| (no subject) |
[Jul. 5th, 2007|12:19 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Clackamas, Or. | ] |
| [ | Meus indoles |
| |  content | ] |
| [ | Meus sonitus |
| | Cruxshadows - Tears | ] |
English and prose, where have you been, my old friend?
From my fingers you no longer flow, as in the days of high school, and the latter of fresh love.
Is it only when my hot blood rushes through my old heart that the sonnets begin anew?
Is romance what stokes my fires of imagination, and brings out what little artistic creativity I have?
Conversely, does that mean that without passion I am but a listless collection of a tattered human being?
Today, this hour, I find motivation.
Furthermore, I find myself with a second's respite to do for Christoph what Christoph needs, and not what his endeared friends require.
I am happy, my readers; I am happy as happy can be.
I'm poor, hungry, I'm living on a friend's couch and working a crappy job.
Sarcasm? No, but just the opposite.
Contentment is the word.
I am happy with my station, my level, my friends.
No longer am I supporting and uplifting people that wish to go nowhere.
I am providing for myself, and having others lift me up as I uplift them.
To Sarah, for caring for me, for treating like a person and your equal, for laughing at my silly jokes and being uplifting.
For David.
For Justin.
For Katie.
For Nova.
For Craig.
My friends, people who elevate me.
For people that would never see me homeless, for you who ask but give in return.
"Counting on me,
Always hoping I'll be,
There for all your problems.
In return you're never there for me.
Suck the life out of me.
You hate everything you see.
I always stay when I should leave."
Indeed.
You leeches, scum.
Taking from us who only wish to help.
You are the reason why my arms are scarred.
You are the reason why I've cried myself to sleep.
Fuck you, fuck off; leave me be and stop interfering with the zen I keep striving to attain.
For those of you I've tried to assist, for those of you that asked for my guidance and used me.
And you, I know you're reading this, I know you follow me around.
I won't give you the satisfaction of addressing you.
Yes, there's a girl.
Hell, there's a few.
Is she you? No.
Could she have been you? Maybe if you gave a damn enough to try.
I'm over you.
You're pictures are gone, your belongings destroyed.
Your messages will never be read, and whatever you pass along through my friends will never be heard.
Don't contact me, don't try and see me.
Go pretend like life is a perfect movie where everything is as you wish.
Go, Clementine, and erase me from your memory.
Numb yourself with hollow friends and drugs, abuse yourself and kill what remains of me.
Loving you, I yet must admit remains...
But you're nothing but a lesson of what never to do again.
Yes, a girl.
A friend, by the way.
Forever? Maybe.
Lovers, well we never know what the future can bring.
But for now she's just what I needed.
And for now I'm thankful.
You know who you are, though you will never read this.
Thank you, for being you, for being what I need when I needed it.
...and that's my sermon for today. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 1st, 2007|04:10 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Clackamas, Or. | ] |
| [ | Meus indoles |
| | excited | ] |
| [ | Meus sonitus |
| | Shiny Toy Guns - Rocketship | ] |
...we kissed... |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 29th, 2007|05:15 am] |
| [ | Meus indoles |
| |  creative | ] |
It's been awhile since I posted anything.
Odd, how not friends, nor family inspire me to write.
Not even crushes or dreams...
But music, it's always music that influences me to write.
It's like at a show with a group you love...
It's so loud, and you know the lyrics by heart.
People are jumping around you, lights are flashing...
Everything harmonizes in your brain...
...and you can't help but move.
Dance, mosh, or even nodding your head...
It's that one moment where you don't even realize you're moving...
You just...are.
You're so caught up, and everything is going so fast...
You aren't yourself anymore, you aren't even human...
You're just a thing, bouncing, unified.
This song got to me...
Deadmaker, by Wumpscut...
It's in German...of course.
But I love it...
Download it, listen to it, understand it...
It's like the speeches Hitler gave.
Yeah, he was the antichrist, evil, blah blah blah.
But his speeches...the way he captivated his audience...
Maybe I was a Nazi in a past life...
This song enthralled me like he does.
I just want to scream with him when I hear it.
He says 'dead' over and over...
Tot! Tot! Ich mache dich tot!
So yeah, that's it.
Mostly.
I've done alot, spent a lot of money, hung out with some new awesome people...
