Weird Girls Who Make Your Coffee

Rose was born, child actress, on the fifth day of the snow.

It's so easy to compare myself to everyone around me. Does everyone feel like that at one time or another? I see girls who know how to talk to guys, who walk around in groups with short-sleeve shirts like they don't have a care in the world. But I noticed that the people who really smile back at you or ask you questions are the ones who are a bit odd, a bit over- or under-dressed either way. The ones who are shy and a little scared to show who they are. The ones who stand out a bit. I spend most of my days alone, which I don't mind since I value alone time. But when I start to feel like there's something wrong with me, I remember the people I really look up to. They're not conventional, nor did they worry what other people thought to get to where they are. They had faith in themselves, faith that they could be who they wanted despite society's reactions. I don't want to change myself to fit into a world I don't really like anyways. I'll keep to myself when I must, making myself the best I can be for me, and then see if the world takes the bait. Maybe (surely) there are other steps involved, but right now, that's where I am. Whenever I feel down or like a freak, I remember this idea. I'm not like most girls here on campus or in my age/societal status group. Sometimes I speak with accents by accident. Accidental accents. Sometimes I like to sit and stare at the water or the sky or a bird and think about it, from all sides. I like falling asleep to astrophysics documentaries and biology tutorials. I crave knowledge yet am weighed down by procrastination. I worry that my life is passing me by, so I try to cheat it. I try to make it more complicated, only to end up in dumb situations and revert to the past. I'm beyond awkward. I almost never laugh. I find small triumphs in having a normal conversation with a stranger. Yeah, so maybe I'm not everyone's cup of tea. I'm still growing and learning. Every day. So I'm not gonna say that I'm right just how I am now. But I'm good. I should start feeling more comfortable with letting people know me. It's hard. I'm not focused on finding a boyfriend or whatever. I just want to learn as much as I can about what interests me and what's important, hone my skills to become a dangerous, free-thinking weapon to society and standards, and show genuine kindness to people when I can. If people want to be my friend or fall for me, okay. If not, okay. I just need to be me.

FAIL

Don't go cryin' to your mama, 'cause you're on your own in the real world.

I failed a class. Again. My GPA will suck. I am not working this many hours next semester. Also, I feel better about things. I just want to spend this whole summer on Khan Academy and taking the ALEKS test and getting a phresh start. I'm not showing up for my test tomorrow. Or am I? I don't see why I should. I don't understand any of it. I want to understand it. So I will. Fuck this shit. I will fail. I will do better. I'm not scared. And if they try to get me down, I'll keep at it. I'm not scared. I have literally no time, so it's impossible to even remember my roommate's birthday. My mind is dying, I feel like I'm 40, and I just want to relax sometimes. I forget how to take care of myself. So fuck that. I want to do the right things. Get shit done. And psych can suck my dick. If I decide to be a biology major, then I will have to take calculus. Ew. So it's either Psych stats or Calc 2 next semester. They both sound horrible. But it's taking me some time. I'm OK. Im ok. Im ok. I will just continue to watch educational videos and hope one day I get smarter. What happened to my intellect? Or did I ever really have it? There's still so much to do. Maybe I had to do a little roundabout way of doing things to get to where I need to be. Maybe people will think I'm weird or unmotivated, but no matter what, I need to believe in me. Who cares what anyone else thinks? At this time in my life, I am my concern. No one can take away my dreams or brain. That's the key to success: telling yourself that you can do it. I refuse to pull all nighters or be unhealthy. My body can't handle it. SSo. 

Here we go. 

Dying Man's Eulogy

The gravedigger's getting stuck in the machine again.

Good moves break your heart and put it back together.
Great movies break your heart and make you put it back together yourself.
The same goes for people.
The same goes for everything.
The same goes for the jaws of life when they rip your body out the car
Flames looking good on your suit and tie
Pinch your lip until it bleeds, downstream tributaries of the heart
That awful terrible ugly
pulsing beast, locked away by capillary keys under the rib cage
At night your lover touches your body and gropes and gropes and gropes and then she asks
Where's the off switch
You tell her you've been searching for years, but it's in your medicine cabinet
or on the front end of a train going 80 while you're going 65
and drunk
Let's look ahead to you on the hospital bed
The heat just always made you cold, so now you freeze
and they mourn, thinking you're frozen,
when you're just going sideways.
They keep going forward.
Sideways, variations on a theme of one singular moment in time,
and that has become your life.
Still sequential, but it was steered off course. How odd.
Now you can see there is nothing to turn it off
Because even when you think it's dark or the flames out or the TV's gone black
you're wrong.
In the room next door, a baby just came out of some junkie slut's uterus
Over in Amsterdam, a mother just lit up a joint
You know where the smoke is going
It's going up and out of the burning tip, bits of fiery feral weeds mixed in, all chasing down to the stub
then to the ashtray
crushed in with the others
tossed away
giving a bit of life to a new seed of grass in 6 years.
Your big moment is half of what you thought, all turned perpendicular to itself.
The off switch, nonexistent,
your arms, nonexistent,
your reach, nonexistent,
so you cry out in a voice from a vacuum, to a space where stars void all things of sound,
your words are swallowed up in someone else's mind's makings
When you beg for mercy, it shall not come.
You are worse than alone, worse than forgotten.
You are not.

They Build Buildings

Time is not given and time is not taken; it just sifts through its sift.

It's about hope. Driving the woman home in the morning and still loving her. I can't hear my thoughts over the found of a beautiful siren shrill. I hear you turning your thoughts off.

Qui qui qui

Okay time to concentrate. It's hard to with this beautiful noise. Oh my god. Oh my. Oh. Oh.

Pavlov's Daughter woke up in the morning, heard the bell ring.

So she lay there, the sun skimming her skin. Drooling on her pillow. FUCKING GENIUS.

Now I  remember why I felt so hopeful when I was 14. I just listened to Regina Spektor all day. Her music is like an ever turning shower, warm and encompassing every goosebump. You step in, naked, chill on the arms, but the water is your goddess. You feel okay. Your mind will be stretched, fuck, to the limit of conception. You'll feel a terrible sting in your heart that time is sequential, not parallel. One at a time, a line. I wish I could kiss all my lovers at once. All my lips kissing them all in a perfect parallel wired circuit. The formulas are there. Simple homemade science books and dirty hands. But the sun streams in through a patch of web, spiders long gone, who knows where they've run off to or if they're even alive. It's all just a flow of perfection. Nothing can touch you, every moment is a baptism. It's not like the other music, where you can remember the beginning at the end. This is where you are stuck, always in that singular present moment. It's the only time I feel full. She is my god. I realized how much I never agreed with modesty or religion. I do not want to be hateful, but I'm in an odd place right now. Also, this is the first moment I've relaxed in a long time so I feel like I'm in heaven. I am. In. Heaven. A heathen sneaking through the Berlin Wall. East, West, Central, but I just want to be home. I've been practicing my rapping lately. I'm getting better. I'd like to rap and box and do all these things that you three letters like (sex?). Sneaky innuendos right here. OH MY GOD SNOW IN SAINT LOUIS. My ears hurting. You buying earrings for Julie, a scarf for me. I got blush on it and I didn't like it either because it wasn't colorful like Cella's. You were the first person to think I was special and should be treated right. You told me how much you liked me, and I really ignored you. I wish I had payed more attention but I was immature. I don't even know what I'm saying. I just know I feel okay. I want words to describe my mind, but that wouldn't make me a writer. You see, I think everything I write sounds horrible. I hear my inner audiological loop play it in my working memory, and all I hear is bumbling, awkwardness, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. Can't phrase anything right. When I try, my hands start shaking and my mind drifts to Zack proposing or Stevie and his size 15 shoes. The circuits are messy. Solder it, God. If you're there, you'll solder it. Click click. And the lady says, she laughs, "Trust me, the world isn't like this." She was weird and wanted too badly to be nice, so I was drawn to her. I'm drawn the the beautiful men but also to the good ones. Zach. Thailandia. Fucking down time, leaning against a counter, tall and nice. I will not fall for anyone. I am about myself and that's it. I me my mine just me so fuck off world.

Am I serious?

Reading time with pickle.

Precisely 4:15

When he stopped existing, the world should have ended.
How could it go on when I don't exist?

I realize once again, here I am, and I'm all I have. The power of an idea, it can speak like a mountain, spread like anthrax. Lick the seal and send it off. Words. It's like once you know this game, you can do what you want. I'm mesmerized by the thought of improving myself. It's dangerous, though. The further you get towards perfection, the closer you get towards insanity. It's just impossible to keep up with. And lord knows I want to be everything, do everything, feel everything at least once or 10 times before I die. It's not enough. I soak it in, the dumb hybrids circling around the parking lot, caught in a vicious cycle just for a place to park their ass, grab an Americano, and head off to shave my assistant manager's beard... All of those people, circling endlessly. Caught in a little stage between not busy enough to feel secure yet not slow enough to feel relaxed. Two wrongs certainly aren't going to make a right. I am a vessel, moving through this fucked up beauty, and I am in control. It's crazy, kids, so say it with me: I am in control. Why do I belittle myself? Dumb myself down? Disallow opinionated rhetoric to flow from my mouth? I keep my head down, I keep to myself a lot. But I have no idea how to stand up for myself. I mean, several times I have. But other times it's a lot harder. Like at work. Or at school. Why am I so weak? I wish I could utilize my body and words and thoughts best. I wish I could have the knowledge to defend myself against stupidity and injustice. I deal with small scale stuff, work, school, home, friends, sometimes strangers. But it's a bad mindset to have. But how do I get stronger? I need to scare myself. Insecurity is just hiccups.

Chords Save, Nooses Hang

Daniel Cowman.

Sometimes writing is my only comfort. Writing, and the dim future ahead. Those before us tackle our time right now, in their hands they make it so short and busy. We are made to worry through our youth, regret through our adulthood. The only fleeting goodness is found when we are too innocent to understand. Terrible, sour paradox. Childhood is drunkenness. It's heroin, optimal dosages flowing eternally through a brand new heart. It's sweet like cocaine dripping down the back of your nasal passage, you never need uppers to not fall asleep, and even if you did, there wouldn't be a need. The world treats you well, strangers smile at you just because you are small and good. Growing up has been a solitary experience. No one can save or help you. No one can ease your pain. You are alone, parallel to everyone else on the planet but nonetheless never to touch.

