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|Wednesday, January 30th, 2008|
|under those bangs she hides a fridge
This isn't teenage angst, for the first time. I always thought that I was so advanced, and I guess I can thank that positive attitude for my abilities. Unfortunately, you can't skip growing, and we're all in the process. I never spent a second to consider that I couldn't possibly know it all or be right all the time because I'm not old enough. The world hasn't spit me up and chewed me out a bazillion times. There is time for mistakes, and I'm glad I make them. Each one is a little more important than the last. Nothing cynical beyond that. I wish I didn't have to be wrong, but eating crow may just change your life.
If you met someone just like, would you hate them? If you did, do you think you/they would ever be able to convey themselves correctly to let you know you're alike? I think everyone feels misunderstood. Two choices: human nature, or just the cruel irony of youth. Is that because we're just prone to feel that way sometimes? Is it because we're all incapable of expressing ourselves?
I realized today that interpretations are life. No one really gets it 100% as it is intended. They mirror their lives onto the lyrics they hear, the cologne they wear, and the cigarettes they smoke. It's beautiful to feel so connected, but it's so phony on the other hand. Everything is just another feeling, I guess.
|Tuesday, December 5th, 2006|
- Honesty is just a word. Nice ideal, not real.
- Things are supposed to be dynamic.
- Development comes in times of turmoil, not tranquility.
- No one admits how they feel 100% of the time, but we're all sick freaks underneath.
- History repeats itself, and when the shoe is on the other foot, it might be time to consider who was wearing that shoe earlier.
- Corey and Deanna are dating or something. It's not any of my business, but I know enough.
- I'm in college. My relationships from high school have grown irrelevant.
- New fabrics are created to help the troops fighting battles. Self-development comes when you stop turning a blind eye to whatever was distracting you.
- I wish I wasn't human. I wish betrayal didn't hurt, and I wish it didn't fill me with vengence. I wish I was over my ex-girlfriend, over the transition to college, and accepting of who I am, but I'm not there yet. I'm going up the hill.
- No comment?
|Monday, November 13th, 2006|
it's not about living for someone else. no one wills you to live. you're alive because you want to fight for it. whatever "it" may be, but that's another series of teenage journal entries for me to write. it's not easy to let people go or to get away from abuse. it's not about drastic lines in the sand, but the subtlety of moving off the beach. you needn't say farewell, either.
|Friday, November 10th, 2006|
|Saturday, October 28th, 2006|
|Saturday, October 21st, 2006|
And I hope that you die and your death will come soon
I'll follow your casket on that pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered down to your deathbed
And I'll stand over your grave 'til I'm sure that you're dead
|Saturday, October 14th, 2006|
Don't ever tell someone you couldn't live without them, because then maybe you'll believe it. You can, you will, and you will like it. It might be hard to pretend you've never met, but it's sure not hard to teach yourself to hate.
|Wednesday, October 11th, 2006|
At the old age of nineteen, I've given up.
I saw a four pack of Starbucks' iced coffee on my porch, and I thought to myself... or maybe I said aloud (I talk to myself) ... "this doesn't make any sense." In that second it hit me: What does it mean to make sense? I assume its footing is found in logic, which is deceptive. What about life really makes sense? Maybe there is an ultimate truthtable out there with new boolean operators, showing us the way to the quantum mechanics of the human mind and the choices it makes. Right now, we don't have that truth table, and I have to say that with the knowledge I possess, it doesn't make sense. It also doesn't make sense to wonder why something doesn't make sense when the truth is "sense" is simply predictability. Worst of all, it is our own predictability, and that's uninteresting. Anytime I hear a musician play something, I generally find some way to appreciate it. Why? I didn't write it. I didn't play it. It's not necessarily that I couldn't play it, but it is because I know my mind doesn't work like that. I would never draw the conclusions the musician hears in the natural cadence (or maybe he/she just ignores it all together) and respond the way he or she did. I think I'm boring because I know all of my own tricks.
The future is mysterious. The way I'll feel is mysterious. The people who will enter my life and change me are mysterious. The mystery has no resolution, or anyone who is privy to the answer. Maybe then it isn't a mystery, maybe it is simply unknown. But there is nothing to know. Right now the edge of my world is flat, and we're about to sail over the horizon. It is flawed to feel educated or knowledgeable. If you question that, consider all of the people who felt educated before, and were later disproven.
