D I S C O N N E C T E D





.

I had the strangest fear today.

I was afraid that all those heavy clouds creeping over me were about to fall and crush everything I ever loved.
Then the sun peeked around them and said.... I don't know what it said.

But it was nice.

When in doubt... mumble.

And when mumbling fails, contain your screams.
Residing in your mind, they'll be fine. It's a good place for them.

Children who usually have nothing to do are often quite productive little people.
It's different for those who are used to being busy. They are poorly trained with spare time.

What a pity.

I realize that I recall (almost) every memory as if from afar. The door into my past thoughts has been nailed shut and locked, never to be passed through again. I may only observe through the rusted key hole.
May I break down the door, cross the threshold one last time?
Impossible.

Maybe I just lived my whole life in third person, and never knew.

She tried to write about love... awwwww.

Written 4/14/07.
6th grade.
I was very... odd. But see what you make of it.


There was a night breeze, the kind that feels like it would lift the stars and make them dance with it. He stood beneath her window in contemplation. The moonlight traced her pale, sleeping figure in the window seat.

He picked up a stone… but he didn’t throw it.
He dialed her number, and never sent it through.
He approached her door, but couldn’t ring the bell.
He even thought about climbing the roof by her window.

In the end, he resorted to scrawling two seemingly trifle words of regret onto the back of an old receipt. He tucked it into the crack in her front door, making sure it was secure from the light breeze. With the first signs of morning life, he biked away.

The girl’s father happened upon the folded receipt on his way out to work. Reading it, but thinking nothing of it, he tossed it into the recycle that was already waiting at the curb for collecting.
He had no idea how much it would have meant to her.



(I am actually very much disgraced by this. But I promised not to be self conscious.)

Because she can't stand to listen to his tears.

She could hear the tears in her own voice, scratching at the dry walls of her throat.
Though they never did fancy finding her eyes.
She would have done anything just to be with him, to comfort him, and to promise to him that she'd never let him go... or let herself go, is perhaps more appropriate.
And for a moment, she could fully trust in herself to go to whatever extent it might take, to ensure that stay true for him, and everyone she loved... because.

Turning to a blank page...

She began to write in third person.
She'll never have to accept herself now.

I can't cut it off I can't cut it off I can't cut it off I can't cut it off I can't cut it off I can't cut it off I can't cut it off I can't cut it off I can't cut it off.


But I feel so dreadfully uninspired.

The World Was Illuminated

A Compilation Of Unfinished Thoughts & Words

You ripped a hole
In an open door.
You couldn't bare to play your role.
When I ran my legs broke through the floor.
And every step was just a fall
Deeper, heeding to your call.

I know my judgment tends to sway,
I didn't want to love you
All my clothes just fell away.
And all I ever thought to say
Was "Don't mind me, 'cos I'm ok..."

I lied.

My writers block has lightened a bit... So I squished together some unfinished things I'd written.

We Are Tubosaurus

Restraint...

I'm afraid that my mind has an evil side. An evil side that will enslave my hands.

"Just this time..."

I'm afraid that it may unconscious. An Addiction?

Possibly.

I can't trust myself.
And I don't think I'm the type to listen to anyone else about that.

Because "I just really need one thing."

Help me.

But please don't report me.

Something To Celebrate

Yesterday, I successfully helped someone have a better day. And one person not...
But that's not abnormal.

I don't let it get to me too much anymore.

Pintsized Midnight Moonbeam Workers

We thought the moonbeams froze that night, upon our skin. The air had been petrified.
We were pixies of starlight and melting ice. No longer burdened by any sort of man made material clenching our bones.
We were authentic.
How could anyone think there's something wrong with that?

This lingerie for the mind is going down.

Inspired by my consumer whore second cousin last July...

Why do we need little pieces of cat food shaped like fish?
Or machines that compact our disgusting amounts of trash for us?
Something in us makes things like new shiny electronics extremely alluring. And people are finally realizing that they don't need all this.
Circuit city is finally falling.
Maybe money can be put to better use now.

These Blank Days.

I spent the majority of my day searching for inspiration.
It didn't seem to come.
I tried to put thoughts into words... it may work later.
Moonbeams petrified on skin, whispers weaving lace.
These are things I don't have brains for right now.
But don't let me forget them.

"I'd give you the moon if I could, kid.

We brought you into this world, you don't owe us anything. Whatever you do, I want it to be for you, not me or her.
Whatever's best for you."

