Aqua velva. 7 times. 11 minutes, gone. Give me 5 and a half, you'll have the rest, I'll save you for a bit. You make me want to open every textbook I used to own, read them all. To read every book in the Round Rock Public Library. You make me want to know things. Fuck, you're better than a boyfriend. Way better. You're a friend. You're a boy. A man. You're the first person my age I've thought of as a man. I love your eyes, so much it kills me sometimes. Seeing them as you slide down, sheets on top of your back, sliding down my legs, up to meet me. I love seeing the freckles on your shoulders, that angular little bone that juts out. Little tufts of hair on your chest. Your back in front of your closet as you put on your work shirt, the way you crawl into bed with just boxers on. The way you carry me. Throw me onto the bed, the only place we stay. Where we talk, breathe in each other. Commit to me. I know you won't. Commitment is disappointment. You don't love me at all, and that breaks my heart. You're far too good to love a person like me. Makes me want to cry. I want to see you cry. I want to make you laugh again, like when I bit your neck and asked how I was doing. You were a different person then. I don't know what I feel towards you. It's this dark, scary abyss in my heart that stares at me when I drive around smoking cigarettes. I can get you off my mind. Sometimes, when I don't see you for a few days, I think I just woke up from a dream. I have dreams about you where you treat me like shit. I think I'm just expecting that from you. I'm just waiting for you to lose interest, to hurt me. I love love love love love love your face. So typical. But I do. Everything about it. If I had to choose a favorite thing, I'd chose your mouth. The way it kinda perks about when you talk or sleep, I look over at you in the middle of the morning and smile forever. God damn it you're so you. Weird as fuck. Don't say anything for a bit, just let me stay the night. I want to hate you, I want to fight with you. I want it all. I want the happiness, the sadness, the beauty, the moments. I feel like it's just not enough. It's an insatiable desire to just see stuff with you. I love your dark side. I love love love love love love everything...about you. I don't know if I'd change anything. I'd make you love me madly, that's what I'd change. That would sure complicate things, considering I met you 2 months ago. Move fast, let's get there now. No destination. Just living. I don't understand anything, so please let me come over and hold me. I know I could come over right now. You'd let me. Maybe. But come on. Fuck fuck fuck this is scary as hell. It's ephemeral. Every cigarette I smoke makes me want to lose my virginity less and less, but I know losing it to you would be comfortable. It's not even physical. But I couldn't, because nobody can guarantee that things would be either 1) the same or 2) different but better after. If they were worse, if they were bad, I would never ever in a million years do it. When you kiss my cheek, holy fuck. Seeing your face when you kiss my hand. Seeing your eyes. Fuck fuck fuck... Ugh. You. Why do you make me feel this? I can't even put it into words. You're better than a friend even. You're someone I can connect with, and the sweetness is unbearable. To just think of you. Oh my word. I want to be with you tonight. I restrain myself because a) we both need sleep and b) not talking to you makes me fucking WANT YOU! Argghh. I'm so confused by you. I haven't seen you for ....... 36 hours. And I miss you. I love the chain you wear, I like playing with it. It makes me feel comfortable. You didn't kiss me that night. You wanted to, but you didn't. I want to get to know you more and more and more and more every single day. Once is never enough. I want to lay in bed with you and know you forever. ARGH FUCK THIS. I'll never meet someone like you again. Different, but never like you. I could go on about you forever, but I won't. I want to sit here and think about you.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Goodwill
When someone great is gone.
This chair at Starbucks is pretty uncomfortable. Oh well. Okay I feel super weird typing at Starbucks being on their WiFi and stuff like somebody I know is magically going to appear behind me and be reading all this but I don't think I'd care either way. The thing I care most about is that it affects my psyche and you know when you are observed, you are immensely different. If only there was less separation between the selves; there is not, so we will all grow up and live to discover others, never really knowing anything. I ask, say vague things. Yeahh. Anyways, I went to Goodwill and rifled through other people's notebooks. My life dream. I saw some inspirational shit about being a teacher, which in retrospect is highly ironic. I found a drawing of music notes and a person playing keyboard. I guess I feel like if I can see all this stuff about random people, like that thing I learned in Calc but I forgot. (What was it. Seriously though.............WHAT WAS IT!!!!) ... This is going to bother me tonight. But yeah, that concept that I didn't get about the "person". Maybe it was Philosophy. It was probably Philo. Now I don't know and it's killing me but I remember I thought it was the stupidest thing ever because it was trying to say there was like a "general" person, or something, or I don't know, and I thought, that's just not possible. Like... if you pick a random person from a pool of everyone, they're like everyone. Anyway, that's how I feel when I look at those notebooks. Like maybe if I just pull out a bit of information from some unknown source (an indefinite amount of small sources? Maybe.) Then... then I'm a step closer to knowing a piece of general humanity. Or maybe I could just talk to people, but then there's a million variables and it just gets so hard. Yeah I don't know. All I know is that I hope he talks about me the way he talks about those people one day. One day I hope I can be a really really great memory for him and he can tell some other person about me and what we did and the legacy we left in our minds. I hope... Sometimes I'm very black and white, I remember when I was 14 and ALL I wanted was to make a good impact on somebody's life. I think that was just me forming my morality. Then those years flew by to right now. Then the next 5 years will fly by again. I feel like I'm not getting any better as a person, smarter, anything. Maybe I'm just looking at it wrong. Maybe my intelligence is somewhere else. All I know is I'm not sure how my computer is dying so damn fast. I don't know. I should probably read and be intelligent and understand some people who lived a long time ago. I will. He gets off work at 11. PM. Why would anyone want me back at their house? I guess I'll stop worrying and just try to learn something along the way. I'm quitting my job. I'm getting a new one. I need some change. I also need to focus more on school, and find balance. I remember (I KEEP SAYING I REMEMBER) when I was a sophomore and all I wanted was balance. I told Coach L and he was SO EXCITED. My lord. Only a few times in my life have I felt so glad. It's just connection. But now balance seems like pure hell. All the stuff I knew was ripped out, now I gotta figure it out. Oh well.
Existentialist thoughts in Goodwill: WHO WOULD WANT TO DONATE THIS? WHO WANTED THIS AT ONCE?