I picked up a second job.
Exciting.
I even found myself a girl that enjoys me.
Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, coo at me.
Have your fun and say what you will.
Certainly no one believes me anymore. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 21st, 2007|03:22 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Clackamas, Or. | ] |
| [ | Meus indoles |
| |  angry | ] |
| [ | Meus sonitus |
| | Pretty Girls Make Graves - The Getaway | ] |
It's not so bad, having people you think care for you abandon you.
It's not so bad when your friends even turn on you.
When they lie and stab in you the back...
It's when the people you thought were your friends turn out to be someone else entirely.
It makes me feel like the good judge of character I once was is gone...
And that I've really done something horrible to my brain.
Makes me want to live like my Uncle, alone, by himself, totally self-sufficient.
How nice that life would be. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 14th, 2007|05:09 pm] |
Usually the hardest part of making a journal entry is starting it.
At least for me.
But I found a song that should kick it off, it's been one of my favorites...
I never thought it would ever describe how I feel...
But right now, it's perfect.
It's trite, you've all heard it before, maybe even cried to it.
Whatever, so I'm not original.
I hear, a voice say "Don't be so blind"
It's telling me all these things
That you would probably hide
Am I, your one and only desire
Am I the reason you breathe
Or am I the reason you cry?
Always, always, always, always, always, always,
I just can't live without you...
I love you
I hate you
I can't live around you.
I breathe you
I taste you
I can't live without you.
I just can't take anymore
This life of solitude
I guess that I'm out the door
And now I'm done with you.
(Done with you, done with you, done with you, done with you, done with you)
I feel, like you don't want me around
I guess I'll pack all my things
I guess I'll see you around
It's all, been bottled up until now
As I walk out your door
All I can hear is the sound
Always, always, always, always, always, always,
I just can't live without you...
I love you
I hate you
I can't live around you.
I breathe you
I taste you
I can't live without you.
I just can't take anymore
This life of solitude
I guess that I'm out the door
And now I'm done with you.
I love you
I hate you
I can't live without you.
I left my head around your heart,
Why would you tear my world apart?
Always, always, always, always.
I see, the blood all over your hands
Does it make you feel, more like a man
Was it all, just a part of your plan
The pistol's shakin' in my hands
And all I hear is the sound.
I love you
I hate you
I can't live around you.
I breathe you
I taste you
I can't live without you.
I just can't take anymore
This life of solitude
I guess that i'm out the door
And now i'm done with you.
I love you
I hate you
I can't live around you.
I love you
I hate you
I can't live without you.
I just can't take anymore
This life of solitude
I pick myself off the floor,
And now i'm done with you.
Always
Always
Always.
She put up this picture.
Is this a game for her?
Did she put it up knowing that it would hurt me?
An eye for an eye?
Well, whatever her intentions, it's there.
And it ripped another hole in me.
Is she trying to make me hate her?
Or does she really despise me so much, that she'd see me in tears, following the road to self-destruction?
I'm stuck in this rut, and I feel like I'm even a burden to my friends.
No one calls me anymore, no one wants to hang out with me.
The last few things that were holding me in Portland are gone...
I'm now I'm truly a vagabond.
I'm depressing my friends and I'm just totally useless.
It just seems like that whenever I need a hand up there's always someone pushing me down.
Beautiful blood.
That red, my favorite color.
I could watch it all the time, little crimson rivers streaming down.
It's so amazing, the feel, the warmth, the color...
Life's essence, escaping and draining out.
Am I sick?
Am I a monster?
I wish I could bathe in it.
Hah, sex on E? How about cutting on E?
God, this is the first time I've smiled all day. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 13th, 2007|06:53 pm] |
Now it's me who's leaving the bloodstains on my sleeves for you to see.
But you'll never see. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 11th, 2007|04:36 am] |
Have you ever found yourself caught up in so many of your own lies, that you can't tell fact from fiction?
Have you ever found yourself in so many of your own fabrications that your significant other can't even believe you?
I've reached that point, where no matter what you say to anyone or yourself, it's just another story that no one will heed.
Just one to cover my ass with a silly mistake, to another that covered up the cover-up, throw in a dash of truth for realism...but in the end, I lost...
All my truths look like lies.
I was looking at pictures tonight.
There's one of me, just randomly posing...