Yellow

Like in street lights and fireflies. In the fire shared between our eyes.

(And breaths.)

Like your shirt.
The poor disowned color that, in the primary scheme of restaurant crayons, is often replaced with green.
The oblivious children will never know of the orange wonders this unwanted color beholds.

Strictly Personal

We have the coziest awkward relationship two people could manage.

The distance so sweet and perfect.

No, This Was Not Inspired By Valentines Day. (I Am A Non Believer.)

My goal is to hook someone up.
And have it be at least moderately successful.
Because I think I have to much, and I feel greedy. So I want to help someone else.
The only problem is going to be finding people...
(Requests are welcome)

I do appreciate my mother.

I know she tries. I know she wishes she could relate to me.
I appreciate that she creates extremely awkward conversations, and doesn't get pissed off if I don't respond.
I appreciate that she's always open to be my ride.
I appreciate that I can go visit my boyfriend and come home smelling like cum every time, and she doesn't notice it.
I appreciate that she's learning to step away.

Just Deal With It.

Because I

Think we take

Life too fast.

Besides...I

Really like

E___m___p___t___y_____________________s___p___a___c___e___.

I, the alabaster...

I'm terrified of ghosts.
I love it. I make conversation.

I like to smell other people.

Sometimes, I have no face.

Water droplets on my shoulders make me feel gorgeous.

I don't understand why people find butts attractive.

Crunchy things generally anger me.

My undergarments set my general outlook on life for the day.

I find destroying small houshold items (pens, candles, ribbon, etc.) to be calming. And I don't think that makes me a psychologically disturbed child. (Unlike my mother)

Sometimes when I run, I can't feel my legs. I make a point not to check to see if they're there. I can secret fly.

Everything is better from the carton. It saves water.

I love the feeling of salty tears running down my cheeks. But the feeling is very rare...
Maybe that's what makes it best.

I hide little notes on graph paper in random places in public buildings. I hate when the person who finds them knows it's me.

I'm going to smash all the clocks in my house when I'm older. Without time, I could do anything. It lifts borders.

I want cough drops.

I'm a sucker for nostalgia.

Never give me fingernail polish. Something is bound to be vandalized.

I really need to become more aware of politics, but I'm too lazy.

I'm starstruck by extremely opinionated people.

These were all written between crosshatched lines before technology invaded.

I hate the taste sleep leaves behind.

I always feel like a creeper chatting online.

Playing with a slightly out of tune bass is better. It forces you to play the song differently every time, and No One Can Tell but you.

He helped me think.

A good friend of mine made me realize. And this is something I can tell I truly believe in, and will stand up for, unlike a lot of what I find. I'm not going to delete my last post, but I no longer believe in some of it. I no longer feel shame or guilt for not caring as much as other people. I just don't think I'm that dramatic of a person. I sometimes am, because I feel I should be. Sometimes even because I feel it is called for.
I've decided I'm going to have a good trips week.
People can do whatever the fuck they want. I'm not going to try to make them so happy, because it never helps either me or them sense I rarely succeed. And I can accept that now.

A loop of selfish?

I find guilt almost the worst feeling in the world.
It screams
YOU did this.
YOU are a bad person.
YOU are wrong.
We would all be better off without you.
And I feel like/know it's usually true.
Or maybe not.
But I feel like I don't care enough to argue much. Not as in I don't care about anything. But my opinions aren't as solid as some peoples could be. Their thoughts are stronger and more held together. I don't feel like that much of a person. They make so much sense. And after talking to most people, I don't understand my own opinions anymore. Or not enough to argue. And I often know there's something I could make a point about, but I don't remember it until hours later. It's no help then. Maybe I am a total doormat. I wish I could just be strong and intimidating for once.
And I could be the most selfish person in the world. I can't do a thing for myself alone, and I don't know, but it could be all to avoid the dreadful duo of stupidity and guilt.
I really hope not.
So that would be a very extreme detour to this conclusion.
But who knows.
...I actually doubt it. But the possibility makes me sick.

Paranoia...

I may sound stupid. I may be talking to no one.
But if you read this,
Never tell me. Not until I say so.
(Though I do struggle to fight my curiosity.)

Your Eyes, They Never Looked So Good... At Me.

"If you were here, I could go to sleep and be happy about it. And if you were here, I could wake up and be happy about it.
...

See how much better life could be?"

The Time of Orange Life Savers/The Return Could Erase....

