iPhone

I got an iPhone,
And with it, an app for blogger.

This should be interesting.

fuck, idk

"draining from the town
like an old ceramic tub about to break.
so long, homeward bound -
and i'm trying to ignore,
but i've felt this way before,
and i can't help but embrace the summer's ache.

farewell, temporary being.
goodbye, place i almost knew.
so long everyone i've grown so used to seeing,
we'll return when months have passed with something new.

leaking from your pores
is the sweat of moving all the life you own.
craving what's in store
to help you justify the faces
held in all the empty spaces,
just projections of a time you may have known.

farewell, temporary being.
goodbye, place i almost knew.
so long everyone i've grown so used to seeing,
we'll return when months have passed with something new."

enjoy my sentimental university garbage?
holy jesus.

things i want to do this summer:

- not miss any days at work unless i really am too sick to go
last year i think i took two days off just because i was tired, and i hated myself for it all day. didn't even get out of bed because i felt so guilty and shitty about it. so this time, fuck that. i am going to work every fucking day unless i get tonsillitis again or something worse.

- walk the dog every day, jog with the dog at least three times a week
i'm going to have to go easy on myself at first with this one, partially because i'm out of shape and won't be able to job three times a week when i first start out, but also because i'm the only one who trains the dog at all and it's now been eight months since i was last with her, so she's going to be right back to her usual idiot self. i can't jog with her unless she's at least somewhat responsive, which will probably take some time anyway, because she'll get too riled and bite shit. mainly people.

- go tanning
last year even though i worked in an office all summer, i still got sunburnt. granted, twice it was because of beach volleyball tournaments i was in, but a few other times it was just from eating my hour-long lunch outside, which is just ridiculous. i'd like to be able to go and lie in a bed for maybe 8 minutes at a time once a week or something just to get enough of a base colour down that i don't burn just from like EXISTING simultaneously with the sun. jesus.

- maintain (within reason) a decent brazilian wax down below
self explanatory, thaaank you.

- cook dinner every night
this is an ambitious one, i know. especially because i'm working longer hours this year and last year there were some nights when i came home really drained. but my dad works even longer hours still and it'll be good practice for next year with the boys. i'm already a good cook with things i know how to make and i'm certainly better at teaching myself than anyone else has been, so doing that every night before my dad gets home to bug me will be nice for the both of us, especially if it helps his mood.

- get to a beach at least once
and beach volleyball doesn't count for this because i want to go on like a typical like teenage road trip or something, ahaha idk. c'maaan.

- look into weight-gain diets/regimes
ugh.

- camp in tobermory again

- go to canada's wonderland

... okay so clearly i got lazy with this but i'll expand on shit and add other things later because i can't be bothered right now.

~*~LaZy~*~

barclay

remember when
if you saw me alone
you'd come up to talk to me?

every so often,
i catch myself wondering
why that stopped after i let you into my bed.

oh,
i remind myself.
that's why.

ldkjhgjfhgsc

"i am nothing to recall;
no striking features after all.

my standard issue face will fade as you go,
and you can tut and shake your head but i already know.

and why should i
try to deny
the shaking in my hand?

when you provide
a brighter side
i've yet to understand.

dimmer, darker grows your light;
distance blurs what should be bright.

our time in this place will fade as you go,
and you could fight to stay instead but i already know.

you're on to bigger, better ways to be.
you're so beyond with place with me.
though you provide for what i lack,
i've naught to give but hold you back.

it's time for you go.
and you can tut and shake your head, but i already know.

i already know."

the nest at the core

i changed my url back to spiderfruits.
i feel like that's where this blog belongs,
if that makes any sense.

i changed it to avoid certain people,
but i've realized as of late that i don't particularly give a fuck about people anyway, so here we are.

and if you're reading this:
four months and a birthday marking two decades of existence is enough.
a passive aggressive card and a text from your husband is not.
i am done with you.

read on.

family, friends, fuck it

everyone i know is either having breakdowns of their own
or contributing to mine.

can i go live on a fucking mountain somewhere?

fuck's sake.

the end.

it sounds really bad to say that i get sick of people,
so i'll try to find another way to phrase it.

the only person i am able to spend extended periods of time with without losing my fucking mind is me. and even that is sometimes a stretch. and it's difficult because i have yet to find a person who reacts well to this confession when i'm honest with them.
why do people assume that just because i don't want to be with them every second of the day, i don't like them?

i was explaining to a friend:
i look at every social interaction as the expenditure of energy.
it takes a lot of energy to love or hate someone, which is why i very rarely bother with like or dislike. you are either on my good side or on my bad side or you are nothing. and i tend to spend as little energy as possible on the hate side of things because it's infinitely more expensive and the profit is considerably less.
therefore: as long as i don't NOTHING you, consider yourself fuckin' peachy.

and i tend to think of myself as a fairly straightforward person,
in that most people tend to figure out where they stand with me with very little trouble.