But it's not the look on my face, or who I'm with...
I'm wearing this cloth bracelet...green and blue, torn and frayed so badly I don't know how it stayed.
It was Michelle's...she gave it to me, on the last day of Camp Meeting, the last time I saw her as just a friend.
I wore it until it broke...
I promised her I'd wear it for as long as I could.
I could have fixed it, I could have worn it longer...
Ann hated that damn thing so much, she hated everything about anyone ever being with me besides her.
I wore it anyways...not to hurt her, but to remind myself what cheating does.
Maybe if I had kept it on...things wouldn't have been like this.
Maybe if she'd had one, she'd have remembered me instead of that other guy that fate-filled night.
You know, today can die a horrible, painful death.
Nothing went right today, not a single damn thing.
Work was slow and we got out too late...
Not to mention I spent way too much time texting my friends, and not enough time putting books away like I should have.
Ann wrote me...Leo bailed on me...I totally fucked Katie's evening being a moody bastard, go me.
It started with a dream, I guess...
That kind of set it all off.
Tucking a mostly naked Brandon and Ann into a bed.
It felt like I was blessing what they were about to do.
I left the room, the door locked behind me...and asked that she remember me when everything was said and done.
...yeah, I really dreamed that, I have it written down. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 9th, 2007|04:05 am] |
| [ | Meus indoles |
| |  anxious | ] |
I was going to post something, but now I'm just so fucked up that I don't even care anymore.
I guess if you cut through all the bullshit, I'd just talk about one thing.
The girl that agreed with me that all you need is love...
...is loving another guy.
I'm happy for her, really...
But how nice is it to know that the girl who was going to marry you two weeks before...is now dating someone else?
Uhg, they're going to have sex, too.
Nice, Christoph...this is how we induce panic attacks.
It's so tempting to just revert.
Do some drugs here and there, couch surf, enjoy myself.
Be the loser that I was.
So easy... |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 26th, 2007|02:33 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Clackamas, Oregon. | ] |
| [ | Meus indoles |
| |  contemplative | ] |
| [ | Meus sonitus |
| | Marilyn Manson - The last day of earth | ] |
I was just listening to this song by everyone's favorite person, Marilyn Manson.
It's called The Last Day on Earth.
I came to think.
How romantic would it be to find your lover in the world's last few hours, and hold them close while everything topples around you?
"Be together while the planet dies. I know it's the last day on earth, never say good bye." |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 25th, 2007|01:18 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Clackamas, Oregon. | ] |
| [ | Meus indoles |
| | distressed | ] |
| [ | Meus sonitus |
| | Linkin Park - What I've Done | ] |
Is anyone else bothered by strong language in music?
By that, I don't mean angry that people are subjected to it, and I don't mean cursing.
Just like, strong, graphic, or otherwise intense?
I'm cutting, I'll erase myself, I'm worthless, tie the final knot, or other such commonly beheld sentences.
I'm not against it, just more...shocked that I'm really hearing such messed up things.
I hated this CD, but Linkin Park just came out with a new album.
One song is good, it's called What I've done.
"Let mercy come, and wash away what I've done," "I'll face myself, to cross out what I've done. Erase myself...".
It's not very explicit, or even harsh...
But listening to this, and hearing those lines really make me feel like the singer means what he's singing.
I'm disturbed, because I feel like I'm listening to someone five minutes away from commiting suicide.
It's weird, because he wrote something very close to what I'd say...
I post alot of lyrics on here, and most of you just skim through them.
Pay attention to this one, and maybe you'll feel what I mean.
In this farewell
There's no blood, there's no alibi
'Cause I've drawn regret
From the truth of a thousand lies
So let mercy come and wash away
What I've done, I'll face myself
To cross out what I've become
Erase myself and let go of what I've done
Put to rest what you thought
Of me while I clean this slate
With the hands of uncertainty
So let mercy come and wash away
What I've done, I'll face myself
To cross out what I've become
Erase myself, and let go of what I've done
For what I've done, I start again
And whatever pain may come
Today this ends, I'm forgiving
What I've done, I'll face myself
To cross out what I've become, erase myself
And let go of what I've done
What I've done
Forgiving what I've done |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 22nd, 2007|02:45 am] |
Yeah, so I just stepped in the door.
