Parentals

Confusion.
Y'all let me come back.
I thought we were fixing everything.
Why, after a week and a half, is there now second guessing?

Using.
Is this the word you really thought depicted this properly?
It was not how I viewed it.
It is not what I was doing.

Mistakes.
We have all made them in this home.
There have been words said that should not have been.
Things have been done that should not have been acted upon.


If I am wanted out, I will leave.
This time though, if I am really getting kicked out,
I will not come back.
The cord will be cut.
I will not live like this.

Yo-Yo

triumph.
baggage.
joy.
rage.

this yo-yo situation is bending at the cracks.
the fall will not end in a soft landing.
every move is carefully watched.

guarantee
disappointment.
love.
regret.

another storm inside my mind.
the logic process seems forgotten.
looking around for the delete button.


undo.
redo?
shaking.
calm?
hung.
release?

Blast From The Past

Wow.
After a year or more of silence.
After a year of more of nothingness.
All the colors got soaked down and you entered.
It is the wrong time.
I am a new person.
Yet you still understand me completely.

We spoke as if a day had not passed.
I laughed a full laugh.
I even smiled a bit.
The flowers bloomed in my soul,
and the wishes came back to shore.

Oh boy.
Oh you, the one I have a full blue notebook of writings about.
My sixteen/barely seventeen year old self yearns.
My face brightens when my phone rings.

One hour.
Two hours.
Three hours.
Neither of us can get off the phone.
Dawn breaks and we must go.


Either tomorrow or tuesday,
depending on my new schedule,
we will meet.
I am scared.
Less scared, more excited.


I want nothing more than a nice friendship.
You call me the girl who got away.




Things are strange.
Stranger than anything my imagination could concoct.

Quick

Eeeeek.
I don't have much time but here is the gist.


GOT THE JOB!
[i will start after i get my food handlers card, again.eww.]
Decided to start communicating with kids I went to high school with.
[i got over the fear of the 'dropout' talk. no one has brought it up either.]
An old friend I miss dearly called me today.
[we have plans on saturday now.]
I think I am calling off my hot date tomorrow.
[bc it's with my ex & i should not be an idiot....]
An old (major) crush of mine contacted me today.
[said i was looking 'bomb' ... don't laugh. it's a compliment of sorts.]
&& I got a random check in the mail from my old work.
[hell yes, now my bills can be paid & i can afford my habit still.]

I am having some luck.
I like this:]

Excitement

I cannot sleep, for once, due to excitement.

I have an interview at three.
I have already lost some weight from working out.
My hair is growing back nicely from the extensions chaos.
I have some hot plans for friday.
& I will NOT miss this week's episode of Ugly Betty.
(missing two in a row have almost killed me lol.)


So hopefully I will sleep soon.
I have a big day ahead of me.
:]

Planted Feet

" Used to be all of me, but it's all on the bitch now
They wanna get me stuck, they comin' into my world
It's too late I got, my wife, my bitch, my girl"

balance beam mocking.
this time there is no victory.
no award, no celebration.
there is no joy.
why are you still standing there?

foolish feelings choking.
in my head, it is caving in.
desperately attempting a turn around.
why are you still standing there?

oh empty promises.
oh glorious day i await.
i hear the drone of queen bee.
right path, right choice, right move.
i follow in a robotic trance.
tears kept inside now.
why are you still standing there?

Help Me Untie This

her soft gasp for air haunts me.
in the silence of the twilight,
i can hear what you told me not to.

her similar face i see in the mirror.
in the burning of high afternoon,
i quietly scream at myself to be her.

regardless of the smiles,
sometimes i have to hide.
in the corner of this new dwelling,
i cry out to a god i have no faith in.
asking him, pleading with him,
to make me forget just this situation.

even though i claim to hate you.
no matter how much i promise myself,
that you will be put into my past.
every time you call,
you know i'll answer that phone.
and for that, i am ashamed.

Back To Reality

I have to keep this short because I have to finish my laundry, unpacking, and then get some sleep finally.

