome for the help. The thousand dollars gone and never returning, spent on nothing of any use. You’re welcome for my attempts at helping you. getting you a dentist to take off your braces, you didn’t even go to the last appointment. My parents too, helped you tirelessly. My mom, trying to find you jobs, or get into government help programs. You turned it all away. You weren’t smart enough to realize what a great thing you had. You were so entrenched in your horrid ways of life, finding more enjoyment in getting stoned and blowing your” paycheck” on useless paraphernalia. You took advantage of me. And it worked. You got what you wanted. Someone who loved you too much to not try and help, by giving you bus tickets, money for your phone card, inviting you over for free meals, and so much more.
Fuck you. I want to be rid of your memory so bad. But you keep popping up, because so much of who I am today is because of you. You thickened my skin and wizened my mind. You’ve helped me grow up. Too bad you never did.


stupid rant.

sigh. it's friday, 9:20 am, i'm watching the daily show before I go to school, and i'm on the laptop playing a silly fb game. my mom comes down stairs, and says good morning whilst in the middle of a loud yawn. I didnt reply because it sounded like she was making some of her odd stretching yawning noises. then she irately repeats it, and as i reply, she gets angry with me, thinking i didn't reply because i was distracted by the computer. then she proceeds to tell me her kids are driving her crazy. then she brings up europe, and how she drve us crazy. trying to alleviate the tension i joked "so we're even then? :P " she didnt pick up any humor and retaliated with "well you were driving me crazy, as was dave, and that's why i drove you crazy. so no. we are far from even." hooray, it's all about her, always. She complains about spending two hoours cleaning the counters in the kitchen, cleaning our bathroom etc, but she never asks us to do it, and now that I'm taking 5 courses, working 3 nights a week and going to chiropractic twice a week, I'm supposed to have time to find every thing that needs doing and do it without her offering a suggestion? it would be a different story if she'd asked me to help out and I didn't, but I am not a mind reader. i am not an amazing child who can put all my troubles aside and go out of my way to find chores instead of doing homework or resting.
blah. maybe i can refine these feelings into a poem instead of a boring whiney rant.


free write of September 14th

I enjoy mushrooms and acid, and could see myself using them in the future for various escapades. Just that coming up, the butterflies in my stomach already high, flying in a frenzy that almost makes me lose my lunch. I guess that’s what you get for introducing a foreign substance into a body so fine tuned for reality. I don’t know why humans are so entranced by altering what we regard as normalcy. Maybe we are constantly dissatisfied with what we know, and those of us unfit for scholarly expansion of the brain take to drug fuelled expansion of the mind. Then there’s me, who’s a happy mix of both. I guess I always want to learn; both about the planet around me and the world inside my head. It’s a weird mix. I don’t know what I’d classify myself as. A scholar, only by the fact I’m spending more time in university than any of my other friends. I’m a learner. A ponderer; I am constantly attempting to quench some intangible thirst I feel, for anything. The world around me will never lose its wonder. I could learn for my whole life and still not know nearly enough. So I pair academia with my own teachings. My philosophies, brought on by altered views from illegal substances. When I’m buzzed I see the earth in a whole new way, a way that sciences can’t teach; only I myself can discover. I’m left wondering about the energy particle duality of electrons in the context of the human duality of physical and soul. I make connections no course can supply me with, and I will never get the answers to, but the sheer questioning is all that is important. I am a constantly unsatiated (screw you red squiggly line, I can make up words if I want), always have a roiling hunger inside me that I can only guess what to satisfy it with. So I take pieces of anything I can understand and place it there, and piece by piece I am becoming full. But never enough to make me stop searching.


free write

richard, my poetry teacher, encourages free writes. letting go of all pretences and planning and
just writing, not correcting words or anything. so this is mine for the day, randomness included.

Im fucking empty. Of motivation, of anything to do. I sit on my bed and wait for life to happen. The house is empty too. My phone sits like a stubborn friend, unwilling to talk to me. Dinner sits almost ready on the stove but no one shows. I haven’t been outside for 5 hours. I’m supposed to go to a party, but once again my phone has ducktape over its mouth. I’m hungry but I don’t jknow what to do about it. Eat of course would be the logical solution, conclusion, w/e. but I have no energy. Im in a depressive state. Tv shows and alternate realities affect me in a way im almost ashamed to admit. Im so emotionally invested in these characters that I fall directly into what they “”” want me to fall into. Ill keep watching of course.

I just spilt oils on my desk. Or it had fell over and I just noticed now because of the smell. My room is a mess. Another thing I cant find the energy to do anything about. Guess the universe’s laws have won this time. No energy will be spent to save me from chaos.
I guess the laws of physics relate to human life as well. Energy is needed inorder to maintain order. To keep up grades, your job, relationships. But once you stop inputting energy, in accordance with the universe, things will naturally lead to the most disorganized state. I think I only have enough energy for certain things. School, only because money is a factor and that’s always a great motivator. My few friends, though that easily slips of the side of the table. Then my boyfriend, who I could never give up on. I think because he gives me energy, we seem to convert useless “other word for energy” lmao. Into some magical propellant. Maybe I’m getting high off the fumes. I don’t know. Love’s the only engine of survival, according to mr cohen, and it’s true. Through love we find the power to move forward through time and space, regardless of outside forces that sap our energy through friction, gravity, and slow us down. I am constantly being fed new fuel by my partner that I can use it in other aspects of my life. But if that well ever ran out I would have to find another source, or learn to love everything which I do, which is no easy feat.
today i was almost hit by a police car who had turned its lights on as I was almost passed him in an intersection. He turned the corner onto my road and nearly tboned me because he had taken an unnecessarily wide turn into the second lane (the one I was in.) I slam on my breaks before he acctually hit me, stalled the car, and the police officer pulls up beside me and yells in my window"when my lights are on you stop! stop means stop!!!" and I blabber a "yes, im sorry im sorry" and he drives away. This shock sent me into tears, and as I pull up to the next red light this guy pulls up beside me and tells me I was in the right and that the cop was being a giant douche. I thanked him as best I could through sobs. My heart was pounding and I felt like such a bad person, and totally frazzled and freaked about almost getting in my first accident and with an effin' police car to boot, that I can't stop crying. And Scott beside me tries to calm me down, and I could tell he didn't think I should be crying. This of course made me cry even more, and the cycle deepened until I couldn't keep my eyes dry without a constant deliberate effort. Every now and then the too-fresh memory would creep back in, and I'd feel a twinge and let a tear slip, trying my best to keep it secret. Then the fact that I had to try and pretend like I wasn't still upset made me feel worse. The only thing that got me out of the rut was weed and a show by taylor cochrane.
I cry alot, more than I should, and I'm aware of it. I've been getting better, but every now and then, especially in such extraneous situations, I can't hold it in any longer. And the best thing for me is to get it out, and then on my own time I will breathe myself back to normalcy. But I guess I get self conscious in such a fragile state, that I can't handle anyone's disapproval. It just rips another wound for me to bleed from.


ill elaborate when im not dead tired

he said we are all vessels but I am like an urn.
holding ashes I've collected every time I've been burnt.
I'm full and I'm heavy with these cindered reminders
unable to empty out and start over.