a very merry middle

dear santa:
next time, for christmas, i will know better.
i will know to ask for my vision back,
i will know to ask to not be sick.

merry christmas,
dizzying anger.

merry christmas,
hate hate hate.

oh wait,

nevermind.

for want of

"i don't care if you hurt me. just don't do it on purpose."
"i have no intention of hurting you."

this is all i can ask for,
with the real words,
anyway.

but i want, i want, i want
more than you can give.

(right now?)
(forever?)

"do you want to hang out after the break?"
"yeah, we can."
"i know we can. but do you want to?"
"sure."
"..."
"yes."

"i like that one much better."

kiss me.

to the boy i fall in love with:

slow dance with me to
"sweet and low" by augustana,
alone in your room,

with dim

dim

lights.

please? please.

lock

post script:
chivalry is dead.
i killed him.

THE YOUTH ARE STARTING TO CHANGE ARE YOU
STARTING TO CHANGE ARE YOU
TOGETHER

tuck me in, dig me up:
goodnight. goodnight. goodnight.

i roll the window down

and then begin to breathe in.

hello world, have you forgotten about me yet?
made cheaply, bought cheaply, used cheaply, left cheaply
(at what expense, and to who)

as you are driving me home.

can i be loved yet? please?
okay.

late

i am tired.

i'm picking fights for no reason.
nothing new.

i never had a reason to do anything, ever.

wearing boots in bed,
braiding the same fucking piece of hair,
waiting for time to go faster,
so i can go home.

"home".

there are certain people who,
i think,
i might be sick
if i see.

oh, you.

(what do you think you are doing, hm?)

plaid - this city

i will not fall in love with any part of you;
your teeth or your eyes or your muscle's sinew.
i will not fall in love with your nose or your smile.
i will not fall in love with your current lifestyle.
i will not fall in love with your family or house,
or the curve of your lips and the shape of your mouth.
i will not fall in love with the stories you share.
i will not fall in love with the wind in your hair.
i will not fall in love with the pictures you took,
or the thoughts we both share when you give me that look.
i will not fall in love with who you used to be,
or who you are now, after knowing me.
i will not fall in love with your neck and your voice.
i will not fall in love with you, given the choice.
i will not fall in love with your bones and your skin.
i will not fall in love with the places you've been.
i will not fall in love, because love is blind,
but not deaf to the words that you left behind.

hear that? listen:

snap.

relay

sitting in an airport for what will eventually be six hours
waiting for a flight, delayed because the plane
was falling apart.

listening to everyone around me
speak a language i can understand
but cannot speak.

chicken fingers,
cold and untouched,
in a coffee cup,
waiting

for me.

(everyone is waiting for something, huh?)

the seven of clubs

maybe it's stupid, but i think i'm having an anxiety attack because a boy i barely know has decided to cut me out of his life. we've talked on two occasions. i don't know his middle name. i know it makes no sense to care, but i make no sense in general, and it just hurts. it hurts. it hurts.

i am having an anxiety attack. i am, i know i am.

and i cannot win a single game of solitaire.

the end.

full throttle

i'm no good with attachment
that is, mutual attachment

i can't deal with people who like me
i just can't

i will chase after you up until the point when you turn around to try and meet me
and then i will run away

don't ask me why
i don't know

all i can do is blame some premature diagnosis
given to me by a doctor who i will never see again

today i learned that i am nihilistic
today i realized that i may very well die alone.

(punctuate)
(.)

if only a self-fulfilling prophecy
were really that fulfilling.

merry times

shots of tequila and a lime that got me drunker than the alcohol,
and still i can only manage to reach that silly state of partial drunkenness,
and only halfway right,
if not completely left.

and in a room that reeks of vomit that looked suspiciously (predictably) like rice,
where i remained so i could monitor someone else's breathing, for once
i find myself alone.

i find myself alone.

and i'm sorry,
to the clone of the guy i already dated,
but you're too comfortable for me to really care about you.
(besides, i've only known you for a week,
and if i really managed to break your heart in that amount of time,
like you said i did,
you have a weak heart to begin with,
and it likely has a dilapidated beat.)

love can't be comfortable.
when it is, it's not exciting.

and when i say love, i mean exhilaration.

