i don't know why i thought i could help this family.

i'm not anybody worth listening to,
and convincing myself otherwise
has absolutely not been worth it.

fuck it.

i'm lost

i remember when people used to like me,
people used to think i was a nice person.

people used to see me in the street and wave,
used to see me and know that they could say hello.

what happened?

when did i become the kind of person
who can't hold a gaze?

why do my eyes, unbidden,
search for earth when someone smiles?
(when i used to smile back?)

now there are people who don't like me,
and people who believe that i don't like them,
and i pretend i don't care because

i don't know the steps i took to get here,
and i don't know the steps to take
to get back.

memoirs of a shitty person

i love/hate perfect families.

i always try to remind myself that everyone's experience is different,
but i can't help but laugh when someone says their family is encountering a "problem" and it's like, their parents argued one night and their dad slept on the couch for a day or like their siblings are better/worse than them or like whatever i just don't care, it's like -

christmas season rolls around and honestly
the details aren't worth shit, but suffice it to say that holy god damn,
do i get bitter towards families that are closer to whole.

(which is near fucking everyone.)

like just,
fuck you and your "struggles" that amount to a good fucking day on my end.
and i try to remind myself, i try to say, you know:

everyone is different,
a problem is a problem.

but it's fucking hard sometimes.

and the thing is,
i don't want these other families to stop being wholer than mine,
i know i don't.

and this is where it comes back around,
back around to the same place it always ends up in,
which is me hating myself.

because i can't even be happy for other people,
and fuck if that isn't just the shittiest thing.

in the 500s

• you are the kindest of the kindling i have ever lit ablaze
• your light near blinds me; your warmth near burns me, and oh -
  i just wish that it would.
• sparks rising to the sky, and i call: please,
  take me with you. take me with you.
• you will burn yourself to ash trying to warm my heart
• a six-foot-tall bonfire on an empty beach at night:
  and a list of other things i've never had

idk man, been watching that "christmas fireplace" channel or whatever all day while my dad and i cleaned and shit. fires are stuck in my head i guess.

goodnight.

ebb

no matter how gently i press my fingers, matchsticks, into your skin -
the scars, too rough, ignite and i

i watch you burn, near blinded by the light but unable
to look away from another beautiful thing that i have turned to ash.

everything i touch goes up in flames, and you're the worst of it because you,
you come back, burnt and broken, every time, asking me

"again, again, again."

the scars, too rough, ignite and i

i build you into a bonfire over and over
and i feel you burning deep inside my bones.

petty isn't pretty

maybe it's immature of me to be crying in my room and blogging about it, but:

today a friend told me i might be able to come with her and her family on a cruise near my birthday. it's a long story and it's not mine to tell but they ended up with an extra ticket for a family cruise they've had booked for a while now and my friend and i had talked about asking if maybe i could take it (paying for my own flight and whatnot) and then she told me that when she went to bring it up to her parents they actually brought it up before she even could and i just -

i have been so lucky with my friends in that i've not only gained them as important people in my life, but their families too, who seem to find some hidden value in me that i'd forgotten was there.

and it's the strangest mix of gratitude and jealousy when i realize that i feel more love and comfort from the families of others than myown, because i'm not sure when but somewhere along the way i stopped being something good anymore when i'm at "home". and i don't really understand it but it hurts.

i knew coming home for the holidays was going to be bad but then i found my little brother's used syringes in the basement and of course it's right back to playing therapist for my dad and i know i'm supposed to be an adult now but i just wish i wasn't old enough that people expected me to be able to handle this because i don't know how to.

i hate being tied to these people.

and i feel like the real reason i always feel like shit when i come home is because i hate myself for feeling like that but i can't fucking stop. i'm so tired of being associated with my useless fucking drug addict of a brother and my tired, angry father who fucking FAVORS my brother and it's like,

i'm going to university. i pay for all my own clothes, my own food. i have a steady job outside of school.

meanwhile, my brother has held down a job for two months now (the longest streak yet), uses all his money to buy drugs while my dad clothes and feeds him, and has yet to gain a single year's worth of high school credits.

and tonight when i mentioned to my dad that i'd been invited to possibly go on the cruise, he just groaned and started telling me how his credit got all fucked up because he was helping my brother pay off around $15,000 or so in drug debt and how he doesn't know how he'd be able to help me at all and how he doesn't really want me to spend my money on it either because he'd rather i save for school and i get that, i do, but my brother doesn't get prompted to save any of his money because he has no future i guess so fuck it, why not spend it all now, right? meanwhile he still borrows money from my dad like it's nothing and my dad gives it to him, knowing it's going to be for booze or alcohol or fast food when we have plenty of decent food at home and

i don't understand why i'm not allowed to have nice things just because my brother is a piece of shit and i hate that i can even think like this but i wish he was dead. i wish my little brother was dead. i'm so tired. i just want relief. i'm tired of the drain.

i feel so fucking petty and this is why i hate coming home because i hate that i should even be crying over a cruise of all things, like i just feel like such a piece of shit but i just thought that maybe for once i could have something nice and i hate that it took someone else's family thinking of me in order for it to even come close to happening.

i remember when, years ago, my dad talked about how we should all get our passports so that we could go on a family vacation down south sometime.

now he talks about how he's living paycheque to paycheque after court fines and drug payments for my brother and i'm trying so fucking hard to get out of this but sometimes it seems so fucking impossible. how am i ever supposed to get into a situation where i can have money and be comfortable and maybe have extra things, nice things, when i have no money to get me there in the first place?

and i understand that i should be more than willing to put my money towards school but i just want to travel and this cruise is the closest thing i can fucking get to it because i'm trapped in school and i'm trapped with this fucking farce of a family because of school because i need help paying for it and i just want to be done and gone so i can leave because i can't handle it. i can't.

running away makes me seem even smaller but i never learned how to not be a bad person, so.

i just hate that while other people associate "coming home" for the holidays with family and relaxation and i associate it with breakdowns and inadequacy and hating myself.

and i hate that i feel like an entitled little brat when i say that i feel like my brother has wasted MY money because it's my father's money and i know that but god fucking damn it if he had just never been born none of this would have happened and my parents would be living comfortably and my dad wouldn't be talking about how if he's lucky he'll only have $20,000 left on his line of credit when he retires in two years,

and while we're at it why don't we just say that i wish i had never been born either because my parents waited way too late and weren't cut out for it which is why i don't have a mother anymore and why i am playing mother to my brother and why i don't even feel like my father's daughter anymore and why i am so filled with hate and sadness because that's what you get when you combine and angry man and a sad woman and create children.

all of this over a cruise and i have never felt like a bigger piece of shit in my life but i just thought that maybe i could have this one thing. just once. and it's stupid because for all i know things might work out for my friend and her family and they might no longer be able to offer me the ticket - which might solve all the problems because then i'd be back to square one where nice things weren't even on the table for me and so i won't have to hate myself for it.

besides, if my "family" can't be whole, at least someone else's should be.

i just hate everything, most of all myself.

happy holidays.

things i want to eventually make youtube videos about maybe:

• people who treat their pets like people
• linguistic (semantic) evolution
• shit you always fuckin' see at the gym
• skin. oh man skin what even
• why i can't watch typical tv shows
  (why i only watch documentaries and cartoons)
• living with boys all the damn time
• when the fuck do you start feeling grown up
• why farts are the funniest thing ever
• my sense of humor
• body hair/hair in general
• suicide

eh, other shit, i don't fucking know, jesus shit i wish i could sleep

goodnight i guess, fuck it

man what the fuck i'm not even in a shitty mood, just a weird one,
and yet everything i write is the most emo shit i have ever pooped out
and just ugh.

kajhsdfjhgdv

how strange it is, that in my head
are all the things i could have said,
were i not filled with hate and dread
and bitter jaded fire.

how heavy now, the words i chose,
left steeping in a false repose
where every broken body stows
the brittlest desire.