I'm basically really fucking pissed off.
Ashley, my bitch receiving manager, decided to leave me with four...FOUR fucking newbies.
Four.
And I had to be done by midnight.
Yay.
Well, it didn't happen, we got royally fucked in the ass, and I'm going to get yelled at.
Nice.
So, let's talk about Craig, shall we?
I told this guy that I'd like to room with him.
That means money.
Money means a job.
A job means not sitting on your ASS and smoking POT all fucking day.
Well, he just got a job, and he's already showing up late and making excuses.
"Well, we can crash at my mom's place!"
Excuse me?!
Are you fucking serious?
Your mother's house?
In a trailer park, no less.
So.
Homelessness.
Great, huh?
Eight days and I'm on my ass.
I can go live with my receiving manager, she's got a room open at her new five bedroom house full of hippies.
I was depending on a move to Medford.
I was depending on Craig.
I was depending on SOMEONE, SOMETHING.
And everyone let me down, just like every other fucking time.
I need to be alone, and depend on myself for awhile...
I'm tired of being led around like an idiot and then being dropped for something better.
I hate being alone, though...
Whatever.
I wanted to come home to AnnMarie, but no, I had to stay late.
Fuckers.
I'm hungry, too.
I'm pissed, depressed, lonely...
And I just realized I'm out of cigarettes.
Yeah, fuck you, God.
And, for you, Annie.
I've got something for you, too...
Too little, too late, right?
Better late than never.
I've got a story for you, something I just remembered today, that I haven't thought about since.
I remembered it, and I thought I'd tell it, so you could know a little more about me and feel appreciated that I thought of you.
So I'm like eight years old when we first get this cat. He's orange and striped, and I decided to call him Thomas; to this day I don't know why. My mother got him for me, after I cried for an animal to keep me company...really I was crying for her to pay attention to me, but she shut me up with a stray's kitten.
I bought that cat treats and food every day I could, even sometimes when we didn't have enough money ourselves to eat. I asked my sister a few times, "Sarah, I know you're hungry, but Thomas hasn't eaten for a long time, too. Can we feed him today?" I loved him, and for a cat, I knew that he loved me.
He had to put up with the most horrible situations. For most of his life, we were on the road, and he would sit and tuck himself right next to the front windshield, where the defrost vents are, on the driver's side. Rain, sun, night time, day, whenever, that's where he'd sit. It drove my mother crazy because she could never see with her fat ass trying to lean over the steering wheel. For the other part of his life, he had to deal with sitting inside a boat... It was a large boat, but when you've got wet trash filled with maggots covering the floor, literally a foot deep, and three humans living with you, life is tight.
My mother hated him so much. He would stray away from her, and when she tried to pick him up, he'd go over and piss on something while she was watching. Male cat spray doesn't smell nice, so I wasn't happy, but I understood what it was like to be abused by my mother like he was. Once, I remember she picked him up and threw him...I about cried...
Due to poor sanitation, lack of shots, lack of food, lack of space...Thomas the cat died when I was 11, right before my best friend and only dog, Sean, died of cancer.
Side story, babe. When I was little, I mean really really little...I was in the store with my mother, and I asked her for a quarter. You know those vending machines with toys and candy? Well, I wanted one of those snap braclets, I thought they were nifty. Instead, and I think I told you about this, I got this plastic dog. I felt ripped off, it was all the same color, made from thin, Chinese plastic...but then I opened up the bubble and looked at him... The damn thing was crying, like it was molded to look like a sad puppy with a tear going down his face. From that night, I kept him wrapped in toilet paper, tucked in my pocket. I kept him warm, and always talked to him and told him jokes to cheer him up...but I never looked at him, I always kept him bundled...for every time that he fell out and I saw his face, I cried and cried because I couldn't make his sad face go away. I had him until I moved to Northern California in 1999.
So, back to the cat.
Thomas died. I couldn't stand to look at his dead, golden eyes...so I pleaded with my mother to help me with his body... Once, I thought he was still alive because he was moving, but I didn't know about rigor mortis, then...and I was angry at my mother for continuing to dispose of him.
She came back inside the cabin, stinking of bad wine and stumbling in her own refuse...she handed me a tuff of hair she had cut off of his corpse. She said, "Keep it, in memory of your retched cat." I put his hair in a bag, and slept with it under my pillow for a few weeks.