SO,
if everyone could please go the fuck away for the next little bit,
without taking it to heart, because i don't have the time or energy to spend on consolation either,
it would be much appreciated.

if i want to be social,
i will be.

fuck if i know

"i am not known to be kind;
oft remembered, but for words spoken in haste.
oh, but to leave this life behind,
reinvented in a light less cheap, less chaste.

have we begun?
oh, have we begun?

i am a a messy martyr strewn,
in the definition seeking pity most.
oh, just to start this living soon;
selfish goals with which my mind has been engrossed.

have we begun?
oh, have we begun?"

permission

how bad is it
that after watching 50/50
i kind of wish i could go to the doctor
and have them find something
actually wrong with me
instead of the usual
"sick with sadness"
crap.

at least if i were dying of cancer,
i could let these things end without hurting anybody
on purpose, anyway.

you're allowed to die young
when it's not your fault.

again

"there is a pill i'm supposed to take
to keep me from choices i am not to make
again, again, again.

there is a woman i was sent to see
if not for a file, she would never send for me
again, again, again.

and i am meant to feel significant;
what a joke,
that i will ever feel significant
again, again, again.

it's the kind of feeling that you learn to just ignore
that sinking nothing eating at your core
again, again, again.

no matter how hard you press, you just can't cut that deep
and i can make a mess but these marks will never keep
again, again, again.

and i am meant to feel significant;
what a joke,
that i will ever feel significant.
i could choke
and this whole thing could be an accident
again, again, again.
let's just pretend,
again, again.

there is a pill i'm supposed to take
to save me in case i feel that i'm about to break
again, again, again.

there is a woman i was sent to see
and many others, who have all forgotten me
again, again, again.

and i am meant to feel significant.
i am meant to feel significant.
i am meant to feel significant.
i am meant to feel significant."

i have not been taking my medication

for a very long time.

10

i know the mess on my bedroom floor is temporary,
but it doesn't make me feel any better.

everything about me in this place is going to go away,
and no amount of vandalism
("slh, vp 2011 - 2012"
written in shitty sharpie
on the crease of a doorway)
is going to stop that from eventually happening.

it won't even be eventual.

ten years from now,
i wonder who will remember
how i always braid the same piece of hair
under my left ear, or
who will recall
what toppings i like on my pizza, or
who might remember
the sound of my laughter, the voices i make
when i'm trying to share that laughter,
the humor i cling to
because it's all
i can give.

i wonder who will think about me at all,
ten years from now.

who will remember me as i am at this moment?
will any of my friends?

will i?

4:45 and i'm finally burning out

i am a 114lb blonde girl
with blue eyes and straight teeth
and lips that i stain and brows that i pluck
and fair skin with light freckling.

i am told that i'm funny and i believe it
and i'm brutally honest most of the time
but i promise it's only out of passion
and the belief that it is the best policy.

i am outgoing, if not a little bit abrasive
and i mostly try to keep my problems to myself
unless i am tired or somebody asks to hear a joke
so that they can feel better.

i suppose my voice is a little bit deep
and i swear and yell quite often as well
but other than that i do try my best
to be dainty and girly and nice.

(but my best is not enough.)

and this is the part where i want to ask you
if you hated me the moment you read the first paragraph
because i don't mind admitting that i sound like the blandest little
high school prep girl that everybody loves to hate.

i sound like the dumbest little empty person
and the snarkiest description of a "perfect" girl
according to everything i fucking read online
but i want you to know that i'm not.

i promise.

i suck.

i am still sad and lonely most of the time
because no matter what you do in the world
your positive traits can still make people hate you
sometimes even more than your negative traits.

there is no point in trying to be skinny everyone
no point in trying to be pretty and well-dressed
and most of all there is no point in trying to be blonde
because the root situation is an absolute mess

and you can strive all you want for that magazine body
that magazine lifestyle and that magazine personality
but the real you always seems to shine through
and man, is it something to hate.