how hardened, 'til a heart can't break?
the burden of a stubborn ache -
i'll swear on it, for honor's sake:
we both know i'm a liar.

helium

i feel like
someone somewhere let out a breath of relief;
the exhalation of their anxieties bleeding into me and i,
i am too full of my own gulps for air, my own
gasps for breath,

the instinctual reprieve.

i hate to use the old cliches but,
they are cliches for a reason, and i am

drowning, and i am

ready to sink.

i am buoyed against my will
by breaths that were supposed to be comforting,
that were supposed to feel okay.

i am fit to bursting,
my skin stretched like a sad party decoration left for a week
in the room of a child who doesn't want to forget
the birthday where she finally
got a cake and i -

i don't understand this shape that i have taken.

i am so blown out of proportion.

tealight

the scent of a freshly burnt-out candle,
the scent of going,

of going,

of gone.

flux

we live in the cages we build ourselves.

our whole lives through we strive for
goals set by other people whose names
we do not know.

and if you are lucky then you want it
and if you are unlucky then you pretend to
because luck has nothing to do
with "securing your future."

i am working, barely,
for a piece of paper that tells me
that i am good enough in the eyes of others
to deserve more things i do not want.

i don't understand the definition of desirable.

there are three types of people in the world:
people who know that they are sad,
people who do not know,
and a third type i've
yet to meet.

(but who i hope exists.)

our whole lives through we strive for
relationships whose value is unknown or unnoticed,
because connections are key.

we treat it like a web upon which we weave our own designs,
but our construction relies too heavily on the material weight.

our bars are built in the sadness we choose for ourselves,
our lock and key fabricated from the arbitrary rules we choose to believe in,
despite the inherent longing for beliefs we have schooled ourselves away from
because simplicity lacks strength.

our prisons may be intricate,
but they are prisons nonetheless.

sdfghjkjhgfx

everybody grows up broken, battered and bruised;
if not outright abused, then cut, cross and confused -
all reaching for ideals that don't fit with the model,
and learning early on: the cure comes in a bottle,

and my problem was not knowing what the problem was -
courting chaos 'cause that's what a lack of chemicals does.
took me ages to accept that this was not my fault;
the many stages through which i guess i'm now an adult -

not that i know any more, not that i feel any less -
not that i'm angrier or even more happy at best.
but i've got a prescription, which makes it not an addiction, right?
yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.

take me off the pills - take me off the 8-a-day, straight-away,
chase-with-water, like-you-oughtta-act and i am not okay.
i don't know how to speak without spite, feel like i might
hurt somebody, man, why didn't god make me right?

and i ain't religious, 'cause i always grew up being told
that what you do when you're young is what you are when you're old.
well, i've attempted suicide twice, so that's nice -
guess what i'm gonna get is not dead yet.

what the fuck is the matter with me, why can't i see straight,
why can't i just be someone not filled with hate -
too late to rock myself to sleep and try again tomorrow;
got to borrow some seratonin to help ward off the sorrow.

 jhfghdsgh will continue later or not idgaf

lack

it's hard to talk about;
all the time i've gone without,
claiming i don't need to be another bomb to walk around -
trying to diffuse the tension,
always confused,
not to mention
how the fear of being seen as something weaker-than was stronger than
my own defence and
i don't need attention, 'kay -
get another soul for intervention, 'kay -
'cause i won't be a piece in your possession play,
that's yesterday,
i'm up and gone and walked away -
don't know how to say
it still hurts.

i'm here to listen,
to put in my lines at intermission,
to read back the feedback required in my position.
it's an easier concept
to be on-script,
to sit back, smile, and steer clear of that guilt trip
of not giving a fuck.
i learned the hard way not to -
and now i'm so fucked that i can't when i ought to
sought you out to figure out what this was all about
and caught you, red fuckin' handed,
i can't stand it:
that you can't even handle what your choices got you -
two scared fuckin' kids who grew up and forgot you.
never quite enough though, i do confess,
but i've said enough here, so i digress.

if i could,
i'd tell you how i don't sleep nights,
and my trust is tied tight so i just pick fights,
and pop five pills a day,
'cause i don't work right -
never know what to say
because i speak out of spite,
and i hate not caring, but i don't know how -
HEY MA, i wanna scream, IF YOU COULD SEE ME NOW -
you might love me less if you could -
'cause ain't that the problem, huh - from the 'burbs to the hood,
"mommy didn't love me the way she should,"
i'd rather not whine, 'cause that don't look good,
"i'll be fine," i say instead,
and i walk.

taurine

"runnin' on empty,
ridin' on fumes;
reapin' every rush i can until the brake resumes.

bettin' on losin',
breakin' the rules;
beatin' while the beatin's good without a break for fools."

homogene

"lying on a bed of silk,
whiskey tumbler full of milk,
lying only half-lit, half-awake and full of fame.

have you come to take my photo?
only you and i can know though,
lying still and stony as a statue of my shame."

eye dropsss

i am going to live forever:
because only the good die young.
and i have never been enough
of that.

achez 'n painz

"give me ibuprofen, tylenol;
an advil, please, to slow the fall.
oxycodone, fentanyl,
a bowl of benadryl.

give me codeine, please, or vicodin -
a goddamn fucking aspirin,
i haven't finished hurting yet,
nyquil, percocet."

k DISCLAIMER THO
i am actually fine my head just hurts and my eyes are tired and i've been up for way too long so i thought this was funny i swear to god i am mostly not insane okay? okay.

bahahaha.

a lifetime

some people are just born broken.
there is no fixing them;
there is no restoration.

there is only
learning to be
unbroken at best.

where the worst case scenario
is dying alone and unloved -
and when you are born broken,
you grow accustomed to that anyway.

when you are born broken,
you are alone and unloved
from your first breath to your last.

bolsius

sometimes i light candles and sit in the dark and long for the feeling of the wax on my skin. but we're not allowed to do the things that burn, that hurt. i listen to the same song on repeat and wonder for the life of me why i can't write the way i used to and then i try anyway just to confirm my disappointment. sometimes even when i know what it is that i should be doing and i know how easy it would be to just sit down and fucking do it i still can't start because it's the starting that i find difficult; sometimes i think that if someone could just hand me everything already begun i would do just fine. like how if someone else could have the bravery to just go for him even though i may very well get hurt, maybe i wouldn't get hurt in the end. maybe if i had the courage to just start things i wouldn't have to see them end. but these are all risks i've been programmed to avoid because we're not allowed to do the things that burn, that hurt. sometimes i light candles and sit in the dark and long for the feeling of the wax on my skin.

I know that in truth
I should treasure my youth
but I ain't counting "old" in my fears
boy I ache for the golden years

qualicum, bc

"i inhale the mountain air,
breathing out a salty sea.
i am moving in the pine.
i am fine while i am me.

can you feel it in the morning
when the fog brings in the day?
i will hold this in my heart,
i won't let this fade away.

i am standing by the shore,
running through a field of green.
i am welcome in the wash.
i'm in love with what i've seen.

can you feel it in the evening
when the stars come out to play?
i will hold this in my heart,
i won't let this fade away.

oh, oh, oh -
i am rooted where i grow.
i will ride the winds that blow,
i can feel the river flow.

oh, oh, oh -
i am all i need to know.
i will take this when i go.
i can feel my heart aglow."

frigid bitch

"that girl was born with a heart of ice,
her pulse a glacial pace.
brave if not brutal; cold, concise -
a frost upon her face.

oh, to know
her soul of fire,
her deeply hidden lit desire.

oh, to know
her grave concern -
to brush, but not to burn."

soup

it makes me really sad when people say that their goal in life is to go everywhere and see everything because it's impossible and what's the point in setting goals for yourself if there's no chance that you'll ever reach them?

this is why i have no life goals.