I don't know why, but after reading about what Hitler did with the hair of Jews, stuffing pillows and mattresses with it...I thought, I'll make a tiny little pillow for my sad, plastic doggy to lay on. And so I took a moldy old shirt and cut it, and sewed a design into one side that looked crudely like a cat. I stuffed all Thomas' fuzz in there, and sewed it up. With the rest of my fabric, I made a little pouch that my doggy could be tucked away in, where he'd be warm and have my dead kitty for company.
I miss that cat, he'd be old by now, but still alive. I miss my plastic doggy, too, my little sad puppy.
And, babe...your resume is a work in progress...I'm just so pissed right now, and amped on caffeine, I need to eat some pills and fall asleep. I think I can have it done by tomorrow before I head to work, okay? |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 18th, 2007|08:22 am] |
I remember talking to her about going to Europe one day...
I thought it would be wonderful to experience that place again with a loved one.
But then I remembered what a fashion addict she is...
So I've been looking at plane and train tickets...
A flight there certainly doesn't cost what it did ten years ago...
But it isn't bad.
I thought a train ride would be romantic or something lame like that.
But if you're going to be in a confined space for that long, you better have some entertainment, and a bed...
...subsequently an additional $500 through $1,300 will be required with the $700 fair.
And then you figure spending a tidy sum for transportation, public or cab.
Lodging, unless you've got some cardboard boxes you don't need anymore.
So, we're flying, of course.
Screw the countryside, I'll look down out my window when I have a chance.
Fly in on a Sunday and fly back on Saturday?
And you leave in the evening, to gather your wits after Friday night.
$3,000 isn't a bad price if you consider you're spending little less than a week in New York.
It would be amazing, I think.
On a latter note.
I think I'm going anorexic...
Yeap.
I just looked at what I've been eating, and how much I've been exercising...
This is ridiculous.
And I feel like a fat slob...
Yay! |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 15th, 2007|11:44 pm] |
Someone remind me later, and I'll write more.
I'm tired, I just want to sleep, maybe watch a movie or something.
But, hey, I'm home now, in Portland.
I made it to the wedding...nothing worked out like I planned...
But the wedding was awesome, and I saw alot of people I haven't seen in years.
I saw AnnMarie, too...I made a fool of myself in front of her, but I saw her nonetheless and I couldn't believe how much I missed her.
So, Debris is playing tomorrow night, and I'm going.
Everyone else should come, it's at Rock & Roll Pizza, and doors open at 5:30.
They are awesome, and anyone that's seen Kiel knows that he's reason enough to go.
Yeah, besides, today was a shitty day...
I didn't feel good, mentally, and I don't know why.
Hope tomorrow is better...
Night, folks. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 10th, 2007|01:00 pm] |
| [ | Meus indoles |
| | chipper | ] |
| [ | Meus sonitus |
| | Avril Lavigne - Hot | ] |
Alright, so it's late in the day for me.
I was hoping to be up, and done with my laundry by now, maybe even out the door in an hour.
Yeah, I didn't sleep well, so I just woke up.
I've got Avril Lavigne's Hot stuck in my head, and it won't leave.
I remember listening ot her shit in my dorm room back at Milo.
Hehe, the shit I was called.
Guess I'm going to get called it all over again, because I'm going to play this song until it is dead.
Alright.
So, I'm heading to Medford again.
My best friend in the entire would is getting his ass married.
I'm either a groomsman, or the best man; I'm rather hoping for the more prestigious position.
Anyhow, I'm going down early and leaving late, so I can help as much as I can.
This guy is my very best fucking friend, we've never fought, had a difference or any kind, nor has he ever chastised me for any of the shit I've pulled.
He's wonderful, been wonderful, and I'm going to make his wedding perfect.
Wow, I'm fucking tired.
And I've got a long drive.
Wish me luck, huh?
Maybe I'll post a voice entry or something, just for the fun of it. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 5th, 2007|11:24 pm] |
I'm listening to that crap you call music.
I'm humming every tune, and I know the lyrics by heart.
All the emo, all the punk, every crying kid screaming some deep metaphor.
I hate it all so much...
But every song has a memory attached.
