Well it's 1:09, and there's nothing to do. So I feel like channelling everything I think into one blog post. I doubt any of this will make sense. There is no order to my thoughts to don't discern yourself and create one.
Why would she treat us so thoughtlessly, awesome violin. I love his voice, it's so beautiful. I wish I lived in the 60's. My shirt is pink and has Tinkerbell on it with some cheer leading reference. Take that David. Wow my hands are covered in scars. I hear laundry. BEEP BEEP. Oh minor chords... tension. Astronomy Divine. Mm mm tasty song. If I fell into unconsciousness would you be the first thing I see when I wake up? No you wouldn't. I wouldn't wake up. Do we really need a plan? I hear people moving upstairs. Oh my, that's troublesome. When is the window open to cornflakes? Who the hell is sneaking around! I own this house after midnight! No one should be moving unless I say so. I'm too lazy to investigate... I think it's just the dog... and the laundry. I should go and take a shower but I have to make sure my parents are asleep first. Not all acrostic poems suck.
Try and get through to me.
Only then will you see.
Really, nothing is there.
Nothing more than despair.
Even syllables and it rhymes. Eat it. There's a legend that once said that bread would rule the Earth. I intend to defy that legend. I'm not sure if it's the sugar, caffeine or pain in my right knee cap talking but I think you're sexy. I have large teeth. They scare me and hurt if I accidentally or purposely bite myself. I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here...
I don't think writing more would be wise. I might cause someones head to explode.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
I’m Looking Through You.
“Fuck.”
It was the only word she knew to express how she was feeling. Sure she could have tried something more subtle, but it wouldn’t have had the same effect. Fuck was such a marvelous word, it could describe almost anything.
“Life is short, there’s no time for this. So why bother?” Her question rang in her ears as she spoke these seemingly harmless words.
Earlier that evening she had been a little depressed, perhaps it was the damp early spring weather, or maybe it was the utter feeling of self loathing. She didn’t know why she felt like this. She just knew that something wasn’t right. She had been alone and she had tried to figure out why she always came back to the same conclusion. There was no happiness left in the world today. She decided to shake it off and try to enjoy her evening.
That is until she got home, where everything went to hell.
She immediately got on the computer to do her homework, and noticed her friend who had seemed so optimistic earlier that day was more depressed than ever. She tried to make him feel better, by just talking it out. To put it bluntly, she was told to fuck off.
She did not let this little passing get in her way of accomplishing something. She did almost all her homework, and then her friend started talking to her again. He explained why he was so despondent earlier and it turned out that he had some problems of his own, go figure. She decided not to tell him about hers for it would just upset him even more.
Then it happened. Her best friend struck up a conversation.
It was going rather well, until her best friend stopped talking. When she asked what was wrong, her friend innocently replied, “Oh it’s nothing, never mind.”
Her intuition kicked in, something was wrong, and when asked to elaborate she was handed this as a response.
“I don’t know, its better not. Well I’m complaining about you, but I can sort it out on my own.”
This intrigued her. Why would her best friend be bitching about her? Was it something she did? She drew a blank. So she asked, and was told.
“It’s nothing you did. It’s just… Ah never mind.”
The conversation after that was best left not repeated. Her friend always felt second to her, which was sad, because she always felt like shit. She couldn’t imagine what her friend must feel like. She argued her point but it was to no avail, this just infuriated her friend to the point where she logged off without warning.
Now she was in a state which goes beyond all moral depression, this was manic. She sat there for what seemed like a long time, staring blankly at the wall. Her friend felt like shit while she was alive, her fucking parents were pathetic and on top of all that she had grown to hate herself. There was nothing left to live for.
She glanced at the clock on the screen which read 11:22 pm. Perfect. Just before midnight.
She slid out of her chair and walked to the door, turned the handle and stared off into the night. It was sleeting, rain and snowflakes splattering against the hard concrete. Her situation reminded her of a song by the Beatles called, I’m Looking through You. She loved that song. And somehow it reached out to her, she didn’t even notice slipping into her coat and sneaking out the front door.
The night air was crisp. The sky continued to release it’s torrent of confusion towards the earth. She noticed none of this, as tears blurred her eyes and she stumbled onwards.
She stood looking over the highway, feeling the cruel wind upon her face and listening to the traffic below, and she thought back to the song.
“I’m looking through you, where did you go. I though I knew you, what did I know. You don’t look different but you have changed. I’m looking through you, you’re not the same.”
Life is short, there’s no time for this. So why bother?! She silently screamed, as she flung herself into the on coming traffic.