because when you walk into the room, i don't want to think
"i'm comfortable now"
i want to think
"..."
because when you're excited you don't really think about shit.

like being on a rollercoaster,
you don't think
"ahhhh"
you just say it
you just do it
you just are

sometimes you have to grab discomfort and kick it in the ass
(or kiss it on the lips)

and if you're lucky,
you'll forget how to breathe.

absolut

been at university for two weeks and i've already consumed more alcohol than i did all summer, slept around like a fucking minx, and "settled down" with a sweet guy who i guess i ought to start calling my boyfriend.

life should be good, but i still consider it the same level of blase (enter french accent) that it has been for ages. i'm starting to wonder if i'll ever feel anything again, ever.

although i know i felt something last night when a guy called me a bitch from halfway down the street and i flipped him the bird and kept walking like i didn't give a shit. then, when i was around the corner, i sat down on the curb and started to cry.

i had my girlies there to cheer me up, though. that's never happened before.

life is good, i know. i just have a hard time showing it.

time for another vodka and lime.

defend

i want to not have to take medication anymore
which is why i'm going back on my meds.










THE CIRCLE OF LIFE.

what you get

just cried because i lost a game of solitaire
yep, you betcha

because here's the thing, ladies the gents:
the real deal, sans sucre:

the only time you should start up on the pills is when you really, really need them.
and how do you know when that is?
well, if you think you need them, you're wrong.
and if you aren't sure, then you need them.

and it's a lot simpler than it sounds, because trust me when i say
that you don't know what the fuck is right for yourself.
so whatever you think - do the opposite.

if you knew what was right for yourself,
you wouldn't be in this fucking hole to begin with.

now can i please win a fucking game of solitaire
so i can go to bed?
fuck.

old skin

for when you can only half be heard over the noise in the background
and only half be heard over the noise in your head

and it's not that i think that other people are too busy with their own problems
to notice mine

no no
my problems are my problems
don't you try to take them away from me
(you can't)

it's just that sometimes
it feels like
the reason other people seem so occupied with their own problems when they're around me
is that i am one of their problems

(i love walking home alone in the middle of the night
passing your old home, and crying by yourself
because you know that your family is asleep without you
and if you got killed
nobody would know)

THE BEAUTY OF SUMMERTIME

the snack that smiles back

stop that, no
don't you put that in your mouth
that is clearly neither a muffin, nor a beet
and you are clearly not listening to the life lesson this commercial
is sharing with you

stop it, don't do that
don't swallow that thing whole
don't bite it either, mind you
just don't

i like you plain.
without seasoning.
just you.

i hate it here

the only thing that makes me happy is the kitchen table in a green dining room
in a house whose doors are never locked
and whose belongings and occupants are strewn about the place
like they know that they belong
wherever they choose to belong

in all the crevices they want to hide in,
they are always welcome.

i love my kitten more than anything in the world
which is why i have to give her away.
(that and the fact that my landlord wants her gone by august 1st)

great.

i'm so tired of lying through my teeth and telling people i will miss them
when i inevitably will not

i have the memory of a goldfish

but i am a siamese fighting fish, in reality
i just want to kill all the others like me
and even those who are completely different

but most of all, i want to kill myself
like when i put the mirror beside rainbow's bowl when i was little
and he attacked his reflection until he was dead
fishy blood in the water of the bowl
from having smashed his fishy skull in
on the glass

rifp
(rest in fishy peace)

i just want to hear some bones break
and a voice cry out in pain
(one that is not my own, for once)

i'm so sick of being part of a tree with no branches.














FUCK.

pawn

again and again and again and again
do it again, do it again
it's a shame, it's a shame
it's a stupid shame
it's stupid how we always seem to do it again, oh no
again, again, again

yep, you betchaaa
i have to pee a lot more often than usual lately.
(enjoy that one, internet)

i'm like crumbs on a fat kid
i'm on a rollllll

ouija

"is the reason that you can't finish the sentence because i already know what it is?"
... yes.

oh, marilyn.

murder mysteries are only fun while the mystery lasts
and when antonio telastori ruins the punchline, well
i guess it's time to hide in the basement
and try to scare your friends.