In a nutshell, the man that I thought loved me did some vile horrible things to me. I called my mother begged her to give me a second chance. I am living with my parents again. I am going back to school to get my ged, then a tech school to get a skill for a decent job, then to college to become a history (or english) teacher. I have barely any rules (except learn how to become independent) and I can even smoke. My mom is going to teach me to drive, and she is encouraging my writing (for once). I do not blame myself for what happened between me and my ex. I think we had equal shares in the 'not working out' category but everything else that happened was his fault and I know I did not deserve it. I am taking a break from men until I am happy and stable. I am not going to obsess about everything that happened in this past week and a half. I may bring it up in a later blog, if y'all insist. I will start reading y'alls again in a few days and get caught up. I am sorry, just a lot has happened.

Now I have to go because I am thirsty, need a smoke, and have some chores to finish.

Fuming

"Gored beyond all measure, nothing sensible. Everything ugly and finished" -Charles Bukowski

Why do I cnostantly feel the need to hide my emotions when those feelings are not pleasant ones. Why do I have to hide from my pain? Why do I have to lower my voice? Why can I not just be able to feel exactly what I am feeling for once? I am sick of being guilty for having vicious thoughts run around my mind. I am sick of being ashamed of my own emotions. Maybe I do not always want to smile. Maybe I do not always want to sit in a pretty manner and hold back what I really want to say. I can accept that rage, anger, and wrath are human emotions. Maybe somedays I feel like a rabid dog and I need to let it out otherwise I know that it will build and I do not want to explode one day. I do not want to do vile things outside of my mind.
Self-control they tell me. It is self-control I need. I am barely a fucking adult and maybe some of the things I have been through make me pissed off beyond sensibility. Instead of taking it out on the world I take it out on myself physically. I cut for almost six years of my life instead of just screaming. Just kicking something. Just releasing it all.
I will be the first to admit that the cutting was not healthy. I knew what I was doing was wrong but it felt so fucking good. That rush and relase of pain (even though it was only temporary) felt beyond ecstacy.
"Do you think I relish the fact that I have to act like Mary Sunshine 24/7 so I can be considered a lady? I'm the Marcia fucking Brady of the Upper East Side, and sometimes I want to kill myself. So there's your psychoanalysis, Dr. Freud." - Kathryn (Cruel Intentions)
The scars made me think of how I overcame things in my life. It made me feel as if I had an ounce of freedom. That maybe for once in my life I was able to control something. I have realized now that the cutting is not healthy. IT took a long time to realize this fact. Yes, I still want to (more than ever now). It makes me believe that I am strong and I can learn how to overcome ordeals and tradgies in my life without resorting to the fresh cold metallic grace of the razor. As you can tell it is on my mind, but I sit here letting it out instead of doing it.
Now I am ranting, but I feel better. With eyes shut tightly, I can actually sit here and express the way I feel without censoring myself. It is a better kind of freedom than cutting. It really is.
"Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!" -Sir Walter Scott
How many lies do I have to hear in such a short period of time? I have become a person who believes that the majority, the vast majority, of lies are completely unacceptable. Lies hurt. Lies ruin. Lies build. When one lie is let out other lies pour out to keep the initial lie going. What is the point? Then, one ends up hiding from and covering up so many things? How do you love a liar? What is true then? What was real? What was not?
Better question: How much pain can someone withstand before the breaking point is reach and the 'right choice', that was there the whole time of course, becomes the choice that person makes?