What is truly more beautiful than the number pi? It's endless, unexplainable, and natural. Not natural, just the only we can understand the unknown of roundedness. A perfect circle is a myth, yet intuitively, we can turn our heads to see 360 degrees. I wonder if there is a fourth dimension, some higher level of being. Are we confined to only what we can see? If we are because we think, then what is it to not be?
|Saturday, October 7th, 2006|
I missed an entire month. The other day at work I had to ask what month it was. Something probably should be said for that, but how can I be mad about losing September? Well, I miss warm weather quite a bit. I have a cold and I don't think smoke helps these lungs. I don't think smoke helps anything, these days. It seems like now I've blocked my past relationship entirely from my conscious mind, but the unconscious rises to the surface still. Then I panic and frantically try to derail my train of thought. It seems like I'm repressing something, which ought to insure a psychiatrist a job in the future.
I like the Beatles. I hate laundry. I need to clean my room, it's so messy even I am
bothered by it. I need to figure out how to make my new phone work too.
There will be an answer. Let it be.
|Monday, September 18th, 2006|
|Saturday, September 16th, 2006|
It's important to have a keen eye to the future.
|Thursday, September 14th, 2006|
|Broken Heart [no. 5]
So I figured out. I figured out what it is I was going to bargain. Maybe am bargain. I'm going to give up my little green vice. I've heard that some people said it changed them, and maybe the more heavy usage was the problem. At some point in the day, I figured that out. And at some point, I realized that I was bargaining for her back. And I realized that I can't just dismiss all psychology.
But I always wondered: why is depression listed last? It's the hopelessness. You've tried lying, blaming, and giving away, but once you've done all of that, you're done. What the hell else is there? That's where the depression stems from, the utter hopelessness, knowing you've lost someone or something, and no matter what you do, you are just going to have to deal with it.
An engineering professor spoke of healing with depression. He said it was the toxins in your body that cause temper. He also said that when you're depressed, if you just smile, you can trick your mind. That seems beautiful, but I have a tough time tricking my body. At least the toxin thing lined up. . .
It's hard to deal with, but it is necessary. There's something you learn from all people in your life. Each person you encounter changes you. Love and pain are just the lectures of life.
|Broken Heart [no. 4]
It's over. She's happier. It's ok.
It's all going to be ok.
Maybe this is a front, but I think this is what I'm feeling, at least what I should ultimately be feeling.
It sucks and it hurts, but it happened.
|Broken Heart [no. 3]
Here's my belief: She just needs time. She has a lot going on. She just needs to figure it all out, and then we'll be together. She'll realize she misses me and that it was pointless to end it.
And I also know in my head that my heart needs to stop believing that. I know if I had to leave a relationship because I needed to grow or just figure things out, it would be very difficult for me. It would break my heart just as much as the person I had been with, but her heart isn't broken. She wasn't worried about never moving on, she was just worried about not moving on right away. There are things everywhere to remind her, and that's what she worried about. Not about how she would pick up her life and move on, just how she would take the first step. That's not a person who is working things out, that is a person who is done.
So now I look for people to blame. I can pinpoint a person who filled her head with how marvelous it is to be young and free (permiscuous?). I won't lie, during the relationship, I always thought of how great it might be to be "free" to do what I wanted, but I never acted upon it. I know if I had, the next day I would be feeling remorse, but she's only feeling bad because I'm hurt. I call it pity, but she says she just cares about me. I need to accept that she is well on her way to being all right and no amount of hope is going to bring her back to me.
I have this pathetic scheme. I could have prevented myself from ever seeing her again, but I choose to see her in a week. I know it's going to be hard, but I need to. Ideally, I'd open the doors and she would throw her arms around me and our happy life would begin again, but I don't live in a television show or a movie.
It sucks feeling hopeless.
|Wednesday, September 13th, 2006|
|Broken Heart [no. 2]
There are seven stages of grief.
Anything traumatic would cause grief, and I believe I'm grieving. That's ok, I'm allowed to. I just don't know which stage I'm in. For brief periods of time, I just hope that I can cut myself off from her and she'll realize how much she misses me. Then the logic kicks in and I realize she doesn't want to be with me anymore. She realized this all ready and no amount of time is going to make her feel like she needs me still. Other times I feel mad that someone came into my life for eleven months, consuming practically every day I had, and then up and left. That's where the one half of my body is, at work or at school. I need to regenerate that other side of my body: a new leg, a new arm, et cetera. That's when I swear off love all together, saying I'll never let myself become vulnerable or derive my happiness from another again. I know in my mind that I am just going to get over this eventually.