I found a polo shirt that is also a button up shirt that is also covered with a picture of a pier. I got a tie that kinda made me want to puke... The only item I actually wanted was too expensive. Can you believe that? I may just go back and buy it right now. Yup. I will. Here the plan: Finish writing. Go buy that skirt. Go somewhere awesome. Read. Read. Read. Read. Smoke some cigarettes. Head over to Ryan's house. Sounds good. I'm nervous, hmm. I wish I could put my head down and just realize stuff. That was fun. Wish I coulda rolled. Oh well. Next time. :-) We're born and then we grow up and the only thing we can really do is figure out life and its intracacies and then we realize, well fuck it because we're all different (figgerent... I almost typed. I need need need need. To read.) and then it's kinda worthless and you don't know much anyways and then it's over, like a little movie or like a burnt out cigarette. It kills you, you love it, sometimes, then it's out. And you realize you're just one in a big chain of cigarettes that will all be smoked and eaten up, thrown out the window. Then what? God gets lung cancer and dies? No. I'm tired of not living in San Francisco. Of feeling like I need to get up and get some addies. Yeah, I don't wanna feel like that anymore. I don't know. Going south, I guess. I want to one day own a house or apartment and have ALL the furniture be from Goodwill. I will just trade out every item until everything is from Goodwill. Then I will buy a Steinway. And a bunch of records. And and and a parrot. It'll be in San Fran and I'll smoke all day, roll all night. Who am I kidding? I don't care what I do, as long as I want to do it at the time. That's the shame. Ephemeral. Nobody can accept that. The only thing that really keeps me warm is "You don't have to prove anything." There's always that one thing, right. I can't accept ephemeral. Or just crazy. It's been a good day, but I'm so hard on myself. I worry myself sick, I worry about everyone around me. I deplete my serotonin and in the end I'm really not interesting AT ALL. I don't want to do anything with Ryan but sit in bed for a few months and watch stuff and be OK and then maybe we'll go outside and learn to do something different. I don't really care. I don't care what we do. I care that we're friends and I can be good to him and maybe some of his goodness and kindness will rub off on me. I sure need it. I've become a bit out of control. Not that I mind. Actually yeah I do. It's all I think about. (Don't you realize that when you say that, it's REALLY not true, you're actually just saying a truth about emotion, which is inherently true. So is it true or false.)
This chair at Starbucks is pretty uncomfortable. Oh well. Okay I feel super weird typing at Starbucks being on their WiFi and stuff like somebody I know is magically going to appear behind me and be reading all this but I don't think I'd care either way. The thing I care most about is that it affects my psyche and you know when you are observed, you are immensely different. If only there was less separation between the selves; there is not, so we will all grow up and live to discover others, never really knowing anything. I ask, say vague things. Yeahh. Anyways, I went to Goodwill and rifled through other people's notebooks. My life dream. I saw some inspirational shit about being a teacher, which in retrospect is highly ironic. I found a drawing of music notes and a person playing keyboard. I guess I feel like if I can see all this stuff about random people, like that thing I learned in Calc but I forgot. (What was it. Seriously though.............WHAT WAS IT!!!!) ... This is going to bother me tonight. But yeah, that concept that I didn't get about the "person". Maybe it was Philosophy. It was probably Philo. Now I don't know and it's killing me but I remember I thought it was the stupidest thing ever because it was trying to say there was like a "general" person, or something, or I don't know, and I thought, that's just not possible. Like... if you pick a random person from a pool of everyone, they're like everyone. Anyway, that's how I feel when I look at those notebooks. Like maybe if I just pull out a bit of information from some unknown source (an indefinite amount of small sources? Maybe.) Then... then I'm a step closer to knowing a piece of general humanity. Or maybe I could just talk to people, but then there's a million variables and it just gets so hard. Yeah I don't know. All I know is that I hope he talks about me the way he talks about those people one day. One day I hope I can be a really really great memory for him and he can tell some other person about me and what we did and the legacy we left in our minds. I hope... Sometimes I'm very black and white, I remember when I was 14 and ALL I wanted was to make a good impact on somebody's life. I think that was just me forming my morality. Then those years flew by to right now. Then the next 5 years will fly by again. I feel like I'm not getting any better as a person, smarter, anything. Maybe I'm just looking at it wrong. Maybe my intelligence is somewhere else. All I know is I'm not sure how my computer is dying so damn fast. I don't know. I should probably read and be intelligent and understand some people who lived a long time ago. I will. He gets off work at 11. PM. Why would anyone want me back at their house? I guess I'll stop worrying and just try to learn something along the way. I'm quitting my job. I'm getting a new one. I need some change. I also need to focus more on school, and find balance. I remember (I KEEP SAYING I REMEMBER) when I was a sophomore and all I wanted was balance. I told Coach L and he was SO EXCITED. My lord. Only a few times in my life have I felt so glad. It's just connection. But now balance seems like pure hell. All the stuff I knew was ripped out, now I gotta figure it out. Oh well.
Existentialist thoughts in Goodwill: WHO WOULD WANT TO DONATE THIS? WHO WANTED THIS AT ONCE?
I found a polo shirt that is also a button up shirt that is also covered with a picture of a pier. I got a tie that kinda made me want to puke... The only item I actually wanted was too expensive. Can you believe that? I may just go back and buy it right now. Yup. I will. Here the plan: Finish writing. Go buy that skirt. Go somewhere awesome. Read. Read. Read. Read. Smoke some cigarettes. Head over to Ryan's house. Sounds good. I'm nervous, hmm. I wish I could put my head down and just realize stuff. That was fun. Wish I coulda rolled. Oh well. Next time. :-) We're born and then we grow up and the only thing we can really do is figure out life and its intracacies and then we realize, well fuck it because we're all different (figgerent... I almost typed. I need need need need. To read.) and then it's kinda worthless and you don't know much anyways and then it's over, like a little movie or like a burnt out cigarette. It kills you, you love it, sometimes, then it's out. And you realize you're just one in a big chain of cigarettes that will all be smoked and eaten up, thrown out the window. Then what? God gets lung cancer and dies? No. I'm tired of not living in San Francisco. Of feeling like I need to get up and get some addies. Yeah, I don't wanna feel like that anymore. I don't know. Going south, I guess. I want to one day own a house or apartment and have ALL the furniture be from Goodwill. I will just trade out every item until everything is from Goodwill. Then I will buy a Steinway. And a bunch of records. And and and a parrot. It'll be in San Fran and I'll smoke all day, roll all night. Who am I kidding? I don't care what I do, as long as I want to do it at the time. That's the shame. Ephemeral. Nobody can accept that. The only thing that really keeps me warm is "You don't have to prove anything." There's always that one thing, right. I can't accept ephemeral. Or just crazy. It's been a good day, but I'm so hard on myself. I worry myself sick, I worry about everyone around me. I deplete my serotonin and in the end I'm really not interesting AT ALL. I don't want to do anything with Ryan but sit in bed for a few months and watch stuff and be OK and then maybe we'll go outside and learn to do something different. I don't really care. I don't care what we do. I care that we're friends and I can be good to him and maybe some of his goodness and kindness will rub off on me. I sure need it. I've become a bit out of control. Not that I mind. Actually yeah I do. It's all I think about. (Don't you realize that when you say that, it's REALLY not true, you're actually just saying a truth about emotion, which is inherently true. So is it true or false.)
