Monday, 27 August 2012
Saturday, 25 August 2012
Right now, 8/25/2012 5:13pm, this is what I want.....
|1. Strawberry ice cream|
|2. Skin contact|
|3. A good book|
|4. French bulldog baby|
Monday, 20 August 2012
Wednesday, 15 August 2012
The sound of your breath in my ear could have broken me down into one million microscopic pieces on the hotel floor. Your rough skin against the satin sheets was enough to catalyze my monumental meltdown. Your incomprehensible mind, with your frantic thoughts and your flawless fucking facade; you couldn't tell but I was trembling.
Well hat's off, dear, you did it all so fucking well. You knew exactly the right moves to make - you didn't miss a single beat. You made me feel two inches tall. You made me feel more negligible and unimportant than the tacky floral curtains that hung so simply, watching and judging as situations unfolded and then crumpled up. "Stupid, stupid, stupid girl."
I hate myself for falling for it - I hate myself for falling victim to someone else's hand, someone else's disposition. I hate myself for sinking so low, becoming a pawn in your abhorrent little game.
And now I'm sitting in a sad and lonely coffee shop on a humid Wednesday in the summer. I have no idea why I'm wasting my thoughts, time, or ink on you. You trouble me. What happened, happened once, so now it's best in memory. And if I try hard enough, that memory will be bottled up and placed deep in the darkest corners of my mind, with all the other mistakes and misfortunes I've endured. Sooner or later it's like you never really existed at all.
The kiss didn't last, but maybe you'll remember me.
Friday, 10 August 2012
Lately I've had this really horrible impulse to do something drastic to my hair. It absolutely scares me to pieces to lose my blonde - something that has been so self-defiant for the past 20 years of my life. But in the same breath, I really think this may be exactly the type of welcomed change that I need. I'm really into reddish-orange..... Perhaps?.... Mimicking so many of my brightly hued idols? I'm on the fence.
Wednesday, 8 August 2012
My life is so consumed by words. What is supposed to set me free ultimately leaves me trapped. I am pinned by the sentences I can't find and the thoughts I can't grasp - they are always spinning, spinning, spinning. They spin me to insanity and back. I want to be honest, I want this to mean something. I want to say all the things that would make you love me. But I am so trapped.
Being a child of the 90's, I feel it appropriate and necessary to pay homage to the twisted decade which I was so graciously born into. Between sensationalized pop music stars, the pinnacle and origination of grunge culture, horribly amazing fashion, and off-beat hypes/fads, the 90's was a truly bizzare and unique time period. Why does this decade suck so much??? My youth is fading and my childhood is dead. x__x
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
I tried to hide everything from you, for fear of being understood. I tried my best, but you read me so simply - like you read the street signs that lead to my house. All my efforts to keep you distant we're effortlessly evaded. You navigated the continent of my mind & made me feel so insignificant.
It's so sad, I was desperate for you. "love me love me love me, I will be anything for you. I will be everything for you."
And I thought I could smother that feeling. And God knows, I did for a while. But there's only so long that cigarettes, rainy days, a cup of tea, a new apartment, a new town, bruised legs, a sunburn, can mask the yearning and insecurity of a 20-something lost girl who is desperate and dying to be found.
The grass left uncut and the sun beating harshly, recycled ideas spin and spin. But time is like poison and I've certainly consumed too much. I'm one drink away from calling you to ask about the weather or maybe about how you've been. One more drink on one more night that is exactly like all the rest.
God, I'm so lonely.
"I've always been an ironic dreamer, unfaithful to my inner promises. Like a complete outsider, a casual observer of whom I thought I was, I've always enjoyed watching my daydreams go down in defeat. I was never convinced of what I believed in. I filled my hands with sand, called it gold, and opened them up to let it slide through. Words were my only truth. When the right words were said, all was done; the rest was the sand that had always been."