• blank pages, empty spaces who am i, where am i, what have i become when i lose my words, i'll reach for images there is nothing meaningful to say, so i'll hide that in a rain fall the way the wetness folds into your skin the sound of laughter springing up from broken hearts these are the memories we all hold onto this is the universal that makes us pretend we're important i get so blown away sometimes by my own insignificance my life is so fucking boring wake up, go to school, drive home safe now press repeat, rewind the tape i tried so hard searching for ways to be different but in a town filled with ice and eyes that just can't stay awake, somethings aren't worth fighting for i found out the hardway you can't look up the answers there's no back of the math book, no asking a friend we just live and live until we're hardly aware of it motions and motions of the here's who we are i once read that no matter how much shit you've taken, the little things still get you even with a heart break , you still cry over a parking ticket even though you know it won't matter, your lost phone or your ugly zit are still far worse than anyone else's holocaust our personal universes are so compact, because they need to be everyone knows a good story has a dilema so even if our only problem is spilling coffee in the car, it still becomes our climax and the only thing worse than this self pity, this pathos is seeing the light of how pathetic you are and realizing you just can't stop i am obsessed with external appearences i judge everyone inside my head the little commentary, the she's so fat, the wow he's ugly, it absolutely disgusts me how did i get to a place where this is what i'm made of? shallow words we've always heard flooding throguh my brain I look back to freahman year, and all i do is cringe the transparency is incredible a cut out magazine copy of the average 14 year old girl but the really scary part is, back then i didn't realize it if i dig deep, i remember thinking "wow i am so fucking specail" i honestly believed i was a shining star so where does that put me now? have i really changed, or did i just want to? are purple hair and pastel tights enough? Can i use the cult movies, the bizarre books to define me|? maybe not and i'm still stuck in place maybe i don't know everything maybe i'm still just a sick twisted 14 year old girl who has grown up to realize she'll never amount to anything extraordinary

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