Telephone

When I talk with boys on the telephone, it's always the same. They lead and I let them lead, because that's what they want. They call when they want to talk, and I answer. That's how it goes.

But with you I keep having to remind myself of the things I've already told and shown you. Remind myself that I don't have to pretend or hide with you.

The other one I just miss.

Wrapped Up In A Blanket

And warm.

That Moment

when you realize that someone has found some of your hidden words you left for them

then that horrible realization that you'll have to deal with what you said now

Goodbye, Purse

I'm kind of pouting, in the way that I dumped the entire contents of my purse on the floor (at 2am) and haven't touched that pile of discarded hopes. It makes me rather upset, to tell you the truth, as I had just fallen in love with that purse and the idea of having a purse when it quit on me.

And it was attempted to be fixed, once. But once that broke, we all know the next effort won't work either. It becomes an abandoned project, easily discarded to the back of one's mind.

Like other things. That I constantly think and worry and linger on. Like the fact that I can't really see details far away. And it's kind of hindering, but I'll get over it. When you approach me from far away, I won't be able to recognize your face until you come closer, which honestly kind of terrifies me in a I-won't-be-able-to-recognize-them-and-they'll-be-hurt sort of way.

Which reminds me. Of the fact that I can't tell if they were being nice and friendly or just making fun of me. I can't help but be wary and afraid of those kinds of people and approaches. I just want it to stop.

My toe is broken. Opposite of sprained-ankle foot. I need to work on properly healing that. I am cold.

End of June to middle of November. And then it starts. I can't explain it at all. Or talk to anyone about it. But I'm getting there. With slight slips of information. That they'll never understand the importance of or how much this lingers on my mind.

Mother mother please?

I won't.

I won't bug you about it even though, truthfully, I check it each and every day. I'll sit there with idle time, and check the places that you haven't ventured to check yet. And I won't complain about it to you, no, for this fear from past experiences not belonging to me prevent me from doing such a thing. Again, the fear of being hated emerges. Or of inconveniencing you so.

It's a thing I think about constantly.

I know, no one likes it like I do. No one is as emerged in it as I am.

That doesn't change my longing.

"Biki, you would save so much time if you never went online ever"

---Queen Of Queens

You Didn't Say Goodbye

Get attached

take the risk

Get attached

you'll be worse for the wear later, when they inevitably go away

Sorry but I felt cute today

She was raining like snowdrops

Her tears were falling like snowdrops

Cassandra Clare is a wonderful person

Not The Answer

Church is not the answer to these problems. No no no. It broke me. How do you think he'll react?

Oh no, I'm sure he'll do fine. Just fine.

Not that that fixes anything.

There are different behaviors in different settings. Home or public. Behavior differs. Attitude changes.

That horrible sound

That horrible sound when you've completely broken a person and driven them into a corner so they're so completely helpless that all they can do is shriek out sounds between their broken sobs.

And you sit there wondering, what would justify the breaking of his being?

Certainly not this.

It is our job to be forgotten.

Violence is the antidote to memory

Anthem of Eradication

Now that she's gone

we can talk about it

now that she's gone

we can discuss

the easiest way to rid ourselves of this menace

Now that she's gone

we can talk about it

now that she's gone

we can think

now that she's gone

we can figure out

the way to free ourselves from this beast

Now that's she's gone

we can talk about it

now that she's gone

we can breathe

now that she's gone

we can openly discuss

everything that she's done wrong

Now that she's gone

we can talk about it

now that she's gone

we can plan

the easiest way

to brighten up the day

with her absence

Now that she's gone

we can talk about it

now that she's gone

we can eradicate her

now that she's gone

we are free!

Now that she's here

we can talk about it

now that she's here

we can break

that façade you thought were friends

we are tired of your thorns

so now leave!

Smash the troll

hate

Smash the troll

doubt

Smash the troll

anxiety

Smash the troll

-

Now that she's gone

we can talk about it

now that she's gone

we can smash

that fragile reality she's created for herself

we will smash it all to bits

with our words

I remember...

I remember when I was little, and becoming so upset that I would cry and cry and cry, sobs ransacking my body and my breath refusing to become even again, trying desperately to regain control of myself and pretend that everything was fine but being unable to.

Emotions I once felt so strongly.

And that happened in seventh grade and ninth. Not so so long ago.

Crying in the bathroom trying to pretend nothing is wrong. Trying to not let eye contact get to me. On multiple occasions. And the time that the bullying just got to me and I couldn't stand being in class another moment.

My instinct to just run away.