what even

how weird is it that i can write fuckin' anything here just on a whim, like nothing even important at all and it will just exist forever somewhere in the space-time continuum in the magical web plane. like i can actually just say nothing about anything at all and it will just float around on the internet forever and ever and even if nobody ever actually looks at it it will still exist and it will never go away.

orangeville

i grew up on 54 pheasant court.

the house was brand new when we moved there
(which i don't remember),

so when my dad moved to an older townhouse after the divorce,
i didn't understand why you had to put the protective stickies
down in the cabinets.

we had a beehive in the backyard
that my dad refused to deal with because it would have meant
tearing up a part of the deck he spent all summer building one year.
my brother got stung the spring before we left.

coyotes stole my neighbor's cat
and all the kids walked in circles one night
in the field beside her house
and we sang.

most nights,
i could hear the train pass by,
but i only ever saw the tracks.

seeing is believing,
but i don't believe a thing.

classics

i'm supposed to be writing a short essay on the ancient ruins of teotihuacan,
but mostly i just want to know where the dents in this table came from.

is that crayon?
is that. oh.

what.

i don't care about anything.

purple hair

real life is nothing like the movies in which being different is what gets you loved;
and it's not to say that real life is harsh or cruel, because really it's mostly just soft and quiet in the moments it reminds you you're alone.

i have an image in my head:
of a boy and a girl and a shoddy little apartment and a feeling that is suddenly, violently overwhelming - and it's not even the kind of abrupt fear that causes anger and screaming, just the kind that makes it so you can't see straight when you tell someone to leave,
the kind that makes it so you can't remember whose video games are whose when you're trying to toss their shit into a black plastic bag,
the kind that makes you think you can convince yourself you don't love them anymore
if you can only convince them first.

in my head,
the boy is kicking the girl out because he's afraid and the girl doesn't cry like they do in the movies,
she just nods slowly and doesn't bother to take the plastic bag when the boy thrusts it out at her.
the boy is breathing hard and the girl closes the door quietly behind her.

what if it only took five minutes before he realized he was wrong?
wouldn't that be nice?

and he scrambles for his keys and rushes out into the hall and then he's falling;
tripping over the limbs of the girl who is splayed out on the musty old carpet in the hallway like a star and laughing only a little bit when the boy's wide eyes fall to her in inquiry.

"you drove me here," she might say, and he'll nod and feel a little silly and then lean in and kiss her on the floor and there won't be a big redemption speech because real life is much simpler and more complicated than the movies and maybe actions speak louder than words but
mostly i think that in real life the quiet is just more effective.

later the boy will realize he scraped his knee when he fell and he'll shrug and dig for polysporin in the bathroom drawer while the girl leans on the doorjamb, says,

"sorry."

and he'll look up, stricken, and say,

"no."

i have an image in my head:
things i want but refuse to allow myself because i am so fucking painfully afraid.

but in real life maybe lying prostrate on the floor outside the apartment of someone who's trying to cut your out of their life is not a good way to go about being loved.

in the quiet moments,
you realize you're alone.

in my head,
that girl is never me.

rules of engagement

you can fuck me if that's what you want,
i really don't mind.
but a more apathetic bed partner
you're hard-pressed to find.

but before we begin,
my conditions are this:
you can use me and bruise me,
but keep every kiss

away from me -

you can fuck me if that's what you want,
i really don't care.
my body's the one part of me
that i know how to share.

just don't get attached
to the feeling, the motion,
i don't want your devotion,
please keep your emotion

away from me -

you can fuck me if that's what you want,
but we're not making love.

mark mccumber

"the great pride of me
is what you can see
on the outside

struggle and stress
and suffer for less
on the inside

obsession for naught
when really i ought
never to hide

imperfection pains
and vanity stains
modesty, tried."

aljhsfkjvsdb

"could i be less loveable?
what if i shaved my head?
eliminate the consolation
of bodies in my bed.

could i be less loveable?
what if i cut the skin?
leaking more crazy out,
letting less people in.

i'm happy to be here,
but sometimes i think
that i'm good where i'm at
but i'm hovering by the brink.

why am i alone?"

trigger warning

today feels like a danger day,

luckily the library smells like vanillin.

i am almost alone.

dog bite

last night i went to a show where
the music rattled my bones and made me cry before i could figure out why
and i couldn't not move and i walked away wanting to kiss
everybody.

to be fair,
the only person i kissed was the lead singer,
and we might not remember each other in a week or so but

i'll remember that i described to him my bedroom
(candles, canopy, mural, floral patterns and organized chaos)
as the closest thing to perfect i had yet to experience,
and he told me it sounded lovely and that he'd like to see it.

he asked me to kiss him
and i told him he had to kiss me first
and  it was cold out but i couldn't really feel it anymore
and he asked if he could see my bed.

i told him yes,
but he didn't have shoes on
and when he went inside to get them,

i fled.

antiquarian

you aren't welcome in my bed
if you can't penetrate my head;
my heart, it's sound asleep.

you'll never see me bold and bare,
if you can't catch when i'm not there.
my skin runs miles deep.

on lucky nights i sometimes fall
to restless slumber, if at all.

my muscles quiver, my bones quake;
i feel the ticking, tired ache -

you will leave
if i let you witness how i wake.

salad

loving hearts are those that bleed,
'cause love ain't always what you need.
i hate to say, but hate is real,
and hate can reach where love don't feel.

"i do."

he was born angry and she was raised mad,

and they fell in so hard, in so fast.

and isn't it shameful, now isn't it sad?

two lovers too hateful never could last.

if i had succeeded

if i had succeeded,
i wouldn't be here right now.
working a minimum wage office job,
9 - 5 every summer.

if i had succeeded,
i wouldn't have given up acting.
i wouldn't have given up volleyball, soccer, rugby.
i wouldn't have changed.

if i had succeeded,
maybe things wouldn't have gotten so bad,
and my mother would still love me.
maybe. maybe. maybe.

if i had succeeded,
i wouldn't have lost old friends.
but if i had succeeded,
i wouldn't have gained new ones.


if i had succeeded,
i wouldn't have gone blonde.
i wouldn't have gotten my tattoos.
i wouldn't ever have liked myself.


if i had succeeded,
i wouldn't have finished high school.
i wouldn't have been elected valedictorian,
i wouldn't have given that speech.

if i had succeeded,
i never would have gone to university.
i never would have seen the atlantic.
i never would have missed the cold.

if i had succeeded,
i wouldn't have lost old friends,
because if i had succeeded,
they would have lost me.

why some children stop loving when they become adults

there is no such thing as "mothers" in my home.
none of us are born; we just begin to be,
raised by fathers who are still just children themselves.

there is no such thing as "mothers" here,
only sons and daughters and brothers and sisters
and siblings and fathers and the ghost of a husband.

there is no such thing as "mothers",
only questions left unanswered and roles left unfulfilled
and the quiet voice that tells you it will always end like this -

self preservation:
"never again."

the novelist

maybe:
if i could write the right words,
if i could read the right lines,
if i could feel the right way,
i could stop.

alas,
i cannot.

i can't wait to get my hair done tomorrow,
and then next week i'm getting my nails done with a girl from my work,
and then things will be better.

i want this boy to stop texting me.
bitch i leave in two weeks, i don't have time to listen to you trying to kiss my ass because you fucked up while drunk.
trust me - i care a lot less about your mistakes
than you do.