A memory of a smile, or of a fit of laughter, or a ray of sunlight hitting your perfect skin.
Memories so loved, so I could never bare to part with any track. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 5th, 2007|12:07 pm] |
There's nothing I can ever say that will make you come back, anymore.
I spent forever trying to make everything right.
I don't know what to say, I'm breathless...
AnnMarie, I miss you.
I miss the way you'd shake when you were happy.
I miss the your excited laughter.
I miss your open-mouth smiles.
I miss the way you'd dance when I pleased you.
I miss the way you'd fight and tumble with me, just like any of the boys.
I miss the way you knew exactly how I liked to fall asleep.
I miss how you'd always manage to feed me, even during our poorest lows.
I miss your finger tips, permanently stained with cigarettes.
I miss the way your hair would always end in my face.
I miss the way you used to tickle me.
I miss the midnight walks, the few times we've ever really spoken to each other.
I miss the parties we went to.
I miss how every chance you had was spent on bragging about me.
I miss how you'd always take over the bathroom, no matter how late I was.
I miss the way you smell.
I miss the way, even when things weren't good...I miss the way looking at you makes me feel.
I miss the way you looked when I complimented you...eyes away, chin up, and a giant smile.
I miss how you'd always sit on my lap, crushing my phone or cigarettes, but always seeking a way to be right next to me.
I miss the way you'd hold on so tight when you thought you'd lose me.
I miss how we could kiss each other for hours alone.
I miss the scratches down my back, and everything you do when you're riled up.
I miss the sound of your gentle snore, even.
I miss the silkiness of your skin.
I miss running around in your jeans.
I miss how you'd always push in front of me to get in the door, even if I were still attached to the keys.
I miss all the little things you did for me.
I miss being able to dig through your artwork and seeing the wonders you draw.
I miss your big brown eyes, eyes the pierced my soul and never saw anything but the truth.
I miss your slender hands, how they felt wrapped around me.
Hehe, I even miss your tounge, so long you could wrap it around my neck.
I miss the nights we spent talking about our future...how it seemed like it was you and I against the world with no need for anyone else.
I miss your tiny shoes.
I miss the endless boxes of Rice-A-Roni.
I miss the whole days devoted to movies.
I miss how your hand fits in mine.
I miss you, AnnMarie.
I don't know what else to say.
I love you. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 3rd, 2007|04:17 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Clackamas, Or. | ] |
| [ | Meus indoles |
| |  curious | ] |
| [ | Meus sonitus |
| | Skinny Puppy - Worlock | ] |
binge cringe on the fringe
sloppy mincing eye dropping biopsy cyclops overlooks optic options rotten show stopper skin popper babbler dabbler
self confessed criminal tore pen in vain
instant still spellbound
game stock talk back rock
re encounter incident subsistence inexistent
non committed unwitted oblivious
habitual resistor
buff the stuff
roughed up edge fluent nudge
pre-collect ignition motivation inexistent
wasted views thats all they see blue
hot blood guild optic nerve
with the right attitude you will succeed blue
self abusive recluse too late for me
make shifting peace on settling crazy
doing crazy things
keep your eyes open soft spoken changes nothing
a view so cruel
dogs body comatose
torchlight roast
disinterest disinfect
retold impressed by possession
insiders know refresh detained contest
off and pure
sure tonight it feeds itself
freeze in time
shadows climb distracting override
instincts evolve
over and over
wasted truth why call at all blue
hot lines eventual decline
with the right attitude you will succeed blue
resent that discontent sidestep
define the state of things so far
crazy things
when the eyes open
know soft spoken it changes nothing
a view so cruel
What is it about this song that sends chills down my spine?
Download this song, you, and listen to it.
It makes no sense...
But it does...
I love it. |
|
|
| Seems fitting right now. |
[Apr. 28th, 2007|01:05 am] |
| [ | Meus indoles |
| | pissed off | ] |
| [ | Meus sonitus |
| | Five Bolt Main - The Gift | ] |
Please explain a couple of things to me
How could you leave and then turn your back on me?
