So....this moving out thing is kinda scary.  I'm getting all stressed like i usually do.  These huge changes stress me out.  But i think i'm getting used to it.  I'm trying to make it as homely as possible.  That way maybe i'll be more comfortable here. I still haven't gotten all my stuff moved in, just most of it. I'm liking it right now though.  I just got the internet to work again so that makes me happy.  I think i may end up staying.  I was thinking today about moving out and stuff.  But i miss my mom which i didn't think i would.  It's weird.  So after the lease runs up i'm going to move back.  And i'm going to make it a point to spend more time with her.  She's really not so bad...not as bad as she used to be at least. 

So tonight me steven and our roommate are going to watch Carrie! i haven't seen that movie in forever i like it a lot.  There's this customer at work who reminds me of the mom.  She's fucking psycho.  She made me cry at work once.  

I'm excited about this.

uhhh it's desperately depressing when someone considers their boyfriend to be an object,a toy to play with until they get bored. Sick of pretending to like them. It's pathetic...plus relationships are trivial at this point in our lives. I honestly just had to get that out, i'm fed-up with fake ass people.

in other news,i'm super excited about my first day at old navy :]
fuck the corporate bullshit though bleeeh. well my head hurts really badly and i love all my frands in washington/canada and miss them terribly.

ps-i'm writing a book?!

The first thing I did when I heard you stopped breathing was begin to pray.
Not to god.  Or any saint or pegan figure.
I started praying to you.
Because, I knew that this had been your life's calling.
That you'd been trying to help people until the day you died.
No one else seemed appropriate.

A few seconds after I started praying two things happened.
The child's respiration restarted, though weak.
And the rain stopped.




Call it a coincidence.
Call it good timing.
Call me superstitous.


But, I'm pretty set in my belief that the miracle didn't go beyond you.

School starts Monday and I'm pretty sure I'm ready for it. I have everything and know where all my classes are...the only thing left is some people at work warned me that the first couple weeks parking permits aren't enforced and it's hell to find a spot.

SHIT


my classes don't start till 10, I'm fucked.

On top of that, i work all week and probably wont be able to see my girlfriend much. I'm trying not to stress so much because this is what i worried about when we started dating, that when school starts we would be in two different worlds.

I just bought these :>

Yeah. I decided to facebook stalk the freshmen who will be living with me.
The girl in the room right across loves all the same movies and music as me.
I'm pretty excited. haha.

I made most of my door decs today and finished my bulletin board.
My theme is yellow submarine.
I love it.

i think people (probably maintenance guys) come into my pod while i'm at RA training because the toilet seat is always up when I return.

still don't have internet. i'm in the library once again. boo.

last night i inadvertently stayed up until 1 am watching Scream on TNT... they have the longest and most frequently occurring frickin commercials. that was a dumb idea.

i'm glad i'm back to random posting.

the end.

But, you do it every time.
Every single time your lips touch mine every nerve in my body comes alive.
I don't understand it. But, I hope it doesn't end.

Maybe it's the way you hold my hand while we watch movies.
Or how you kiss my forehead as often as you kiss my mouth.
Maybe it's the fact I'm oddly comfortable around you.
Or how when you ask how my day was I know you actually care about the answer.
Maybe it's the random text through out the day telling me to smile or sending virtual affection.
Or knowing I can always look forward to a message when I wake up.
Maybe it's the fact you understand I need some time and are supportive of that.
Or the fact that I caught you looking at me more often than the screen.
Maybe it's the fact you follow through with the things you say. Like model airplanes and Bee Movies.
Or the fact you allow me to say whatever I'm thinking and only offer reassurance back.
Maybe it's the fact you don't tell me not to smoke but are proud of me when I don't.
Or the fact you tell me I make you smile.
Maybe it's the way I feel important when your arms are around me.
Or  the fact you're the sweetest boy I have ever met.

I'm not sure what it is exactly.
But, something about you made the fact I'm not nineteen not that bad.

" it was then she felt alive."