Friday, October 18, 2013
Fuckfuckfuck
But I love you.
I hate myself. I cannot make the people I like like me back: friends, boys, girls, anyone. I only end up admiring them from a distance. Someone put me out of my misery, me and the life I'll never have. I hate hate hate myself, but not enough tonight to make any deep wounds. I feel like a pansy. I wish I could cut myself. The pain must not be real enough yet. I can't want to do it, it just has to happen. No right, no wrong. Fuck, I ruin EVERYTHING. I hate myself more than you can imagine. I hate everything about myself, worst of all that I am stuck inside this fucking person for the rest of my life. I am letting a monster rule my life. Let's face the facts: nobody likes me at all, except for the people I hate. Fuck this. There are no words for this. Just fuck this.
I hate myself. I cannot make the people I like like me back: friends, boys, girls, anyone. I only end up admiring them from a distance. Someone put me out of my misery, me and the life I'll never have. I hate hate hate myself, but not enough tonight to make any deep wounds. I feel like a pansy. I wish I could cut myself. The pain must not be real enough yet. I can't want to do it, it just has to happen. No right, no wrong. Fuck, I ruin EVERYTHING. I hate myself more than you can imagine. I hate everything about myself, worst of all that I am stuck inside this fucking person for the rest of my life. I am letting a monster rule my life. Let's face the facts: nobody likes me at all, except for the people I hate. Fuck this. There are no words for this. Just fuck this.
Accept
All I ever learned from love is how to shoot somebody who outdrew you.
So it's time for me to stop being so scared. First of all, every feeling is ephemeral. Even if that mean it will last 2 years. It will last that long, then it will be replaced, hopefully by wisdom. So I'm trying to accept a few things right now. It's Okay to have emotions. It's fine. Let them flow through you, don't let them disrupt your daily schedule. Just let them be, look at them lovingly and how they can help you become better for yourself. Accept that maybe you have some feelings for this guy. Okay. That's human. Accept that maybe he does not. Okay. Accept that he won't always want to hang out or be texting you. Don't annoy him. But don't let it turn into a game, either. Be honest. Make the choice to trust. Maybe you'll get hurt badly. It's okay. You've been hurt very badly before, and you didn't think twice. Because you didn't know. Now you know, and you're cautious. But what can you do? Go the rest of your life being so cautious that you never grow? Make the decision right now to trust him. Realize that it may be absolutely stupid. Realize that yes, bad things can and probably will happen. Realize that he is a human, and that means at times he will annoy you. At times you will worry. At times you will hate his guts. But remember that he is good. Remember that this part of the friendship is the hardest. Who knows where it'll end up? You're walking on stilts, Bianca, and it's making you fall over and over and over. I can see it, but it's so hard to stop. I guard my heart. I want so badly to give it to everyone: my family, friends, new people I meet. But I can't and it's sad. Maybe that's why I always feel like something, something, is missing. It's love. You're letting FEAR control your life. Stop that. Make decisions out of love. Find out what you want to be and just BE it. Trust him. (Even though that tiny voice in the back of your head is saying, hell no.) Just do it. He said he was tired on Thursday, Okay he was. Stop analyzing!!! Just live. I'm happy for Ryan that he has a girlfriend but it's also weird for me because now I have to give him his alone time with her. He's like my brother. I will miss that! I gotta respect it, though. It's good to reach out to people, but after a while you have to stop talking about your problems and just start living life. It's not distractions all the time. Sometimes it's just trying to move on. Let it all flow through you. Don't be scared. And if you are, don't let that control who you are and what you do. I feel like I am getting better. Just last night hearing Kyle talk to Ryan about Lauren. That was very real. And meeting Carina and just how bubbly and helpful and good she is. People are a lot cooler than you thought, but they can also suck. It's all perspective. So fuck it. Stop being scared. Just live! You're holding yourself back. I think I am self-centered, but I can't tell if it's a little or a lot. I'm just so weirded out by the balance between (fuck I forgot what I was going to say.) But I need to give this kid a chance. Let him show me who he is. Don't force it upon him. Let it unfold. Just let him be himself. And it's your choice to love that or to not. But you've only known him for a little bit. It's not about "ruining" it, it's just about letting him show you himself naturally. And if it doesn't happen, it doesn't happen. But don't let that stop you from smiling about the good times you've had so far. Don't let it ruin your days. Don't let it stop you from going into this like a little girl, trusting. I'm not a stupid person and I know it. But sometimes I'm altogether too guarded. I let Gmo in and he ended up being so different. That's stupid. But it's not going to define my future relationships. No way. No way. Never. I am stronger than the people who have hurt me. I can be whatever I want to be. And I want to be: intelligent, loving, kind, genuine. You're getting better at being yourself. There are times when I feel like I'm actually doing 90% all right socially. It's pretty exciting. Like last night, I wasn't too bad. Maybe it's cuz I was slightly coming down (still. ugh.), but I'm developing into a new personality and I feel it. I like it. I mean, I like it but I feel like it's a lot of experimentation. Like, what now? What's this? Like I'm picking up little pieces of myself that are growing or have been there all the time and I'll looking at them and defining them and realizing them. It's fun. It's also hard, confusing, scary as hell. But oh well. This is life, so get used to it. Remember that you like living. I do like living. I can't ride motorcycles if I'm 6 feet under.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Acrobat
I love the way you take a walk.
I love love love feeling sober more than anything I realize. I've had these experiences, now what? It can't keep getting worse. I just wish I had some more control over my mind. We don't know anything about it, do we? Last night, all I felt was protectiveness for you. Lauren was trying to get me to call you, I wouldn't do it. When I did, you sounded good. We are both so weird. I guess you just get used to this, you just jump over new hurdles. I want nothing more, I'm slowly realizing, than to get to know you. Get to hate you, but stick by you anyways. At this point, amidst the smoke and booze and tripping and weirdness, I just feel like there's so much longer to go. Too many hours I need to spend with you. How do I even feel about you? We could be the weirdest friends ever, but nothing is ever known when we're always on something. Come down. Spend a night with me. That's the substance I love most. Just you. Nothing else. It's like, when I'm with you, I don't want to be on anything at all, because it would ruin it. It didn't feel like that with Gmo. It felt like I needed to be drunk to have fun. I miss you now. I wish I was with you. I know you don't feel like this, you just think I'm cool. It's like I had this awareness, Don't fuck anything up. I like the forgetfulness I felt before. I'm just being so careful now. I don't really like it. I'm just trying to find the positive in it. Yeah. I'm scared of myself. I feel like the fear was coming up, this intense intense fear. And love, too. The love led me to just do things right. To keep myself at bay, the bad parts of me. Wow. Now I want to just visit Taylor and smoke some Malboros. That'd be nice. Mmm. This changes things. Okay. That's fine. Just deal with it. It's like what you learned in psychology, about going to a different level and then having to adjust. There you go. You just feel like a new task. That's fine, fine. He's bored 'cuz he's there. That's fine. It's just my first time. I'll wait until I'm better to make any more decisions. I don't think I should go to work, though. It'll be too trippy.