Hopeful

Sorry but I can't help but be hopeful about you, with the questions I dare not ask because I prefer to be left in the dark about these things. I just want to get as close as I can in the two months that we have left together. Less, really. And it's only once a week. But still.

I can't help but be hopeful,

but I don't let myself fantasize.

Those fantasies will only lead to despair

So, for now, I'll just let you hold me as we dance, my mind ungrippable

Until the despair and doubt comes, throwing everything elsewhere

she's better anyways

and would she want it? does she want it?

do they pick up the subtle hints I kind of drop in the tongue of mine that only they will understand?

Not that it matters

In the end, I will become but a memory

Paralyzed into inaction by fear

Fear

Fear will drive you into a corner until you just can't move anymore, can no longer say any words for fear of the potential consequences, your mind always going down the dreadful path.

And then there's the side of you that is overly hopeful to the reception of information, and that side is what feeds the fear when that hope is crushed, those expectations not met.

So what to do, what to do, when everything lets you down down down.

I am, aren't I?

I'm talking about myself too much, aren't I. Not asking enough questions, though really I don't want to pry. I don't want to make you hate me. If I talk about myself enough, maybe you'll feel compelled to say something. If I say something that happened to me as well as you, maybe you'll feel as though your pain is similar to my own and then not feel so alone in the world. Am I doing this right? This exchange of information? Am I?

Don't see me; don't acknowledge me. I'm busy hiding over here behind my walls of identities, all differing from each other and splitting and protecting separate parts of me but ultimately making me feel confused, like I don't know who i am or what to do with myself anymore.

I have to feel safe like this, even if it isn't real, or I'll never say anything. I'll never talk to you if I think you'll say something back. Or, if I don't not expect something back. If I think that you should be responding and you aren't, my mind will just jump to horrible conclusions usually involving me not being worth your time and/or you liking me at all etc etc. If I don't expect anything back, I can go on and on endlessly, without pause, without expecting or fearing anything. Then I leave to let it sit and simmer, while I sleep and move on, for you to discover later. Much later. Though I am still expecting somewhat of a reply. Just something. To prove that you read it. To prove that you care.

But I am only pushed to tell people things at late late hours of the night when no one is around. When no one is there. If you were there, I swear, we'd be having the deepest of conversations. We'd be discovering so much about each other. You'd be learning so much; I'd be saying so much.

So be there for me, please. Someone. Follow my pattern and be there for me. I promise I'll be there for you.

Things I don't want to be talking about:

money money money money money money money money money

And why we know we can't trust you with it. I mean, it's MY money for MY college. I'm not going to let you deposit it and spend it on shit like exercising equipment and other useless things that will never be useful to me at all and

Fuck, it's my fucking money written out to ME, NOT YOU. So stop asking for my fucking money. I'm going to use it on my education and you aren't going to touch a dime of it.

The air here is suffocating

Suppressing suppressing me me me

You don't realize how desperately I need someone to talk to right now.

It's Growing

There is such an emptiness inside of me after saying goodbye, and leaving you and your car of safety from loneliness into the house where I know I'll be alone, future unset.

It doesn't matter, it's okay, I don't need that text back, it's fine.

No it's not. Don't let me be alone. It's growing, that feeling inside of me, a bubbling up of loneliness from within my heart. Don't go. Don't.

Lurking in the depths of the night
sucks
because there's no one to wake you up
from the nightmares

Sorry

Just sitting here going through your photos is making the loneliness grow inside. It's unpleasant, and is making my heart fall in once again, poking fun at my tear ducts. But I will let no tears fall. I won't let things touch me. I'll just type out the things I'm feeling, or perhaps I won't.

Everything is just bringing me to tears, and yet I refuse to let it. Refuse to admit defeat. Or to admit to myself that the night is getting to me. That it's getting to me so much that I can't let myself sleep. No no no.

Give it back, that book. I need it back. It had a warm fuzzy feeling to it. I want it back. It made my heart cringe in a good way. I like it when my heart cringes in that good way.

Yet this makes me feel only more the intensity and how pathetic this loneliness of mine is. This emotion that is haunting my insides, hollowing them out softly. The more I yearn for these things in my dreams yet openly spurn the lack of them in my consciousness, the more I can feel what it is I do not have.

The more I can feel my inadequacy.

You. I've had my eyes on you from the very start. Yet I'm not confident in my self-worth. You could find better. She is better, and I know that she is wonderful on the inside, yet torn up by the insensitive actions of others. I'm just alone. Always, always alone. None shall touch my heart. I shan't let them. I shall live for my friends, always available if they need me, and yet, and yet who is there to be available to me? I want that I want that love

I'm not in a good mood. I don't have those anymore.