6 months :]

the rain drops keeping hitting the wood floor of my balcony and breaking into tiny particals that reach up and warp themselves around my hands.
i can barely hear conor oberst's voice over the thudding and my fingers keep slipping on the dewy keys; but, i won't go inside.
(i know all the words to this song anyways.i've never liked the cassadega album until now.)
i'm mixing carbon dioxide with mist, watching the smoke thin and disapper.
(watching myself do the same.)
i've only ashed my cigarette twice since i lit it (three, now that i said that.) and i'm realizing that slowly cloves are loosing all the familiar effects.
maybe i'll find a cheaper addiction. (like living)
maybe i'll quit. (i've never been one to.)
maybe i'll settle, yet again.(though, i think that's a habit i've finally kicked. though not alone.)
i want nothing more than to crawl back between my hard mattress and thin red blanket and close my eyes.
fall asleep to the tapping on my window and melodic sound it creates.
stop thinking, feeling, and worrying for just a few more hours.
but, i have children to tend to.
someone else to put before myself (again, again, again.)
in my words, i'm a realitist,
in my gut, i'm a pessimist.
but, my bones, i'm an optimist.
or at least comfortable with the fact things only get worse to get better (to get worse again.)
teenage philosophy resurfaces in my conscious (it's been lingering for years. surpressed by only momentary situations.)
I'm probably setting myself up to repeat a vicious cycle.
(one thing leading to the next leading not to something new but something already experienced.)
the lack of blinking green letters let me know your on my way and my stomach's unsettled.
i convince myself that i can't subdue it with another puff.
(that my dwindling account and throbbing headache suggest i need to cleanse my body.
get rid of anything toxic.
i'm not sure what "anything" includes yet, though.)
i've developed a love-hate relationship with every day objects and occurances.
(this town, these people,my small black draw string bag,  my own body, this feeling, that feeling, any feeing.)
and i can't help but hear steen's invitation.
("come here for a while. it's beautiful this time of year.")
i've never been one to run.
which probably makes me more stubborn than brave,
but i've never quite picked the right words to begin with.
just anything that sounds close.
euphanisms for everything and anything i encounter.
this entire summer.
the keyboard's dried but now the slight shaking of my fingers make it just as difficult to hit the small white letters
i've been up for an hour, using my mother's voice as an alarm clock. (though not a cause for alarm.)
(I miss the soothing feeling of being small.)
smoked two cigarettes in that time, listened to the same song on repeat, and composed this.
and i feel more accomplished than i have in days.
it's weird the old habits i resort to.
the same old things to find stability and a peace (piece) of mind.
(like bright eyes, writing,, scales, shaking  and sleep.)
("stop that.")
how much of who we are is somebody else?
how much do we adapt and incorporate without the smalled hint of recognition or intent?
how much of everyone do we meet do we suck into our lungs and find later in our bloodstreams?
i'm not doubting who i am. (i'm just doubting how much of you is inside of me.)
it's 7:55am and there's no hint sunlight to be seen.
(which makes me more alive? heat or cold? i have a love-hate relationship with body heat.)
my mom scheduled her and myself til two pm so we could go look at art by a man i've come to lack respect for.
i don't have the heart to tell her that, though.
(plus, i've come to realize you never know what you might find when you stop looking.)
(i keep checking my salvia for blood. i'm not cut out for disregard. a prominet trait of what i know is ME.)
when i get home, i'll watch Into the WIld (the only beautiful thing you ever recognized in me.)
and crack the pages on the thin white book i was brought from a New England state.
i'll listen to Bright Eyes and make something I find inspiration in.
(Or at least hope.)
After that, I'll pick my my returned phone and call someone for sanity and conversation.
(J, be ready to hangout.)
Then later, I'll make another phone call to someone I haven't seen in months but who is still more of my blood than my own DNA.
Today, I will be well roundd, today I will mend bridges, today i will take time for myself.
I have thrity minutes and quick exchange before I leave for work.
And I'm considering lighting up for a third time.
The oozing feeling in my skull suggests against it (when have I listened before?)
but, I took to pills to counterbalance it.
I can;t tell if these words are to pass the time or the time to pass my words.
(I have one clove left before my lucky cigarette. I use to make these packs last months. now they last moments it seems.
only last moments...)
I'm scared of what will happen will the new feeling fades.
When excitment fades to routine and comfort. I'm scared of repeating history.
(I'm SICK of being scared.)
(I'm all talk when it comes to being brave. I figure if I convince you, I'll believe myself.)
Scared of getting close to something else that's only temporary.
(I'm scared of life, apparently.)
(I really want my tattoo. That'll by my conquest for this week.)
A fimilar red color cuts this short. (or long.)
And it's time to level out.



of just a momentary pause, that concluded with a feeling of comforting seeping through my hair and into my nervous system. (I'd use a smiley here if I wouldn't feel like i was twelve later.)
(I'm not sure i want to find comfort in these things again just yet. I guess it can't be controlled.)
i think this is what i want life to be.
(a lack of captilzation, misplaced puncuation, constant typos and misspelling, subdued nerves, and a small gray cat rubbing against my foot.)
(the first part is pretty much what life is anyways, if you think about it.)
there's faded blue marker on the palm of my hand that gives me a connection.
though, i think the latter came before the first.
there's six numbers in my memory.
(my reassurance, my hope, my past, my home my responsibility, and myself.)
and a stinging in my eyes that i can only connect to smoke right now.
my bottom lashes are clumping in tiny spider-like shapes,
and my third, and final, clove has burnt itself out past the small gold line.
the rain in thinning and my cat has walked back through my ajar sliding glass door.
the clock on my computer states that it's 7:22am and i subtract five minutes to match the clock in the building where i'll soon slave away.
conor's voice sings the last chorus and I know it's time to go inside and get my keys.
a different end than how this all started;
but something just as fitting.





