If only we said goodbye, maybe then I would respect my life
In the end I am so ashamed of what you did
(why) you said that you would never leave I didn't even see you go
(why) you just up and turned your back on me for reasons I will never know
(why) now I am starring at an empty space its the place that you used to be
(why) and the look you see upon my face is the gift from you to me
A haunting pain that lingers over me
This is not the way its supposed to be if only we said goodbye maybe then I would respect my life
In the end and I'm so ashamed of what you did
(why) you said that you would never leave I didn't even see you go
(why) you just up and turned your back on me for reasons I will never know
(why) now I am starring at an empty space its the place that you used to be
(why) and the look you see upon my face is the gift from you to me
You made me what I am you made me what I am
You made me what I am you made me what I am
(why) you said that you would never leave I didn't even see you go
(why) you just up and turned your back on me for reasons I will never know
(why) now I am starring at an empty space its the place that you used to be
(why) and the look you see upon my face
Is the gift from you to me
Is the gift from you to me
|
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Apr. 22nd, 2007|02:10 am] |
| [ | Meus indoles |
| |  sad | ] |
Numb...
That's all.
I'm bored, and I want to write something.
Something interesting, something meaningful...deep, classy.
But I'm numb and blank.
There are tears in my eyes...
But I feel no pain.
My stomach is screaming...
But there is no hunger.
My heart continually pounds...
But there's no sign of life.
I'm dead, cardboard, inanimate, lifeless.
Like the bricks in the wall...
It works, it serves a purpose...
But its existence means nothing more than sitting, staying in one place.
But, without it, there'd be a hole.
And so does my life continue, stagnant.
You girls have it so easy, in our society...
Yeah, men are hired over you, and your right to vote came by tooth and nail...
I don't care about your rights...you're a human being, just like me...that's all that counts...
But it doesn't.
And I long to be just like a girl, with someone strong to tend over me, my future secured.
I guess it was a secret of mine, but now it's out...
I might as well go gay, and be someone's bitch at home.
At least someone would take care of me for once...and not Christoph out fighting the world alone.
I'm so lonely...
I can picture myself so many times like this.
I'm 13, and I'm in the playroom in my Yrekian mansion. The computer is on, the fire next to me is warm...and little messages, from all over the world continually pop up and dazzle me. I'm 13, and I'm looking for friends. I'm looking for friends because I'm socially inept, because I live in a little hick town in the middle of nowhere, because I'm an outcast and can't figure out how to blend in.
I'm 16...and I'm at Milo. Every day is the same story, as I look out through my window into the world beyond...searching, scratching, yearning for something...and my only outlet is the glowing box in front of me... People don't like me, I'm weird because my clothes are black, and my hair is long...people don't like me...so I hide in my room, screaming and cutting...waiting for something to take me away.
I'm 19...and I'm back in Yreka, with my friend Bryon. He leaves every day, and I stay...I do my school work, and play my video games...sneaking in moments to chat with my friends online...but it all comes down to my afternoon cigarette, when I stand up and take a break...and realize...that I'm horribly alone, and that I have no one.
I'm 21...but this time, it's different. I'm a man grown... I go to work and I come home to a beer, I sit down, and chat with my friends...and eventually sleep comes, so I can start the process again. In my waking moments, I find myself desperately looking off to the side, looking for something...like the years before, just waiting for the feeling of impending doom to catch up with me...but what's different?
What's different is that, unlike the days before...I'm not off gazing to the future, but looking to the past...for the great and wonderful thing that I had sought has already passed me by, and I've thrown it away like trash so I can sit alone with my troubles...so I can be alone, on the computer, like it seems I ever endeavor to be. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Apr. 21st, 2007|04:23 pm] |
| [ | Meus indoles |
| | distressed | ] |
I moved knowing that I was boarding a sinking ship.
I thought, Everything will be alright, I can move on and be a success.
But it kept taking on water, and with it, my spirits also became flooded.
Now I'm stranded in the middle of a tempest, and I can't even find a bearing.
I thought I had a lifeboat, finally.
A way off this decaying wreck.
All I had to do was jump ship into calmer waters.
I knew the people there, my friends and family...
But my raft has a hole in it.
And even though I valiantly made an attempt to paddle away from the sinking debris...
...it's pulling me down with it.
The clouds are here, and the rain, too.
With it, my resolutions and courage are washing away.
It's peeling the film and dirt away...
And exposing me, naked, to the elements.
My depression is here.
And it isn't leaving. |
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aeternus_noctis's journal
apathetic