She Just Wont Listen Nemore.

We Think We Own The Joint.

She Makes My Heart Skip A Beat

Shes So Melancholy

I Have 2 Steal My Kisses

My sanity is slowly being pulled from my cold, dead fingers

March 10, 2007

This is a day I should be happy. A day that I should be thankful and proud. Jay (umbra) was born today. A soul that I’ve found comfort in, a soul that knows me like I was herself. A true friend, a soul friend.

And yet, I’m angry. Angry and bitter. I grind my teeth in hatred and loathing. I scream inside my head, angry words, words of hate, harm, and vulgarities. But I cant help myself. I’m just so angry anymore. My head aches, my heart aches, my soul is torn. I don’t know what to do. I don’t find solace in liquor, I don’t find hope in the internet. I try to escape into the realms of homework, into learning, creating. But I’m not allowed to linger for long. I don’t know what to do anymore… everythings black. Darkness is engulfing my sunshine. I’m not going to bloom anymore. I don’t want to bloom anymore.

I’m tired f having to fake happiness because people find it odd for me to be sad, to be angry. True bitterness leaks from my eyes. Holding it all in till I explode. Rose pattered rubber lining walls will not hold me in. Strapping my being together, in hopes of immobility, does not help. I break free, screaming, again, internally. My voice is too scared to be heard. To scared of breaking the façade, the perfectly painted picture of a lonely, loving flower.

What would happen if someone found out my true interior? An interior layered in pervertedness, in lost hopes and dreams, hypocritical writings lining shelves layered with dust and lies. I’m not pristine. I’m not an angel. And yes, I can do whatever I set my mind to. Quit distracting me, quit expecting of me, quite holding me back and trying to paint me into everything you are not or wished to be. Do you not realize that I am my own being? My own sentinel? Let me colonize my heart the way I want. Let me make mistakes, or not make mistakes.

Don’t tell me what I should have, or should do. Let me love how I want to be love and love who I want to love. I’m just so tired of people telling me what I should look for in love and what I should avoid. You know what? Shove all these ideas deep down so you’ll shut up. There, I said it. I’m tired of love advice from people. I’m tired of them telling me stuff when they are the fools who settled. I’m just so tired of everything.

Living like a hermit has never sounded so inspiring. Living alone, free to do what I will… That is where I am headed. Contact with another person would be a thing of yearning, like the midnite yearning for chocolate.

*sigh* I say this and I know for a fact I’d be running to my life lines…

I hate these moods, I hate these phases…. I hate hating, period… I don’t like pitying myself or getting pity from others. But I just don’t know what to do anymore. My sanity is literally being held together by a thread. A solitary sinew of tissue and muscle. My heart is in the grasp of the dark, billowy figure known as irony.