maybe you should not always blame yourself for making your mnmnmnmnmnmnmn.
(ouija translation: mnmnmnmnmnmnmn - "mother cry".)

post script

sweet ass invisible blues guitar solo!

i left a box of cookies and a chunk of cheese sitting on my desk for a week
need i say more? no. no, i need not say more.

just picture it.

yeah.

ew.

why am i awake

(why am i alive)
((but not in the morbid, suicidal sense))
(((more in the "ha ha, this fits well grammatically" sense)))
((((read "grammatically" as "dramatically"))))

ENOUGH WITH THE BRACKETS ALREADY, OY VEYYY

every time i try to do an italian accent
i end up sounding jewish,
or like i'm some broad from new jersey
aka, nu joisey

ya get me?
ya got me?
good.

i'm up at 5am without sleeping at all
and tonight i'm going to murder or be murdered
while eating pasta and pretending to be
a little italian bootabelly broad
with the hots for her uncle,
4 times removed or some shit like that

BUT HEY
SLEEP IS FOR THE WEEK

HA

HA

HA

germmm

101: teach me how to speak
a language everyone can understand
a universal language
that will never, ever be considered gibberish
in the eyes of anyone
ever

102: teach me how to speak
some sense into myself
so i stop asking for the impossible
and start looking towards
the possible
the probable
the certain

i can't, i can't, i can't, i can't, i

103: teach me how to speak

104: teach me how to speak

105: teach me how to speak

everything is temporary.

this has been my mantra lately.

my roommate (the one i share a hate-hate relationship with) left a note out in the kitchen that can only be categorized as:
mean.

i can't (under)stand him.

i cried to my dad on the phone last night,
and he reminded me how far behind i am, by all measures
except the ones that matter.

i am younger, and by all means i should be given a handicap if we want to talk comparisons,
but i already have the advantage.

i hate to admit it, but i really hope that someday he has some real problems,
so he can look back on his behavior now and know what a lucky idiot he is.
but that's not the way the world works.
(and i'm glad it's not, really)

a friend who proved to be wiser than i once thought said to me,
"i never want to be the bad part of someone's day."
and i love that. and i try to be like that too.

just sometime i forget that there are people out there
who couldn't give a fucking shit about your day,
and whether or not they are the catalyst in the end of your world.

(sometimes something small,
like a mean note in my kitchen,
feels like the world is crashing down
on my head.)

casper's lullaby

you know when you take things too far? yeah? yeah.

when the going is great until it just ain't great anymore.

yeah? yeah.

time for bed, time for bed

you friendly, friendly ghost.

plans

i want to write a play about a woman named phyllis,
who kills herself and watches over her would-be life
as people forget about her.
and other people, they come and go
and they say to her,

"phyllis, it's okay, just come along now"

and she just sits there,
and stares down at the world,
and says,

"i can't believe they forgot about me"

but instead of doing that,
i will eat dark chocolate and honey
and let my kitten play with froot loops on the floor
and listen to the fan as it pushes my hair into my fucking face
and i will do nothing at all worth any sort of merit

because that is what i always do.

2139996

fuck all of that, i am done
and honestly
the fact that i got through that shit just proves to me that i am better than any one of you
with your fuckin' snide remarks and shit
you take them and shove them up your fucking ass
and i'm sure that some of you know i was lying when i said that i would be back
because i am GONE from this place for fuckign ever
and i am so stoked to be done
so stoked to be done
with all of you.

fuck your shit,
i'm harder than you will ever be.

have you ever heard the phrase

"pick on someone your own size" ?

fuck i hate ninering.
why is everyone stupid and insecure?

trust me,
if you're looking to a cure to that self-hatred your feeling,
eggs and mustard won't help, kiddo.

zebra

i overdosed on sleeping pills on sunday night
(i wanted a vacation - see "soma" for details)
and now i can't sleep right
(not that i can do anything right to begin with)
and i know i'm almost done with all this shit
(i'm so, so fucking close)
but i also know that all this shit is almost done with me
(and there's no coming back from being done with, you know)
and i am sosososososo tired
(i can't sleep, remember?)
but here i am, with a 2L bottle of water
(hydration is key, folks)
and a bar of 85% dark chocolate
(fucking mmmmmmmmm)
and i kind of feel like maybe
(just maybe)

things will work out okie-dokie
(just peeeeachie-fuckin'-keen)

s'il vous plait

not good enough
not fast enough
not smart enough

everything i do is not enough

i am not old enough
i am not enough

i am so tired of everyone riding my ass
i am so, so tired

i just want
to go
to sleep

can it be forever now?
no, no.