I watched their tears, and hid my own. The ground is tainted where they fell. In the place where he and I sat with our reflections that once shone in the lake, obscured by raindrops. Each hiding something.
The other, so close, so sweet. A mystery, was she. And there was no way.
There was no way for us all to come out okay.
I relish those sad memories. I could never rewrite them.
I hope I won't have to.

Marla Said

Do you wanna wait
and hear me describe death?

Do you wanna listen
and see if my spirit can use a phone?

Have you ever heard a death rattle before?

...I have.

(As you can see, tonight was my monthly-or-so Fight Club fix.)

I have a deadly itch.

It's perfectly on time too. Every 2½ years, I seem to get a more stabbing urge to move to Colorado or something. Before, it's always been satisfied. But I know it won't be this time.
I do love my friends to death, and I would be so extremely horribly sad to leave them. Which is why I'm not asking my mom to move, because I'm sure she would want to. I just need change. It gives me a chance to start new, where people don't know how stupid I could be. That's my most faithful hobby: redefining myself. It always feels like cheating somehow... lying maybe.
Every time I do, I swear I will never change again.
Every time I lie.

"It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything"

-Tyler Durden

It's you I admire most

The definers and openers.
Those who put impossible concepts into
Words.
Pictures.
Sounds.
Movement.
You reveal the true extent. Shed light on the inside of (in?)sanity.
(We will never honestly know.)

Justice.

To anyone and everyone who needs reassurance...

We

Are

Your

Friends

You'll

Never

Be_________
Alone
Again________-.

So

come

on.

I Wasn't High.

But I wrote an ode to ritalin.

Little Blue pills, what am I to do?
Should I take just one or two?
When I'm here, just me and you,
Hands smell of weed and morning dew.

And an ode to CARMEN:
I Wish CARMEN WOULD FIX HER FUCKING COMMENTS I'VE BEEN CRYING SENSE THAT ONE POST I REALLY WANTED TO COMMENT ON A FEW WEEKS AGO AND I KEPT FORGETTING TO TELL HER BUT IT JUST OCCURRED TO ME I COULD COMMUNICATE THROUGH THIS BECAUSE I THOUGHT I WAS DOOMED.
i hope she sees that.

Telephone Notes

I feel misunderstanding. Which is very demeaning. It makes me quiet because I feel like I have nothing worth saying, and it's not even worth trying to explain anything to me because I'm too silly to understand anyway.
I see everyone else thinking.
Do I think?
Maybe they just have their opinions and I choose one I like. Or I salvage scraps from each one. They're original. Maybe my mind is a rip-off of everyone I see.
Despite all my efforts to help it, I feel like a little kid. I talk like a little kid. I don't think I think like a little kid... I hope not.
My role is the child who needs to be protected from certain things I wouldn't understand. I like that role sometimes, I feel protected. From what, I don't know. But I want to protect myself now.
I, too, am tired of playing it.

Jealousy

Is a teasing bastard. I'd never felt it before... until I met this girl. I barely know anything about her. What I do know, I shouldn't know. She doesn't like me, though she acts like she does. She's actually kind of a bitch to me behind the scenes. I don't really like her either. None of my friends really particularly like her a lot, but I can't help but suspect they all have a secret love for her. If they don't, I don't see why not. I guess I have very twisted respect for her. Shit happens to her. She has opinions on shit. She seems very stable, despite all that shit. She seems all-knowing and amazing, and I don't understand why everyone doesn't cling to her and praise the fact that they have such an amazing friend.
Wow.
I actually find that after writing this the burning sensation has worn off. I find myself in no way jealous of her. And I feel really dumb. But I'll post this anyway. That's what this blog's supposed to be for...
I wonder why writing things down seems to make things better. Or at least bring out some fucked up truth.

...it's passed.

The oblivion was dead,
Star-crossed skin lying shed.
Behind it, things were festering,
The venom, ever pestering.
Other paths we should have took,
Other lives we could have shook.
Up the road, around the bend
Are we cynic once again?

Parents & Their Sexual Fantasies

Why is it their concern that we don't have sex?
I understand that they might feel protective, but they seem to pretend to understand that they're supposed to be backing off, trusting us, and giving us more freedom. Then they don't act like it at all. But I honestly don't see the harm in safe, consensual sex for teens who feel ready. Not that I want to have sex, it just intrigues me that

1. They care about and feel a reign over our sex lives
2. They don't mention being safe about it
   
3. They think that we want to.

Our ages range from 13-15.
Seriously.
13-year-olds usually aren't that horny.
My mom goes on big rants about how some schools say "DON'T HAVE SEX!!!" instead of "If you choose to have sex, be safe about it. Trojan est votre amis."
So why doesn't she tell me to be safe?

