Recent Journal Entries

  • I should be doing my homework.

    by Fallen Leaves on October 01, 2014

    But actually, I should be doing my homework. However, I have two orders of business that I would like to address.

    1) I have been having a hard time lately and I think that's pretty clear. I would just like to thank the kind human beings who make my days so much better. Whether it's one of you guys commenting something encouraging, or getting a private message out of concern, or my real-life friends... you all rock. One of my friends texted me Sunday afternoon (the day after my drunken venting entry). She was out on the town with me. She simply asked if I was doing okay lately. Another friend dropped by at 11pm to "pick up some stuff" that he forgot in my apartment. He sat down and said, "I've been watching this get worse and worse. I just need to make sure you're okay." Then he took me out for a meal ("Are you hungry? I know you just don't eat sometimes") and we talked for a couple of hours.

    I am super blessed to be wrapped with this sort of love and kindness. Sometimes I just want to scream and beat my fists against the floor, and sometimes I want to stare out my window from my bed and see nothing for hours at a time. I have such a fantastic support system. I'm still considering counselling but who knows if I will even need it.

    2) To make a long story short, something hilarious happened to me tonight that only my ex-boyfriend (Lance) would fully appreciate (hint: it involves a guy I went out with for a couple of times and a grandiose gesture of romance... I met Lance while on a date with this fellow). I texted Lance and told him the story, and he told me he laughed so hard that he woke up his parents. I was laughing so hard at the whole escapade and Lance's reaction to it that my stomach still hurts. Lance texted back saying, "Stop it, stop it right now, tears are running down my cheeks."

    I haven't really talked with Lance like this since we dated. This carefree. This enjoyable. And it makes me miss him a lot, because he and I were peas and motherfucking carrots.



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  • drunk venting. And

    by Fallen Leaves on September 28, 2014

    I had big plans of my friends staying over tonight. My uptight roommate is away for the weekend, so the boys set up the air mattress in my kitchen to crash on after a night of partying. Big things were happening in our city this weekend. Yet we walk out to hit up the town, and they all pair off with their respective girlfriends.And I get too drunk and drop my phone and crack the screen. And in the end, my friends all go home with their women and I come back to an empty, desolate dormitory with an empty air mattress and no good stories to tell.

    i used to have so much promise, but now what do i have? mediocre participation in school? improved alcohol tolerance?



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  • exit, pursued by a bear

    by CleanLaundry on September 26, 2014

    I really hate the word "banal" if you say that word to me more than once a day in casual conversation, I think youre banal as fuck and what's even worse is that people always switch up the pronunciation, like does it rhyme with "anal" or "canal"

    sometimes I feel like I'm swimming in an anal canal because the area around my apartment smells like a sewage plant and I'm already a bit compulsive about how often I do my laundry. 

    there's this huge bruise on my ribs where I fell off the fence I was trying to climb. I was on my way to a job interview and thought taking a short cut was a genius notion. the hiring manager was like "blah blah blah the banal realities of this industry are determined by the blah blah ill informed blah blah mass produced customer " and I'm like "no freakin duh can I please have a job though?"

    now the bruise is yellow and black like smoke trapped beneath membrane. the under armor I'm wearing is pressing against it in an unbearable but slightly pleasurable way. is that messed up? 

    I think I'm having a bad day. 



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  • september 24.

    by Fallen Leaves on September 25, 2014

    I feel constantly caffeinated, like there's always an extra little boost coursing through my veins. Even when I'm exhausted, I'm almost shaky with seemingly infinite energyI feel everything all at once. If I see you in the cafeteria, I will invade your personal space with an intrusive hug; I will spit out my newest revelation ("Oh my gosh, so the craziest thing just happened..."), and I will pepper you with questions. I can pack a normal conversation into a third of the time. 

    I am buzzing.

    I don't know why I've felt so everywhere lately. Perhaps I feel compelled to speak quickly because I have so much on the go. Perhaps I'm compounding things so I can interact with as many people as possible. I just want to slow down. Breathe. Relax. Do some fucking homework and enjoy it.

    I tried to be better today, I really did. I tried to not run my mouth. But then I saw Dillon from class and he had to be updated on the scenario I told him about last time. And then I saw Kaeli and she asked what was new. And I saw that one guy from that time and the guy I thought was another person I met and this girl that comes in the restaurant and what's-his-name from philosophy and akasjfklajsflkajsflkajsflkhdkfhasjvdnciosdw.