Huddling under a desk with my dog. She's shaking. She's small and not full of cancer yet. I'm small and always quiet, always careful to speak because I know what happens when sounds fly. Doors break, anger bubbles just below the surface of every action the three of them do. Me, I'm my own island. An only child, an orphan. Oddly forgotten in the haze. I was forgotten. I was dragged to different states, shoved into a school I didn't want to go to, lectured, prayed to, because of someone else's choices. I'm getting better at coming to terms with it, but it was pretty lame. I feel much, much better these days. For the first time in my entire life, I feel stable. But even stability feels shaky. I'm always worried about the next morning: who will I wake up as? I've been okay for a while now, but I am unconsciously caught in a cycle of insanity. I need nights spent yelling at passing strangers, I need flowing blood on the carpet, I need dizziness and visions of nothing, leading nowhere. I need dead end weeks. Then something pulls me up, reminds me of what I have to do. Nonetheless, I am so alone. When I cry out for companionship, I yearn for solitude. I can rarely spent more than an hour with someone until they bore me. With the exception of my close friends.

But who gives a shit? While the world moves about and finds its pretty passions and callings, I'm just sitting here, hacking away at my cracked keyboard, replaying the same songs I listened to the day before all to create something hideous that I can be proud of. My life, my childhood. All mediocre. Nothing interesting. But I wrap it in these dumb, no-thought languages so maybe it can appeal to me. Who am I kidding? I am stably fucked up, comfortably insane. You can all kiss my well-put-together ass. I am a piece of blank, a blank shot in your temple, trigger pulled by your own mother. That's me. The "just kidding." I wake up, load myself into the chamber. I'm ready to be shoved into your parietal lobes, frontal cortex, that grey matter that makes you human. I'll tear that to confetti, spill it on the floor at your soon-useless feet. Rigor mortis. Betrayal when you see who holds me. I can look as threatening as I want, make you sweat and count blessings until the last second, but in the end I'm a farce.

I'm tired of learning and I'm tired of sitting. I need something completely new to devote my life to. But that happens every few months. Go to college, Run away. Do drugs. Get straight A's. Join a band. Live in your car. Get a job. Dye your hair. I can never choose anything, so I choose everything.

Highway Walk

Leaving UP Mall, walking in the snow, ending up back at the bus and eating at North Dining Hall.

I am so sleepy. I don't know why but I just love sleeping. On weekends, I don't get enough of it, so during the week I crave it. Sleeeep. I'm ruled by my body! I wish I could just be a bald skinny little person who didn't sleep but ate all the time. That'd be cool.

Dark and Gone

Remember that time I called you at 1 in the morning and told you how much I hated you and how much you didn't care? And then your friend let me come over to hang out, and I wandered around the apartment complex in the cold, smoking my last cigarettes, in my PJs and slippers, until I sat down by the pool and called you? You two came and found me and saved my half smoked cigarette and my world was spinning from the drugs and the pain. I slept in your bed that night, but it was different. That's when things started changing and we were both on a path to get better. Now look at us. Imagine where we're going.

I hope that there's a heaven for the good who suffer, and a hell for the evil that prosper. As for me, I could be a speck of eternal nothingness after death and I would not mind. I deserve nothing special; my circumstances are not yet extreme enough to deserve redemption or damnation. Maybe your Bibles tell you something about me, but I will get what I deserve, even if that is dark and peaceful emptiness.

Once I wrote a suicide note. It was 50 pages long and it took 2 years to write. Eventually I burned it, along with the letters and pictures from the first boy I ever thought I loved. I burned that out in my backyard, in a big pot my dad used to use for making popcorn or soup. I took some matches and watched 2 years of important memories flash away. I used matches from Pappadeux's where I used to celebrate my birthday dinners. When all the papers and photos became black ashes, I poured water in the pot and looked at the filthy, pukish liquid. It stunk and was so vile. I poured it around my yard, buried it under a tree in my backyard. After that, I felt a little meaner. I like to think I'm a somewhat educated lady, but I have my rituals. My humanity remains intact, in all its cowardice and purity.

I've forgotten a lot of the ugly stuff from growing up. Maybe it wasn't even bad; perhaps terribly unremarkable. Sinkholes, red ears, cookie dough. I remember that. Crying at first confession because of my sins. Disrespecting my parents, never loving my brother. Nothing about me is terribly special, but Lord knows I milk my story for all it is worth. I want to make a person be better than me. Pitseleh, if I ever call you pretty, it is not because that's important. It's only important to be intelligent and good. Both, never just one. Just one is lethal. Neither is apathy. Both, please be both. You'll cry about not getting what you want, saying you'll do this or that, and someone bigger than you will have a perpetual frown and always tell you that you're wrong. It's okay if they're stern. Sometimes you listen, and sometimes you know that you're right. So you still listen. But you answer back then, and better. I saw a hideous man make my mother cry for years of pain, senseless and stupid, absolutely unnecessary tears. More tears, more evil. He made her cry for hours, no remorse. He was an ugly man. Right now he's probably in bed sleeping. Does he think about my mom? About that glass room with children and their fathers in grey playing basketball in a small patch of sunlight? About my silent dad, about that eerily still, empty 15-year-old girl whose heart was being drowned in sin right then and there? I fed off of that hate, because I was angry. Hate fueled me for many years. It still does. It is my biggest motivator, to work harder, drive faster, be smarter, but it will never make me better. I was sick inside from a suburban dose of atrocity. While that is nothing, it was still a virus. I'm getting better. I don't want my story to happen. I want the good to be happy. My darkness slips out, but I need strength right now.

Call Me Catholic, But

Remember when you were recovering from molly and we spent a day in bed and I said, "Listening to this song is like taking a sleeping pill"? I miss that day... and night.

Porn doesn't do much for me. It really doesn't turn me on. What's hot about a dick getting shoved into a butthole or whatever? Sorry but no. What does turn me on is romance and nice guys haha. If a guy is respectful and treats me nicely I'm like "FUCK ME DOWN DA STAIRS!!!! NOW!!!" or if he's wearing a button-down shirt and looks casually nice OR if he's got a guitar or something or if he's intelligent and can keep up a good conversation. Omg makin me wet thinkin' about it. Obviously I'm exaggerating, but seriously. Hot guys are okay, but if a guy is caring, smart, mature, and just a good person, I will seriously consider opening my legs. If not, bye bye. Okay done ranting about sex and other stuff seriously time to sleep.

It Was Nearly Midnight in Honolulu

Get the fuck away from me.
Why don't you ever shut up?

There was a weird bug on my bed. I tried to puff some air on him as a warning to fly away, y'know, because I'm a human and we kill things, but he just kinda curled up more. I tried to scooch him away, but he curled up even tighter. I starting pushing his little body off my bed onto the floor and he didn't fight. So in the end, he was so self-deprecating I just shoved him off to the floor. Fuck the feeble.

I'm very open to cultures. Deaf, African, Mexican, valley girl, stoner, I can join them all and be okay. It's because I don't know what the fuck I am so I have this horrible desire to latch on to everything around me that is artificial. It's all a distraction from the monster in the mirror.

Fuck the feeble.

Fuck depression.

I am finishing what I couldn't earlier. I sat in bed, munchies, dragging my sorry sweaty ass to lecture and naptime. I'm sick of that. The pendulum is ever-swinging, though slowly. Defies the laws of physics, what I learned from a nun a few years ago. As a child, I'm sheltered to believe all will be okay. And maybe it will. But dammit I want to be self-sufficient, enough for there to be risk with no nets. It's hard when you don't know how, but it's getting better. I don't want to sit around and complain how I don't know how to be. Now that I've started taking a minute drop of responsibility, I feel more and more peaceful with everyday. I don't want to chase boys, or stupid distractions. I am my world. So make it a peaceful and prosperous one.

Carissa

Benji.

Tomorrow (today), I want to dress nicely. I want to look nice and like I take myself seriously. I want to go to all my classes and learn some stuff. I want to spend my breaks studying or reading, because, you know, that's what I pay to do. I want to have a good, relaxing day. No anxiety. I want to finish Diary and start Invisible Monsters. I want to read again. I always go back to that, reading. I wish I had a chunk of time to head on down to the Austin History Center this weekend. Maybe I do. So I will do all this. Do my linguistics reading throughout the day, read some Palahnuik, watch medicinal chemistry videos. I realize that I once was pretty bright and ahead of the curve. Not anymore. Now I'm just average at best, and it's starting to get embarrassing, this fall from academic grace. I compete with myself, and I'm losing. So fuck depression and feeling bad about yourself. Fuck that. Just do your fucking work.

Keep Your Secret Safe

I will speak your language.

I like playing with my hair too much. My legs are kinda chubby. I'm really awkward. I drop stuff a lot, and imagine that everyone is in love with me, and never talk to anyone, and walk about half with head held high, half with slumped shoulders. I can't decide what I want to do or be. I change my mind pretty much every hour. If anyone in this world can understand me or love me, I give them credit. It's probably not easy. I've got a bit of a wandering eye, a free spirit, all topped with massive anxiety. I have pragmatism, empathy, everything on this planet. I'm not even all that pretty or spectacular or intelligent or significant. But for some reason the universe stuffed these traits into my soul, as if I deserved it. I think I need food. I think I need a nap. Nap? Nap? Or homework?

Tonight, I need to do my Resource Guide Analysis. It just needs to be formulated and typed out. Then I need to ONCE AND FOR ALL finish my thorough reading of Sutton-Spence's article and complete the outline. You can do this! You're intelligent!