So let's think about this. I missed English, which is fine because it's just the rest of the movie. I can probably find it somewhere else. I need to do my journal entry for next time. Then read all those poems. Do some journal entries. What else... I need to eat something right now. Then what. For government... Nothing. Just read chapter 8. I think being fucked up really helps me appreciate being sober a lot more. It makes me realize I like just being me. That's good. Anyways. For theatre, just do... I don't know. Whatever, I'm just going to do what I need to do. It's easy to. Not everything has to be by the rules. :) What now. Hmm. I'm deciding whether or not to go into work. Hmmmmmm. I'd like to not. To just lay around. Wow, no more of this on weekdays. Noooo way.
I love love love feeling sober more than anything I realize. I've had these experiences, now what? It can't keep getting worse. I just wish I had some more control over my mind. We don't know anything about it, do we? Last night, all I felt was protectiveness for you. Lauren was trying to get me to call you, I wouldn't do it. When I did, you sounded good. We are both so weird. I guess you just get used to this, you just jump over new hurdles. I want nothing more, I'm slowly realizing, than to get to know you. Get to hate you, but stick by you anyways. At this point, amidst the smoke and booze and tripping and weirdness, I just feel like there's so much longer to go. Too many hours I need to spend with you. How do I even feel about you? We could be the weirdest friends ever, but nothing is ever known when we're always on something. Come down. Spend a night with me. That's the substance I love most. Just you. Nothing else. It's like, when I'm with you, I don't want to be on anything at all, because it would ruin it. It didn't feel like that with Gmo. It felt like I needed to be drunk to have fun. I miss you now. I wish I was with you. I know you don't feel like this, you just think I'm cool. It's like I had this awareness, Don't fuck anything up. I like the forgetfulness I felt before. I'm just being so careful now. I don't really like it. I'm just trying to find the positive in it. Yeah. I'm scared of myself. I feel like the fear was coming up, this intense intense fear. And love, too. The love led me to just do things right. To keep myself at bay, the bad parts of me. Wow. Now I want to just visit Taylor and smoke some Malboros. That'd be nice. Mmm. This changes things. Okay. That's fine. Just deal with it. It's like what you learned in psychology, about going to a different level and then having to adjust. There you go. You just feel like a new task. That's fine, fine. He's bored 'cuz he's there. That's fine. It's just my first time. I'll wait until I'm better to make any more decisions. I don't think I should go to work, though. It'll be too trippy.
So let's think about this. I missed English, which is fine because it's just the rest of the movie. I can probably find it somewhere else. I need to do my journal entry for next time. Then read all those poems. Do some journal entries. What else... I need to eat something right now. Then what. For government... Nothing. Just read chapter 8. I think being fucked up really helps me appreciate being sober a lot more. It makes me realize I like just being me. That's good. Anyways. For theatre, just do... I don't know. Whatever, I'm just going to do what I need to do. It's easy to. Not everything has to be by the rules. :) What now. Hmm. I'm deciding whether or not to go into work. Hmmmmmm. I'd like to not. To just lay around. Wow, no more of this on weekdays. Noooo way.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Your Favorite Sweater
Come fuck me up.
I hope you had a great night. I really do. It would have been nice to have been in your arms and talked to you. I want to do that again. Only that, for a few months, then maybe we can leave your bed and actually go outside. Until then I'd love the just enjoy being with you. Every time I see you, you are just more adorable. I love the way your face can look so dark. Your eyebrows make you look almost frightening in the shadows, like there's something bad on your mind. I love your hair and how it's so simple. I don't know. I'm not a poet, I just like you. I like your arms, I love your back and how you react to the touch. I like your facial hair sometimes, although I gave it a 6 on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being death. I like your eyes and how kind they can be, how sometimes you look at my body, but mostly mostly my face. I like your feet mixed between mine. I like your chest and resting my head there. I love the faces you make. I love saying something quirky and turning to see your face so close to mine, so full of something like intelligence, amusement, condescension, and playfulness. I love laying my head on your chest and how you would sometimes sit up a bit when you said something too far removed from playful, how you are the first person I've been with so close and you are so confident and you truly believe you can be whatever you want to be. It's a bit boring, in an interesting way. I'd love to figure that all out. I love the way you gave me a hug today, I liked your black shirt and just how goddamn attractive you are. I like how candid we are. But still I end up waiting for you. Maybe it's because I like a bit of suspense. Maybe we need that. But please let me be in your arms again so soon. I can't wait for so long. I think about it. I like how rarely you laugh. I like how we talk about murders. I like how you are my age. Fuck fuck fuck I just like you a lot. I like when you pull me on top of you. I like when you said we could roll one, 6 hours, depends on the dose. I like how you never judge me and how you are incredibly matter-of-fact. I love how you said I'd never have to prove anything to you. You're so fucking splendid. I love that you don't get annoyed at me for cussing so much. I love how you complimented my dimples. I like being playful. I like being completely silent, nothing but gently moving fingers across skin and breathing in deep. I like how sometimes you'd hold me so tight. When I said I'd try and make you happy when you're sad. I don't understand everything you do. I love that you smoke, the way that we both smelled like cigarettes when we went back inside from talking to your best friend. I love how you yell in your house. I love your bed, I hate that clock right next to it that I can't help but see and be sad at the minutes and hours passing. I love how I laughed (I forget what you said) when you were on top of me, just there, I could feel you breathe and feel your skin. Nothing better. I like how you talk about liquor, how you talk about books, talk about whatever you want. I love how you ask me the dumbest, tiniest questions about my day, like you want to know the details. I love your honesty. I love your past. I love your motives. I like how bare and still your room is, I like how you asked me if watching a movie in your bed was OK. I like how you react when I see a stupid picture of you. I love your voice, I think you sound weird and dramatic when you whisper, keep doing it. I like when you say "Mhm", even though I said I thought it was annoying and condescending. I like how you made yourself be who you are now. Invite me over. I like how you just want human contact, you're not too tough to admit it. I like how you're comfortable with your sexuality. I love your problems. I like your parents. I like signing with them. I like your life, although you say it's been uninteresting. I like how we are seemingly opposites, but we really want the same things. I like that I was nervous when I was first in your room. I love the way you keep touching me lightly, as we walk out into the middle of the night to say goodbye. Your hand on my back as you pass, just a bit. Holy fuck let me spend the night. I don't want to wait to be with you again. I love the way you want someone to hate you, and you think it could be me one day. I like that you're not sacrosanct. You like to know things. You like intelligence and being nice. I love your courtesy, growing courtesy. I will think about being in your arms some more. The only time I really forget is when I'm at work. Do you think about it, too? How much do you want to do that again? Because, yeah, we should.