Choice

Growing up with parents who have been married for nineteen years should make you feel differently about love. They started dating when they were sixteen. Then, they married at eighteen. Now they are both in their late thirties and still together. Sounds great doesn't it? Trust me, their marriage is anything but great.
For, at least, ten years I have seen my mother cry. I have seen my father claim he is never coming back. My mother has told me about the cheating. My father has told my mother he does not love her. I have seen too much since I was, about, nine. You would think I would learn from all of this?
I do not want to be like my mother. I do not want to try to convince a man to love me back for the rest of my life. I would rather lose someone I love and hopefully find a new love later on in life. I like to think it is never too late. I always told my mother that.
Yet, here I am (in all the infinite wisdom a person of my age believes they posses) laying in the arms of the man I love that I am not with anymore because he has feelings for someone else. This girl is out for him too. She has written him a poem. Jon had enough nerve to tell me she is a 'writer' and she is, basically, better than me. Ouch, that hit a sensitive spot. Twenty minutes later, we are holding each other kissing.
It is hard to lay there next to him and listen to him snore, while holding me, wondering if he is dreaming of her. I know they talk all the time. They have even kissed once, on sunday when they worked together. They worked together again today and all day I had to sleep so my mind would not flip out. I know they are not dating. I know that much, but still. I cannot take this.
Tonight, I decided not to sleep in the same bed as him. I go into the other room and turn on my zune (eh, fuck zune) and the first song that comes on shuffle is "Because of You" by Kelly Clarkson. If that song does not hit home.....
So now i'm thinking: maybe I should move back in with my folks. Maybe I should fix some of the mistakes I made while I am still young and have time. Maybe I should just give up on him now before the wounds get any deeper. I do not know. I am so half and half on this. I am really confused, yet I am so sick of spending all day crying. Or pretending that I am really okay. I know in the future I will be okay, but right now it's shit.

The song that just got stuck in my head: "Should I Stay or Should I Go" by The Clash.

True

moonlight illuminates your skin.
sweat and tears dripping,
from our once honest faces.
silent prays and audible moans,
fill the lonely blue room.
jigsaw puzzle pieces connect.
our bodies intertwine as one,
united for this single moment.
perfection can be perfect hell.
before i had no clue.
now all i know is you.

Wait & See

I think it is when I have the most to say that I cannot say it. My pen just lays limp in my hand. I roughhouse my journal a bit in sheer frustration. The keyboard will seem foreign. My fingers will hit random keys but it will mean nothing. All it really becomes is a bunch of letters pushing and shoving their way around the screen. One fighting with another to mean more, but they all mean nothing.
I have so much to say, yet I do not even know where to start. I do not even know if I want to recognize that it is real, that this is really occurring. Almost like an imaginary friend, if I can believe hard enough I can feel like I have an actual real breathing living friend.
As tough as everything seems to me right now, I know life is still going on. This is where I think of the song "Without You" from Rent. The gist of the song is that this girl's life goes on even without the man she loves, but though everything is still going on as life does, she is dying without him.. In less than a month I will be nineteen. I know I have time ahead of me, being optimistic. Will I honestly die from this? No, most likely not. I just wish it did not feel like I was losing my everything. My, oh shit this will be cliche but it is how I feel, reason for living.
I wish I had been a better girlfriend. I wish I could have communicated with him. I wish I would have made him the most important thing in my life. I did not. I made nothing important. I did not really communicate with anyone except my closest friend Alisha. I hid in my anger because I am comfortable with anger. I always want to hurt myself before another person can hurt me. This typically becomes me pushing the person to destroy me when said person never really wanted to hurt me at all. I can be pretty goddamn persuasive when I want to be.
It is now monday. Everything happened early (like around four am) friday morning. I have barely had anything to eat, yet I have smoked two and a half packs of cigarettes, a new record. I have cried so hard I was choking. Starting last night, I am weak. I cannot stand up on my own. I need assistance to go to the bathroom, otherwise I end up falling and having to crawl the rest of the way. I drank too much friday morning (around seven am) that I puked six times, another new record.
The only bright side is: me and Jon have been talking. I stopped being completely angry after I puked. I realized that it was due to our problems that she was able to come into the picture. He just wanted someone to talk to. Now, she likes him. I dumped him because he was afraid he was starting to harvest feelings for her.
Here is the ironic part (because I saw our demise coming. duh, we never talked and I was always angry.) We made love for the first time friday night/saturday morning. He came into the room, and just sat on the ground while smoking. I tried to ignore him and continue watching Garden State. Crawling into bed, he ask if he can hold me. I struggle at first, but I see tears in his eyes, so I relent. Our faces are too close for comfort. We have never been this close without kissing. I try to pull away because I am confused, and then he grabs my face and kisses me. Surges went through my body I had not felt from him for a long time. We are heavily kissing now. Our breathes have quicken. I feel a tear slide down his cheek. I burst into tears. "Why is this happening? Why? We are not together." He looks at me. "I was sitting at the computer trying to look at porn. Every face was not their own. I saw your face. I heard your voice telling me this is wrong. So I went back to bed. I tried to lay there. My mind told me to stay in bed. My penis wanted me to touch it. My heart told me to go into the other room. Now here I am." He starts wiping my tears. I push him off of me. I wanted a clean break. I knew it would be hard, but I knew this would make it harder. I know he did too. He was now unabashedly bawling his eyes out.
We are sitting up right now, staring at each other. My brain was screaming at me, telling me to make him leave. My heart wanted him in this room, hence why I always leave the door cracked open. It happens.
In nineteen months, I have never had sex like that. We were crying, and kissing, and touching each other in ways we had never before. It felt so beautiful and unreal that I would have to look past him to realize we where still in this place. It felt honest, safe, and right. I felt connected to him. He kissed my scars, my cuts, my insecurities.
Afterwards, we talked for three hours. We were both truthful and open. I knew I would wait to see if things could get better, after that happened. I finally got a real taste of what our relationship could be like.