X

You walked into the light, pulled up your pants to show me your calf, I touched it, then you covered that up and started telling me more silly stuff. You are a brief moment in time, lost if it's not acknowledged or appreciated. You spill your thoughts out when you show me what's in every drawer. The contents of your history, the drugs, the drinking, the pain, the bad decisions and used up moments. You keep talking, talking, against what I say, you are stuck on that train and you don't know how to see yourself how I and your other friends see you. If you start talking about it, you go on and go for a while, the same stream of consciousness every time, and I don't know if you want me to give you an answer or worry for you or just accept you. I just accept you and try to love you best. You are a sweet person when you rest your head against mine, when you offer me food, when you say "okay", when your head is resting on my chest and I can hold it and feel your hair and we can be quiet and okay. I want you to feel love and goodness, and I know that you do. I'm here for you to talk to. I will get annoyed after a bit because I am human, but keep going. You give good comforting advice when you know how. When you don't, you try and say sorry. I like you sober, or tipsy, or drunk. I don't like you high. I also don't like you when I'm high. Your whip is in my drawer and I wanna look hot like Lights, so thanks. You're funny so I don't care if you bite my arm or touch my armpit or flick my butt or give me a butterfly kiss. You're hilarious, so yeah, I'm gonna tickle you and bully you and steal your stuff and put it back and never tell you if I like subtitles and ask for your addies. I'm glad we're friends, and I'll miss you if you move away to college in the fall. But more than missing you, I'll worry about you. I worry about you sometimes, when I'm not there. I was worried when you went away during Christmas; remember when I told you to be safe and not get into too much trouble? I was serious. People like you are hard to find, so keep yourself safe and relatively healthy. We'll find out where you go soon, and life will move on always, but I hope I get to spend a bit more time with you in my life.

I Will Tell Gary

There is no God, and all of this is meaningless.
But today, there is a God. And he had a plan for him.

Talking shit, drinking wine, eating good food, laughing about other people's flaws and silly things we see on TV, sharing information about ourselves, wearing tank tops and slippers and hair down, cussing, speaking freely, all in a small, neat, artsy apartment in Cedar Park. I am so different from:

Sitting on the edge of the seat, never saying a word, taking shit from people who used to be my friends, gazing across the pavement at a circle of friends who I'm too scared to say hi to, staring down at my Triscuits and apple slices and milk boxes, picking up my ugly lunchbox when the bell rings, dragging myself to Theology or Physics or Coach L's English class, back before what happened. So different from:

Skipping lunch to spend an hour with a nun, working on homework, crunching numbers with the school freaks, avoiding eye contact in halls, too scared to heat up popcorn, sitting in silence with two new friends and a boy who does nothing but read, him asking you to prom in the hallway, and you ask him why.

I'm never the same person. My body decays every year, but my personality is growing up. As it grows, it doesn't decay like the flesh. It flourishes. It chips away at small parts that fear rejection and acceptance, it clumps on bits of humor and assurance. I feel okay more often than I did when I was young. I don't remember growing up very well because I was very anxious or okay I think. I was either so okay that it is unmemorable, or I was hurt so I forgot. It bothers me to not know which is the case. But the problem with where I was a few years ago:

You were staying in your bubble. Going to a foreign land and seeing devastation with those people doesn't help. I want you to feel uncomfortable, to crawl out of your skin and scream and cry and tear your hair to pieces in anxiety and loss of security. I want your heart to give out for a minute, your feet to free fall down a path, and I want you to stop where life takes you. You want so badly to change the world, but I fear you never will. The world, first of all, doesn't like change. The first obstacle. The second is that your idea for change is painful. I do not want to listen to your books, to your fantasies, to your arbitrary morality. Here is what I want to do: try some X, go to a rave, trip my tits off, and sleep til 5pm. Tell me why I shouldn't, once. Tell me why it's a sin, who I'm hurting. And what happens next? I do what I want. You're right at my ear to whisper sweet somethings, how I'll be forgiven. I don't want mercy. If I have done wrong by some Almighty power, then I am responsible for it. I knowingly do what I do. I drink, I smoke, I take drugs, I fool around with guys, I cuss, I do what I want, come home at 3 am, and I know that I do it. So don't tell me your God will forgive me. I never asked, and I don't want it. I am not sorry for living my life. What an odd concept to tell people, that they'll be forgiven. To tell people that they can love, but this way or that way only? I tried for 9 years to be holy. I guess I'm just a natural born sinner. I'm not cut out for religion. It doesn't bother me now that I've stepped outside the one-way window. So I want to change the world. I want to raise some people to be good, to not hurt others if they can help it, to survive and thrive and continue the lineage to make the world a nicer place. I won't make them pray, but I'll teach them how. I won't get mad if they don't want to go to church, but I'll take them to anywhere they wanna go. I'm going to change the world in this way. It's called hope, blank slates, magna carta, simple soft heads with plates unattached. But what are you going to do? Dress them up on Sundays, make them be like you? You're assuming that you are right and that you have the truth. You want to truth? First, you need to let go of that desire. Truth comes to the clean-hearted, not those with contracted hearts. Let that go, and you can get closer. Your God won't help, and your religion REALLY won't. But these are my current beliefs.

So the world is highly fucked up and constantly complicated. Every moment in a catch 22. Put your belief in predestination, and you will not think so. But now I am a part of the world, for the first time. I kept myself locked away. Now, I'm here. I love it, with its horrid gossip and ruthless bloodlust and the tears and the medicines and the mistakes. I love it more than religion, more than God, more than my past. I'm done with that. I'm free now, for the first time in my life. It is lovely.

All Singing All Dancing Crap

I can't stay awake for long.

Caffeine, Nicotine, and Adderall

Bitter dancer, ever turning.

That combo should help me study. Just took 1/4 an Addy and drank half a Trenta cup of iced coffee. I'm feelin' it now. A bit jittery but nothing too bad. Pretty good actually. I gotta shower then study!!! I don't know if my nostril can handle the rest of the Addy. I'm an amateur. Just gotta stay focused. Don't worry. Take a shower, snort the rest, and study time! :-) Shall be fuuuuun.

I WILL Teach Your Dog Physics

I am a sinner.

I miss Eric.

Social Skills

I had a chat last night with Ryan and I noticed how good he is with people. I mean really, everywhere we go, he seems to have friends. He said it truly took practice, and that he used to be very shy until he was about 16. So I need to make an effort. This has been an ongoing problem since I can remember, and I really want to open up to people. I generally like people. I like their stories, their opinions, their lives. I want to hear it and learn from it. The obstacle I have is myself. I am ridiculously individualistic and private. I'm extremely shy and quiet, and it takes serious effort for me to be talking in a social situation of over 3 people. I'm going to college in January and I need to start practicing my social skills. I feel so shitty because for 5 years, I drowned myself in an unhealthy friendship, so I have a lot of learning to do. But I can do it. I'm determined.

Epiphany addiction. Yes, I have that. I need to put in more hard work, more effort. It's going to be hard as hell. And work is going to be hard as hell... But you can do it.

Vague advice. One day you'll "be yourself" but it's not helpful for now. Seriously. Specifics.

Fake it til you make it. Works differently for different people.

Honestly, I tell myself a million times a day, "There's nothing wrong with you. You have the right to be yourself." Does that really help? I mean I think it does in the short term, but I have skills, just like learning an instrument, I need to hone. I'm ready to fucking try something new. Something's gotta work. I'll tell Alison this.

ARTICLE 1: ASKING QUESTIONS AND SEEMING INTERESTED AS A "KEY" TO CONVERSATION

Yeah it really doesn't work for groups. You need to know how to contribute. Even for one-on-one I feel people will start to think you're boring because you're not really sharing anything. In the past, I always let people talk and talk and now I realize it's really annoying because while I like hearing about people, I WANT TO TALK TOO!! I HAVE COOL STORIES!!! And I totally agree with the bit about people who want to monopolize a conversation and take advantage: CAT!!! And sometimes Ryan haha. He will start to go on about how people love him so much until I say, "Dude stop that's so fucking annoying." At which point he'll smile a desperate little smile and say, "I'm not trying to be, it's just the truth" at which point I'll feel like kicking him in the nuts. Ahh friends. But seriously Bianca, don't let people take advantage of your quietness. That's evil and enabling. Ew. You need to learn to interrupt when necessary. I feel like with my dad I can converse pretty well. I did well last night with Mike and Ryan, because 1) they're both chill and 2) it was a small group setting. I don't do well when I'm in a group and I'm the only new person, like when Ryan and I go to Starbucks or something. Also, I really like talking..........about myself........so I want to.

Article 2: Main concepts

Experience experience experience. You're not going to become a social butterfly by reading self help books OR this new website you found. Get out there. Do shit. (HOW?...) I see lots of opportunities: UNIVERSITY. And a new job.

Take initiative with making friends. It's not creepy. Don't be so passive (practice this....somehow).

Article 3: Factors that seems to contribute to shyness, etc.

Copying behaviors of people you were friends with that weren't good behaviors. Jenna. Jenna. Jenna. Her style works for her life and what she wants, but not at ALL for who I am. Unfortunately, I spent many years trying to hone HER skills and be like her, but this was only shooting myself in the foot: I have a choice between suffering and learning in my own way, in the life I want, or being good at interacting in a life I don't want, a life for somebody else. I choose the former.

Notes: Pushing people away. When I'm starting to get to know a group of people, I'm very happy to and want to get to know them more. I want to know a lot more. I especially take interest in a few specific people (usually a guy... ugh why) and want to know everything about them, I want to help them, etc etc. But then after a certain point I try to push them away (especially if the relationship is really intense and I feel like I'm getting too close). Getting really close to people scares me. I tell people to run, that I'm no good, that they're better off without me, that I deserve bad things and deserve to be hated. It's weird because the people who see me the most clearly tell me these thoughts are so wrong. They ask, "What have you ever done so wrong that you deserve this hatred?" All I can do at that point is cry and not know, but know that I do. Same reasons I (used to?) hit myself, because I want someone to do it for me. To hurt me, hit all the bad out of me. I have all these negative thoughts, this depression, sometimes even manic, all this absolutely insane, fucked up stuff inside of my head, and it really draws me away from other people. I need to know how to filter that and still feel connection, and I also need to know how to open up to the people I trust. I've opened up a bit to RJ, more to Ryan, a bit to Taylor, some to my dad, and that might be it.

Oh God, Where'd You Go?

God?
God?

It's so weird to think of God now, after all that's happened.

I remember when I was a little girl, how some things just didn't make sense. Like when people would say, "Just say when." I thought that was the silliest thing ever, because to me, "when" was just a concept. I didn't understand how that could be the magic word to mark the end of someone pouring milk or something. I like child me. I was very rational, I couldn't be fooled. I mean, I had a big imagination. But I knew what was what. I try to be that way at work sometimes. Just hold myself high, as a person deserving respect and fear. I'm kidding about the fear part. Or am I? I do sometimes wish I could be that girl that makes men scared, makes them sweat and very nervous to ask on a date. Unattainable, beautiful, proud, mature, lovely. Since I am the center of my own universe (literally speaking), I document myself. I fascinate myself. It's so bad, but not really. I'm in a relationship of sorts with myself, before I can expect to love others. I'm always waiting. I need to work through hard times, but I do owe myself the goodness of being happy. I don't deserve self-harm or depression. I have worth, just as much worth as I put on the people I love, respect, and admire the most. I am equal with them. That's an interesting way to look at things. If I could see myself the way I saw other people. How am I any different? At the end of the day, of our lives, I am no better or worse.