The last thing she heard were strains of dreamy music consuming her like a psychotropic drug.
“The only difference is you’re down there. I’m looking through you, and you’re nowhere.”
Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed it’s mournful tune.
It was the only word she knew to express how she was feeling. Sure she could have tried something more subtle, but it wouldn’t have had the same effect. Fuck was such a marvelous word, it could describe almost anything.
“Life is short, there’s no time for this. So why bother?” Her question rang in her ears as she spoke these seemingly harmless words.
Earlier that evening she had been a little depressed, perhaps it was the damp early spring weather, or maybe it was the utter feeling of self loathing. She didn’t know why she felt like this. She just knew that something wasn’t right. She had been alone and she had tried to figure out why she always came back to the same conclusion. There was no happiness left in the world today. She decided to shake it off and try to enjoy her evening.
That is until she got home, where everything went to hell.
She immediately got on the computer to do her homework, and noticed her friend who had seemed so optimistic earlier that day was more depressed than ever. She tried to make him feel better, by just talking it out. To put it bluntly, she was told to fuck off.
She did not let this little passing get in her way of accomplishing something. She did almost all her homework, and then her friend started talking to her again. He explained why he was so despondent earlier and it turned out that he had some problems of his own, go figure. She decided not to tell him about hers for it would just upset him even more.
Then it happened. Her best friend struck up a conversation.
It was going rather well, until her best friend stopped talking. When she asked what was wrong, her friend innocently replied, “Oh it’s nothing, never mind.”
Her intuition kicked in, something was wrong, and when asked to elaborate she was handed this as a response.
“I don’t know, its better not. Well I’m complaining about you, but I can sort it out on my own.”
This intrigued her. Why would her best friend be bitching about her? Was it something she did? She drew a blank. So she asked, and was told.
“It’s nothing you did. It’s just… Ah never mind.”
The conversation after that was best left not repeated. Her friend always felt second to her, which was sad, because she always felt like shit. She couldn’t imagine what her friend must feel like. She argued her point but it was to no avail, this just infuriated her friend to the point where she logged off without warning.
Now she was in a state which goes beyond all moral depression, this was manic. She sat there for what seemed like a long time, staring blankly at the wall. Her friend felt like shit while she was alive, her fucking parents were pathetic and on top of all that she had grown to hate herself. There was nothing left to live for.
She glanced at the clock on the screen which read 11:22 pm. Perfect. Just before midnight.
She slid out of her chair and walked to the door, turned the handle and stared off into the night. It was sleeting, rain and snowflakes splattering against the hard concrete. Her situation reminded her of a song by the Beatles called, I’m Looking through You. She loved that song. And somehow it reached out to her, she didn’t even notice slipping into her coat and sneaking out the front door.
The night air was crisp. The sky continued to release it’s torrent of confusion towards the earth. She noticed none of this, as tears blurred her eyes and she stumbled onwards.
She stood looking over the highway, feeling the cruel wind upon her face and listening to the traffic below, and she thought back to the song.
“I’m looking through you, where did you go. I though I knew you, what did I know. You don’t look different but you have changed. I’m looking through you, you’re not the same.”
Life is short, there’s no time for this. So why bother?! She silently screamed, as she flung herself into the on coming traffic.
The last thing she heard were strains of dreamy music consuming her like a psychotropic drug.
“The only difference is you’re down there. I’m looking through you, and you’re nowhere.”
Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed it’s mournful tune.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Fuck.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.
My advice don't worry about it, so what do I do? I fucking worry. No more just letting it slide. WHAT'S THE FUCKING POINT?!?! I SHOULDN'T GIVE A FUCK BUT WITH ALL THE PRESSURE OF LIVING I'M GOING TO FUCKING STAB MYSELF.
Here's what I'm thinking at the moment.
That fucking bitch. I can't listen to this song right now, I'll fucking cry. There's something that's fucking tearing my worthless heart out. I'm going to fucking kill her. Why do people do this to me? Why is it that I have to try and fix everything. Why won't she just accept what I'm saying is true. I want to bash my head against a wall until blood pours out my ears and deafens me to the world. I am so pissed off. I WANT TO DO SOMETHING DRASTIC. Just go and throw myself off the fucking overpass. WHAT IS WITH HER?!?!?!?! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. THIS IS SO INFURIATING. AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. *STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB* SSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTAAAAAAAAAABBBBBBBB.GOD FUCK SHIT HELL PISS BITCH WHORE ASS FUUUUUCK.