I hope you had a great night. I really do. It would have been nice to have been in your arms and talked to you. I want to do that again. Only that, for a few months, then maybe we can leave your bed and actually go outside. Until then I'd love the just enjoy being with you. Every time I see you, you are just more adorable. I love the way your face can look so dark. Your eyebrows make you look almost frightening in the shadows, like there's something bad on your mind. I love your hair and how it's so simple. I don't know. I'm not a poet, I just like you. I like your arms, I love your back and how you react to the touch. I like your facial hair sometimes, although I gave it a 6 on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being death. I like your eyes and how kind they can be, how sometimes you look at my body, but mostly mostly my face. I like your feet mixed between mine. I like your chest and resting my head there. I love the faces you make. I love saying something quirky and turning to see your face so close to mine, so full of something like intelligence, amusement, condescension, and playfulness. I love laying my head on your chest and how you would sometimes sit up a bit when you said something too far removed from playful, how you are the first person I've been with so close and you are so confident and you truly believe you can be whatever you want to be. It's a bit boring, in an interesting way. I'd love to figure that all out. I love the way you gave me a hug today, I liked your black shirt and just how goddamn attractive you are. I like how candid we are. But still I end up waiting for you. Maybe it's because I like a bit of suspense. Maybe we need that. But please let me be in your arms again so soon. I can't wait for so long. I think about it. I like how rarely you laugh. I like how we talk about murders. I like how you are my age. Fuck fuck fuck I just like you a lot. I like when you pull me on top of you. I like when you said we could roll one, 6 hours, depends on the dose. I like how you never judge me and how you are incredibly matter-of-fact. I love how you said I'd never have to prove anything to you. You're so fucking splendid. I love that you don't get annoyed at me for cussing so much. I love how you complimented my dimples. I like being playful. I like being completely silent, nothing but gently moving fingers across skin and breathing in deep. I like how sometimes you'd hold me so tight. When I said I'd try and make you happy when you're sad. I don't understand everything you do. I love that you smoke, the way that we both smelled like cigarettes when we went back inside from talking to your best friend. I love how you yell in your house. I love your bed, I hate that clock right next to it that I can't help but see and be sad at the minutes and hours passing. I love how I laughed (I forget what you said) when you were on top of me, just there, I could feel you breathe and feel your skin. Nothing better. I like how you talk about liquor, how you talk about books, talk about whatever you want. I love how you ask me the dumbest, tiniest questions about my day, like you want to know the details. I love your honesty. I love your past. I love your motives. I like how bare and still your room is, I like how you asked me if watching a movie in your bed was OK. I like how you react when I see a stupid picture of you. I love your voice, I think you sound weird and dramatic when you whisper, keep doing it. I like when you say "Mhm", even though I said I thought it was annoying and condescending. I like how you made yourself be who you are now. Invite me over. I like how you just want human contact, you're not too tough to admit it. I like how you're comfortable with your sexuality. I love your problems. I like your parents. I like signing with them. I like your life, although you say it's been uninteresting. I like how we are seemingly opposites, but we really want the same things. I like that I was nervous when I was first in your room. I love the way you keep touching me lightly, as we walk out into the middle of the night to say goodbye. Your hand on my back as you pass, just a bit. Holy fuck let me spend the night. I don't want to wait to be with you again. I love the way you want someone to hate you, and you think it could be me one day. I like that you're not sacrosanct. You like to know things. You like intelligence and being nice. I love your courtesy, growing courtesy. I will think about being in your arms some more. The only time I really forget is when I'm at work. Do you think about it, too? How much do you want to do that again? Because, yeah, we should.
Monday, October 14, 2013
Homestudy
Who cares? I'm not a moralist.
I'm just a lady with some time.
Best lines ever. I'm so done with that. It's not that I don't have morals. I yearn to be good, to see those around me happy. But I also want to be happy myself. And it's not that I don't hold myself to a high standard. I do. But it's just different than the one I grew up with. That's fine.
Can I just sit here and think about your arms and your bed and the minutes ticking away on your clock? Can't I just think about the way you stood outside at 3 in the morning, no shirt, only some shorts, smoking a cigarette as I left? You're the first one to feel real, to feel normal. Don't take that away from me. I know I could find it somewhere else, but I don't want to. Me saying that is just a defense mechanism. I like what we do. I like laying in bed for hours, doing nothing to change the world outside. I like being with just you. Don't go all societal norms on me and make me spend a million times more time with other people than with you. Fuck society. Let's just sit in your bed and yell across your house and drive 90 down the backroads and get high or drink some wine. Let's stand outside and smoke cigarettes with your best friend while he talks about how he hates feminism or about a guy who died that he knew. You're shockingly comfortable with yourself for your age and it frightens me. Sometimes I wish you didn't get high so much. I wish I could stay the night. But here I am, trusting you so much. Do I have a filter? I love to see you in my mind, again, when I drove away last night. You looked older, you looked like somebody I would never get a chance to meet. I trust that we will be so open it hurts. If I'm mad at you, you'll know. If I'm freaking out because of past shit and stuff like that, I'll be dealing with that in therapy. I'll talk to you about it if I feel like it, but I'd rather just hold you. Being along with you is comfortable. I want that. I am awkward all the other moments of my life, but when I'm in your bed I fit in. :) Let's do that again sometime. For now, I gotta focus on my homework. Reality. It sucks.
I'm just a lady with some time.
Best lines ever. I'm so done with that. It's not that I don't have morals. I yearn to be good, to see those around me happy. But I also want to be happy myself. And it's not that I don't hold myself to a high standard. I do. But it's just different than the one I grew up with. That's fine.
Can I just sit here and think about your arms and your bed and the minutes ticking away on your clock? Can't I just think about the way you stood outside at 3 in the morning, no shirt, only some shorts, smoking a cigarette as I left? You're the first one to feel real, to feel normal. Don't take that away from me. I know I could find it somewhere else, but I don't want to. Me saying that is just a defense mechanism. I like what we do. I like laying in bed for hours, doing nothing to change the world outside. I like being with just you. Don't go all societal norms on me and make me spend a million times more time with other people than with you. Fuck society. Let's just sit in your bed and yell across your house and drive 90 down the backroads and get high or drink some wine. Let's stand outside and smoke cigarettes with your best friend while he talks about how he hates feminism or about a guy who died that he knew. You're shockingly comfortable with yourself for your age and it frightens me. Sometimes I wish you didn't get high so much. I wish I could stay the night. But here I am, trusting you so much. Do I have a filter? I love to see you in my mind, again, when I drove away last night. You looked older, you looked like somebody I would never get a chance to meet. I trust that we will be so open it hurts. If I'm mad at you, you'll know. If I'm freaking out because of past shit and stuff like that, I'll be dealing with that in therapy. I'll talk to you about it if I feel like it, but I'd rather just hold you. Being along with you is comfortable. I want that. I am awkward all the other moments of my life, but when I'm in your bed I fit in. :) Let's do that again sometime. For now, I gotta focus on my homework. Reality. It sucks.