Darling, I don't care so let me go. To mama, arms open wide, I'll go.

I deserve a good man. I deserve to laugh. I love that scene from Breaking Bad where Jesse says, "I deserve this. I deserve everything that happens to me."

My arms are cold and I don't like that one bit.

Pitseletters

If anyone asks, you've got a prescription. You've got an addiction.

I'm tired of feeling like nobody wants me. I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself. I'm tired. I'm tired. I lay here in fucking bed, after being so successful, what happened to me? I want this, don't I? I brag about it, how awful I am. What is wrong with me? Truly, what is wrong? Tonight, I'm a little mad at you, yeah. I'm just a little mad. More than anything, I'm confused. Everything feels fuzzy and I don't know who I am. I can't get a grip on anything tonight. I don't want to sleep or move. Now I get what Dee said, but I always have. I have so much and I'm really grateful. That's the thing, right? Love yourself. But I just fucking want to talk to you without feeling like a monster. I'm mad and I want to yell at you. I do. I want to tell you how fucking confused I am and I don't want to smile or play dumb anymore. I don't want to think people are looking at me. I'm so confused beyond belief. I just don't know how to be a person at ALL. I can't feed myself, dress myself. I know that the further I go into crazy, the worse I'll get. The more drugs, the happier I'll be for a bit, then I'll remember all the stuff I forgot. Nothing wipes it away. Nothing makes me feel clean. Fuck. I just got mad at Ryan because he said he couldn't hang out. The problem is I just don't want him to be perfect. I want to just chill and do homework or whatever. I just don't want to go home. Zach said no, Zack, Shannon,... Fuck this shit. I've changed so much it's quite amazing. I'm selfish now, dumb now, lazy now. I CAN'T DECIDE WHO TO BE. I just need something. Something. It's not Ryan that I need, not love, not family. It's peace of mind. I can't fucking get that. Peace of mind. I want to draw and create and graffiti and run and be free. I can't do anything nice. Done with this. So done. So so so so so so so done. So here's the plan, once and for all.

1) Finish watching AHS.
2) Eyebrows.
3) HOMEWORK. FUCK MY LIFE DO YOUR WORK.

TV Lounge

It's only fear.

Alexi Murdoch. That's what I want right now. And Scala & Kolacny Brothers. Damn, teenage dirtbag. I thought I'd do a bit of journaling because I haven't in a while and I've been feeling so restless today. I make a fool of myself with my energy, don't I? But I'm feeling more settled anyways these days. I used to worry so much what people though, how I looked, sounded, acted. I still care, but only about the essence. Maybe that's why so many people around me seem imperfect; they're just living. Like Ryan would say: "Everyone's just a person doing a person thing." What he discovered tripping on acid, what I discovered growing up. I think of Becca, how she can be so rude and imperfect and it all just fits together. I don't care if I come off that way. Maybe that's why Ryan interests me so much: he tries so hard, but we all know. We will always know. He holds himself together, doesn't ask for a thing, but in small moments he shows himself. He's fun to figure out. I feel the more I talk to him, the less I feel romantic about it. Which is what I want. I don't want to have feelings for him. The feelings I did have are fading. I am, of course, attracted to him as he is quite attractive. But that's physical. I just want to share in friendship with him. I want to be there and tell him what he doesn't know but thinks he does. He's very egotistical, and he's figuring stuff out, there's nothing more I like than when he laughs. I've heard him really laugh twice, and he's heard me really laugh once. I've heard him laugh from sadness, and he's heard me laugh from sadness twice. That's all right. I sometimes feel dizzy and sick with self-hatred or sadness, and that's when I need to go to his house and sit on his couch with Moon. I feel okay in the darkness there, maybe with something to eat or drink. I don't like interaction so much when I'm sad. It hurts. I miss cuddling, because oh my how I do love touch. :-)

Today was manic. Driving around, couldn't focus, talking to everyone, feeling the need to be extraverted and not being about to focus or study. I can't be alone ever. Ever. Ever. I hate that. So much has changed since earlier days. That's why I feel so old. Every fucking year, a roller coaster. Never knowing what will happen. I can't even remember the last time I remembered last year. It's so dumb. Like those kids that move all over the country, my family just moved me all over the board. One day, Chris is playing Santana on his electric, coming home sick, breaking down doors, and the next he's gone. I'll never understand that part of my childhood. I will never understand what it did to me, if it did anything. That kills me. I can't handle that...Such a big part, just lost. I don't know how to feel about it. Some days, I'll feel like talking for hours and hours, some days not. I don't know why. It's odd the way it all happens. It's like a big weight is off my shoulders, every time I think about how fucking FAR I've come. I've come so, so, so, so far in terms of confidence and acceptance. Wow. And it all just kinda showed up one day. I really hope I have a daughter. I'll tell her all of this, probably like my mom told me, and she'll never remember any of it. Ah. Can't handle school right now. I wasn't cut out for this: focusing!!! I can't even get a fucking travel agent! I hear about a music festival and I go crazy. I think about coffee and I can't move. Ugh. Fuck my fucked up life and fucked upedness. General.

"At Arms Length, I Will Hold You There"

That which you judge, you become.

How monstrous. I need to start being a bit responsible again. I go through phases: oh, this time I'll be a fuck-off burnout and ignore everything. Oh, I guess now I'll be little Ms. Perfect. Okay, time to choose again. I learned when you're not being yourself, you're just discrediting your worth. I'm worth my time. It's funny because when we're little, we write in diaries and think we're so important. We think that it's enough to just document your life, rant on paper, go on and on about a singular person, you. But now I think it needs more purpose. There's people depending on me. At least, that's what I tell myself. I have a family, I have friends. Yeah, my friends are a bit of a clusterfuck from how they were a year ago. Yeah, stuff's changing. Big deal. I never liked stability. I feel okay alone today. When you feed that craving to distract yourself, it gets worse and worse. I don't want to get used to being alone, though. It's easy. It gets lonely, but it's really easy. Loving people is tough shit. I wonder why life is the way it is. Not the societal stuff. That's easy to trace. But the loving, the caring, the overall goals of it. Maybe that's societal, too. But I want it to be something more, something innate. I want to love and care and make good people laugh and be happy. It's just a desire in me. I used to think I was evil, I would become a murderer. I was always worried about being possessed by the devil. But now, I see I just need to step forward. I'm no longer writing for me, but for the person or people I will bring into the world. I keep thinking about what Dee said about having children. She said it was scary, and she didn't want to bring someone into a world she thought was corrupt. Isn't it insane just how morally obligated women are in terms of humanity? We bring forth more people. Yeah, the men help us obviously, but in the end we choose whether or not to bear the child. We know how shitty life can be, all the pain, all the people who kill themselves, all the drunks, and yet something tells us, It's worth it. I've made it this far, and I know someone else can. I will teach them, I will love them. I will make their life better than mine. I don't see children really as connected to their mothers. We are all alone, essentially. It is the sad truth of the human body. Trapped in cavities, filled with liquid and no room for anything else. We can share thoughts in the presence of oxygen. 'Leh, you'll be loved forever. You are loved before you exist here with us. I love you. I will make your life good (not easy, not simple, not boring, but good). You possibly have the craziest, worst mother on earth, but you will cry and laugh and love and hate and I will help you. That's my wish, now that it's 11:11. Goodnight.

4,000 Luxx

I love these roads where the houses don't change.

Fix it, nigga. Right? My mind is a huge pot of sauce, and I don't know if adding more stuff will help. I do that, don't I? I say, "Oh, here, let's add this and this and this and this." I can't write, I can't function. I don't like when I get like this. It makes me hate talking, or hearing other people talk. It makes me yearn to be alone, but then crave interaction. It makes everything backwards and reversed and rewinding. It makes waterfalls shoot up, clouds rain on the atmosphere. It's not okay like this. It's not okay to feel like I'm on something when I'm sober. Mania.

Mania. When ghost alcohol runs through my blood, I scream in my car, I drive twice the speed limit. I can't stop. I keep going, going, smoke the next cigarette, find the next person to be around, find something to destroy yourself. Cut yourself. Kill yourself. Do something new. Try it once. My mind races, my heart races, I struggle in my bed like I'm in a straight jacket. I toss, make noises. Can't sit or stand or watch or listen. I can't do anything. I make lists, tell myself I'll get up and do this or that, but something brings me down. The up. Everything becomes spongy, like the moon, and I can feel fake laughter frothing at my teeth. I feel like a hound in the night, ready to take off when the patrol guard comes around with his net. It's mania, it's crazy. It's weird these days because I can see it for what it is. I used to think I was just different. I don't know what I am. My heart hurts at the thought of silence. I want to talk but I know once I do, I'll hate myself. I hate myself even when I don't. It's a never ending, fucked up nightmare. Spiral up, Spiral down. One minute I care, the next I sleep the days away. I don't eat, forget to shower, or just don't. Everything becomes a mess, I try to lose my mind, I call him and cry and feel sick and funny. I don't know I don't know I don't know. I want a hug right now. I just want a hug. That's all. I want a hug and someone on the phone. On and on I go, but you know what really helps? Self pity does NOT. NO, NO, NO!!!! Working my ass off. Throwing my all into something nice. My first broken heart carried me all the way to the fucking podium. So fuck the haters. I just need a little reminder: FUCK. YOU. I'm going to make something of myself. I'm going to learn. I'm going to laugh. And all of you who don't think I will, you'll fucking see me race ahead. I have determination. FUCK DEPRESSION. I need to write my paper, turn it in, then find something to do. I'll be okay. I'm so crazy, but I just want to fly and be me. I know one day someone will get that. I'm not as scared as I was when I was younger. Being young is really hard. Its get better. (Joke.) You don't need anybody. You don't need anybody. There will be a person, many people even, who can see me and be okay with it. My dad. I think of him. He still loves me no matter who I am. And I grew up telling myself, he has to. It's his job. But now I see it's really not. There's so many shitty parents who don't love their kids. I was just lucky. I am so lucky. I want to stop wanting. But the things is, and we all know, it's not going to stop. Ever. I've always been like this, and I always will be. I will always have depression, always have mania, always not want to trust. But I need to know how to deal with those demons. I've gotten a lot better. Remember when I used to lay in bed all day? Remember when I'd cry and drink and self harm and feel like shit over some boy? I'm better now. I smile sometimes, even. Don't tell me I'm not beautiful. I am gorgeous. Tomorrow I will look nice, I will be nice. Tonight, Jessi, who is an honest girl, said I make her happy. I look at her and see how beautiful her face is. She's a person who is real. She's gorgeous, so you'd think otherwise. She's awkward at times, happy, bubbling, unsure, but fuck she is a nice person. She wants to be liked, but she wants to be good. She reminds me of myself. She said I make her happy. Wow. That's an honor.

