Mutant eyes.

dry spots
.acid.
cracked lips
.acid.
sunken eyes
.nothing.
the scars you tote
.nothing.
the weakness
.nothing.
the blurry vision
.nothing.
the fear
.everything.
ups and downs
.everything.
numbers you see
.everything.
the things you see
should be nothing.

My forget

I liked you once, a long while back. I kept thinking I'd get something of my affection back by spending more time wiht you. Now you're blaming me for not wanting you the same way I used to want you, when it hurt a couple of fibers in my heart to even think about the past. The truth? I don't want you anymore. Not like that, not like this, not ever. I'm done with everyone, and you're no exception. You're just background noise.

Be quiet.

blip

There is no point in missing the past.

No point in missing something you can never have again.

Sigh.

blues more like reds

I've been upset since early this morning.

Everything is all wrong. Earlier today, I became enraged after not being able to find my favorite grey sweater because I couldn't find anything else to wear. I turned my entire house upside-down, angry at myself for having so many useless articles of clothing when one would suffice, and walked from closet to closet emptying cabinets and digging beneath boxes.
I threw everything on the floor and clawed through the ensuing mess for any hint of shapeless grey, smelling strongly of stale cigarette smoke and beer- to no avail. I'm done.
This took an hour and a half.
I didn't forget about my interview at the hospital though along with lunch with a friend.

I hate this helpless feeling, this empty fury, the prickly hotness of realising that there's nothing to be done. These feelings are, undoubtedly, triggered from yesterday after seeing someone that I love(d).

Ugh. Enough.
Time for a cigarette.

The-rapist? Or therapist? Or just plain 'ther-apist'?

Hold it, mister.
I have needs and dreams
that don't amount to anything.
Rewind.
Who stole my pride?
It was at 15, got me totally perma-fried.
Fucked up cerebral from your fucking fucked up mind
as you fucked the dignity out of my spine.
I hate you like I hate the passing of time
cuz every minute makes me damn bigger
every inch blows my mind
Everybody made me scream
Everbody made me cry
I make myself hide.
I make myself die.
When I snapshot the picture of my life in a year
I saw sing-a-longs and bullshit of rainbows
and tears of joy
and songs of romance
and freedom, freedom from the shove
Here- I AM THE WORLD.
I'm a fake.
Just like you make me.
I'm all trite and shit.
I'm a girl ground into gruel.
Take a spoon.
Take a spoon.
Just
Take a spoon.

DIS MOI

"Drama often obscures the real issues."

Right after my driving lesson this morning, I found myself frustrated when I couldn't find my book in the clutter of my room. (The messy state of my room might represent the state of my mind right now) I had been searching for this particular book for the last 3 months and simply waiting for the right time to read it as it can be very triggering.

Last week I was terrified about losing my job (for some stupid reason, I thought I would). Now I almost wish this were the case so that I could look for other employment without the guilt of actually quitting. Make sense? Maybe not.

On a side note,

my friend asked me what my scars were from on my upper arm, "A cat?"

Bless my soul, I should really get some ink on the arms.

"I love eating salads. But I don't like croutons"

Well, I've enjoyed the day.

Woke up to a lovely phone call. I did some yoga (hooray!) and had coffee uptown in the morning. Got harassed with my own thoughts and turned it into something good. Central Branch with a friend and borrowed a book that I've been wanting to read for a long time.

Conversations on a hill.

I am looking forward to this weekend...way too much.

Note to self: Arrete a dire "too much" (Stop saying "too much" because..really...it's getting too much.)