The world is so big and small. And neither are very helpful in the way of love.

The smallness has limited selections, and the vastness keeps them from seeing. Every passerby is another stranger, and love at first sight doesn't exist.
Why are some people doomed to have a difficult match?
It's not because they're fucktards, or have some obscure deformity. And it's not because they're picky either.
They're just... hard to place.
Which in some cases, results in random dating of people one doesn't like, and coming out of it having gained nothing. They may keep looking, but will devastation get to them eventually?
Is there a time to give up?

Cute

She is
Innocent desire
Never has been
Harder
To control so it’s
Cute
The way I
Scream
The way I
Plead
You’re
Cute
Now I’m
HARD.

-Yaba

The Puzzle

Another piece is revealed.
The irony is divine.
Last spring I sub-consciously pushed to get over him, because I was afraid of getting hurt again when I overheard him talking about how "it would never work" between he and another anonymous girl.
It was still probably for the better, for me at least. At least we came together again in the end.

(...The girl was me)
(And now we feel strikingly STUPID)

I Love my Dad.

I didn't realize how much really until last night. I saw him for the first time in a while. It was nice. We talked about some of everything, and some of nothing. He told me something to live by... I remember it was wise and important. I tried my hardest to remember it. But it's already slipped my mind.
Ah, well. Life goes on.
I'm so much more like him than my mom, and he understands everything I say, and doesn't judge me. His life, socially and academically, was a lot more like mine than my mothers. She always put school before anything no matter how much she hated it. She had her first boyfriend at 17.
She's an good mom, not a roaring drunk or anything, she just... is kinda paranoid, and doesn't get me. I guess most of it might be that out of 3 children she tried to have, I was the only one that lived through my first 5 minutes. But she just doesn't really understand the teenage mind, yet feels the right to judge. It's like she skipped through ages 13-17.
I just wish she wouldn't expect to understand.

What Summer Saves

Winter is talking about stupid things. Summer is doing stupid things. It gives us freedom, purpose, even identity. I'm told this summer won't be the same as last, because relationships fuck everything up.
Yeah. That's true.

But it won't get to me this time.

"Wore our blank expressions, trying to look interesting..."

-Modest Mouse

After New Years Resolution

I need to learn how to get pissed off and yell at people and fight.
I can be passively rebellious, and if the opportunity arises and if I feel like it, I will be very passive aggressive. I need to stop assuming I'm wrong, and consider my views more deeply. I need to know how to fight, not just debate.
Maybe I can show myself more if I do.

...behind

Time is leaving me behind.
2008 is still the new year, and days are going slower than ever.
The curse of too much sleeping, and not enough eating.

Five long years until I can be worth something to me.

"Now Cinderella, don't you go to sleep, It's such a bitter form of refuge."

-The Killers

Jumbled Pronouns

Her love they, And them love he.
And you're as happy as can be.
She'll live together, by the sea.
I love, will bloom into a tree
In which it carve us names, and love
'Till lightning strikes our from above.

Were him ever worth it?

Am I too far away?

I wonder...

Rumors have reached me of he and other girls. Not that they're true, mind you.
"I missed you today." He says.
"Why? We saw each other." Says I.
I wish I could remember what was said next. Something about he barely saw me or some such...
Am I trying too hard not to be the obsessive girlfriend?
I was disastrous in that department last time. I try not to become too attached in a way that could hurt me, or detach me from anyone else. I find myself hesitant to even mild public affection when he's around friends I don't know as well. I want to be labeled by them as "Laura", not "Gaelen's Girlfriend". I'm getting better with that. Slowly but surely, I become more comfortable with each acquaintance. But how do I know when the balance is right?

Some Clarification.

I don't conform; I'm just inspired sometimes. I don't understand why people are such assholes about it. I probably don't think fast enough to hang out with such judgmental friends, but I do anyways. It’s really all the emo's faults. They just had to be bitches about "not conforming" when they were really conforming to each other. I told them all that if they're label was truly "non-conformists" that they should all be different from each other, like be a pirate or something. They didn't understand that the definition of emo was short for emotional, not nen-comformist (0_o). They don’t understand that some people have real problems. Not that I'm one of them.
CONFORMING: "Hey, if I wore/did/said what they did, people might like me..."
BEING INSPIRED: "Hey, I think it might be fun to try what they're doing. I think I will."
Inspiration in simply exploration.