Papa May Have

Billie Holiday.

Can we all just, not?

Must people come through at 5 minutes to close and order something, then bitch about it? Maybe it's just me, but sometimes I truly hate people. I miss Ryan. Fuck feelings. My chest hurts. I hope that egg was okay. Hm. Hm. Paranoia. I just can't seem to sleep until late late at night. I paint, read, watch shows, write, sit, whatever, but it doesn't work. My stomach is growling and I know I'm in a horrible fix. I think about death when I read, sometimes. How odd it would be to not be. Be to not be. I adore thoughts of passion, of lips and legs and hair and coffee days. It's all too good for me, but I will better myself. Drugs? Okay. Alcohol? Okay. I just can't sleep. Don't you see: this life isn't all nine to five work five to ten zombie ten to six sleep six to nine pretty up. It's two: love; three: mistakes; four: crash the car; five: drive me home in the rain. I'll never be the same. Not after Joe, my first boyfriend, Zach, my first love, and Ryan, my first friend. I'll remember these people when I'm old and have nothing to talk about but my past. I'll talk about Jenna and our 6 years of friendship. I'll talk about Gmo, the first real asswipe I ever got involved with. I'll talk about Richard Gamez and his conspiracy theories and Vietnam stories. I'll talk about Kelly and Becca and Rayna and all the people I didn't like at first then did. I am so so so tired. I will only get 4.5 hours of sleep tonight. At most. Maybe only 4. This isn't good. I want physical touch, want to cuddle, just unwind and fucking watch Netflix with Ryan or go get a fucking massage or whatever. I hate the public. I hate middle aged women with dyed hair and frosted highlights and purple jackets and big chunky jewelry and a constant need for white mocha sauce. I hate little kids who scream into the voice box, I REALLY hate awkward, snooty, unsure-of-themselves-overly-happy teenagers who think every moment is their big moment. I hate feeling so much pressure to do my work a certain way when I know if I was just left alone like I am with good shifts, I'd be able to get stuff done quicker. When I'm losing my shit, I'm not more productive. Hell, tonight I was slow and cranky.  Yes. But fuck, I'm a human. If we've lost that concept in retail, I'm confused. I don't go to restaurants and treat waiters like shit. I don't go to coffee shops and think that I am fucking owed free shit or heavenly service just because I'm shelling out several bucks for a drink. Yeah, treat me with respect. Yeah, do your best. Cool. But don't fucking dehumanize me, or come around telling me my coworkers "paid" you for a drink that was always (really, ALWAYS?) made wrong... first, fix your fucking grammar. You paid them. Fuck. Seriously? Don't waste my time, please. There's people behind you in line. It's like, I'd love to give you free shit, but yeah, not really. You don't fucking deserve it!! You really expected me to give you something. And when I didn't, you ASKED for it?? Nerve. Wow. Ugh. And you, fucking sprawling out all over our lobby with your kid and his PSP making noise every 5 seconds, PLEASE LEAVE. SERIOUSLY. YOU DO NOT LIVE HERE. YOU ARE NOT DOING ANYTHING PRODUCTIVE LIKE WORK OR STUDY. YOU'RE JUST TAKING UP SPACE IN THE NICE LOBBY CHAIRS. KBYE??? Okay this is moving to Tumblrrr.

Sexy

Oslo in the summertime.

I literally have no clue how to be sexy! I get all nervous and tense thinking about it. Argh. I guess I could wear a thong or I dunno. I suck at this. ARGH. Okay, nice underwear. That's important. Confidence. But like what do you say to be sexy? Like, "Hey there..." AH I DON'T KNOW!! I'M A PATHETIC VIRGIN!!! Okay. Okay. Remember, girlie, you are gorgeous and funny and smart and nice. You can rock those curves. Rock 'em. You're attractive. Yeah. Just make sure you have a full stomach and aren't too tired. Just be slow. Like seriously, I'm able to see all these things in my head and I'm like "Yeah damn, I'm a sexy bitch" but then in real life I freeze up and I'm like "OH MY GOD." Okay. Just breathe. You'll be okay. Stop being dorky. Oh my land I cannot do this. Okay, so I was dorky today. That's okay. It's okay. Later, just build it up. Don't be scared. He isn't scared to make some little itty bitty moves. Also, he's very sexy. SOMEBODY HELP ME! Why isn't there like a sex fairy that comes down and makes you good at being seductive? I hope Audrey is working on Friday or Saturday morning because I feel like she could give me good sex advice. She's gorgeous and confident and can be very sexy. Okay, yes. Keep calm and talk to Audrey. What is today, Wednesday? Yeah. So just make it through 2 more days of classes. Then on Friday, you'll have some answers. You can do it. Just breathe. You can do it. You can do it.

Pitseleh

Everything I like's a little bit sweeter, a little bit fatter, a little bit harmful.

Pitseleh,

Never be like me. I am obsessed with the idea of being good. So obsessed that I forget to be good. I want so badly to be this person that changes things, the things I see but don't like. But at the same time, I've lived my ENTIRE life in fear of rejection. That's how I live and it is horrible. I expect everyone to walk out on me at any given moment. Even with their word, it's always nagging in the back of my mind, that they're gonna abandon me if I do a certain thing wrong. I think to myself, "Be careful. This will be the last straw, and then they'll be gone. You can't mess this up." Can I tell you that this is literally the worst feeling to have, long term, in the whole world? It's a gripping fear that ruins every relationship you have. It especially sucks with closer relationships. Like in my relationship with Zach, I *always* thought he was going to leave me. I loved him a lot, but I was always afraid. With Guillermo, he would make me worried, saying stuff like, "I don't know if we can be friends," like every day. It was stupid, and manipulative. It's pretty disgusting. If anyone treats you like that, drop them. You are worth so much more than someone who keep saying they don't really wanna be your friend. Real friends will be there for you and won't hold the friendship over your head like some prize you have to win. Real friends will share in good moments with you; it's about give and take. I'm probably not the best person to ask, though. So far, I haven't really had that many friends. I dunno. I'm getting down on myself today, little one, because I work too much. I work 25 hours a week, usually terrible hours like waking up at 4 am, going to bed super late because my sleep is fucked up, and by the end of the weekend I feel like a zombie. I love work because (some of) my coworkers are amazing people, but it is constant movement, constant work, constant interaction, constant stress. It's like 25 hours of midterms crammed together. Then come Monday, surprise surprise, I did none of my weekend homework. I sleep in late on Monday and miss my biology discussion, or I drive into UT and miss it, or something. Mondays I'm dead. Tuesdays, I start freaking out about all the stuff I need to get done and didn't. Tuesdays suck for that reason. Also, I get lonely on Tuesdays and I don't know why really. I like my classes, I just get really lonely at night and feel like going home. Sometimes I do. :-) Why not? Maybe I can make Tuesdays my "explore Austin" days. I don't know. Pitseleh, I don't regret my choices but right now is a bit of a dull time. I have a few friends: Katie (who I sosososo want to visit!), Ryan, Taylor, Dulce (my roommate...?), Siri?, my coworkers?, Cella, Zack, RJ, don't really really know who else. My dogs? Heh. Whatever. I'm just trying my best, working my ass off, trying to keep up with classes, seeing friends. I just don't know. I get lonely here because I don't really know anyone. I don't have a group of friends. I did once, at Notre Dame, and I didn't like it. Maybe I'm just not a "group" kinda person. I'm more like a 2-3 people person, or whatever. I'm an introvert! But anyways, today was tough, I was hating on myself because I put off so much stuff. I fell asleep last night at 9:30 pm while studying for Bio and woke up at 9 am, almost late for Statistics. I hadn't been to class in like 2 weeks so I was so lost. Then my bio test went *okay* but I was frustrated because I enjoy that class and feel like I could have done so much better. Like, I'm finally realizing that I really am smart. In high school, I thought I was stupid but I worked REALLY hard and got good grades. Now, I'm realizing that I actually am pretty smart, but I'm so tired of putting in the effort. It's frustrating because I love learning, I just hate studying. I've changed so much. But I'm still finding my way, Pitseleh. Can I call you Sel, Seleh, Leh? I like Leh. Yes, I'm finding my way. Growing up is extremely painful. You'll go through some shitty year where you feel like you'll never really smile or laugh or have fun again. I rarely laugh, but when I actually really laugh a true laugh, it feels so beautiful, like love. It makes me appreciate it. I feel like I get good graces in small ways, and I appreciate them. I love my friends dearly, the ones who have seen me through hard times and crying. I love my coworkers. I love my family, although some of them can annoy me and honestly I don't like my brother. With all these things in my life, it's hard to focus sometimes. I've got all these people, and then classwork to do, then I have to go to work on time or Katie will behead me. And that's my life right now, love. It will and has changed over time. Don't get stuck in a time, there's more to be learned. I just was so upset today about how I really don't have anyone here, and I walk around all alone all the time, and how I just want to pour out love to every little human I see on Speedway or whatever. How I wish I could read all the papers, know everything, be intelligent, be graceful, be assertive enough to actually lose my virginity. I was raised meek. I will not raise you to be meek. You will have a voice, and you will know when to use it. My parents didn't do a bad job with me, I just wish some things were different. I have a weird relationship with my parents. I see my dad as a cool guy to talk to and whatnot, well intentioned, and my mom is a good person who can say horribly mean things (like calling me a slut, stupid, stuff like that) but I think they did try their best. It probably wasn't easy to raise me partially after Chris. Things will fuck you over, Pitseleh. Things that come before you and are out of your control. The past can be your present at times. Please realize these little things. It may not do anything for you in the short term, but in the long run, you will be powerful. I'm trying more and more to be powerful. It's really hard. I love you, did you know that? I won't tell you all the time, but I will tell you. I love you now, even as you don't exist, you are somewhere in the future. I love you so much. I don't know what I'm going to do until you're here. I feel like I can't go through life alone. I need you, and I need people who love me. They're here, but I'm blind sometimes. I always want the past, or a better future, but it's the hardest pill to swallow, saying where I am is good. What is wrong with me? I think I will never be satisfied, but it feels like dying to admit that this is good enough. It truly feels like a part of my heart withering away. It's always an internal battle: do I be good? Bad? I want to be good but I want to do bad things. It seems like I can never do what I want, I'm just not like that. It makes me honestly hate myself sometimes. I start to hate myself. A lot. Self-hate is ugly, and now it's stuck on my arms. My dad said I could get plastic surgery, but I dunno. I like my scars. I just wished other people did, too. I can't really show them to anyone but Ryan. I feel comfortable with my jacket off. I feel okay, like someone's friend, like a human. I feel like a freak covering myself up all the time. I'm so mad tonight, Pitseleh. I'm so, so, mad and it's beautiful. I don't know what to do with this emotion. I feel like it has a purpose. I will call Ryan later. I love you terribly, and you will get through everything just fine.