forever is not enough.

tetris and thunderstorms

squeaking shoes on the floor in the halls
like music for the mice

my cowboy boots have gone matte
dirty, dirty, dirty

there is a show tonight
and i will go
and read the script
and watch the flow

ballet? do not lie,
ha

ha

ha

dancing under the lightning show
forever.

a good time

i love sitting in skinny jeans
topless, with my hair up
with vanilla extract on my skin
and nothing in particular
on my mind

relaxing

i like the ceiling fan.
(that is all)

miles and miles

i have to admit
i'm not excited for this

i don't need to watch people destroy themselves
but i will.

oh, i will.

why can't people be responsible?
why can't people - oh, oh wait, that's right.

we're all teenagers.
and we'll be young forever.
and nothing can kill us. nothing can hurt us,
more than a boy who doesn't like us like that.

we are invincible, invincible,
so let's kill ourselves while we still can -

because in just a few years, this suicide note will be written all over again
but this time, we will mean it.

valedictorian

i'm so flattered, so scared
so fucking nervous
so surprised

i can honestly say this is something i did not see coming, at all
especially since i have recently dropped off the face of the earth

but everyone is so wonderful

and sometimes i forget that it's worth it to have faith in the other people in the world
and sometimes, if you do, they'll surprise you in ways that make you feel
like you're a million miles in the sky
surrounded by the stars

maybe it's just a speech
but it represents so much more than that to me right now

i didn't know i still had friends anymore.
(say hello to the first period used in this entry)

i think, more than anything, i'm scared of falling now
because i feel so, so high

and i am just so terrified that this will all be joke or something
and i will lose (much more than just a silly title)

oh lordie,
i am in deep.

cross my fingers, knock on wood,
and most of all - have faith.

the votes will decide in the end.
aye carumba.

hello to the real world

i've missed you.

i'm sunburnt and i haven't been hungry in what feels like days. not forever, just days.
i'm listening to chamber music and wondering why it's called that
adn when it ends abruptly i change my mind and start
asking myself where freckles come from.
i have more freckles every day.

i love my freckles.
and my freckles love me back.

darrow's locomotive

i can't stop thinking
about an old country house with a
wrap-around, white-washed wooden porch,
where an old man lives.
i suppose his name is Dennis O'Malley,
mostly because it suits him,
and also a little bit because
he can't remember for himself.
where falcons go to hide,
and run to Avalon.
there are two sets of train tracks
surrounding that old house,
which were thought to be abandoned.
but no, no, they're just
in hiding.
it's a one way trip for
(and i can't stop thinking about)
all those who choose to take it.
and the view from the place has eroded with time
but will be reborn.
falcons, falcons,
Jude Faulkner.
make my world beautiful again.
save us.
save us.
save us.

contractual

today i shook the hand
of the man who punched a hole
in my bedroom door.

"you're right. i am scared.
but i am also pissed.
i have just as many rights as you.
i do not have to answer to you,
and i will not.
you will not make demands of me,
you will make requests.
and respect is earned through actions,
not age."

today i shook the hand
of the man who punched a hole
in my bedroom door,

and i think he gave all his splinters
to me.

ouch.

oh yeah, that's right

i'm doin' meee

i love how it's made.
eff.

writer's craft

he drove me home at 3am on my 18th birthday;
home being my childhood house in orangeville,
which i hadn't seen in nine years.
we went in his van,
and stopped six times at tim horton's,
and once in the middle of nowhere.
coffee and a smoke, coffee and a smoke.
we sang along to cheery songs about death,
and didn't cry, for once.
he was texting her that night too,
but i won't ask for too much.
after all,
when i see his straight teeth through his crooked smile,
and his low voice tells me he misses me too,
i love and hate it all the same way.

sleep?

what is this "sleep" you speak of?

there is no
such
thing





if i close my eyes real hard
then maybe you will disappear

"if i can't see you, you can't see me"

