Lost

can't say i recognize this person. she doesn't seem real. "everything i want is miles away." alone and getting lonelier by the hour. ready to break, but i just don't have the energy for a full out meltdown. want to feel fingers combing through my hair and know that i'm not impossible to understand. there is no method to my madness. there is only outrageous chaos that blinds and cripples. most of the time i can't figure out right from left. can't imagine how this is fair. the cycle repeats. slowly coming to the conclusion that my knowledge reaches too far. struck with an intensity too high to settle for average. this mind races too quickly for anyone to hope to catch up to it. feeling tricked and betrayed by another artificial light. playing the fool once over, and believing in tomorrow. when the deflating reality sets in that you're still the same you that you've always been the effects can be devastating. i'll be here longer than anticipated. the bottom is so familiar and welcoming.

you know that i could use somebody.

Keep me in mind

I am one with another attitude. higher soul, higher. can feel strings of emotion pull out from the depths, up through my throat. im judging myself and the look behind all the eyes around me. i cant tell you who i think i am at this very moment. want to believe in a bigger world. i wanted to make it beyond me. somehow i know it will feel easy to rest at the end of this life. we can't be around forever because life wears too hard on our tires. weak hearts, aching feet, shallow breath. can't let myself live this down. i want to create. want to change a heart and open up a mind. its what i deserve to attain. a beatiful, wild mind of disbelief and creation. i want to be the greatest, but the darkness is setting in too heavy.

signed

a phantom, a monster.

There's a possibility

Want to get back to this. Back to writing, back to me. I'd say its easier to spend your day laughing until it hurts or cuddling alone with blanks and sheets, but somehow time spent away from thought is time wasted (though i'd never admit that). creativity is not the art of pretending to be beautiful. intuition isn't built from constant inquiry of minds lacking influence. its tough. its a lonely road. choosing to walk it because i've always wanted more. happiness is in the melodies and the hearts that understand the way your soul glows when your heart is colder. don't warm me up. don't change my heart. enhance me.

a shared magnetism.

lets play the blame game -

I can't find the words.

Don't look me over.

If given the chance, I swear I'll believe.

You make me want to be better than I am.

one foot out the door

if i give up now, what do i have to show for it? trying my best to stand still. desperately searching for my home in this place. through the piles of dense desperation i've created here, that seems a bit far fetched. there is no motivation behind my steps. you cant find the inspiration behind the layers of my eyes. clouded and muddy because clear days don't often come around here anymore. my head feels heavy. heart full. stomach empty. breaking my back for dusk and summer. breaking my back for everything i've dreamt of, and everything i'll forever be running after.

you seem just the type. i could be getting ahead of myself, as always. or i could be right. praying im right. palms folded and sweaty, knees getting weaker. keep praying through a weary veil. tomorrow, in my eyes, will be a very telling day. you could keep me grounded. you could make me better. i know you understand.

them young girls, they do get weary.

Sprawl - Mountains Beyond Mountains

could be too tired or too high for the inspiration to spark. im in desperate need of a place to spread out. but tonight the fucking dreamers lie alone. there are too many walls

i just don't have the will the climb.

from whatever way our stories end

its like laying awake after the sunrise. it feels like this moment right here. its awkward, useless. i dont want to repeat previous mistakes. this heavy heart in the shell of a human form weighs to heavy on its frame. people always leave. you cant manufacture real feelings - lies are easier to construct from nothingness, especially with a little time and practice. it would feel right to say that in the right situation even innate unhappiness can be overcome, but we all know our troubles were never more than rain at every end of the hallway. we're clouded and cold.

smore fun?

sitting in the wake of the sunlight the possibilities seem endless. i could walk a thousand miles and find a million different ways to travel. how then can it seem that at this very same moment with so much road ahead, that there is no where to move. at a stand still. i dont feel real here. there is no beat to the world.

missing how the sun looks through familiar windows.