Yesterday I bought a lighter from a cashier at CVS and he said I'm going to start saying I'm old when I turn 21. I said I already feel old at 19. Then he told me that  I'm still so young, and life is gonna be so good to me. Those words were blessed, and I'm an atheist.

OKAY

Okay I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna tell him. We have to talk about this because literally I'm dying so either he can like help me out or give me some suggestions because IM DYING. This is torture! Argh... I'm tired of waiting. !!!!!!

Sin Palabras, Es Mejor Asi

No se ve, pero siento que...

I need affection. I'm finding that just as not only a human but as Bianca, me, I need certain things. Food, sleep, water. Shelter, love. Things I've had. Experience. Now, sex. Affection. Good conversation. Relaxation. Sometimes I do get very annoyed at myself, especially when I start to stand up for myself. It's like I've been primed to be a sweet nothing wisp, then when I break out of that, I feel horrible. So odd to feel horrible for that. It'd be nice to not feel like that, to not feel like people are staring at you or thinking of you in a certain way. It'd be nice to see the world for what it is. I don't need to conform to any one certain group. I like what I like, so I should be who I am. That takes strength. Because naturally, we want others to like us. I do want people to like me. But I'm realizing that self-respect is more important. I can't let people walk all over me or be rude in what they say. I'm very loyal to a person once I've seen their goodness, but I've learned a bit of how to be good to me, too. 

Things I wish:

I wish I really had a best friend.

I wish I could have sex. Like now. ARGH I AM SO SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED WHY DID I WAIT SO LONG TO HAVE SEX NOT WORTH THE WAIT AT ALL ARGH I WILL HURT SOMEONE but I'm so shy!! AAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH I HATE BEING HUMAN AND HAVING HORMONES. I'M LIKE A FUCKING 13 YEAR OLD BOY!!

Fields of Gold

We'll forget the sun and its jealous sky.

I remember how at Notre Dame I would listen to that song and think about Zach and our house and how much I loved him. I really loved him so much. I was crazy for that kid. And I do miss our house. I want so badly to go back there with him. It'd be fun to film us playing some songs there. This song actually makes my heart hurt a lot, just remembering those days. Today in class a lovely lady named Sylvia Donley played some songs. I told her my name and that I was a musician and she told me to come to an event and bring my guitar; it's later in April. She was very nice. She was divorced, but I don't know why. She's really pretty and funny. But then again, it is 2014.

I was thinking about you tonight, Ryan. I feel a nice feeling towards you, something like tenderness and humanity. I remember how you make me teas and sandwiches and you'd take care of me. I feel safe around you. I feel like the world can't hurt me. You made me take my hands away from my face, you tell me not to be embarrassed. You're kind. I feel okay in your arms, and I like feeling your warmth. I like your heart, feeling it beat. I like your breath, too. I like a lot about you, that sometimes I wanna cry. I'll always remember you. I hope if I die, someone will find these words so you can know how much I loved you. I tried to tell you in that letter, but it just goes beyond that. I will remember you as a beautiful person. The first friend to really show me kindness. You say you're glad we're still friends, and I am, too. I like to talk with you. Give and take. We are good to each other in a world that can be mean. You told me once to shut up, I told you many times I hated you. But then we hug each other goodbye and I speed off in my car, ride down 620, smoke a cigarette, and all those people don't matter. The people who hurt me, who ignore me, who call me bad things. They can't hurt me. My god how I wish all good things for you. I want so much for you to be happy. I wish I knew all the words to make you happy. I wish I knew how to make you never sad or guilty or dislike yourself. If I could make you see your loveliness, I don't think you'd be sad again. I miss some things about you, but please stay with me. Infatuation never lasts. Friendship might. I hope to see you soon.

Sex

And I love making you jealous but don't judge me.

Growing up in Catholic school, I was taught sex was this big sacred amazing thing you could never do unless you were married. No one taught me about it growing up. I learned about it from movies, books, porn, and friends. I didn't know that much about it until I was probably around 17 or 18. It's weird, sex. I remember the first time I learned masturbating was a "sin." I think I was 12, so I must have been in 7th grade. It was in my religion class, and we were learning about sexual morality, blah blah, and we were taking turns reading the book out loud in class. Of course I got picked to read the paragraph about masturbation and I was so embarrassed just because I was 12. I remember crying after I read that, because I didn't know doing that to yourself was so bad and that now I had to go to confession and say I did that. I didn't know. I didn't know what it was. But I knew I was guilty now, dirty. For years I felt so ashamed and disgusting. I felt like there was something wrong with me. I didn't have any sources telling me otherwise because all my friends were Catholic, my family was Catholic, I went to Mass every Sunday, and they would all say the same things. It was a world I was immersed in. I was too embarrassed to say to a priest, "Forgive me Father, for I masturbated." I mean, seriously? You think a 12 year old is going to have enough guts to say that? ... No. So I couldn't say it for many, many years. Then, when I was 19, I changed my outlook. I fooled around a very tiny bit with an older man (although the term "man" is being applied generously here; he is quite immature), and my friend was shocked. She said my morals were flying out the windows, to which I laughed. Having sex with your boyfriend isn't evil. Masturbation isn't sinful. You what is bad though? Feeling like shit for 7 years because the little world around you has convinced you that there's one right way to be, and you are not it. That, my friends, is a sin. Needless to say I am just starting to terms with my sexuality and its beauty. I'm a virgin, which is fine. I would like to be not-a-virgin, but I'm not hopping into rando's beds. I want my first time to be quite lovely. But I'm not as scared or ashamed as I once was. 

And then there's you. I think about loving you sometimes. It's nice in my head. I know what you like already, I know what works, so I'd do that and more. I'd go beyond what I couldn't in the past. Like many R&B songs say, I think of many nasty things to do to you. Haha. Well, they're not really nasty like gross or anything weird like that. I just think about how it would feel to be touching the nice skin on your back, kiss your shoulders (I like your shoulders), bite you, kiss you anywhere, make you very nervous and excited and animal. I've had those thoughts for months, so I wonder if it'll ever happen. I don't know. I think about you carrying me, tossing me onto your bed like a little doll, then taking control. I'd like that. I've never had thoughts quite like this before. They can get lonesome because I don't know if you think this way, too. You told me you didn't, but sometimes I see you glancing down at my body when I wear cute dresses. Maybe you do, but I don't think so. If there was a way to know we could keep our friendship and I could lose my virginity, I'd do that in a heartbeat. Seriously, like now. But our friendship means too much to lose it without that guarantee. It scares me, not the sex or being close to you or if it would hurt, but only if it would make you not be my friend. 

Coport Antiport

Staying out til tomorrow, dancing on tables, no cares, no sorrows.

I hate my car being messy, or my dorm room, or my life. I have citations I need to pay. Lost my driver's liscence. Still need to pay rent. Need to fill out so many scholarships and other stuff. If I don't go and travel the world a bit in my life, I will have failed. I want to do that. I feel like there's just so much that I should never be bored! I'm not bored now, just very sleepy. I love my coworkers Erik and Julia so much for their kindness. Erik is just a good person, he's honest, he's genuine. I know saying "Oh they're a good person" sound kinda bland, but when I say that it has a HUGE meaning. I don't really think many people are good people. I think Ryan is a very good person who is hard on himself. Taylor's a sweet person. Erik is good. Julia is just boughts and boughts of friendliness! I do remember a lot of my first impressions of people at Starbucks, who seemed nice and who didn't. I remember Tim was the nicest when I first got there. Tim's awesome. Most of my coworkers are very awesome people, but I notice when some people really put an effort through to be just good.

Superbowl XLVIII

When you feel embarrassed, I'll be your pride.
When you need direction, I'll be the guide.
For all time.

I love you in the ways you are like me and different from me. When I'm with you, sometimes you annoy me with your electronic cigarette and your egoism and your constant craving to be right. Sometimes you'll have me on a last string and maybe I'll say something dumb or maybe I'll smile through it because you're one of the only people I want to treat with gentleness. But it shouldn't matter, right? We are friends, we know that. We gotta look out for each other, help each other, comfort each other, and accept each other. We gotta make life better. I think we do. I used to go over to your house and sleep in your bed and I'd hide my face from you at night, then in the morning I'd smile when I saw you sleeping. Now here I sit remembering how you showed me the opening line of Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk when we stood outside my car, and I said I didn't back away from my mother's blood and you shrugged saying, "Yeah well I just like that line." That's what I'd do, now that I've met you. A year ago I would have thought I was wrong. I still think I'm inherently wrong sometimes, and that limits life like you wouldn't believe. But you (and others!) accepted me as I was, a confused, depressed, awkward, nearly atheistic, lazy, beautiful, poetic little girl, and you didn't tell me to go to church or that I had sinned.