    I need to calm down.



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  • september 23.

    by Fallen Leaves on September 24, 2014

    I have so many thoughts & feelings moving through me. They weave in and out of my mind with seamlessness, leaving behind tiny trails. "You've got so much going for you" squirms in my head, only to be chased away with the much darker "You are a tiny drop in a vast ocean, and you will never be good enough." The paths that are carved are crossed over, back and forth and back and forth. Teeny, tiny squiggles whisper, "She's so much prettier than you" and "How dare you think that about yourself, you arrogant son of a bitch." Everything is jumbled together, tangled, intersecting. You could never follow a path all the way through.

    It alarms me how little I think. I don't take the time to ponder: What do I want to be? What do I need to work on? How did this influence me? What is important? What do I think of this? It's such a trainwreck up there that it is far easier to just go up and talk to someone - anyone - so I don't have to be alone with myself. I don't know what's going on up there, and I don't know if I want to find out. I feel like I am throwing out dozens of ropes into a congregation of people; I reel them in, grip their face firmly in my hands, force eye contact, and demand, "Are you what makes sense to me? Do you get it?!" 

    I want to connect. I really do. 

    I can't keep my own secrets. I can't sit down without running my mouth. I want to be able to converse with someone and not volunteer ridiculous stories or personal dramas. I want to be private. I want to calm the fuck down.

    "You're the craziest girl I've ever met," one of my friends laughed.
    "Oh, Fallen? Yeah, she's a barrel of fun," another joked.
    "You're probably the most ridiculous person I know," someone said.

    Oh, to be a wallflower. Oh, to not be so desperate for a human connection. Oh, to be okay with a moment of quiet.



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  • If you are, or if you do...

    by Queen Anarchy on September 23, 2014

    If you drink... just dont drive drunk,

    If you party a lot... tell me your best stories about it,

    If you smoke.... i dont mind,

    If you have depression... it's okay i do too :)

    If you are a little overweight... you can lose it easily,

    If you do drugs.... that is none of my buisness, 

    If you are gay.... you are FABULOUS,

     

    I'm not one to judge people, and i can't stand judgemental people :3



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  • Depression

    by Scenegirl64 on September 22, 2014

    I am a girl with a story... the scars on my arm, don't fade away. The past is here to stay and i can't seem to let it slip away but i'm working on it okay?



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  • Oops.

    by Fallen Leaves on September 22, 2014

    I wrote out a detailed catalog of my drunken misadventures last night, but then realized nobody would want to read them. I realized, too, that my night was so shitty that I don't know if I want to share all of the details anyways. (Quick summary: chugged a bottle of wine, tried to pick up my friend's ex-boyfriend, wandered the streets of a bad area of town by myself while excessively intoxicated, climbed a fire escape, puked and cried, texted my ex-boyfriend about how much I miss the friend that passed away, fell down the fire escape, got my friends to get me home, puked on the floor in my bathroom, convinced a friend I barely know to share a bed with me for cuddling purposes, and felt like garbage this morning. You know, a regular Saturday night for this girl.)

    I thought I was doing okay with my friend's death, but I probably just haven't dealt with it at all. I read through the texts I sent Lance last night, and I guess I felt uninhibited enough to finally talk about things openly. I have lots of thoughts about my friend's death but they seemed to scary to put out in the open. Lance, bless his heart, was extremely compassionate and patient with me. Even if he is my ex, and even if I do want to falcon punch him in the penis sometimes, he still came through for me last night. He knows me very well.

    I feel like I'm in a downward spiral, but I guess I felt like that for most of the summer. I used to be the poster child for overachieving - president of this committee, organizer of this event, member of these 5 sports teams, top student, so on... and now I can barely call up enough energy to do my readings for school on time. And I don't think I can handle working anymore. I'm getting less and less responsible, and increasingly lazy.

    I talked to my sister for a while tonight, and she said that maybe I should see a professional to talk about stuff with. I think I will.



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  • Spanish class

    by Queen Anarchy on September 19, 2014

    Sitting here in spanish class, bored as fuck.... Senor, can i just sit here and draw for the next hour and a half? i'd much rather do that than sit here and listen to you drone on about a language i don't even know.