(i ain't even mad bro.)

i keep having dreams where it's been three weeks into school and i haven't been to a single class.
i always wake up in a cold sweat.

motivation.

when school starts i'd like to

• establish a workout routine
• plan good meals
• arrange my room to my liking
• attend all my classes
• be diligent with reading, studying, and working
• buy nice wines to treat myself on nights in
• become really good friends with myself

i think that last one has a lot more involved;

i'd like to be quieter, i think. i'd like to regain some of the intellect i think i've maybe lost in the process of focusing so heavily on being out there and involved.

really, i wish i was mysterious.

i think maybe if i manage to keep things running okay with school this year i might audition for a play.

it might be nice just playing a chorus role or something if i can get it,

just doing something to feel like i'm not just scraping along.

then again, that seems sort of contradictory.

we'll see.

mostly i think i just want to start feeling like other people think i'm as "grown up" as i feel, which in and of itself is a completely adolescent thought process, ahaha.

i'd also like a taste of not scaring people off, for once.

one of my best friends told me that when she first met me she thought i was absolutely crazy.

i'd like to change that first impression.

two weeks.

two weeks.

two weeks.

you ruined them for me

"peonies were my favourite flower,
antlers were my favourite bone.
you once said i had the power,
push and pull and grow my own."

sometimes my father talks about dying and it scares me so much that i laugh

"there's a stretch on the highway
from your house to mine
my father and i pass each week.

there's a billboard above
and a graveyard below
and my father and i barely speak.

when we pass he says,
'everyone dies.
when i go, i am going for good.
i won't be there to feed you,
to love you, to lead you.
you should know, i did what i could.'"

dreamlog, blurry

last night i dreamt
of a fist tied closed with string
as the centre of a universe.
i watched it revolve,
cut off at the wrist,
and wished that, for once,
someone would ask me why.

needles

every once in a while, a strange thing happens to me
where the roof of my mouth gets heavy and my skull gets thick and tries to follow it down to sleep on the bed of my tongue.
and the skin on my fingers grows sharp around the edges where the digits sometimes fold into one another. i can feel the flesh react to each push on the keyboard; i can feel each corner even when i do not look.
i can't get enough air and i feel like it will never end and i am filled with the worst sense of panic and dread i can imagine and i don't know what brought it on or how to make it go away.
the thing is, i've had panic attacks before and they are not usually like this,
whatever this is.

this is the first time this has happened to me at work and i don't know what to do.

sam reflects:

i hear about a lot of people who look back on their ex boyfriends or girlfriends and think
"damn it, why did they become so attractive after we broke up?" etc.

but for me it's the EXACT opposite, like

man i cannot believe i ever had any interest in you at all oh god look at your face how did i find that redeeming because your shitty personality on top of that actually makes me want to vomit oh god look at your life you are going nowhere oh man what the fuck would my life even be like if i was still with you jesus you are so gross and unaccomplished and your whole life is just nothing oh my fuck why

...

i'm rude but mostly idgaf.

allbodies

bitter mouths clash together
when words are not enough,
and the heads attached will realize
that their hearts are just not in it.
you and i are different people,
both made up for different times,
and trapped in the constant
not-quite-rightness of this place.
people who are truly lonely are most so
when they reach for one another.
you will learn, as i have learned,
that our arms are made to hold ourselves alone.

indelicate

"if you don't mind the shaking,
i don't mind the heat.
and all of this is making
out to be

a most ideal compromise;
your hand between my nervous thighs
and my hands carving
out a plea.

i would love you back if i could.
i would love you back if i could.
i would love you back if i could.
i would love you back if i could.

if you can stand the silence,
i can bear the burn.
and we can turn the violence
into good.

two broken halves don't make a whole,
but lies can help maintain control
when i can't love you
like i should.

i would love you back if i could.
i would love you back if i could.
i would love you back if i could.
i would love you back if i could."

at the hazard of hatred, anger and scorn:

i wish you had never been born.

i need it

i don't believe in passing the blame,
which i think is why i'm having such a hard time feeling like i don't understand what i did to deserve this.

i just never want to be tied to people like this ever again.

i want him dead.
i want him dead.
i want him dead.

i'm just tired.
i want it to be over.

i never want a family again.

and i feel like a child when i say it,
but i shouldn't have to feel like that.

what did i do to deserve this?

i feel so petty.
i feel so small.

ice age

i have a date next week and to be perfectly honest i feel really awful about it.

the thing is
he's nice, he's funny, he's a gentleman, he's independent, intelligent, EMPLOYED for god's sake, and he's actively pursued me enough to convince me that maybe he actually fucking knows what he wants.
and he knows i'm going away at the end of the summer and still wants to give it a go, so idk.

and it's weird,
but i'm actually in a place right now
where i want to be alone.

i'm just really enjoying working and exercising and cooking and training my dog and skyping with friends and getting enough sleep (most of the time) and getting tattoos i've wanted for ages and shopping for clothes that are unique but still practical and just becoming more "me", if that makes sense.

god, what a white-girl-problem post this is turning out to be, bahaha.

idk, i just feel like i keep doing this to myself, where whenever i find the right guy it's not at the right time or i'm not in the right place and then when i finally am i'm of course with the wrong guy. like it just seems like that can't be coincidence. i'm starting to wonder if i'm subconsciously sabotaging myself again.

i think the thing about borderline personality disorder is that i pretty much CONSTANTLY convince myself that i don't want to invest in potentially positive opportunities because i'm afraid that if they go awry then i'll have nobody to blame but myself.
like, at least if he's a shitwad i can be angry at him when it falls to bits instead of being angry at myself.

blehhh, fuck if i know man.

we're gonna go see the amazing spiderman (which i really wanna see) and some ice age sequel (which he's seen and says is really good because apparently he's like 12 ahahaha) at the drive-in.

should be alright. meh.

6546512165

"every mistake
leaves you feeling deterred,
and you know i know.

and the earth will shake
with the force of my words:
'i told you so.'"

atlantic bath

"summer's almost over
and i haven't been beyond the city streets.
hiding in the light
beneath the lamp posts where the shady people meet.

who am i but one more busy city ghost?
who am i?

trading daylight in for dollars,
getting home and crawling into bed.
say good morning, rinse, repeat,
ignoring all that's restless in my head.

who am i when i am craving for the coast?
who am i?

can't i go where i can smell the pine?
i need off the pavement path,
concrete eating at my bones,
give me one atlantic bath.

i need ocean on my skin,
too much smoke has worn me thin.
i can't bear the city's wrath,
give me one atlantic bath."

itching, peeling

"it's not about being sad,
it's about being tired.
and it isn't so bad
when the pills have you wired

to be not what you are.
oh it isn't so deep.
we're never that far
from just falling asleep."

graduation

for a small moment,
when he said it,
i hoped.

i believed that maybe, just maybe.

and then he told me what i should have known before.

congratulations,
coke class of 2012.

have fun
at heroin.

i sent this to a stranger on the internet after she posted on her blog saying she wanted to kill herself because of her weight

"for years i have waited and waited and waited because i was told that with age i would eventually get some goddamn curves. i am honest to god built like a needle and i've spent my entire life on protein shakes and prescribed laziness in an attempt to attain some of the womanly curves i was told puberty would eventually give me. i am 20 years old now. the curves are not coming. i will always be built like a 10 year old boy and there is nothing i can do about it.

it's not attractive. boys don't like my body. it has nothing to offer them. and sometimes that really hurts. i've never had a boyfriend that stayed with me for more than a month. constantly, i see people look at me and i know what they think: she doesn't eat. she's anorexic. what a poor, sad creature. and for a long time i agreed with them about that last bit. i cut. i overdosed. i stopped eating because fuck it, if that's what everyone thought, why not just wither away.

but the fact of the matter is that there is very little i can do to change the body i was given. i will do everything i can. i always will, because i want to change even if it's not likely. the more important realization is that there is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING i can do to change OTHER people's opinions of my body. nothing at all. and facing that inevitability has been excruciatingly difficult at times, but it's also given me strength.

because ANYONE who looks at WHAT i am and turns away without even glancing at WHO i am is not worth my time, my effort, my energy. not worth my pain, my frustration, my tears. fuck them. i have no reason to be angry at myself when there are people like that in the world and the same goes for you. you are allowed to dislike your body and i commend you for doing anything you can to change it so you don't have to not like it anymore, but nobody else has the right to make you feel the need to.

anyone who looks at your thighs and turns the other way doesn't deserve you. anyone who thinks they're better than you just because they look different is absolutely delusional. all they are is DIFFERENT. everyone is DIFFERENT. and to be honest i don't think there are a lot of people out there who don't wish that they could change, and that sucks. but don't ever let yourself feel like what you are on the outside dictates who you are on the inside. don't ever let that define you.

you're so much more than your body, and anyone who refuses to see that does not deserve you. ever. "just a vessel," to quote our lovely sherlock holmes. and once more, just for kicks: anyone who doesn't give you a chance to be loved because of how you look is simply seeing without observing. because anyone who takes the time to really, REALLY look will know to their core that you are worth being loved."

paul said

"wake up alone,
brush your teeth,
skip the coffee
'til you reach the office.

work all day,
drive home,
eat your dinner,
go to bed alone.

wake up alone,
grab some toast,
walk to school,
try to pay attention.

fall asleep
anyway,
watch tv,
go to bed alone.

paul said,
'look at all the lonely people'

there are so many of us,
there are so many of us,
there are so many of us
in the world."