This is what is going on with me. Why I haven't been writing. It took me fifteen minutes to get from the bed in the other room to the computer in Jon's room. I guess I know that this is wrong. That I should not involve myself in physical activity with a man I am not dating. That if he can harvest feelings for another woman I should not give him another chance. It is so much easier to evaluate a situation when you are not in it. It is easy for me to tell Alisha that I will not talk to him when he gets home. Well, then he comes home and goes into my room and we talk for hours. Maybe this time I will not write myself off before he does. In the end, I know I will learn something from this. I will grow as a person, and will have a valuable lesson to help me for the rest of my life. Be it that we get back together and can have a better relationship or we do not and I now know how to treat the future men in my life. Regardless, I am less angry than I have ever been in my life. I am just confused, and ready to be vulnerable and ready for whatever is thrown at me. Not shooting something down before it shoots me.

Leave

every memory laughs at me.
i try to pull the covers up.
this is not something i want to know,
but you keep talking and spilling.
and i know this is real.
the sort of speech you think about
all night long in your head.
the one you are too afraid to start,
but once you've started you can't stop.
your heart is in it.
your mind is in it.
and someone else is wanted in it,
so now it's time for me to take my leave.

Fights & Fantasies

The sound of his fingers hitting small keys like a Neanderthal woke me up again from the half-asleep world I was in. My foot knocks over a bottle of Jack Daniel's and Jon growls at me. I try to close my eyes and have one of those Justin Timberlake fantasies that used to block out the sound of my mother and father fighting. (Yes, me and Justin go back a long way.)

(look i know i am really bad with photoshop, paint and all that and that is a picture of me from junior prom when i was sixteen. lol.)

No dice. He left his phone on vibrate so every three seconds (I wish I were using a hyperbole to liven up this story. i'm not. within a month he has sent over two-thousand text, and none of those to me.) I would hear his phone go off. I have yet to sleep. It is noon. I have already done everything I can think of doing to put me asleep, including taking a brisk jog thinking that with my chunky body the jog would make me pass out when I got home. Apparently, the Gods of Sleep are quite ticked off with me.

(this guy in the red got eternal sleep from the Gods. are you serious?)

