".i'm just a waste of paint."  jigsaw___
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Über-General
535 points
15/F/, Pennsylvania
Join Date: Aug 2007 |
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| sometimes you have to forgive in order to be happy. | |
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nothing ever turns out the way i want it to.
nothing ever turns out right in the end.
i'm burying my intellect underneath the bones of every grave situation i find myself thrown into. i'm taking my heart and sticking it in the ground, where i hope it takes root. i really don't need all of this right now, but there's an army outside of my walls, and they're just waiting to shoot me down. i need to shield my heart from the attack.
i don't love him. but i care deeply enough for him, and he knows that. there is no need for words anymore, just togetherness. just the contact. the whispers are enough. there's this zone we can reach, where there's no one else but us, even though we're surrounded. but i know i don't love him, and i know (i think) he doesn't love me. so why does this matter?
the boy i like never likes me back.
and the boy that likes me is always the one with the most feeling. | |
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you can't lie to a liar.
i think that's all i have to say.
Current Music: cursive
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i'm so sick of being the one to put the neurosis back into the feeling of nervousness. it's like there's a spider living in my skin, and when it crawls around it gives off the most awkward sensation the world may ever know. it disturbs the insects in my stomach, who awaken and flutter and fly around. and something is inside of me squeezing my heart, making my chest tighten to a certain agonizing point. and i know i have to stop letting things get to me.
god forbid i actually open up my chest to reveal the mess inside, to let it all out, to show you, to tell you, to try to be honest. but i can never be completely honest, that's just opening myself up too far. then my heart becomes a target, and they become the archer, and fire away without warning. then i get no reaction, or at least not the kind of reaction any girl would want. that hurts. but just a little bit anymore.
tell them to look up. tell them to remember the stars.
tell them to remember hope. we have hope.
i'll blow my eardrums. i'll never have to hear you again.
-xo | |
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my journal, my s**t, my life.
everything i write in here should be read like a crime scene report, or an autopsy. if it makes your cancer worse, i do apologize. my life is just an erratic dream that shouldn't really exist but it actually does. poetic experience, no where near perfection. i'm off in my own world again.
and with that said...
the world's spinning again, or maybe it's just my brain. in some part of the world that my mind has become i swear that there's a war going on, cause i can hear the bombs going off at night when i'm attempting to make my mind slip back into a numbing humdrum of sleep (which isn't the easiest thing to do these days).
i've come to find that the heart co-exists with the mind. my subconscious knows exactly what i really feel; i blurt s**t out before i fall asleep at night. i hold conversations with people that i wish were actually there, but they're just too far away to actually talk to.
nothing matters anymore and the words have lost all meaning (the little meaning that they ever had left). i'm cutting my puppet strings, i'm running away. i'm becoming a REALgirl. when you want to find me, you won't even know where to begin your search.
listen as well as i do, listen as well as i do.
don't worry while i'm gone.
just look at the moon and know that i'm alive.
-xo | |
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