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  • we broke up

    by alterEgo on September 18, 2014

    it's over now. the things that had to end. i hope he is ok. i hope he doesn't hurt himself. i still love him. it's very hard to break up with someone you still love. i don't know. im hurting. i feel like the pain will come in waves, and eventually come through like a tsunami. right now im swallowing the pain, taking it slowly. hasnt really hit me hard. probably will the more i think about it. during. all those times we were together. the two years we were together. nothing is as painful as this . i hate being human. i hate feeling so much pain. somebody save me.



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  • High-school thoughts

    by Queen Anarchy on September 18, 2014

    This is about the sixth week of school, and iv'e just about have gotten the jist of things here. WAY too many kids in this school though, since the new freshman class came in (me) there have been over 1000 STUDENTS ALONE. If you have the late lunch... you should just forget about eating because they most likely have run out of food, or you get the scraps. PDA is allowed... though it shouldn't be able to... i'd rather not walk past some serious heavy petting when walking to math class. XD

    Swearing is also allowed, which is fine by me because i swear like a sailor. You're pretty much invisible unless you're gay, in a sport, or in a musical department. 

    And everyone has changed over summer... it's like the friends i used to have are just memories... Everyone is growing up too fast... Sex, Drugs, Beer... like seriously? We're just teenagers, you don't even have to think about that shit...

    In a summary, i think that this school year is going to be absolute torture.



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  • Butthurt Kids XD

    by Queen Anarchy on September 17, 2014

    Does anybody else hate it when you say "emo music" and some butthurt kid walks up and says "It's not called EMO it's called screamo, get your facts straight."?

    Smack them in the mouth and say "Actually there is a genre of music called EMO that's where the term comes from, mister sir lady. If you actually knew about or loved music as much as you say you do YOU'D KNOW THAT."



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  • September 17th - 00:13

    by JustSheen on September 16, 2014

    Starting my last module of the year today, and it has been off to a good start, surprisingly.

    I feel I've made one too many promises though. You see, I can't help it, people tend to pull on my heartstrings, they pull them out and hang them like bells in the night sky. This is too high for their hopes of me. 

    I can assure you that assurance has never been more of a stranger to me than now, who knows what the next six months will bring? 

    Somedays I feel as if I need an entirely new start, get rid of everyone in my life. Sometimes I think about how my life would be if I never met them in the first place. Would I be better off? At this point my brain start bubbling, it starts off slow, heating up and bubbling over the more I doubt my thoughts. The worst part about being a girl after the surprise emotional fits is the fact that we over think absolutly everything, which usually induces the random torrents of tears.   And yet I enjoy crying, you sort of let absolutely everything you don't want to hold onto seep into your tears, which is totally OK! I don't buy that bullshit, crying doesn't make you weak, it makes you real, it makes your emotions real and that's what I like to feel, REAL.   That's probally why I like to touch things, feeling their textures, their heat, rough walls, and the realisation of how scratchy my sweater is. The touch of kisses grazing my shoulder, jaggerd, digging hips and elbows, pin pricks and grass on my toes.    We say that seeing is beliveing, but feeling something, thouching it with your bare hands makes it a reality.  

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  • to the indolent town

    by CleanLaundry on September 16, 2014

    when the temperature climbes above oneohfive (which happens often here right before the crack of autumn), I crawl into the walk in refrigerator in the warehouse district. I quarantine myself. pull the door shut, turn off the lights press my cheek to the cold concrete. 

    I think about Dr. Seuss a lot. my man, T. Guyzel. he said you have to be odd to be #1. which changed my life in my wee youth because I was a pretty weird kid. not in the special snowflakey way. I suppose everyone is weird in childhood. I mean children are fundamentally weird. 

    it's the things I remember that are weird. the dead grass. the neighbor girl who left me notes in the communal dog kibble. the piano lesson in which I finally learned to read treble clef. the cat powers album my mom listened to when she was drunk. the recurring dream of that scene in jurassic park where the velociraptor overcomes the mechanics of a door handle. could he figure out a revolving door which has more of a learning curve? I didn't know. I worried. 

    now all I worry about is how much I relate to that "high all the time" song on the radio. I lay face down in cold storages and think of the face I'm supposed to be looking for in a week at school. I hope I find her. 