Elizabethan Poetry
Let me hear you through the heat.
I'm quite hungry. I'm fed up with being smart but not intelligent. Sensible. So fuck this, I am doing my fucking work and then I'm going to the library and becoming a smart ass bitch. When I came home today I looked a lot prettier. I really like this kid. But just because I truthfully mean no harm by him doesn't mean harm won't come. We're not the only two factors. But I guess for as long as we can, we'll just be. I can't remember half the stuff you said to me when I was always half asleep or hungover, but you can tell me again. It's all good. We can go smoke cigarettes and drink cocktails and act like things are simple for a bit. Maybe they really are. I don't know. I won't get my hopes up. Sometimes I really want to kill myself, hurt myself. Other times, I am fine. Who knows what is so weird about me. I'm still really hungry, I'm going to eat something and hopefully sleep soon. I need to study tomorrow. Fuck training. Maybe. I don't know. Fuck this shit.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
I Just Met You I Love You
Yo te quiero con limon y sal.
Yo te quiero tal y como estas.
I fucking hate this. This feeling of love for another human being. It's my greatest fear. It's in my heart and I know it. Get out. I can't have you in there, ruining my facades. I have seen kindness in his face. We've gone for 2 drives. Okay. We've driven so fast I thought I'd die. We've held hands, and now I wish I had held his hand when he told me what happened with his old friend. I wish I had held his hand, touched his arm, looked at his eyes the whole time he was with me. But I am tough and I am confused. I love this kid. It's too scary. Because I need to trust him. He's my friend now, we decided. To me, that's important. Why should I break down and doubt him? Let him give me every reason. But first, let me love fully. I don't know how to love. I do not even know how to be a person. He told me I don't need to run. It's not enough, is right. It can never be enough. No, not just the time spent with people I love. But what we are capable of doing. What we are trained to do, our fates. Can I escape it? I am an agent. Tell yourself that everyday. I am I am I am an agent. I am bound in this flesh, thoughts under a head of pretty hair, but is that me?
I am grieving my past few years. I must move on now. I feel almost stuck. I am grieving that fact that I never allowed myself to just be me. I looked at somebody else and said, "Let me live by her standards." It sounded good at the time, but it turned out to be extremely unhealthy. I am at a turning point, no doubt. I just lost my best friend of 5 years, but nothing is as it seems. I need to deal with this and start anew. I can be ANYTHING I want. That's fucking terrifying. My lord. There is nothing that binds me anymore. I have been released, and I have no clue what to do. That's why I keep to myself. I have no clue what else to do. Am I happy? I guess. I can't tell.
You told me you aren't afraid to die. You told me that you are afraid of the unknown. I love you, and I've known you for a week. Will we be friends for years? Or will I just stop loving you?
Yo te quiero tal y como estas.
I fucking hate this. This feeling of love for another human being. It's my greatest fear. It's in my heart and I know it. Get out. I can't have you in there, ruining my facades. I have seen kindness in his face. We've gone for 2 drives. Okay. We've driven so fast I thought I'd die. We've held hands, and now I wish I had held his hand when he told me what happened with his old friend. I wish I had held his hand, touched his arm, looked at his eyes the whole time he was with me. But I am tough and I am confused. I love this kid. It's too scary. Because I need to trust him. He's my friend now, we decided. To me, that's important. Why should I break down and doubt him? Let him give me every reason. But first, let me love fully. I don't know how to love. I do not even know how to be a person. He told me I don't need to run. It's not enough, is right. It can never be enough. No, not just the time spent with people I love. But what we are capable of doing. What we are trained to do, our fates. Can I escape it? I am an agent. Tell yourself that everyday. I am I am I am an agent. I am bound in this flesh, thoughts under a head of pretty hair, but is that me?
I am grieving my past few years. I must move on now. I feel almost stuck. I am grieving that fact that I never allowed myself to just be me. I looked at somebody else and said, "Let me live by her standards." It sounded good at the time, but it turned out to be extremely unhealthy. I am at a turning point, no doubt. I just lost my best friend of 5 years, but nothing is as it seems. I need to deal with this and start anew. I can be ANYTHING I want. That's fucking terrifying. My lord. There is nothing that binds me anymore. I have been released, and I have no clue what to do. That's why I keep to myself. I have no clue what else to do. Am I happy? I guess. I can't tell.
You told me you aren't afraid to die. You told me that you are afraid of the unknown. I love you, and I've known you for a week. Will we be friends for years? Or will I just stop loving you?
Friday, October 11, 2013
Let's Paint
Rain.
I have no intelligence, but I have the capacity for brilliance.
I'm beginning to trust a shadow.
I do what I want,
two people sit across at the coffeeshop
They met a few days ago
And they are hopelessly, flawlessly, relentlessly
trapped in their own bodies.
They can hold each other
Let bits of philosophy bubble up
to the surface, their minds.
But no matter
The white of knuckles
No matter
The length of stares
No matter
The cigarettes, the minutes lit to kill
They will leave
to their own hell
at the end of
the night.
Don't try, loved one. You are trapped, always always trapped. Always stuck between the everpresent thoughts of death: that feeling, that case? That tiny place in eternity that was set aside, a bit of hellish flames and clear ponds. Trap me here. No, rip open my lungs with bare hands, slice my veins, pour my blood onto the sidewalk. Get that out. Gut me. Take my brain out and smash it against the hood of your car. Kiss bloody lips. Do not die. Set me free. Nothing more.
I feel like this:
like the graphic. That is how my mind feels.
I stare into my friends' eyes because I don't know what else to do. I wonder if I love anyone, or if I could ever be a good person, or if that even matters, and if it doesn't, what does? WHY DO YOU COMPARE. Quit it. Quit it. Quit it. Quit trying to feel special, and acknowledge that you are. It doesn't need to be proved to you. It's just a little shirt that needs to be ironed out, and you will be alright. I come home late, my hair smells like the road, sometimes my fingers smell like smoke. I don't care. I think I love my mind so much that I can't even fall asleep. It's like I need to keep thinking. I miss my brother. I don't really miss anything else because I wasn't given anything else. I want to be smart, and I want to be driven. But I don't want to adhere to a societal standard just because it's there. There is a little bit of a person in me and hey, that is what I've got to work with. It's been formed and shaped. Now where do I go. My good glory lord. I need a tattoo, I need a big book about poems, about short stories. I need a big river, tomorrow I should go take a walk down by that pond. Go walk over by the railroad tracks, sit up there, read books, fuck the police. Who's a liar, who's not? Don't hate on people. Don't give them reasons to hate on you. Find the good things in life and fucking AMPLIFY them. Because life can inherently suck. It's up to you to get it together and make it better.