$40

people are buying cigarettes for children
on days when the air is already too stifling
without the added push of their smoke.

if i could,
i think i'd set one alight just so watch it burn out;
just to watch it fade, crumble, fall.

ashes to ashes,
dust to dust.

fuck if i know mang i'm just shittin' this out at work, fuck

"your callused fingers on my skin;
they're pushing down, they're pressing in.
you move so gently i could cry,
and i don't know why.

your thirsty kisses burn me deep,
their heat still lingers while you sleep.
i'm stifled by your quiet sigh,
and i don't know why."

what love is

"two dumb bodies, meat and bone
and cautious eyes blown wide.
too brittle to be left alone,
too bleak to know to hide."

lost in london

"you taught me this city
from the map in your mind,
and you shared all the secrets
no one else could ever find.

i could never have told you,
i would never have known
how i'd struggle for sense
when you left me alone.

i'm not like you,
i don't understand.
you knew this place like the back of your hand.

but i'm not like you,
i'm only a man,
and i don't even know where i am."

i'm having SO MANY SHERLOCK FEELS AND I DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND WHY.

also, this came out super nickelback-y, bahahaha.
what is my life.

father's day

i know i'm only 20 years old and that means that anything i say is just chalked up to youthful naivete, but sometimes i genuinely wonder if i might die alone.

i'm not saying it because there's a boy who doesn't like me back or because my friends are all going on dates or because i'm having a lonely day. none of these things are happening.

to be clear, nothing is happening at all.

and to be honest i can't imagine it being any different.

sometimes i get to thinking and sometimes it happens right after father's day when i look at my 60-some-odd father, who has been divorced twice and who has accepted the fact that he will not find romantic attachment again before he dies. and just so you know, he's not sad about it. he's one of the freest people i know.

but i look at him and how similar we are and i look at myself and how easily i can picture myself alone years in the future and how jarring it is to remind myself that someone else might be there too.

mostly i just look at myself and wonder how i feel about it because i feel like i should probably be scared but i don't think i am and then i start to wonder what it says about a person who realizes they can't picture themselves as anything but alone and who is probably okay with it (i think).

maybe i am having a lonely day.

i hope if you're reading this you don't write this off as teenage angst or something - because i always though that once i was no longer a teenager people wouldn't use that excuse to write off my feelings anymore, but i was wrong - but if you do, please keep it to yourself.

i don't really think i'm sad about this whole thing. i don't know.

i'm just thinking.

i can't FUCKIGN SLEEEEPPPPSJDFHBC

"on a humid summer night,
i was out on the back porch,
and the moths around the light
made it flicker like a torch,

and i listened to a car
as it passed beyond my sight,
and i wondered where you are
and i wished us both goodnight."

mcg

"under the lamp-light,
i walked by your door
and i realized you weren't there anymore.

it was cloudless that night,
but the stars barely shone,
and i thought it was fitting now that you were gone."

cvbn,lngm

"lock me up inside your room;
hold me down,
press me deep inside the earth
and watch me bloom.

you can throw away the key.
let the sun
drip in underneath the cracks
where it can fall to me."

rest

"i don't want to go to heaven;
i just want to go to bed.
i don't want to live anymore, once i'm done.
when i'm dead, i'm dead, i'm dead.

i don't want to be reborn;
please send someone else instead.
i don't want to start this thing over again.
when i'm dead, i'm dead, i'm dead.

rest in peace,
the only one you'll find.
i am tired.
sweet release,
more than just resigned,
i'm tired.

i don't want to live forever;
i'm fine with my fate fixed ahead.
it's finite, it's done, i've finally won.
i'm dead, i'm dead, i'm dead."

beside the highway

"iron giants hanging cable,
would you talk if you had listeners?
would you walk if you were able,
chained to earth like wired prisoners?"

you have to want it

my words are becoming shallower and shallower,
because i can't find the heart to make you believe in them anymore.

and while you're on the back porch monologuing your self-pity,
i am in my room, listening to every word
and trying not to breathe.

i don't have to try very hard.

i lie awake during the night
and i hear your music buzzing through the vents.
and you lie awake during the day
and hear nothing at all while the rest of us are out in the world.

i ache
watching you be alone.

there is nothing i can offer
that is enough anymore.

we're caught in a vice:
because if i choose to believe in you,
then you'll give up on yourself.
and if i give up on you,
there's no telling what you'll choose to believe in.

injected religion.

we are fast approaching the place
where "i love you" amounts to nothing at all.

what to call the quiet

the circle of life

my father was on cocaine
because his father died

my father will die
because his son is on cocaine

i am an idiot

whatever shitty decision making skills convinced me that googling cervical cancer was a good idea, fuck you.

christ.

this is a poem i wrote in ninth grade that i found last night and i really liked

"the leaves have fled their blackened branches,
riding wind in coloured dances.
finally barren, all can see
the last foul leaf on crooked tree
said, 'i'm not one for taking chances'."

weeeee, and here's another one from fourth grade that i also found,
and it's a little dumb obviously because fourth grade so fuck you but i still like it.

"the horse i knew was white.
what a sight
as he galloped through the night.
away he flew,
into midnight blue,
the horse i knew."

ahahahaha.

and in the late 1800s

"time is such a crafty cancer,
consciousness is not the cure.
seconds slipping, set and sure,
and i have questions left to answer.

read me poems, passing prose,
waiting just to feel the waste.
oh, but life is just a taste
of all of nature's rapt repose."

"tenderness
is overrated, i'd rather
get burned
to feel the heat.

discretion's only useful
in the quiet moments after
you've awoken next to strangers
and you're making your retreat.

oh i'd like
to take
a moment here to cherish
all the absolutely nothing,

the absolutely nothing.

i would like
to take
a breath of something garish,
something wasteful, and indulgent,

something absolutely nothing.

bitterness is brittle,
and i frequent find it falters
when you're hoping
for a way to keep the hate.

overwhelmed
and undermined,
overjoyed and blind,
and mostly unerrated, understated.

oh i'd like
to take
a moment here to cherish
all the absolutely nothing,

the absolutely nothing.

i would like
to take
a breath of something garish,
something wasteful, and indulgent,

something absolutely nothing.

let me get a taste
let me feel this waste
waste of time, waste of space
gaining praise, losing face

all for absolutely nothing."

this is what happens when i write lyrics in the office,
because i can't sing them out loud as i'm writing them and so they end up just sort of becoming rambles that aren't much of a song at all.
idk wtf this qualifies as.

~*~something absolutely nothing?
ba dum tsss.~*~

the pieces

"i don't want to touch
any piece of me
to any piece of you.

 you're so much
that i never thought to be,
and you know, it's only tender 'cause it's true."