AND STILL I CANNOT SLEEP

hamlet in a hairnet

i love knowing that there are people out there who understand each other
and i love knowing that they still fight sometimes

because hey,
we're only human.

but humans are the only species that can love, huh?
(for all us humans know)

we're only human,
we're only human,
and that's enough
for me.

half full

all the cracks in the walls
just wanna be spiders
like all of the dreams
kept deep down inside us
that never become
what our dreams dream to be
leaving cracks on the walls
dreaming spiders-to-be



hello again, my everything.

it's the bpd talking

i hate everyone.

people i care about care about someone else more than they care about me and people i rely on rely on me more than i can bear and people i want (and convince myself that it's just want and not anything more along the lines of need) don't want me in the same way, or at least aren't willing to put their asses on the line the same way i do every time, even though i know it doesn't work and it's going to put me in the same fucking gutter i find myself in every time i try this shit.

honestly, chances are i'm overreacting about everything else,
because of this boy.

he's so cute.

and i'm so not.

and for a while there i thought i had that under control, but now i know i really don't, because i'm sorry but in my timeline, a week is too long and by the time you're ready i won't be. sorry, but i seem to grow up about four times as fast as everyone else and in order for this to work you have to move at my pace.
which, inevitably, leads me to the gutter.

ahhhh.

how do you get your mind out of the gutter when the rest of you is there too?

my lord.

he's so cute.

i promise

no matter what they say,
no matter what they do -
no one belongs here more than you.

oh, to approach a stranger in the street,
the thrill of the unknown
and of the known:

stranger danger?

never heard of it.

the realization of a 17 year old girl

i'm not going to have a date for prom.
and that would be funny, except that i'm seventeen
and nothing that matters as much as that
is funny to me right now.

(don't ask me why it matters, logically i couldn't tell you)

((but it does.))

good deeds undone

today i was late walking to work

and i saw a broken beer bottle, a weapon
in front of a church and a primary school
and i felt like i should have removed them
but i was late for work
and i had to go

and i saw an old man on a ladder, a trap
in front of his house all alone
and i felt like i should have helped him
but i was late for work
and i had to go

and i saw a woman in a wheelchair, (enough said)
struggling, struggling, to move on her own
and i felt like i should have stopped and asked
if maybe she wanted help
or if she was okay
or where she might have a friend or someone else to help her

but i was late for work
and i had to go

all these good deeds left undone

and i got to work on time after all.

unemployment rates in canada

aye carumbaaa, so many presentations in this clas
angst angst angst

i don't want to hear about all the people who failed
the way i very well could in the future

eeeeeeeeeeeek
exclamation
point
!

ah well

in the meantime
i'll just play some bejewelled

(is there anyone who doesn't love this game?)

as it seems

i am the opposite of most:
i find it so much more tempting to quit
when i reach the near-end of something.

it's so close, so close to being done with
and i'm so close, so close
to giving up.

ugh.

mdm4u1 - you are the bane of my existence.

onions

smelling up the whole house, filling my nostrils with smoke,
oh god oh god oh god -
so good.

i am hungrier than ever before.
feeeeed me.

a 6:17am revelation... of sorts

i know that somewhere, deep down, you want what's best for me.
and i know that you're just a little confused
as to what that is right now.

i don't blame you;
up until now, "what's best" has always been what you want.
and i appreciate you wanting the right things for me.

but this time it's what i want.
i know it is.
i promise.

and i think you know it too,
somewhere inside you.

this isn't supposed to be resentful,
this isn't supposed to be a fight.
but if it has to be, i will make it so.
(just as you have taught me to do.)

i know you don't want this right now, mom.
but i know this is right.
so please want it too,
for me.

long time no think

i keep sneezing three times in a row,
which is supposed to be good luck.
unless you have a cold.

i haven't had much time to think, lately.
i'm still wondering whether or not that's a bad thing, though.

i'm out on my own and i've never felt freer, aside from the fact that i have people pulling in all directions to have me come back.
but hey, if my nose has any say in the matter (i have a big nose... ha.) then maybe i'm related to pinocchio?
i'll be rid of my strings.

cheesy? yes.
but it's true all the same.

hopefully i won't get eaten by a whale.