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  • september 15.

    by Fallen Leaves on September 15, 2014

    I wanted to write something profound today. Something eloquent, where my words carved in and out, with dancing adjectives and rhythmic syllables. Where I could come back months later and see what I wrote on September 15 and say, "Damn. That day was weird, but I sure wrote artfully."

    But it is simple. I don't need to employ fancy literary techniques today. I have a paper-thin sadness. I get lonely sometimes, even though I'm pretty sure I've befriended half of the campus, and I can't set foot outside of my dormitory without running into someone I know. I miss simple things, like a gentle hand on the small of my back, or a sparkle in someone's eye when they see me coming their way.

    I'm not sure if I would call myself a romantic. 



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  • baby don't hurt me no more

    by alterEgo on September 14, 2014

    so i got a friend stalking my journal now. i'm quite upset about because now i can't be myself. i showed him a screenshot of one of my post, with a funny comment attached to it. he went out of his way to google the name of the person who made the comment, and i hid my name. but he went on a mad hunt to find my journal. i'm  quite upset that i can't use this space anymore. I might have to make a new account, and journal.

    When i mention things that make me upset about his behaviour, he tells me "you know this about me"... it doesn't excuse you for poor behaviour.

    sometimes i feel like he has a crush on me, and if he is reading this. I hope he knows i don't see him as more than a friend. Kinda harsh, but i've told him in the past that i don't see him as more than a friend. I don't like the way he nags for my attention. 

    I can see it as how i can nag my boyfriend for attention. because a girl needs love right? he is not doing that right now. giving me the attention i want from him. he doesn't tell me he misses me or loves me, it' s a big thing for me.

    I sometimes work. i worked this weekend. it was tiring, and im pretty sure i gained a kilo or two. 

    everything is pretty sucky. i feel lonely. 



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  • Kendrick Lamar: Kush and Corithians (His Pain).

    by jeromie701 on September 14, 2014

    Kendrick Lamar is my favorite rapper and I am going to explain my personal opinion on what I believe the song Kush and Corinthians (His Pain) means. I am a weed smoker. Its a substance I consume to help me understand things on a much deeper level which is what I believe Kendrick Lamar did, while reading Corinthians. “Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived; neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor homosexuals, nor thieves, nor the covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers, will inherit the kingdom of God” (6:9). It speaks of people who do not deserve to be in heaven. Kendrick Lamar then raps about opening the bible and smoking weed. He hopes to be a better person and he is smoking and reading the bible which will most likely lead to him having deeper thoughts and seeing the path to a better life. Corinthians is the section he speaks of in the song because its the part that speaks of the people who do not deserve heaven. Kendrick feels terrible that he is living a bad life which is why he speaks of A Condomn, A Rollie, Pain, a Fat blunt and a Mac-11. The part that I'm not too sure about is the AK 47 part. I don't think that Kendrick is speaking of the actually weapon but the strain of weed. To support my answer I searched for the creation date of the AK 47 strain. It was created in 1992 and Kendrick was 4 or 5 at that time. in the Outro, BJ the Chicago kids tells his mother of his aspiration and she responds by saying "According to get everything you gotta risk everything". Then he goes on saying "So I'm smoking my kush reading Corithians" which means he wants to know what to risk and what not to risk to lead to him achieving his goal but also being able to go to heaven. In the hook, Kendrick is saying to live your life but live it in a positive way, since we do not know when it is our time to die. The "His Pain" part of the song's title which is bracketed is saying that while reading Corinthians and being high from weed, he was able to reflect on his life. Through his reflection, he realizes the reason for his pain and that pain was caused due to living a sinner's life. My favorite line is when he said that he lies on his back looking at the ceiling and it's so appealing to pray. This is where he admits that his conscience is telling him to find God but he refuses to do so.