I can feel every bone in my body tense up and become sore. He lounges on the bed, just drinking a soda and texting. (Iam reminded of those slumber parties I would go to that were so boring that I would have been able to sleep if I wasn't on the floor.) I am so furious I actually fall asleep for an hour. This is the first time an extreme bit of anger has actually helped me.
I wake up as he is getting ready to go to work. Our fight from ten o'clock in the morning still ringing in my ears. "Stop being so selfish. All you do is think about yourself! I am the one who works! I AM! I NEED MY SLEEP!" I had to stifle back a laugh the whole time. He was the on who kept himself up. I knew me saying that would not help so I just sat there. Staring out into space, repeating in my head think Paris Hilton ---- I have no common sense ----- I don't know what you're saying. All I do is walk around in a pathetic excuse for clothing and say dumb shit like 'That's hot'.
Maybe he knew what I was doing because he looked at me and said something about not being blond anymore and how I need to be mature. Then, he left to. Silence, ah, felt so good. I moved up to the bed, turn on "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley (because when I am feeling down that is my tune, back off!), and enter my head.

(imagine that each piece of confetti is a different topic in my mind. i know, that's a lot going on.)

In confetti world, I have one foot in the 'fantasies' section and one foot in the 'employment' section. Half of me is praying that I will be able to get a job. (A friend of mine is trying to help me get a job at another store in the company I used to work for. I could get it but, supposidly, I offened the area manager one time. So the store manager can hire me, but until the A.M. goes along with this, she will get shit and that store can't afford to get shit from any more higher ups.) The other half of me is thinking about sex. Sex has been on my mind recently. I get embarassed to talk about 'it' but I figured if I can have 'it' then I should be able to talk about 'it'.
As it is obvious from the story above I am having some problems with my boyfriend. We were having some problems I guess in the summer, they died down, and once I lost my job we starting having more problems. He is always saying how since he is the only one making money now my opinion does not count. I counter with the fact that when I made money I did not make 'enough' for my opinion to count. Then, it is just school-yard name calling and I end up taking an hour walk around the neighborhood (normally with me now calling my closest friend Alisha crying and asking why can't my boyfriend chill out?! why?!) and smoke more than the average amount of cigarettes.
It is clear that my mind is going in bad girl mode. My eyes linger on men more in public. I answer text from guys now, whereas before I did not want Jon to think anything so I would not really have guy friends. Now, I am heavily texting a guy who has a known thing for me (the one helping me get a job now) and I do not feel guilty about it. I keep having fantasies too. I always had my few private Jt&Me dreams. This was nothing new, hello twelve years old on. My fantasies have drastically escalated though. The problem is I, seriously, have at least one fantasy every night now, and they are about guys I know. It is not about a dream man that I will even see in person, let alone feel the warmth of. I can feel myself distancing myself away from him, not that it is hard. I joked with Alisha that I could have a secret life and he would not know. I made it sound funny, but it kills me to know the truth.
I gave him everything. I helped him through a lot. I always put him first above everything. I treated him the way you are supposed to treat someone you 'love'. I never got that in return. I want to just move on. I have other places I could stay. I have options, but I just keep hoping that the guy I decided to move in with will come home one, not the guy that is with me now.

Blue

a shiver up her back,
smoke carelessly pushed,
between cracked silent lips.

pale arms dangle over the bed.
empty eyes gaze out into
the fantasy in this nowhere place.

all this speech about nothing,
she feels a shade of dark blue.
this is more than she wanted him to know.