Here's what I liked about the Superbowl: nobody came to Starbucks. Cool people came to Starbucks. Some British guy asked if we had flapjacks. Courtney closed for the first time. Courtney, Kelly, and I talked about Keegles. The headset. Jimmy John's and the attractive delivery guy and how Courtney was on the phone with him for like 30 minutes. Pickles. How that guy told me I was the only one working and I didn't agree. How 3 people came through the drive thru at or after 9:55pm. All the food all the food all the food. Zebra mochas for little girls, iced not hot. A Deaf lady came through! Sign! How we closed pretty much on time, and I figured out how to clean the Mastreno. I hit Courtney in the face. Hugged Morgan goodbye. I'll never understand Becca.

The monster is the mirror. I want so bad to wear short sleeves again.

Keep telling myself every every every second:

There is NOTHING wrong with you. Walk through this world, accept the changes, hold fast to what you know is right, be open to discovering more goodness and maturity, treat every little living being with killing kindness.

Don't Dream

They come to build a wall between us.

Sitting here with purplish red hairdye in. I work tomorrow, 4:45-10pm. Being an adult is frustrating. All I really wanna do is hot guys and LSD. I'm hitting that rock bottom, boredom. Something's gonna happen. I was expecting everything to change, and it didn't. I'm so silly to ever believe these things. Of course life is silly and always wants to surprise you. I remember all those nights I spent with Robin, wishing I could drink something, not wanting to watch a movie. I really did think she was my friend soulmate, but I didn't even know who I was. I changed. I'm still changing, always, everyday. Maybe that's why I have a high friend turnover rate. I just outgrow people, and they outgrow me. That's fine, I just wish I had a constant best friend. I make do with my temporary ones, even people I've known for years, but I don't know.

If I'm Haunting You, You Must Be Haunting Me

Onto you onto you.

last day of January: early morning shift, tattoo, Gordough's, cigarettes, Ikea, home, shower, Chipotle, sleep.

Beauty

I miss the way we used to argue, locked in your basement.

Tonight I feel defeated by beauty. I realize that I'm generally attractive: I'm not fat, I have pretty nice skin, my teeth are white, I have lovely eyes, a sizable ass and hips (#mexxxicangurlz). Really, I've been told by attractive people that I am attractive. But for as long a way I've come in self-acceptance and body image, there are still some times I wonder, "If I was prettier, if I looked like her, would this situation have played out differently?" That absolutely sucks. That's a hard part about being female. It's like a constant competition, the world tells you "Wear more makeup" "Wear less makeup" "Don't be fat" "Don't be skinny." We hear all these different messages and it just makes my head spin. Sometimes I'm so tired of it. I just want the love of a good man and some peace of mind. I'm lonely today. It's my third week here at the University and I'm just not the best at making friends. I struggle a lot with that. Things feel so boring right now: Going to class during the week, the boredom, the loneliness, the foreignness of my surroundings; then weekends consisting of working, smoking cigarettes on Taylor's porch, watching Sherlock with Ryan, snuggling with Millie, maybe seeing Lauren. I just get so lonely. I have friends, but I don't know. I get really lonely. All my life I've called myself an introvert, but I think I'm more of an extrovert now. I just always want to be talking to someone or sharing insights. I walked up to 11th St & Baylor today, where there's a beautiful graffiti park. I was too shy to stare at it, cuz some punkish looking guy was there, and also another group of guys my age. Why don't any girls go walking around? I feel so weird a lot of the time. Some guy came up to me and asked me if I knew where the mall was and I freaked out. I guess now I'll take a bus to the Co Op, buy my book, and do my fucking homework. I am lonely tonight, but tonight's not my last night on Earth.

God is Deaf

Oh, little one.

It's true.

I Am Together We

Tired.

I don't know who I am. I want to know. I want to fearlessly be myself and be happy and feel okay in my own skin. It's gotten better in some ways, but in other ways it's gotten much worse. I feel I am so weird. I don't know how to be myself, but I can't really be anyone but myself. What a predicament. I like my coworkers and I like people being around me in that way. I don't want to be that person that just always needs to come off as a hard ass, or who always needs to be liked. I pray for Juan from the Palms on Lamar and I will keep my promises to Ryan and Ryan. I promised Ryan J. that I would always be a person he could come talk to, and I told Ryan H. that even if he calls me up in years and needs something, I'll be there. I'll always accept him. My love for that kid goes a while, but I don't know. At times I feel like a freak for loving someone. I can't see what he's thinking, but he's a kind man. He's one of a kind, truly. He deserves the best as he continues to grow.

And then there's Guillermo. He keeps messaging me. It started as "Hey I miss your face, text me!" and then "Hey have you started UT yet?" He added me on Facebook and sent me a message saying to text him and that he wants to know if I'm doing well and he still cares. What's his problem? Either he's really thirsty or he's just curious. I don't care. He made me not trust. I'm better now because of life, growth, Ryan, myself, and confidence. I remember when I worried that I'd never find someone cooler than him to hang out with. I liked drinking with him and watching movies and whatever, but I guess he had something else on his mind. It's funny to think now that I held him as the standard. He's pathetic. He wouldn't even hold me. He's the opposite of what I want in a friend and in a man. Siyonara. I remember also how in love I was with Zach (Jeff Buckley just came on Spotify). Temporary. Is there a love that lasts a bit longer out there? Like Tim and Letra? I wish I could have that. It would change me. I think everyone loves me, but the truth is that I am just so odd. I like conversing and walking around and smoking while talking and affection and thinking. I love danger, knowledge, wisdom, improvement, and calculated personalities that slip up at times. I wonder what Benji thinks about, or Valerie. They're so different from me. At least some people I can understand. I'm slightly excited for the week ahead. On Wednesday I'm going to a meeting for transfer students, which I hope is fun! I could also hang out in the lounge and play piano or study. I need to sleep a LOT this week. On Thursday I go home and hang out with Ryan for a bit, and Friday I go get my first tattoo with Zachristina. Then... I work. Weekends = work. Work = money. Money = fun. Fun = Weekends. Work = fun? No. Dee is planning a fun movie night, so I'm excited for that, too! Other than that, I need to stop avoiding all my homework. Ha, ha. Maybe Ally will text me. Maybe I'll run into some people. Maybe I'll make a friend. Who knows? This university is so big that I'll never know until I go outside my dorm room. I like being liked. I wish I didn't.

I also wish everyone just said what they were feeling. I started doing that. Okay, who gives a fuck? Everyone's different. Underneath it all, we're all just bitchy human beings who want to be accepted. We need to learn to put up with each other.

Much love, Bianca.

Everything Changes so Fast These Days

There's still a little bit of your face I haven't kissed.

I thought a lot today. Although at work I was joking around with my coworkers and I fucking love them and I do seem to "fit in" (for the first time in a while), I was still caught up in my head. I was mainly thinking of all the improvements I need to make. I wish I was like Ryan. The way I see him, he tries to be a good guy. I try, too, to be good, but I feel like I come off as fake sometimes. I don't know. I was just very confused today. I want so badly to be myself, but that means accepting that there is badness in me. How do I battle that badness? The sad part is that in my head, I know these things so well. Cognitively, I could be very mature. But they can't grow for my heart until the time comes. So my soul is constantly waiting for another tragedy, another night out, another perfect moon, to learn the whispers in the stars.

I felt so much love today. You know I get like that. At times, I feel disconnected from every human being and like I could never care again for someone, but then other times my heart is filled with so much fondness for my friends and family. I thought about Ryan and how I just like seeing him and talking to him, telling him things that I know he'll just look at me with his straight stare and, "Mhm." That's what I need sometimes. It feels like bandages. I laughed with my mom and watching "There Will Be Blood" with my dad. After the movie I was on the couch for a bit, snuggling up with Millie, and he came over and started messing with us. I saw his face and I thought about if I had committed suicide, how he would have been now. He has such a sweetness, an okay-ness in his face. I would have taken that from him. Millie would look for me. My mom would not be the same. That woman has been through too much already. I know she could handle it, but I don't want her to. So I keep my lungs going, keep the blood surging, keep on keeping on. It's a love affair, really. Life is just a big love affair with yourself. And maybe, if you're lucky enough to find someone and mature enough to love yourself, you'll get to have a love affair with someone else, too. That's a big step, though. I give those people huge props. It's like being on store support versus being the rockstar on bar during peak. You work for it, you struggle with it, you earn it. I don't know how to not be me. But good lord I just want to be a good woman, with a little daughter, a son, a lover, parents, Tucker, a little life with big thoughts, and an everclearest view of the night sky. I know I will fall in love again. I barely put my pinky toe in. How frightening that I could feel even more. I feel like something tragic must happen, but no. Keep moving up. At least my hair smells amazing right now.

It's odd. Austin is my turf. How could I leave? I want to go to Botswana very badly. So I will work for it. I love you, big world. I love you I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. For everyone who tries, is unsure, needs my prayer, needs a promise tonight: I love you so much.

Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune :: OH MY

I want good love; I want it so bad.

I love affection. Why don't be engage in it more? Why not just, you know, put your head on a stranger's shoulder on the plane? When you're sleepy and you need a place to rest? I don't see what's so wrong with that. Maybe we'd get along better if we knew how to touch each other in a platonic manner, just admiring the skin and muscle of human life. Skin is gorgeous. I love feeling skin, and I love seeing someone's hand resting on me, moving a bit now and then, and I can see the little hairs and the shine on their nails a bit, they could tap out a beat or warm themselves, I don't care. It's weird to think that I'll be 20 years old in three and a half months. As I approach that age, I'm remembering more and more of my childhood. Little things I said that I think are cute, and at the time I felt like the smartest person on earth. I love interacting with children now. I feel like I really am leaving that phase, and it's bittersweet. I hear ages 20-29 are particularly challenging. I found 13-19 to be horrible at times. Teenage years. I'm proud I made it out of my teens alive. How the fuck did I survive? I think I died a bit on the inside for a while there, but now I'm back. I learned a lot. Beauty does not come from God. That's probably the best thing I ever learned, because it gave me more hope than anything else. I have seen people grow, and I have seen some people stay stagnant. How horribly boring, to wake up and want to be the same person each day, on the same trajectory. I want rapids, white foam in my rivers, stones to leave bruises on my knees. I want to wake up and be a new person every day, live a new life every day. I need to be everything at least once before I'm gone.