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.

inanimate

"heart of ice,
tongue of fire.
told you i'd play nice,
but i'm a liar.

yeah, i'm a liar.

eyes of steel,
arms of glass.
all i'll ever feel
still has yet to pass.

oh, has yet to pass."

i'll finish this another time.
it's almost 5am. fuck me.

cigarettes

"this is the last one,"
she says as she's breathing it in.
"i'm quitting tomorrow," she said yesterday,
but today she is starting again.

and all i can see is a boy made of bones
wetting skin thin as paper, his eyes hard as stones
and he's locked in the bathroom, gagging and shaking,
and she's smoking cigarettes and my heart is breaking.

"it's hard when you crave it,"
she says as she sets one alight.
"i'm quitting tomorrow," she says every day,
and there's no point in starting that fight.

but all i can see is a boy fearing death
trying hard not to sob 'cause he needs every breath
and he's under the covers, empty and aching,
and she's smoking cigarettes and my heart is breaking.

"it's not such a problem,"
she says as she exhales the smoke
"i'm quitting tomorrow," i don't hear her say,
like she's given up telling that joke.

all i can see is a boy of eighteen
with a face made of angles and sickness and green
and he's shut in the basement, quiet and quaking,
and she's smoking cigarettes,

she's smoking fucking cigarettes,

and i'm to believe
if he can get through the chills
if he can suffer the night
without taking those pills

if he can fight to be clean
without giving up yet
that she can't say no
to a damn cigarette?

"this is the last one,"
she says as she's breathing it in.
"i'm quitting tomorrow," she said yesterday,
but today she is starting again.

and all i can see is a boy i once knew
who i loved all my life, as i watched and he grew
and now he cries over lines that he can't stop from taking,
and she's smoking cigarettes and my heart is breaking.

---

i guess i couldn't put quotations around these like i usually do,
since i used them in the lyrics.

derp.

kjhsgkjv

"darling, i loved you,
you were the one.
but i am the moon,
and you are the sun.

i'll sing you to sleep,
cover you in night,
and when you wake up alone,
you'll be alright.

darling, i loved you,
you were my world.
but in your constellation,
i am just a girl.

i'll guard you from terror,
keep you in my sight,
'til dawn comes to break me,
but you'll be alright.

darling, i loved you,
you were my own.
but you are a star,
and i am a stone.

i'll kiss you to dreaming,
but in the morning light,
i'll be gone from your side,
and you'll be alright."

did you know mountain dew actually contains a significant amount of caffeine?

lately i've really just been feeling like i don't want to be here anymore, but i don't know if i'd say that that stems from suicidal thinking or not.
is it bad that i can't tell anymore?

i just feel like i don't want to be around this place and these people,
except that that sounds a lot more negative than what i mean, i think.

i guess what i'm trying to say is that
lately i have been feeling a lot more comfortable in my own head and as such i just kind of want to go somewhere to be myself by myself.
does that make sense?

i've really come to love a lot of people here,
but when i get to thinking instead of feeling i sometimes talk myself into thinking that it's just not enough.

i was counting it today,
and i realized that i have directly and purposefully cut a grand total of seven people out of my life. that's not counting people who were accidentally lost in the process.
isn't that strange?

i feel like i somehow convince myself that they're dead,
and even when i see them in person they're still just a ghost to me;
just some empty husk of something i used to care about.
just some faint reminder of the current nothing.

"love is just a shout in the void."

i just want to go away, and i don't know where,
and i don't think i care.
goddamn, ahaha.

i don't know.

i feel like i'm still just talking about death again.
maybe i'm just less sensitive to it now.

fuck it.

ripped lips

"no, it's never getting better,
never bother, never mind.
i've been staring at the bright side,
and i think i've gone blind."

"oh, i'd like to take this chance
to lay my heart out like a feast.
no, i know it ain't enough,
but that's the nature of the beast.

all my loving tends to hurt,
tends to shake my very bones,
but it's better when it's bitter,
'cause it's all i've ever known.

oh, i'd like to write them down,
like to make myself a list
of all the pieces of your being
i've not had the chance to kiss.

all my loving tends to end,
tends to leave me quite alone,
but it's better when it's broken,
'cause it's all i've ever known."

the song of truth

"girls come and tell me how their life must suck
'cause they fell for a boy who didn't give a fuck,
and the boys come and tell me how they just don't get
why the girls can't just forgive and forget.

tv's a-tellin' me that life's not fair,
and the people on the web say i shouldn't care,
'cause the newspaper had something different to say,
which was tweeted by the next big thing yesterday.

none of this fucking matters.
none of this fucking matters.

school's a necessity and that's just fucked,
'cause in case you haven't noticed, we just made it up.
it's a social construction that consumes you whole
and fools you into thinking the degree is your goal.

people in africa and people in town,
who have nobody to turn to when their life gets down;
i have one bad day and the school must know,
'cause if i left what would happen to the money i owe?

none of this fucking matters.
none of this fucking matters.

girls come and tell me 'bout their ex-best friend
just killing their day with the texts they send,
and the boys come and tell me how they love this chick,
'til they're drunk and they ask me to suck their dick.

none of this fucking matters.
none of this fucking matters.

i just wanna live, wanna live, let be,
wanna sleep, wanna eat, wanna just do me,
but the world's too big and i'm just too small
and none of this shit fuckin' matters at all."

birthday poem for becca

"Hey red-headed hottie, hey big-boobied beaut,
Hey one-time-she-plays-and-she-scores-when-she-shoots,
Hey treadmill fanatic, hey math-minded nerd,
Today's something special, so I'm told, so I've heard.

Two years ago here, just three floors down,
Though to me that still seems like a short turn-around,
We first became friends as Windsor Hall frosh;
A bond realized by our love of getting sloshed.

We've been robbers and cowboys and sometimes just sluts,
But we did it together, so I don't mind so much.
United together to hate every boy,
Knowing deep in our hearts that cats will bring us joy.

Hey frightening fake lisp, hey flaming red hair -
I'll forgive your genetics to show you I care.
Hey girl, take a shot, 'cause you're 20 years old!
And so, for your birthday, I give you: a soul."

indexed

i understand that when people try to encourage me to go to the gym it's because it's generally considered just a healthy habit to get into, but i can't help but be bothered by it. i have never in my life been as out of shape as i am currently but i feel like nobody here knows that the way i do, or the way anyone who knew me before i came here does. i have always been athletic and physically capable and the fact that some people seem to be suggesting that i'm not really, really bothers me. especially because i'm thinner than all of my friends here and if anything i need to put on weight rather than lose it and every time i fucking go to the gym all i do is lose weight. plus fuck you, everyone's idea of going to the gym is pretty much just going and running on the treadmill for an hour, which is not healthy. when i go to the gym i do all the weight machines and have to be super careful that i don't work up a sweat because i will legitimately SWEAT AWAY LIKE TEN POUNDS unintentionally. i hate that people keep suggesting to me that i start going to the gym because if my fucking bmi drops any lower i am actually going to have to see a doctor about it again, and i am sick of the judgement and unhealthy body image that goes with that.

in short: everyone needs to mind their own business.
i know my body better than you do and i know what's best for it.
keep your good intentions to yourself.