I lost my depth perception

and we grow up, still waiting for the voice that completes the sounds of the cities. i'd wait an eternity to know you're out there. watch for the moon. tree angels turn angles and fight for human ingenuity. you're not you anymore, so who are you? then questions turn to maybes, wage the war. between what is now and who you were five minutes ago. you wanted sweets and sex in the morning, and i'm the girl who wanted forevers and forgot all her past (lovers) because tomorrow meant a new story. the story unfolds like the music under my hands. i can feel it like fingerprints in my skin. organic. new born. the soulless find the soulful and the culture, share it all with a little bit of wine. pass on the glasses. the temptation apple left a sweet smell, but what if you weren't meant for this. where is the soul who you died for, and who would gladly die again for. let the world race under the pulse in the soles of your feet, or race the world. either way -

you win.

I'm going to kick my own ass

old outlets, a power source that never goes out. reminded of how it feels to take it one day at a time. sometimes things just arn't okay, sometimes they are. take the good with the bad. tomorrow might not come anyway. who's gunna love you, who's gunna waste their time? finding out its okay to be complete within yourself, and its okay to want to be more. the balance has never come easy, sure it probably never will. strangely, i feel okay in this strangeness. like getting used to the sounds of the city, i can't fall asleep without a troubled head. can't take a day without the questions. finding answers means finding you out, and who's ready for that? can't see out past this computer screen beyond the dark. the comfort is more than just not knowing or caring about what's out of your reach. its blinding. its easy.

waiting for someone to turn on the light.

So much of me is made of what I've learned from you.

Tonight marks one of the greatest experiences I have ever been so honored to be a part of. What a magnificent affair. Where the oldest, but not necessarily wisest, stepped to the edge of the stage to take a final bow. What a feeling. What a tremendous sight. How can anything ever hope to live up to living such a vivid dream? I almost feel like nothing ever could. The people who have taken me on such a journey are truly horses of a different color. They are their own special brand, and they are certainly the best of their kind, and any other kind for that matter. If I could do it all over again, I would give the stage and it's servants my heart from the very start, and I would never question if I made the right decision. Now I move on. I move forward. How fucking insane does that sound? Why is there a force pushing me away from what I love with more than just my heart and soul? I love it with my life. The burdens of goodbyes are to great to bear, and I fear as if I may stop dead under the pressure. But I have loved people and a passion with so much of myself that I can truly say I've been a part of something magical. And knowing that, it may just be okay to let it go, and find myself somewhere new. This goodbye will be the hardest to recover from, but the show must go on.

"Act well your part, there all the honor lies."

Exeunt.

Won't be 17 forever.

31 minutes left of a beautiful year in my life. want to immortalize my 17 year old self forever. I've seen so much in so short a time. it makes me anxious to think of all that is still to come. i understand that everyone goes through these same motions, but i just can't wrap my head or my heart around how people manage to move on. i've been a kid for so long, it's all i know. it is all i understand. i just don't want to forget what this feels like. ever. diving into the unknown, i know i'll never really grow up. age is more than just a number, but regardless that doesn't stop me from being scared shitless. so much failure is ahead of me. its the most probable. the most possible. but my folded hands and desperate heart are begging for "a life deliberate." i want to be better than i am.

so here i am at 17 years old:

laughing

loved

ecstatic

changed

the same

moved

zealous

jealous

scared

in love

free

bitter

struggling

praying

wishing

messy

ridiculous

hilarious

forever young.

so exhausted i couldn't even think of a title for this. i only know that this feeling of resting solo against gravity is more tiring than running against the grain as a pair. wanting to feel sick and restless is outside the realm of normal. its rested and full of health - yet somehow it's sicker. i want to have reasons and excuses to bear the weight of what's around the corner (and creeping faster every day). i'm holding on to self-manufactured happiness. saving my concerns for another night. focused now on flaws i want someone to notice, and then ignore. focused on the small things i want to motivate me. to move me closer to love. further from inadequacy.

closer to you (to anyone).