For someone still in love with another, here is the most bizarre and inconceivable thing: I'm going to forget her. I'm going to simply live my days until she becomes so insignificant that us being together has no relevance on my day to day life. I'll forgot all the cute little things she does, or the letters and gifts she gave to me. She gave me quite a few pictures, and when will I really look at them? I hate to throw them out, because I think they were beautiful things. She is beautiful. Unfortunately, she can't be beautiful. The relationship I was part of just died and now I spend "x" amount of time just forgetting about her. We can say "I'll always love you," but in actuality, I'm going to forget about her. I'm not going to be her friend: I never was before we started dating, and I don't see how I can honestly heal and let her even in my sight. I have to block her out; I have to stop looking at her profile, wondering when she's going to have someone else's name in it, I have to stop looking at her myspace, wondering when some guy leaves her a comment saying "I really liked hanging out with you last night" or when she'll change her status to "in a relationship." That's how I made it official we were dating, I asked her if I could change my myspace status to "in a relationship." It was silly, but it was roundabout and that's how I like things.
Someday I'll rememberance how much confidence she gave me. How much happiness she gave me. How wonderful every day was. But right now, I'm just wishing she would change her mind. Wishes come from the optimistic heart, not the cynical mind.
It hurts to feel alone.
|Broken Heart [no. 1]
Love is fleeting, like all things that make us happy. Love, I always assumed, was different. I used to describe the happiness as the feeling of Christmas morning. Though that eventually weakened with time, as other things in my life held more gravity, it never stopped making me happy. Unfortunately, love isn't simply about being happy yourself, it's about two people sharing a lot of mutual things including happiness.
There isn't a lesson to learn from a broken heart. For ten months I let my skin thin a little to her. Was it worth it? Absolutely, but only for those ten months. Now it just hurts. John Lennon was wrong, all you need is to live in the moment. The concentrated pain of a broken heart comes from memories. All things sour, including our relationships. Don't put too much stock into the way someone makes you feel, just enjoy the feeling. It won't last.
I don't believe in love like I did. I feel like I've lost half of my body. My heart is shattered like a Christmas ornament, trampled under foot. Each piece wants something different, but overwhelmingly, I'd like to return to what I had. No matter how strong the love was, it's replacable I'm told. Anything you think is unique and special is actually just unique and special because you have such a small view of the world. If you knew even half the population of the world, you'd see that no one is special.
Yet they are special because they touched you. And she was the first one who touched me.
How can it be easy for someone to say "it's not you, it's me," when it is almost always the exact opposite? It hurts to be honest, but hurts to hear a cliche'. It hurts to have no reason. It just hurts. No reason to apologize or try to clear things up because it just hurts the other person. They have a broken heart. If you meant enough to them, they are going to feel dead. They are going to feel empty. They are going to feel like a spirit watching the rest of the world shuffle their feet. It's a feeling of not understanding. This is probably what a foreign exchange student would feel like if they were set in the worst of locations - a different culture, no knowledge of the language, and people simply ignoring them.
It hurts, a broken heart.
|Monday, November 7th, 2005|
Oh my god, I'm not dead. This journal isn't dead. I'm not dying. I'm living. This journal is live.
|Sunday, July 17th, 2005|
I just thought of nothing. Not "nothing" conceptually, but nothing actually. My mind was purely blank. The only thought was the words I was uttering, "I am thinking of nothing." I can't recall now if for that minute I felt good or bad, because how can one truly recall blankness, or associate with it clearly? Judging by my excited speech, I must have been amused with myself. I just reached godliness, perhaps? No, too far. I just reached happiness? Maybe, but I believe I have been happy before. Is there any way to induce nothingness again?
Debate what you will (hell, I would too), but that was nothing. But nothing was worthy of marveling.
|Monday, June 27th, 2005|
I could sell you tomorrow, so bring me back my girl
|Sunday, June 26th, 2005|
|You care too much? Are you joking...?
Or do you want me to explode on you so you'll have a reason to feel wronged and unhappy without the guilt of knowing you're an alienating, self-righteous, and very blind individual?
Lesson of soft-"I-thought-this-would-be-obvious"-k
nocks: You can't honestly expect someone to suddenly return after silence for 6 months. What was I supposed to do, besides feign pleasantries until you had something to else to do? You want to be friends again? Search for a resolution to the problem initial. Hell, just mention it.
Fuck, that's ridiculous.
Sound of thunder that roared out a warning
The roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
One hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazing
Ten thousand whispering and nobody listening
One person starve, many people laughing
Song of a poet who died in a gutter
Sound of a clown who died in the alley