400

yesterday i got the marks back for a midterm essay i handed in 5 days late. the penalty per day was 5%, and so i got 25% knocked off. the essay itself literally took me two hours to write once i actually just sat the fuck down and wrote it, so i don't know why i decided to take a casual five fucking day vacation from it, but there you go.
i got a 52 on it, which means that even without the late penalty my mark would have been a 65. what the fuck. since when in hell do i get fucking 65% on an essay. fuck that. i'm so fucking angry, what the actual fuck.

today i got my japanese midterm back. i have never studied for anything as hard as i studied for that midterm. i put together hundreds of flashcards for practice and went over all the coursework for a solid seven hours straight the night before. i feel like all anyone is going to say about it is that i shouldn't cram study, but fuck you and your shit, i enjoy cram studying. it gets me ready for the exam and forces me to focus. i got a fucking 59 on that midterm. a 59. what the fuck is that shit.
then as i'm trying not to cry in class, the prof calls on me to answer an exercise that i just blatantly do not know the answer to, so i proceed to burst into tears. cool life. fuck.

i am wasting so much fucking money here.

i'm just beginning to realize that i'm not fucking made for this. i don't fucking care about this and i don't fucking enjoy it. i want immediate rewards for busting my ass, and i certainly expect there to BE rewards. i hate that it can even HAPPEN that i can study for seven fucking hours and still get a completely shitty mark. FUCK THAT. like how is that even a thing. how the fuck is this called education. all i am learning is that i have dug myself a hole and i am trapped. i don't understand the lesson. i am failing the course.

i can memorize facts all i want,
but knowing that i am FUCKED doesn't help me understand why.

i want to leave.
like i want to just fucking up and go and never have to talk to anyone from here again, or anyone who knows me at all and will remind me of the fact that i am fucking drowning here and that when i look back on this time in my life it will be with shame. i am failing at university. i cannot do it. i will not succeed, it will not be okay. i'm not meant for this.

and i can't leave. not now. not after i've spent this much fucking time and money on it. if i leave university, i am leaving the world.

i'm going to my german class soon.
if that midterm was shit too, i'm seriously going to fucking lose it.

i want to fucking kill myself.
where's the fucking razor when you need it.

fffuuuccckkk

i was supposed to do a favor for a friend today and i straight up forgot,
which pisses me off because i know how upset i get about people saying they'll do something and then not doing it.
sooo i feel like shit, ahah. ugh.

it's not really helping that i apologized profusely and my friend is still bitching me out for it.
it turns out it was way more important that i do it than i thought.
not that it matters - i fucking meant to do it, i'm just retarded.
i just feel like shit, fuck.

and at the same time i can't help feeling indignant about the fact that she feels like she can still give me hell for it.
i feel like if it was that important i don't understand why she wasn't doing it herself.

... i still feel like a fucking douche, ahaha. bleh.
fuck. did not need to start the week like this.

"of course i remember."

one of the happiest and saddest phrases
i have ever heard.

happy birthday to me

"twenty years old,
to the dot, to the day.
if you called, truth be told,
i don't know what i'd say.

but it's fine,
'cause i know you won't.

eleven at night,
in another timezone,
and i'm doing alright
if you'd wanted to know.

but it's fine,
'cause i know you don't.

prioritize pity over pride and praise,
fall back in fear from the human you raise.
write down your story, and let it be dubbed:
the unfortunate fate of a daughter unloved."





you know,
somewhere in the back of my head,
i still believed in you enough to think you might call on my birthday.
twenty years ago today you gave birth to me,
but i guess, by now,
you've decided
you're done.

so no.

"breathing in:
much harder with guilt pushing down.
sinking in,
that he doesn't want you around.

paint on your face,
you're quite the disgrace
when you tear off the flowers,
the pearls and the lace.

run and hide,
bury it deep inside.

you can hope for the best
with that weight on your chest
and his voice, which you swear that you heard.
if you need to weigh out
all your midnight doubts,
start with the weight of your words."

yellow diamonds

i'm starting to realize that i'm going to be okay.
sort of a belated revelation, but whatever.
better late than never.

i sent an "i miss you" text again today,
but i was sober so i feel like it's not quite so bad.
or maybe it's worse. fuck if i know.
but he's now officially over me,
that much is certain.

it sucks,
but at the same time, i know it's probably for the best.

lately i've been noticing that i get a lot more attention from boys than i thought i did, which is flattering in the weirdest way, ahaha.
it makes me wonder if maybe people think i'm easy,
but then again, when i do hook up it's usually with randoms,
not with guy friends who have been flirting with me.
so idk.

i secured my summer job too,
which sort of solidified the fact in my mind that the year is almost over.
so as much as i hate to be the girl who friendzones everyone,
uh. yep. that'll be me for the rest of the year.
ha.

we'll see. meh.

magnetism

i slept through the entire day today and had a horrible fucking dream.
long story short, i was raped by a guy who lives in my residence (in the dream),
and when i called out for help, it was rory's name i called.

god fucking damn it.

and i know it's just a dream,
but it really sucks to wake up feeling like absolute shit
because of some fucking weird imagery your mind came up with,
and have your friends fucking laugh at you when you seek solace.
like fuck.

i know i should find it funny because it was just a dream,
but i woke up completely soaked in sweat with my heart pounding
and i legitimately had to sit on my bed and just focus on breathing
for a solid ten minutes before i was sure i wouldn't burst into tears.

what the fuck is the matter with me.





and for the record,
when i called rory's name in the dream,
he didn't come.

really though,

i have no reason to have sex with anyone for the rest of this year.
fuck it.

i don't know why it's taken me as long as it has to realize that every time i have sex it's just another drunken fuck-up that i regret for days afterward even if i enjoy it in the moment.

i don't need to have sex.

i need to start making my actions mean something,
which usually means making them less frequent.
that way, when they do happen,
it's actually significant.

i'm tired of being a throw-away.

for the rest of this year,
i'm just going to be a fucking robot.
i don't have time to get emotionally or physically involved with people,
because i should be doing work.
and school ends in two months,
or less because of ewams,
so.

nothing i do will mean anything,
so i will do nothing.

the end.



... fuck.

"don't fuck around" february

this february, i will not:
- get drunk
- have sex

i may make an exception for myself on the 22nd,
which is my 20th birthday,
except that nobody is going to be here anyway,
so i probably won't.

i'm still going to that wine tasting thing this sunday,
if i get my way.

so, drinking. but no drunk.
ugh.

i need to stop embarrassing the fuck out of myself.
can i just leave? k bye.

too late

"i'm a hypocrite,
i'm a piece of shit.
i'm a mess.

i am insecure
i am aiming for
a way to hurt less."

(1)

i have a ten page paper due in less than twelve hours and i have yet to start it.
i just don't care.

i feel like i shouldn't be here anymore.

in the past few weeks i have managed to utterly destroy my reputation.
i honestly don't want to drink anymore simply because i make an ass out of myself
every. fucking. time.

i don't understand what is going on around me
and i don't know how to undo the damage i've done, ahah.
what else is new.

i am a hurricane,
you are the sun.
light of my eye,
eye of the storm,
blocked out by wind and cloud
and hurt.

someone please tell me how to be.

god damn it.

i am really selfish.

i know that you're right and that it's for the best,
but i want you to believe that you're wrong.

i want you.

lost at sea

what a creative title.

"i'm propelled across the water
by waves of self hate.
you wouldn't believe
the rifts they create.

and between each go,
my drift becomes slow,
and i sit and i smile
and i wait.

i am crossing quite the ocean,
a damp and dreary hell,
each dot on the horizon
is another spiteful swell.

it's significantly wetter
than i thought that hell would be,
but i could probably make it better
if i stopped crying out the sea.

ooh,
you wait on the shore.
i will not look back anymore.

ooh,
you wait in the sand.
but it's easier to me
to be lost at sea
than be lost without your hand.

i am sailing ever braver
into lands unknown.
i am drawing out the map
of the ways that i have grown.

though my eyes still sting,
the salty air helps me sing,
and the ocean is mine
alone.

ooh,
you wait on the shore.
i will not look back anymore.

ooh,
you wait in the sand.
but it's easier to me
to be lost at sea
than be lost without your hand.

and i finally understand."

friday night

was my first-ever time
experiencing a pity fuck-and-chuck.

why am i so fucking stupid?
ha.

i have to keep reminding myself:

you're just lonely
you're just lonely
you're just lonely
you're just lonely
you're just lonely
you're just lonely
you're just lonely
you're just lonely
you're just lonely
you're just lonely



"this too shall pass."