Downcast

can't tell you how many times i've said 'this is the first day of my life.' find so many people who match who i am so entirely that i wonder how i've ever lived without them. but people use and abuse. there are people who have left, and there are people who are leaving. i'm giving my heart away to no one. bruising my pride for feeling. falling in love without a lover. it feels the same: anxious, heart enriched, sacrificing, beautiful, aching, all knowing, ever lasting. feel like i can't be real without being taken over. skin just lays on bone, and paper thin nerves feel nothing if not enriched by love. can't admit out loud that i try to put every person i meet as a lead in the narrative. just trying out bodies to fill the part. maybe i'll find one that clicks. maybe someday i'll find forever. for now i'll fall, alone. one-sided, desperate, fucked, and stupid.

(i still think of you, just not the way i did before. still love you just the same. i know that's one forever i'll never be rid of. nothing can be more real. be safe, always.)

The Book Thief.

It's like this. When you're reading a fictional book and you come to realize how much pain, or happiness, or confusion, or whatever emotion you feel because of reading those words doesn't match those feelings of the people you're reading about. What I'm talking about about applies mostly to the pain and the torment of those characters. be it over death, lost love, whatever. You think, it's not fair of me to think that this is insufferable and that i simply can't go on living from this point. This pain I feel is far too much, but it's not fair of me to think this way when the people i'm reading about felt it so much more. But then at some point you realize what's really not fair about the entire situation is that those people you feel sorry for, don't exist. That's what isn't fair. When reading a book you become so invested in those characters that those loses become your own. What's unfair is that those people never had to feel this pain, because they simply never existed. Fiction simply means not real. so how is it fair that after reading a fairly emotional book the reader is inclined to feel such horrific fake emotions? It's not.

Mostly it's just not fair that the characters didn't exist. I simply can't go on living in a world were Rudy Steiner didn't live and die in love with his best friend. Where Liesel never housed a Jew or adored her Papa.

It is simply maddening. The emotions you harbor over something you simply can't control. Something that you made yourself a part of just by witnessing. Only this time those people do feel the loss, because this isn't fiction. And this time it really isn't fair for me to have a rip in my heart and complain about how much it hurts. I know it hurts them more. But it's still going to come to the realization that what I loved so much doesn't exist anymore, and it's just not fair.

Deep down, you're just like everybody else.

And though i'd never honestly tell you this - I think you're beautiful in every single way. every syllable you say sets off a light behind my eyes. can't even bare to let you see my reaction, though i hope you don't notice when i shrink away. tiny smirks and comments poorly hidden. i lose my train of thought and wander to those places i know we can't ever roam. where i know deep in my heart of hearts you're not mine to have. that you're not even mine to want, but i do anyway.

it's not really a problem.

just wish i could forget that you're unlike anyone i've ever known

and that I want to know you better than anyone else.

it's knowing that after a night that strangely reminds you of old times, even bitter cold can't fight the smiles. instead you sing, and rage, and laugh all while talking yourself through every motion on the ride home - out loud. its a safe place to let the fears out to scheme and plot against you. let the tears roll along and let yourself be free to feel the panic, only to be brought back to a living room where the lighting is brilliant enough to make you forget who you are. the terrors of our lives are waiting just outside the door, but in those small hours it just doesn't seem to matter. and i'll take that feeling with me, and i'll go out singing, raging, and laughing. thinking of the most inspiring, insane, fucked up people i've had the fortune to know.

PS.

"she saw the people around her and scoffed at the way they threw in the towel. the way they sold off their dreams for a mini-van and a well-manicured lawn."

You need an explanation? There it is. Follow the dream. It's not about interests, or what you're good at. It's about how your soul sings along when you hear a song, or how your heart does flips when the curtain falls. It's about the dreams. Don't sell yourself for anything less. You can bet I won't.