The Confines of Cold

In winter, everything has a strict pattern. You wear the same coat every day, which you learn to love and depend on, though it barely keeps you alive. You never wear your hair up so your ears can stay above freezing. Same chunky boots, and same placement of them, premade steps in the snow from days and weeks before, every damn day, so as not to bury your legs.
So easy to disappear, so hard to hide.

A bit of what people think

Bean: wow
every time i start to forget how freaking smart u are, something comes and reminds me...
its really odd
i guess its the thoughtful and ponderous side showing through

[just so u know, this doesn't mean i think your stupid the rest of the time. just not so amazingly smart and shit]



I have a habit of coming off as really dumb. I'm glad someone at least know i'm not.

The Tide is Changing

I must admit, I have second thoughts sometimes. Always very temporary, but I wonder if I'm really in love, or if I could possibly grasp the concept of true love. At other times, I can't understand how I ever questioned that. Our second time around is better than before. I had a lot to learn, and you weren't the one meant to teach me. Maybe I've reached another interval, and I need to go learn some more. When we were reunited, you felt like home. Home is nice when I've been away for a while, but being there for too long can make me think too much. Your familiarity was soothing, and I missed you. But I was wary of too much attachment. I try so hard to think with a clear mind. You hurt me, and my best friend, and yourself. It was hard. But when I recovered, I was happier than I'd ever been. I was weightless, free.
I don't want to hurt you. But I wonder if I'm only in this for you.
No.
I Love You.
The single life is sweet, but together, we're cocaine.


"And it's been a long time, which agrees with this watch of mine. And I know that I missed you, and I'm sorry if I dissed you."

-Modest Mouse

Once again.

I: "What's wrong?"
He: "Nothing."
I: "Somethings wrong."
He: "No, it's really nothing."
(Silence)

What is the point to denial of a problem? At no point do you cave. You're so obvious, and I don't know how to help. Is something really wrong? You can say "I don't want to talk" or "I don't know" if you want to. I'll understand.

We Live in Fallen Clouds

I know it’s really lame, but I love the sky, as simple as it may be. I sometimes wonder if all winter we're just trapped in a frozen cloud. People think of rain and snow as clouds leaking or disintegrating, but I don't see why that would happen. It's all the same stuff, there isn't like, an outer casing that breaks. So why doesn't the whole thing just drift down together?
Does it?

And so we catch a taste...

[The Happening]
Bravo my friend.
Her boyfriend also happens to be one of my best friends. I hope everything will be ok...
But I'm scared.

Something Bitter

23:23 Gaelen: i wanna not b here or now
me: or now?
why not now?
Gaelen: im alone in the middle of winter.

Some amateur conclusions

A starter from my public blog:

I found some stuff I wrote in 6th grade. And I was surprised to find that it wasn't completely horrible. It was kind of lame. But what the hell, all my writing is. As you may notice, I lack the ability to write happy. Everything, in the end, becomes bitter. Hardly anything I write has anything to do with me. And if it does, I don't post it. Because the feeling I had at the time of writing leaves me within a few hours, and I'd hate to be misjudged. I have noticed for a while that I don't know myself very well. I made an attempt to reintroduce myself, just by writing down whatever passed through my mind. But when reading over them, I wouldn't understand myself. I would get really pissed, think I was a bitch, and throw it all away. In fact, I'm probably going to delete this, if I ever decide to post it. With the help of some friend's observations, I've come to the conclusion that there are two sides of me: the one that's more thoughtful and ponderous, which I usually become when I'm alone. Then there's the side that shows when I'm with people, which I wouldn't quite know what to call. You tell me. But what I know is that, what we'll call the winning side, thinks that the ponderous side is retarded and lame. The ponderous side thinks that the winning side can be anencephalic, arrogant, and annoying, and that's only that A's. But the ponderous side doesn't care enough to call it out. It minds it's own business. The quiet, self-conscious, falsely respective type. I guess both sides come out in my everyday personality, but in unbalanced portions. I think overall, I have enough ego, but not much self-esteem behind it.

Fuck.
Here's to aimless rants and unstable identities.

These are my observations, I take a first step.