rude awakenings

the problems stick and crack on your hands like dried paint. the endless sufferance at the hand of your fingers does nothing to tear them away. look; plain hands are nothing worth mentioning. but the miniature masterpeices on the palms of your hands make it everything. embrace it. [oh i wish i lacked not the power to heed my own words.]

Yes, I'm lonely, want to die. If I ain't dead already, boy, you know the reason why.

will you still need me when i'm 64? I need you. No. I want you. Words are words, so easily misunderstood and misused. Words make or break us, make us who we are by our abilities to string them together in eloquent phrases or juvenile crap. I'm always looking over my shoulder; afraid of the past, and scared the future will pass me by. the ever changing present is but a fleeting breath swiftly expired to the sands of time engulfed in foggy imperfect memories. I Dream dreams that empeach upon reality leaving me no safe haven, filling me with images of feasting on rotten and insestuous flesh, fallen from favour in the midst of my highest excitement.

I'm running on caffeine and the hope that things will change.

staring at my reflection in the empty computer screen wonder where he's gonna go, wonder where he's been wonder where our love will take us wonder if our love can take us wonder if my mind wont fall apart

And I mean..I fucking love you. And I promise you it's gonna be okay. It always has and always will. Your heart is so warm and love so pure . There's so many perceptions of so many people Each with a different view, a different insight. I don't know if I can listen to anyone anymore. No one knows the raw core emotions that i keep well-guarded And I don't want anyone to know. I'm beginning to hate myself, hate the monster I feel growing. Please...someone make me believe I'm not damned for all time? Good-bye yellow brick road.

Each. And. Every. Time. An endless descent. It will one day pull me into madness. No. Doubt.

Today i was given a rose it seemed a fair exchange. One stranger's caring for another's neglect. a reminder not to get too hung up in one person's life to look around, amidst the disapointments and see humanity still flourishes. ♥♥♥

I always write to help my worried mind, always let out all my bad feelings through words, so when i go back to read my old rambles, it always brings me down. from now on i;m gonna write down something every day, some little tidbit i picked up, some things i did, anything. it will help me remember the good carefree times. I'm excited.

I have troubles accepting things as they are. I'm always trying to place events and feelings into strict categories, where if it's not one it's the other, but it's never like that. I can't accept the beauty of imperfection, though that's what life is all about. I'm always looking for justification and for deeper meaning when maybe there's only face value, or things aren't meant to fit perfectly. This problem arises in the endless search for "the one". All of my close friends, and myself, search for something permanent and meaningful, someone perfect to spend eternity with. Who knows what's out there, maybe there isn't that "perfect" soulmate, there will always be differences, but the way we cope with the differences between us is what makes us able to love and be loved, open ourselves up and be vulnurable to someone. Vulnurable..Such a scary thought yet a completely liberating one. I have problems letting go. Be it emotion...

There is no such thing as love.Love is a cullmination of different emotions, be it happiness, attachment, pain, bliss, belonging, and so on. For each person the ratios of dominant emotions are different, because we all seek out something different, we all search for love for different reasons. The problem is we've given this mass of emotions one generic name, and people start to assume there's only one meaning to it.Me personally it has upset me, thinking if I don't feel the same as someone else, does this mean I'm not in love? I could never explain this "love", I could never analyze and condense the feelings. Love is an ever-changing sentiment, bending to fit events and people's dynamic personas. Somedays you feel a strong feeling of attachment and euphoria towards someone, sometimes it's "a cold and broken hallelujah". But no matter the feelings, the fact remains you feel something for that special someone. And that is what I've come to...

...stuff it up the whole inside your culture Crying those tears of fear I hadn't cried years. No matter what you do no one can comfort me like you. I want to feel you close. Always. "maybe we'll get another book..?" "I'd really like that." sometimes I need to see the words out on paper and send them to you with my eyes closed and pretend you'll never read them but wishing and hoping you will.

"you know the feeling of taking a crap? Imagine that, but reversed ." Oh Kaeleigh how your analogies are devastatingly true.

It don't really matter to me , baby you believe what you want to believe. Because it really doesn't matter. This is just an endless circle of disapproval and victimization. We're all humans, do you realize? All perfectly capable of mistakes, all perfectly succeptable to ill-fate. Maybe you truly don't see it or maybe you just shove it away. There's a great allure in demeaning others to draw the spotlight away from you. This is merely an assumption, not an assertion. To each his own I cannot claim to know anything. No one can. No one, and God forbid, that means you too.

Oh how I miss you. Oh how the days seem to stretch past their normal lengths when my heart beats alone. This could have two outcomes, both polar opposites. This could make or break me. Though I'm not alone in having a companion, I'm alone in that mine is not constant. All the time, everyone everywhere together, happier than ever - then me. The days drone on in a lonely stupor but I've become accustomed to it. Perhaps if other's were placed in my situation they would not cope as easily or perhaps they could, and it never was as bad as I'd thought. Who Knows.

The fact of being loved was difficult: almost intolerable. Being loved was letting others feed from your resources- all you had of life was put in jeopardy. Maybe you had to give yourself away. If I had a nickle for everytime someone expressed confusion at my relationship with him. A goth and a hippy? Basic principles were being challenged here. But what no one saw was the uncanny similarities. Sure we were on opposite sides of the stylistic spectrum, but we both had a mutual dismay at being stuck in the senseless middle. We both lived in excess, me in color him in black. I've learnt countless things I would never had even fathomed, on his behalf, and I am confident it is true both ways. It is a sacred consumation, when two worlds can be stitched together on the mutual attraction of mystery. When two bipolar worlds join, a new, more complete one is born, and this is known as paradise. And I can see paradise by the dashboard light.

i am hopelessly unoriginal maybe i value other's work more highly than my own maybe i'm lazy maybe maybe maybe

These bipolar sentiments miles between the edges. I try to stay here forever but my heart beat keeps moving up and down, tiny fluctuations. It knows more than I ever will

i cannot wait for the sun to stop taunting us with her cold white light

---------------------------------------------------- I have an assertion that nothing is true. would that make me a hypocrite? can that even make sense? ---------------------------------------------------- You claim Idon't care about you. It wouldn't stretch the truth to say you're right. Only because everyone is so complex. It is terribly hard to keep tabs on everyone yet I try to, as much as possible. But there is something particularily vexing about your situation.

just leave me alone this mornin' i am at a loss for words, to put it lightly. you just cant force it, yet thats what i continue to do.