.'
I have no intelligence, but I have the capacity for brilliance.
I'm beginning to trust a shadow.
I do what I want,
two people sit across at the coffeeshop
They met a few days ago
And they are hopelessly, flawlessly, relentlessly
trapped in their own bodies.
They can hold each other
Let bits of philosophy bubble up
to the surface, their minds.
But no matter
The white of knuckles
No matter
The length of stares
No matter
The cigarettes, the minutes lit to kill
They will leave
to their own hell
at the end of
the night.
Don't try, loved one. You are trapped, always always trapped. Always stuck between the everpresent thoughts of death: that feeling, that case? That tiny place in eternity that was set aside, a bit of hellish flames and clear ponds. Trap me here. No, rip open my lungs with bare hands, slice my veins, pour my blood onto the sidewalk. Get that out. Gut me. Take my brain out and smash it against the hood of your car. Kiss bloody lips. Do not die. Set me free. Nothing more.
I feel like this:
like the graphic. That is how my mind feels.
I stare into my friends' eyes because I don't know what else to do. I wonder if I love anyone, or if I could ever be a good person, or if that even matters, and if it doesn't, what does? WHY DO YOU COMPARE. Quit it. Quit it. Quit it. Quit trying to feel special, and acknowledge that you are. It doesn't need to be proved to you. It's just a little shirt that needs to be ironed out, and you will be alright. I come home late, my hair smells like the road, sometimes my fingers smell like smoke. I don't care. I think I love my mind so much that I can't even fall asleep. It's like I need to keep thinking. I miss my brother. I don't really miss anything else because I wasn't given anything else. I want to be smart, and I want to be driven. But I don't want to adhere to a societal standard just because it's there. There is a little bit of a person in me and hey, that is what I've got to work with. It's been formed and shaped. Now where do I go. My good glory lord. I need a tattoo, I need a big book about poems, about short stories. I need a big river, tomorrow I should go take a walk down by that pond. Go walk over by the railroad tracks, sit up there, read books, fuck the police. Who's a liar, who's not? Don't hate on people. Don't give them reasons to hate on you. Find the good things in life and fucking AMPLIFY them. Because life can inherently suck. It's up to you to get it together and make it better.
.'
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
FUCK THIS ROLLERCOASTER
Living in ruins.
Okay wow. That was mean. I'm just so so so so mad. At myself, mostly. maybe. I don't know who else to be mad at. I flip between denying there's anything wrong with me and projecting my self-hatred on everyone else, or internalizing all of the hatred, not blaming anybody, and hurting myself. I don't want to do either. I want to locate where the pain is coming from--who is hurting me? Who is truly in the wrong? I just feel like my brain, if it were a shape, would be a giant sphere, and there's all this stuff bouncing off the walls and it can't get stuck in any corners, because there are none. It's killing me. What do I do? Where should my anger go? I don't really know who to blame, who to say is wrong. I see everything at once, like its all laid out on a table, even at my most narrow-minded moments. Maybe it's the meds reacting with the booze. I need to make a choice: get off these SSRIs and drink what I want, and feel a bit better, or stay on them, stay sober. I can't have both, because they're fucking up my system. My heart is beating so fast and weird, and I am breathing weird. I'm sick of sitting in my bed, just staring up and feeling all fucked up in my mind even when I'm sober. The point of being sober is just that: feeling normal for a bit! Now I don't even have that to hang on to. I miss it. I'll get out of this haze, though. I got out of the last one. Okay, let's make an agreement. No booze this weekend. None. If anything, cigarettes and pot. That's your limit. You will have a chance for booze later, no worries. Just not this weekend. Keep it together. Go to work, you don't have to talk to anyone. Just be good for the kids. Learn from this. Establish some limits. When you start seeing the world in a 3D way, it gets so much more confusing. Is it even worth it? Makes me wanna be in Brave New World. Can I be them? This emotion, this pain. It's so much. It's not even the worst of it. I guess it's just mine to deal with. What else is there to do? What CAN I do? I'm stuck inside this body, this life. The only thing for me is myself, to love who I am, to own who I am. This is me, I'm building this person. She's gotta have limits and some walls. To protect her from the assholes. Just not the good people. But who is even good anymore? Bianca, just make it through this. You've been through tough times before. You can do this. All you have to do, really, is go to your classes, go to work, come home, do your shit. Just keep it together. Maybe do some reading. Go out on walks to the pier, sit out there, bring some paint. You'll be okay. But survive for another day, survive for another person who will love you. Let them love you by keeping yourself alive. Please. Please. There's gotta be some hope out in this big world, right? It's such a giant place, there's gotta be a little hope hidden somewhere. Please? If there isn't, let me know and I'll kill myself. But I'm scared of that. So I'm trapped. And that is life. Life is just being trapped. The sick part is that you need to find some happiness in it somewhere, or at least some way to deal with it, or else you're just gonna choke to death on fumes.
Okay wow. That was mean. I'm just so so so so mad. At myself, mostly. maybe. I don't know who else to be mad at. I flip between denying there's anything wrong with me and projecting my self-hatred on everyone else, or internalizing all of the hatred, not blaming anybody, and hurting myself. I don't want to do either. I want to locate where the pain is coming from--who is hurting me? Who is truly in the wrong? I just feel like my brain, if it were a shape, would be a giant sphere, and there's all this stuff bouncing off the walls and it can't get stuck in any corners, because there are none. It's killing me. What do I do? Where should my anger go? I don't really know who to blame, who to say is wrong. I see everything at once, like its all laid out on a table, even at my most narrow-minded moments. Maybe it's the meds reacting with the booze. I need to make a choice: get off these SSRIs and drink what I want, and feel a bit better, or stay on them, stay sober. I can't have both, because they're fucking up my system. My heart is beating so fast and weird, and I am breathing weird. I'm sick of sitting in my bed, just staring up and feeling all fucked up in my mind even when I'm sober. The point of being sober is just that: feeling normal for a bit! Now I don't even have that to hang on to. I miss it. I'll get out of this haze, though. I got out of the last one. Okay, let's make an agreement. No booze this weekend. None. If anything, cigarettes and pot. That's your limit. You will have a chance for booze later, no worries. Just not this weekend. Keep it together. Go to work, you don't have to talk to anyone. Just be good for the kids. Learn from this. Establish some limits. When you start seeing the world in a 3D way, it gets so much more confusing. Is it even worth it? Makes me wanna be in Brave New World. Can I be them? This emotion, this pain. It's so much. It's not even the worst of it. I guess it's just mine to deal with. What else is there to do? What CAN I do? I'm stuck inside this body, this life. The only thing for me is myself, to love who I am, to own who I am. This is me, I'm building this person. She's gotta have limits and some walls. To protect her from the assholes. Just not the good people. But who is even good anymore? Bianca, just make it through this. You've been through tough times before. You can do this. All you have to do, really, is go to your classes, go to work, come home, do your shit. Just keep it together. Maybe do some reading. Go out on walks to the pier, sit out there, bring some paint. You'll be okay. But survive for another day, survive for another person who will love you. Let them love you by keeping yourself alive. Please. Please. There's gotta be some hope out in this big world, right? It's such a giant place, there's gotta be a little hope hidden somewhere. Please? If there isn't, let me know and I'll kill myself. But I'm scared of that. So I'm trapped. And that is life. Life is just being trapped. The sick part is that you need to find some happiness in it somewhere, or at least some way to deal with it, or else you're just gonna choke to death on fumes.