Here's the tattoos I want.

I want a solar system tattoo on either my ankle or ribcage, the golden ratio on my ribcage, left sleeve of trees and cityscape perhaps (austin...Trees... Universe), and a bold, dark circle on my right wrist filled in with an intricate portrait of the night sky/outer space.


This is what I want on my ribcage. Fuckin ace!!

Okay well perhaps it is time to study and whatnot.

Tent

Please, remember me happily, by the rose bush laughing.

I am camping in my backyard!!! I pitched a two-man tent, filled it with books and blankets and made some popcorn. Yum! It's quite nice. It's a different air. I like it. I've been thinking about Pitseleh a lot lately. I made it through a week of college quite nicely. Things are easier now. My personality is better. Tonight I closed at work with Nic and Matt. It wasn't so bad. Nic told me that he's bipolar and he's been on a lot of medicine. He says he knows that he's an asshole. He also said that he got shitfaced at the holiday party to prove a point. I dunno. I think he's got a lot of growing up to do as of yet. He probably shouldn't drink so much, if he does. It seems like alcohol is a big hit with some people. I like it, but I'm all uptight you know what I mean. I dunno. I don't even know what I mean. I like college. What I don't like is this little tickle in my throat. It's been there for a while. It's probably because I smoke, but oh well. I barely smoke at school. One cigarette a day, at most. I feel shitty smoking at school. Not sure why. But I love smoking when I'm home or at work. I'm so odd. I love me. Ha, ha.

I don't know. Life is still sometimes hard, but I feel things have gotten a lot better. It's time, really. I'm feeling better, stable on my meds, I love my job, starting school. I feel okay. I'm planning for some better stuff ahead, all in due time. There are a lot of things I'm looking forward to, but sometimes I worry they won't happen. I want to take this tent and go cross country like my dad did. I so so so so so so so so so so so badly want to fuck a boy. I'm 19 and a virgin. Soon I will be 20 and a virgin. I'd go out and fuck some rando, but I want my first time to be important. I want to lose my virginity to someone who is memorable, who I can tell stories about, who knows how to make love, whose love is an opiate.

What else? I work tomorrow from 2-4:30. That's a very short shift.

Everything you are is everything we have.
You're the only good thing.
A sun came.
It burned our faces round, burned our faces red.
You are still the rake, the rock from the enemy.
There is still a house, a cage for the enemy.
When my friends turned out, I found out there's still a Lord.
I've never felt so lonely...
A sun came.

An Atheist

I don't know how to feel anymore.

I kind of fucking love being an atheist.

But then when you take something and turn it into a God and you know it's not, something fucking personal and beautiful and perfect, and you glorify it so much that you talk about it in the same terms that Christians talk about God, well that is just horrible. You're destroying a whole point, to run from God. From that captivity. I have myself, I am a universe. I am my universe. I craft myself, shape myself, and what happens is all my fault and all deserved, all beauty and luck and grace and disgust and hate. I am a factory. I am nothing, everything. I do nothing. I want nothing.

There are so many groups for Christians here on campus. I understand, since I was a Christian (and a rather hardcore one at that) once, it can be so difficult. People don't understand the faith, they ridicule it at times. It can be difficult. So people form group (why are there like 20 of them?) to feel united against misconceptions. But what about the atheists? Why isn't there an atheist group? We're just as confused and fucked up as all of you, we're humans too. I don't really *really* define myself as an atheist, only for practical reasons.

One thing I know from therapy is that I think I'm better at talking myself out of something than I really am. Intelligent people see right through me. Right right right through me. You can't fucking mess with me and act like you have something better to do, because I know you're just fucking with me. Why why why am I like this? I share myself with so few people in hopes they'll love me. Are they going to leave me? I get scared. I need to tell him: just please, please don't abandon me. I will not try to hurt you. Don't abandon me.

I think I'm a puppy. Kicked like, "Fucking love me okay? Just love me." One day I think someone will. People do already, which is amazing. Default love, parent love. But stop thinking of it that way. If I could, I'd feel so much better inside.

Green Eyes, Green Eyes

YOU ARE FUCKING ADORABLE. I HATE YOU. I LOVE YOU.

Green eyes, I'd run away with you.
Green eyes, you're the one that I wanted to find.

I wonder if when you grow up, you know how the light outside at 10 pm looks like the light at 4 am, but you know it's 10 pm because the air is different, the trees feel lighter and sadder and more beautiful. I think when I'm old, if I can still feel those silent changes in nature, I will be a good person. I notice a lot more now, about everyone. I sat my butt down today on the only dry spot in the back of my little strip mall, right up next to the Charming Charlie door. I was afraid an employee would open it. I also say Rayna today. She is adorable! Making friends isn't so astonishing. Remember how hard life used to be? It was impossible to get out of bed, to lift my fingers to my cigarette. I'd see blood and bullets going through my head when I closed my eyes, I'd convulse in the arms of anybody who I could trust for a night. I cannot begin to fathom the amount of goodness I've had this past 8 months. Things were so horrible, but I've learned a LOT. It was a painful journey, but I made it to this plateau. I can rest my bones for a bit, but I know there's more ahead. I'm scared, but I have some faith in myself. I made it through. I've made it through a lot of shitty times, but I'm okay. Got a few scars to show, but they are mainly exterior. Those can be covered up. I am planning my sleeve now! I'm thinking this spring.

Strange Mercy

I'll be with you lost boys, sneaking out where the shivers won't find you.

I smiled tonight thinking about that time I went over to your house on Halloween and we ended up messing around more than usual. Even though I know it didn't feel right at the time, and I was just doing it because I was upset, I don't regret it. I've been so personal with you, mentally, emotionally, physically, every way. I've been honest and transparent with you, because you asked me to. You gave a fuck. I remember when I woke up to you kissing my face all over, and I pretended to stay asleep for a bunch longer so you'd keep doing it. It was very sweet. You're a sweet boy, even when you're imperfect and an asshole or something. I think you're very sweet, but I sometimes think you're unsure of what you really want. That's fine. We're all unsure. Just remember that some people will get hurt by you along the way, no matter how hard you try to make everyone happy. I don't want to hear anything about her, I want to hear about you. You're what matters to me. I don't want to be jealous or bad. I just want to be good to you, and I'm glad that I am so far. I ask you for favors, to drive me places when I'm high or in a bad situation, to talk to me when I need someone, to watch TV with me when I want to die. I am so glad we became friends, even if it's for a short time, (but I hope not!). I remember before I met you, I was afraid to stop being friends with Gmo because I thought I wouldn't meet anyone as good. Then I met you and you fucking blew that piece of shit out of the water. Thanks for being you <3 don="" even="" if="" love="" me.="" p="" t="" you="">
So tomorrow I must wake up, buy cigarettes, mints, gum, water, go to Starbucks and get breakfast, drive down to UT, park (WHERE--FUCK), go to orientation, figure stuff out, go home, SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP!!!!!!

Best Fine Surgeon

Get along get along get along.

I am still feeling a bit wobbly from the other night. That stuff lasts like 24+ hours on me. Unfortunately the day ended up crazy and yeah, some things to take care of, but nothing I can't handle. I'm recovering, feeling a bit better each hour. Of course I realized some things, but I dunno if right now is the right time to say them. I don't feel any cooler. That's my last time tripping on DXM. Time to move on. I don't see the point in continuing DXM use longterm unless I'm not suffering from a mood disorder. The trip didn't bring me enough realization to be beneficial, given the severe risks. Longterm DXM use can be very serious for someone like me. I just wanted to get a feel for the trip, it was quite odd. I prefer the comedown. The actual trip was weird as shit. I will not lie and say I don't have a desire to try higher doses (I took 354mg, pretty low) to experience other plateaus, but the risk there for my health is too great. I can't quite imagine recovering from a trip that intense easily. Even recovering from this one has been tough, tougher than last time (last time I took around 150mg). The 354 dose seemed even to be too much. If I were to continue, which I doubt I will, I'd go for 150mg doses again. Easier to keep hold of your mind that way. Plus, if you have to drive or interact with people, it's not as difficult. I was able to interact fairly easily on that. The sun is coming out right now. It's quite glorious outside... I want to go back to sleep though. I went to sleep early, like 11 pm. I woke up at 6:30... Ah! My sleep schedule is fucked! Luckily I don't work until 6pm tonight. That'll give me ample time to eat, relax, figure some shit out, go to work, watch Breaking Bad and MORE!!!

Okay I am very high on DXM right now. What should I say to remember this feeling and moment?

Everything is okay. The universe has you. This seems like forever, too surreal, but something is coming and it will take your mind tonight. Keep moving forward, learn more, be good. What IS life? I need to expand my brains!!! I want to do everything so well: work, school, friends, fun, self, what else. I cannot. I feel like there is soooo much more in here. Nobody sees it. How are we expected to live in this world when something was created that makes our minds like this, theres no God, but holy fuck, why would our minds have this capability? This is a large capability. I hear cars outside my window and I just DON'T KNOW. Life is an okay thing. I will live it, expire, yada yada. When did I realize how odd it is to grow old? I was going to tell somebody. Was it tonight? The problem is that when you are high, it feels like you've been this way your whole life. It's childhood. I am convinced. The universe works in a funny way sometimes WOW look at who I am now. What am I doing? I looked at myself like  a little girl but I have crossed over a threshold. Its time for me to become me. I realize it. For so long I sat around, I still do, to be everything but me. But that's the rub. Who I am. Who would create such a fucked up world with so many unanswered questions? I grew up being told hey there's a god there's a god but wow, I dunno. I just like being warm. :) And I like food!! I have a banana and a Clif bar with me, it's my tripping food. Haaaahaaaaa. I am so weird. Lol. The banana feels funny like slimy. Its good though. IT IS, after all, A BANANA. Now we move to ze Clif bar (I F E E L K I N D O F L I K E E V E R Y T H I N G W I L L G E T M E I N T R O U B L E ~~~~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) The clif bar feels big and puffy.

Another

Are you gonna stay the night?

I really like boys. Teehee.

I hope I fall asleep early tonight. I hope I watch something cool tonight. I hope I get my tips tonight. I hope I do something worthwhile this year.

Did I do something worthwhile in 2013?

HELL YES.

But now it's time to move on to bigger and better things. I'm thinking international. I really, really am.