friendzone confirmed

but i feel good to have gotten
that confession off my chest anyway.

it's just a silly little crush,
not a full-on "let's date" scenario,
so hopefully knowing that he's not interested
helps it go away a bit quicker, ahaha.

and for once in my life,
things aren't awkward either,
which is nice.

i want to stop depending on other people.
as much as lately i have been feeling tired of being "the strong one",
i think i've let that feeling get in the way of letting me see
that i have been leaning on people more than ever before.
i think people are beginning to notice,
so i should too.

as much as i don't want to be the rock,
i don't want to be the burden.

and as per usual,
i am all one or all the other.
and if that's really the case right now,
then i know which one i prefer.

i need to learn how to not be lonely,
when i am alone.

wat

a little while ago i came home with a boy from my residence.
one of my frosh, to be exact.

i don't know if i've ever posted it here,
but i'm vice president of my university residence,
for anyone who doesn't actually know me.
(why are you reading this?)

at the beginning of the year i was on contract to not have any sexual relations with any of the frosh (first years), and for the most part i've just sort of kept that up throughout the year.
most of the frosh are the same age as my little brother, so it just seemed weird anyway.

a little while ago,
a week after my ex and i broke up actually,
i was drunk and essentially determined to bring someone home.
i succeeded, but that person happened to be a frosh from my residence.
cool life choices.

anyway, we got back to my place and basically forwent(?) hooking up because we both wanted pizza, ahahahahaha.
typical.

and we just hung out and talked for the rest of the night,
made out i guess because uhhhhh what,
and then nothing really happened.

huh.

so then a few nights we've hung out since,
but mostly just as a result of being in a big group
and everyone else sort of tapering off near the end of the night
so that the two of us end up together.
never seemed like anything, i guess.
idk.

anyway, after a talk we had last time, just sort of about dating and hooking up at university in general and just about people we knew i guess, i sort of came to the conclusion that i was a "bro", which therefore implies that i was pretty much friendzoned and therefore shit out of luck, although it didn't really bother me, tbh.
better than being super awkward, ahahaha... my usual route.

last night i couldn't sleep.
he texts me at 1 in the morning asking if i'm up,
and then he came to hang out.
until 5 in the morning.

...

wat.

i don't even get it.

nothing happened i guess,
we just sort of talked and watched videos
and he had his head in my lap
and i guess that was it?

i just don't understand, ahaha.
why is it that whenever i think i've been friendzoned and i'm actually okay with it,
the universa has to toss me a curve ball just to confuse me?

i just.
i don't even.
i just don't.

...

wat.

jgehdjd

everyone's in tears over things they can't control
and i don't know how to tell them that i can't be strong for them anymore.

i'm tired.
i'm tired.
i'm tired.

i was ridiculously drunk last night, apparently.
i don't remember a lot of the night, but i do remember
sitting on my bedside watching him cry,
wiping his tears and patting his arm,
giving all the right reassuring
empty murmurs

and thinking about how much i would like
to take a bunch of pills
and crawl into the tub
and let the water run
and go to sleep.

i haven't thought like that in a while.

i'm tired of being strong.
it's all i know how to do, and i know i should feel blessed because of it,
because i wouldn't still be here if i wasn't as strong as i am.

but it's exhausting.
and i don't want to do it anymore.

everyone's in tears over things they can't control.

because apparently a country singer lives inside my head

"just another night of self-degradation,
sinking into that familiar sensation
and i can't change, no.

it's just another night of premature heart-ache,
falling into traps i know how to make, and i
i can't change, no."

idek mang

"it's the blood under the skin,
broken vessels seeping in,
and you press against the wounds
you couldn't bear.

it's the ticking of the clock,
echoed footsteps as you walk
into rooms you search while knowing
he's not there.

i am not the girl i thought i'd be by now.
i am tracing back my steps and wondering how

did it get to what it is?
did i bless what i have blown?
is this all i have for this?
'cause it's all i've ever known."

the meaning of life:

locking your door,
stripping down naked,
taking your laptop into the bathroom,
and listening to "canon in d major" by johann pachelbel
while eating a cookie and taking a shit.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,
THAT IS ALL.

i am an idiot

i was so sick that i wanted to die on tuesday,
and everyone took care of me and i slept and did what you're actually SUPPOSED to do when you're sick,
which is take care of yourself,
and then wednesday i felt boatloads better.
... until i stayed up until like 3am wednesday night.
and then i woke up this morning feeling near death again, ahaha.
cool life.

i can't afford to keep doing this.
i have to get to class.
gah.

(i counted, and i've missed seven classes so far this semester.
it's only been three weeks. fuck.)

genv

i woke up this morning with some sort of weird sinus infection on crack.
blood from my nose was literally CAKED into the back of my throat,
which inevitably caused my tonsils to flare up.

cool life.

missed my first class but managed to live through the other two,
including my three hour lecture (although admittedly i almost fell asleep in it multiple times.)
the prof asked me to share my notes with other students,
which was also kind of cool.

i haven't been the go-to girl in a while.
hm.

i am such a mess

all the damn time.

when you wish upon a star

thinking about how long this blog has been with me,
and what it has seen me go through.

sometimes it's hard to imagine that i was ever in the places i was in,
even if there's evidence to prove it.

other times, it's a reminder that no matter where you go,
you are always the same person.

today,
i felt overwhelmingly alone.



i've realized that i've fallen into a rut of hanging out with pretty much the same crowd all the time. it's nice to have a solid group of friends, but now that a good half of them have left for the weekend, it's a little bit difficult to feel okay about it. i remember times when i would have killed to have a "group" that i fit into. now i'm wondering if all those times wandering independently weren't the right way to go after all.
then there's that awkward moment when just as you're telling someone about your day, your year, your life - you realize they won't be there forever. they might not even be there tomorrow.

he might be leaving tomorrow.

and that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you realize that as you've been bitching this whole time about your own problems, they've been dealing with their own. and while dealing with their own, they've been patiently listening to you whine and groan. and you realize that their problems are infinitely more important, more significant than yours.
how can the struggle to be wanted be compared on any level to the struggle to live?
and yet, even as i sit here and feel terrible for talking to him about my stupid, trivial, school-girl problems, i feel incredibly sad that he might be leaving and that i might never be able to do that again. i can't help but wonder who i can talk to about this if he leaves. i can't help but think,
"me. me. me."




for once in my life,
i'd like to be a real girl.
i feel like pinocchio,
but it's true.

i'm living in this wooden body because it's all i know,
it's all that's gotten me this far because
you can't make wood bleed.
you can't make wood cry.

and all i want is to not be confined to this [lumber]ing case anymore,
to be real flesh and bone, which can tear and break.

and the truth is that i'm not even as invulnerable as i appear,
because all the artsy analogies in the world will not change the fact that i am, in fact, a human being. and i bleed when i'm cut. and i cry when i'm hurt.

and i just want to be recognized as and treated like a GIRL,
who is feminine and delicate and cute and fragile and dainty,
instead of constantly wearing this suffocating mask of
strength and confidence and power.

i don't want to be dominant.

my ideal life is that of a housewife.

but i can't.



and everything that everyone else sees is a fucking lie.
i am none of the things that i make you think i am.



none of this even makes sense anymore.

all i remember are doors being slammed

i feel like a hugely shitty human being
because i can honestly say that while i don't miss being with him,
i do miss being with
someone.

why am i always like this,
why am i always sad?

i want to be sick.
hm.

treadmill

stretchhh~

walk for one minute,
speed walk for two minutes,
jog for ten minutes,
sprint for two,
walk until my breathing is normal again.

leg machines: reps of twelve.
arm/upper body machines: reps of twenty.
midriff work: reps of ten.

went to the gym for the first time this year.
only day two of the new year; not bad at all.
i definitely overdid it though, i can already tell...
i'm gonna be sore tomorrow.
rubber legz.