Monday, October 7, 2013
Not Sure (Jackets)
You survived, still gettin bigger.
NO WORDS. This is why I hate happiness, because it just never seems to last. Tomorrow I'm getting a tattoo. "PURE HEROINE." What else is there to say. Work was weird today. Actually, everything was weird today. I'm just concerned with being myself now. I don't really know what else to do. Maybe things will be okay occasionally, when I can see my friends and we can smoke cigarettes and drink some wine and watch some Netflix or whatever. Or maybe just talk. Dunno. I'm not good at keeping up with happiness. I'm weird. But I realized the best way to move on is to face it head on. It's like what Ashton said to me that day I cried at work. Am I gonna sit down or stand up and take it? I'm training myself. So I went into work, despite the fact that I was hungover, surviving on very little sleep, and had vomited all over my coworker's apartment that past Friday. Yes, it was weird and awkward at first. I couldn't focus my eyes. Literally I felt somewhat high. Ryan's the farthest thing from my mind, but he interests me so much. I am crossing my fingers and counting my stars that we can be friends. I'd like a nice friend. But it's either 1) he's just BSing me and he's actually a horrible person or 2) I can't accept the fact that I deserve a good friend and I end up ruining stuff.
Good lord. I am so happy he didn't kiss me but he almost did. I couldn't even begin to explain how normal and freakish that night was. How we went all over town, joyriding, driving off the road, in and out of his house at 3 am, smoking, not drinking, talking, it was raining, and cold. And how he opened my door in the rain once I called him a pansy. He's good. I wonder if that night was just a hangover dream. But then I remember it wasn't because I am missing the $250 it took to repair my tires haha. I am left so tired but I'm glad I have class tomorrow BEFORE work. It helps me ease into the day, into social interaction. I am an introvert, I could probably spend all day in my house staring at the ceiling and feel fine. I almost didn't go into work today because I felt so spacey and nauseous, but I figured Julia would have to go in after a SHIT day on Friday, involving her crying in front of the kids, getting yelled at on the phone, encountering the police. Man, she probably did feel like a failure. I figured, if Julia has to go into work and face that shit, I have to go in and face Sofia and the kids and everyone. Some of us looked pretty hungover today, haha. What can I say, it's ACL. I just wish some people wouldn't be bitchy. Whatever, I'm pretty chill but I'm a lot stricter with the kids. I just like for them to be doing their homework. It's gotta be done. At least get through elementary school, kids. You can fuck around in high school when it matters less. And in college, fo sho. But in elem, just do your shit please. I had to break up 3 fights today. They were all serious, involved throwing people around into the dirt, strangling people, calling people the N word. Yes, and these altercations were all between 8-10 year olds. My lord. My job is rarely boring.
I was super quiet in theatre today. I just couldn't focus. I am so tired and hungover and crazy with being young. It's hard to focus on the controllable qualities of lighting design when you spent your weekend driving up on sidewalks and talking in the rain until 4 am.
I was pissed when Ryan said he gets flirty for no reason. It's not because I was like "Ughhh I want him to like me!! I wanna be his girlfriend!!" That, I don't know at this point. Let's just see if we can be friends first. But the fact that he didn't try to get into my pants is refreshing. The fact that he looked at my face with kindness amazes me. The fact that he said I don't have to prove anything to him. No one has EVER said that to me. Ever. In my whole 19 years of existence. And I have felt like I had to prove myself to pretty much everybody up until this point. I don't have to prove myself to Ryan, to my parents, to Jenna, to Sofia, to society. I just have to be me, without shame, without regrets. I think Ryan can help me do that. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. I told him to stop smiling all the time, at least around me. He really doesn't have to. I am seeing a tiny sliver of a different side of him, a side he shows so blatantly, but only if you look deep enough. He's beautiful because he's in pain, he's fucked up on marijuana, caffeine, nicotine, and sleep deprivation, and he's just trying to find somebody to connect with, someone to hold in his arms and feel human, feel every goddamn fucking emotion that runs through our 19 year old hearts. I realize that he was probably right. The beginning of a friendship (at least usually between boy and girl) is the hardest. It makes or breaks it. Maybe we'll have to go through years of confusion, heartbreak, and drama before we can even enjoy being friends. Who knows? Guys are complicated, but their relationships are worth it. ..... Or maybe it'll be smooth. I don't know, and I won't hope for one over the other. Just let it be as it must be. Guide it to be better than it can be. Other than that, it's all about letting time unfold. It will. Just hold onto your heavy heart. You'll be fine. Like I told Ryan, I just want to survive. I don't want to die. I like living. We both do. Today one of the kids said, "I want to die." I said, "You're too young." I am a sinner, who's probably gonna sin again.
Fall is coming. It's colder, I can even feel it through the walls. I feel awesome with sleepiness and laziness and fucked up-ed ness. It makes me wanna take naps, watch new shows on Netflix, just sit at home all day. Eat bean soup or something, I dunno. I'm always hungry. Do I have munchies?
What else. I gotta read and sleep now. Ugh my life is weird sometimes. My life my life. Ryan said to start making my own decisions. I guess he's seeing something I'm not, and I'm taking it into consideration. He said to do something to help myself in repayment for him helping me with my car. ... I can't believe I blacked out on Friday. I literally don't remember going to CVS. All I remember is MAYBE getting in my car, turning my lights on for Sofia, and arriving back at the parking lot, saying, "Did we just go to CVS? Cuz I don't remember that at all." I think she laughed and said, "Yeah we did." I could barely function at that point. In some ways Ryan really reminds me of myself. Maybe because he's just being himself, and I'm kinda growing into that. I think this weekend was just a little too crazy. Haha I cannot subsist on this insanity for all of my ACC career. I love community college, it's where all the weirdos go, like me! Wewt. What else. I don't know what to feel except sleepiness. :-)
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