" When panic grips your body
And your heart's a hummingbird
Raven thoughts blacken your mind
'Til you're breathing in reverse
All your friends and sedatives mean well
But make it worse
Every reassurance just magnifies the doubt
Better find yourself a place to level out.

I never thought of running
My feet just led the way


All this automatic writing
I have tried to understand
From a psychedelic angel
Who was tugging on my hand
It's an infinite coincidence
But it doesn't form a plan
So I'm headed for New England
Or the Paris of the South
Gonna find myself somewhere to level out.

I tried to pass for nothing
But my dreams gave me away

It is an old world, it's hard to remember
Like a dime store mystery
I'm a repeat first-time offender
Who has rewritten history

Mixed-up tea leaves
Phantom pain
Fuzzy logic in the the crazy rain
Getting better every day
If the brakeman turns my way"

-if the brakeman turn's my way.:bright eyes
 

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Farewell and Godspeed.
It's been nice getting to know you.
I'll keep you in my head as tiny wisps of nostalgia.
Otherwise, I don't think we have much of a future.
(I'm as done with you as you are with me.)
Let's look on the bright side, shall we?
In three weeks I'll be a clean slate.

"I've always thought you were gorgeous."


I've been waiting months to feel beautiful.
Boys say it all the time. Hearing it from you, I felt it.

today sucked.
i feel really upset and stressed out at the same time.
and i don't even know why.
but i'm on the verge of tears.
what the fuck is wrong with me.
i've gotten 7 hours of sleep in the past two nights.
and all i want right now is somebody's company.
and a cigarette.

Funerals have always been weird to me.  Everybody looking at a deceased person one last time has always sort of creeped me out.  I'm nervous about going to this funeral.  I haven't been to one in years and i've never been to a funeral for a friend, luckily.  

Today, I had a water with Taylor and Kylan.
We filled balloon and guns and hardly acted our ages.
The three of us laid side by side through the Wall.
Then picked out coincidences that occur when you mix Dark Side of the Moon with The Wizard of Oz.
I feel comfortable. I feel alive. I feel connected.
And, I didn't smoke a single cigarette.


But, I have to admit, something a little better touched my lips. =]

The party. The people coming in droves. Cables and bedrooms.
Approaching cars. Knowing what was coming. Wondering why I was there.
Jessica telling me we should leave. But, I couldn't. I couldn't stay quiet any longer.
First, I saw you but you walked right by. So, I changed my first target to him.
Letting him know what an arrogant, idiotic piece of shit he was.
Then I turned my attention back to you. Crying and screaming and trying to get you too look at me.
You tried to send me home so I wouldn't upset her. So I wouldn't say anything to make her unhappy.
I waited outside for her to show up. Shaking and just as scared as I was brave.
She never came. I would have killed her if she had.
Or maybe she did. I wouldn't know.
Because, suddenly the people swarmed me and I was lost in the sea.
No one noticing I was gone.
No one noticing I was gone.


I woke up half way through my dream and fell back asleep just to try and finish it.
It's probably the only time I'll ever really say everything I really wanted to.
To all of you. The only time I'll just lay it all out there and scream and cry and kick your ass.
I thought maybe it would help me get it off my chest. Help me accept that fact I never meant anything.
My emotion in my dream transfered over into a jaw sore as hell when I woke up.

I plead with you to listen. To say something. To let me know you even heard a word I say.
But, you weren't phased at all. You stood there stone faced and indifferent while "the other two" tore me to shreds.


I thought dreams were suppose to help you cope with reality.
Not mirror it exactly.




I understand I never meant anything.  I get that. It wasn't hard to figure out and I've had months to digest it.
I just don't understand how you can not even try to deny it.
How after everything you can pretend that I don't exist at all.
Not romantically, just in general. I've gotten over the "love" side of it a while back.
Now I just don't understand how all my effort in general is so dismissable.
I stayed through so much. Through more than anyone else would have.



I don't understand why I'm so disposable.
Don't waste your time on me.




(I'm not sad. I'm more pissed off.  Don't tell me I'll get over it in time. I'm over that part of it. I'm just not over his general disregard for the people who care about him most. Not just me.)