Mean Girls Part Two

The Heather Show was running pretty well. I had learned how to act at home, at school, for friends, for 'friends', and for boyfriends. It was all going so smoothly. I was always being invited places. My phone would always be ringing. I was, almost, proud of what I had built. Almost.
My sixteenth summer I had to get a job. When I first started there I did not want to have to pretend to be a mean girl there too. I just wanted to make some money so I could go out with all my wonderful and horrible friends. I felt like I was back in fifth grade. When I was not being flat-out ignored I was being picked on. I did not wear make-up or do anything cute with my hair or uniform. I was at work. What did I care? It was fast food, not the fucking prom. After three months of being tortured, I decided that I would be plastic there too. I found the Queen Bee and her drones and started my show. Finding the weak links and picking them apart for the pleasure of others. I was praised.
I started to become tired. There was a point in my life when I was working almost thirty-five hours a week, a member of the debate team, an avid reader/writer, girlfriend to boys, dirty laundry gather, in two A.P classes, and trying to cover up my filth from my mother. I started to do speed. I had to stay awake. There was not enough hours in the day. Let alone the fact that my manager "saw something in me" and was overworking me at work. All I did was work for other people. I barely had time to read or write at that point in my life. (The only two things I loved to do for myself.)
Everything started getting worse when I dropped out of school, moved in with my boyfriend and started working almost sixty hours a week. I had one day off a week, and worked very long shifts. It was hard to keep the mean girls happy. I was trying to make a living so me and my boyfriend could have a decent life, and I was trying to backstab and manipulate whenever I got a free second at work. Soon enough, I was so angry about my life that I was not pretending anymore. I really did hate the 'friends' I pretended to be friends with because of how easy it was to use them. I started to really hate the mean girls for having even more than me. I hated them for being so evil and not having to try. I hated them for not having to work so hard to make a living. I hated my boss for wanting me to work so hard and never thanking me for anything. I hated my boyfriend for not trying to fix any of this mess, and I hated myself for doing all of this.
Now I was talking trash about everyone. I was an unstoppable bitch. I was always yelling and screaming and breaking something. I hated my life and wanted everyone to feel the hatred I was feeling.
Strange thing is, I was never plastic with my boyfriend. I was myself 100% of the time. I could do or say no wrong around him. My obsessions did not bother him. My infatuation with Justin Timberlake did not bother him. Everything about me was okay, was good, he loved.
He helped me change. After my accident, I asked Jon what the last seven months pertained. He said I stopped pretending to be someone I was not. I said, "People finally accept me?!" He said, "No, you really became an evil bitch." It hurt but I found out that it really was the truth. My goal was to change that.
The ironic part is though now one of my closest friends was one of the people I talked the most about. She accepted my apology and it felt so great to get it all off of my chest. I am done being a mean girl. I didn't get hit by a bus. I didn't have to be a part of some Math Club, or anything from the movie. Instead, I am a victim of a minor concussion and have some memory loss and realized that I was a shitty person and I did not ever want to feel that low ever again.
Now I am me. I am Heather. I still have many layers to me, but they are layers that are real. I am happy now. The happiest I have been in a long time.

Mean Girls Part One

"Hey, buddy, you're not pretending anymore! You're plastic! Cold, shiny, hard plastic!"
[from mean girls]

Books, for the longest time, were my friends. I grew up a chubby girl and elementary school was no treat for me. I did not really have a friend until seventh grade. Before that I only had bullies and my books. I would read and imagine being pretty and funny and charming and having boys go bananas over me. I wanted to be glamorous and have so many friends I could not even remember all of their names. In seventh grade, I was in the honors composition and the honors reading class. I shared these two classes with the John Griffin Queen Bee. J was amazingly evil, cunning, smart, and beautiful. She was so perfect and evil that you desperately wanted to, if not be like her, be her number one friend.
To be in with them you have to be able to offer them something they could not have without you. I could not offer much. I wanted popularity though and since there was no Glinda ready to sing and dance and make me over I had to do it myself. I started raising my hand less in class. I started wearing my long hair down instead of in a librarian bun. I started to pick up some of my dads humor.
I never really noticed until I was thirteen that my father is like a one-man show. When he is out and about he is a strong and powerful beast of man you would not want to fuck with. He calls kids "buddy", "chief", "pal" and other condescending names like that. When he is with his friends he is a goofy ball. He is the center of everything. He is funny and likable. When he is at home or at work he is the head hauncho. He is always making rules. He keeps things in order. He has so many layers.
I decide to start the Heather show. Within two weeks, she called my house. Within one month, I was her new go-to girl. Within two months, boys starting talking to me for more than the answers to the homework. I felt on top of the world.
Soon enough I realized I could get people to really open up to me. I have heard the phrase "I have never been able to talk about this with anyone else before" and other examples of it many times. I figured out my keepable quality (because let's get real, it is hard to always have to be making people laugh. you also have to keep working on new material. it is tiring!) was getting dirt on people the Queen J did not like.