Oh my god strike me down now. I'm such a useless bitch. Ugh if there were something to do I would but I can't cause no one will let me in to help. I. AM. SLOWLY. KILLING. MYSELF. IT'S. NOT. YOUR. FAULT. THAT. I WORRY. FOR. YOUR. WELL. BEING. I am neurotic, and calling yourself down is NOT helping. You ARE the reason I live. Just. *sigh* I can't do this. I'm just not going to get into this. *pulls out gun*
Shoot me now.
I think I need a hug.
My advice don't worry about it, so what do I do? I fucking worry. No more just letting it slide. WHAT'S THE FUCKING POINT?!?! I SHOULDN'T GIVE A FUCK BUT WITH ALL THE PRESSURE OF LIVING I'M GOING TO FUCKING STAB MYSELF.
Here's what I'm thinking at the moment.
That fucking bitch. I can't listen to this song right now, I'll fucking cry. There's something that's fucking tearing my worthless heart out. I'm going to fucking kill her. Why do people do this to me? Why is it that I have to try and fix everything. Why won't she just accept what I'm saying is true. I want to bash my head against a wall until blood pours out my ears and deafens me to the world. I am so pissed off. I WANT TO DO SOMETHING DRASTIC. Just go and throw myself off the fucking overpass. WHAT IS WITH HER?!?!?!?! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. THIS IS SO INFURIATING. AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. *STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB* SSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTAAAAAAAAAABBBBBBBB.GOD FUCK SHIT HELL PISS BITCH WHORE ASS FUUUUUCK.
Oh my god strike me down now. I'm such a useless bitch. Ugh if there were something to do I would but I can't cause no one will let me in to help. I. AM. SLOWLY. KILLING. MYSELF. IT'S. NOT. YOUR. FAULT. THAT. I WORRY. FOR. YOUR. WELL. BEING. I am neurotic, and calling yourself down is NOT helping. You ARE the reason I live. Just. *sigh* I can't do this. I'm just not going to get into this. *pulls out gun*
Shoot me now.
I think I need a hug.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Cinnamon Spice Muffin
"Bananas are a lot like traffic lights," said the old man to his son. "With traffic lights green means go, yellow means slow, and red means stop, now you see, with bananas it's the opposite. Green means stop, yellow means slow, and red means... HOLLY EGGPLANT!!! WHERE DID YOU FIND THAT BANANA?!?!?!" At this point the young boy pulls out a red banana, and well you can only guess what kind of mayhem that caused.
If you are reading this you can probably tell reality and me don't get along so well. We are at odds you might say, so I intend on beating reality with a stick and jabbing it with a spork until it either goes away or self implodes. The fact that we manage to exist in the same realm astounds me, but somehow I will prevail, and reality will cease to exist.
I am a cinnamon spice muffin!!! Not a blueberry muffin, not a chocolate muffin, not a lemon poppy seed muffin. Cinnamon spice!!! Just plain old cinnamon spice, got a problem with that? *menacing glare* That's right, didn't think so.
The plutonium of the plum filled gargoyles will inhabit the earth if not carefully monitored!!! And what's more is that they want to hijack all cinnamon spice muffins!!! I'm allergic to plum! What's a poor little muffin to do? I could perform the vanishing act but what fun is that? Although... being a cinnamon spice muffin, I taste pretty darn good *bites hand and chews thoughtfully* Well there's no other way out of this mess.
*proceeds to eat entire self until all that remains is a mouth*
Well, this sucks.
If you are reading this you can probably tell reality and me don't get along so well. We are at odds you might say, so I intend on beating reality with a stick and jabbing it with a spork until it either goes away or self implodes. The fact that we manage to exist in the same realm astounds me, but somehow I will prevail, and reality will cease to exist.
I am a cinnamon spice muffin!!! Not a blueberry muffin, not a chocolate muffin, not a lemon poppy seed muffin. Cinnamon spice!!! Just plain old cinnamon spice, got a problem with that? *menacing glare* That's right, didn't think so.
The plutonium of the plum filled gargoyles will inhabit the earth if not carefully monitored!!! And what's more is that they want to hijack all cinnamon spice muffins!!! I'm allergic to plum! What's a poor little muffin to do? I could perform the vanishing act but what fun is that? Although... being a cinnamon spice muffin, I taste pretty darn good *bites hand and chews thoughtfully* Well there's no other way out of this mess.
*proceeds to eat entire self until all that remains is a mouth*
Well, this sucks.
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