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  • Ain't nuthin but a deconstructed post-linguistic narrative yo -

    by NomadMonad on September 13, 2014

    Yo wuz all chillen wit my lizard wen I gits dis feelin like Im all: dang. Reverted to ghetto grammar again. POlice git all up in my face an I wuz like: the F#@K you lookin at mutha F#@KA ? Yu think I ain't speak the Quing's English ? Yu think I ain't a playuh hatuh? They all: What ? Are you talking to me? So I'm like: I'm a mash up you HEAD wit my explicit grammar-based linguistic approach. Sheet, maing. Y'all think you dealin wit a semantic dim-wit? Y'all think I aint neva study no socio-linguistic strategies in an appropriate cultural context for radicalizing the potentialities of post-modern narratives? Oratory tradition as urban synthesis toward socioeconomic hetroglossia ?  Got my heteroglossic narrative goin ON, homie. My narrative narrated UGLY on yo MAMA. That's right.
    Urban tradition as post-colonial subversion of linguistic hegemony - now git that left leg up on the table and move your grammar monitor. Like that - oooh yeah

    footnote your doctoral dissertation on THAT - suckaz... [MLA citation style please]



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  • Newbie

    by JustSheen on September 12, 2014

    So I joined this site ages ago, and only recently have I mustered up the courage to write anything.

    I'm not gifted in anyway when it comes to writing or composing words in such a sequence that it captivates an audience, barring that I do not intend to  share a life altering story or experience which has come my way.

    No, this is entirely just me getting away, no one I personally know comes to this site, and that's why I feel like I'm here. Talking to a stranger, or just talking to no one, but still being able to find words to tell, just the universe in general helps.

    Often having too many thoughts constantly weighs down your mind tremendously, often weighing down your body too, and your heart.

    On occassion I feel so heavy, melt through the floor I walk on, like lard, black, heavy and dripping. Constantly inconsistant, and yet that is what makes us alive. New emotion always. WHo cares if you aren't emotionally stable? You're probably the most alive out of all of us, recognising happiness when its due, knowing saddness when it's needed.

    This is what we as humans are made up of, inconsistancy. If we knew exactly how to react accordinly always, no mistakes, would that be any sort of life at all? 

    Personally I enjoy making mistakes, cause mistakes are real. You can feel them and see them, they affect you, whether it's with good reason or not, they're there and you know it, and it's up to you to alter them if they need altering.

    I am a mistake (take this in a positive manner), - quick background, I am studing Visual Communications, it's my first year and although I am good at it, I'm not competative (well barely) and I recentely realised that this is the path which I wasn't meant to take. Barring that I am a fairly happy person, just dealing with life as a teen and what it throws at me.

    So as I was saying, I am a mistake, which is genrally a good thing. In the theroy of Marx (Marxism) and the origins of it, although it is a social conflict which touches on the basis of dialect, which is the ideology behind history and whether or not it exists, so I'm not going to rant on about some bullshit and turn this into a Visual Culture lecture, but basically t touches on the fact that ideologies are forever evolving, as is time and history. Should one aspect of the ideology contradict itself they re-do or touch up the entire thought to constantly improve it.

    This is then how I feel about mistakes. Mistakes are generated from an idea, which is then generated into an intention and then ofcourse action and ultimately a mistake, but us as humanity can't live with mistakes so we go through the entire process againg, keeping the good parts and rectifying our mistakes.

    So this then leads me to believe that I am a mistake, not in the general sense that I am wrong or not meant to be, but rather in the sense of consistant rectification, and ever bettering myself, through making and understanding mistakes.

    Now how do I conclude this thing without making it seem like I'm trying too hard? 



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  • september 12th.

    by Fallen Leaves on September 12, 2014

    sometimes i feel like i will burst through my rib cage. sometimes i feel like i can't contain all my love for the world, for every ragged stranger i pass by, for every flighty bird, and every caustic crack in the concrete on the sidewalks. i want to tell my friends that they mean the world to me, i want to call my mom and tell her i love her, i want to send emails to old teachers to tell them how i'm doing. i feel like all of the love i have is too much to keep to myself, and i have so much energy and so much passion that my excitement for life greatly exceeds my capacity to whittle my character into sets of traits like subtlety, or humility, or quietness.

    and sometimes i feel like i will burst through my rib cage. like the insides of me are aching so much that they want nothing more but to be freed. i feel like the poisons inside of me need to touch the free air to leach out their toxins, to bleed on the haggard sidewalks that are trampled on by careless, directionless nobodies & shit on by the birds that fly overhead. i feel like the emptiness inside of me is expanding, and is bound to escape and infect everything around me. blanket it. put the world to sleep.

    right now, i want to scoop of the sadness of others. i want to hold them in the palm of my hand and keep them safe. or maybe, this time, i want someone to hold me and keep me safe. my heart hurts, and i'm not sure if it is from love or from emptiness today.



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