This would end up being the worst thing I learned about myself.

From about fourteen one, I lead this double life. One moment I was talking to the 'losers' trying to get something juicy out of them. The next moment I was sucking up to the Queen (whoever it would be at the time being) and spreading around people's lives to everyone with a hungry ear.

[because of the length I am going to post the rest of this tomorrow, unless y'all don't care. lol.]

Wishing For a Wink

My night from three o'clock on:

Tired boyfriend stifles yawn.
I. wide awake, fake a yawn.
Then the lights go out.
He is pulling up the covers.
I stub out my smoke and lay down next to him.
Kisskisssgoodnightiloveyoukisskiss.
Ten minutes pass.
Time is going so slowly.....

just going on.
and on.
when does it move faster?
tick ------- tock.
is it morning yet?

It was only four o'clock.
Jon snored next to me.
I am jealous.
Simply jealous.
Him just sleeping there.
Sprawled out as far as his bony ass can.
Why does his body radiate so much damn heat?!

Hello six o'clock.
I get up.
He is making me sweat.
Sticky and sullen, it's computer time.
Internetbloodshoteysbrightscreen.
Myspace = boring.
Listening to music is fun if I can sing.
He is asleep, fuck that idea.
Don't feel like writing.
Damn shit.
Surfing.
Surfing.
Lindsay Lohan.
Whore.
Britney Spears.
Psycho.
Rubbish. I keep seeing rubbish.

I decide to take a shower.
Hot water. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.
Instant vacation.
Hum a little tune.
Stay in there forever.
Not forever.
Only making it last an hour.

Eight-thirty. He is dead asleep.
I want to wake him up.
Selfish.
How can he sleep?
@)#(*$)(#*%)!*)@(*#)(@*#
(that is the typed sound of frustration)

I go to the other room.
Dirtgrosswhydidheleavethisroomsonasty?
Cleaning like that bald genie.
Not fun.
Especially when I stumble across old work hat.
Blubbertearspansycryingcryingboohoo.
STOP!

I start to clean again.
BIGGIANTSPIDERSCUTTLESBYOHSHIT!
Screaming I run out of the room.
Well, it is now ten o'clock.
When can I wake him up?
When?
When?
When?
I decide to write about my long night.
Then, i'll wake him up.

Still Alive!

Still have a little something in my throat but after sleeping more than I did last year combined I am feeling much better. [I think my throat could still be scratchy because I am dumb and still smoke (less than what I normally smoke) while I am sick.] Anyway, I did do some writing while I was have alive. I also watched me some Rent for the first time. OH, I loved it! I already know the words to most of the songs [this could be the other reason why my throat still hurts; i never give it a break.] and those songs are already the most played songs on my Zune. Plus, I have decided that while I am doing a bunch of nothing that I would learn something. I have decided to learn ASL [American Sign Language]. I can already sign a few things including the phrase "Please help me! Where is the brown cow? Where you the brown cow?" Spiffy, I know. Well before I get off and contniue to catch up on season 2 of Ugly Betty [I am now deeply in love with this show.] I will leave y'all one of the poems I wrote.


BLUE

a shiver up her back,
smoke carelessly pushed,
between cracked silent lips.

pale arms dangle over the bed.
empty eyes gaze out into
the fantasy in this nowhere place.

all this speech about nothing,
she feels a shade of dark blue.
this is more than she wanted him to know.

CoughGrossEeek

I will be offline for a few days. I have been really wretched for about a week now. I need to get some more allergy medicine. I probably also should have drank less on New Years. Eh, but you live and learn.

But I shall return once I am feeling a bit better.