it all comes out wrong. i'm sorry. i'm stuttering, mumbling, and apparently lisping. it's not love. and it's not cocaine. i probably just have developing speech problems. ahaha. oh fuck it. who listens anyways? if i disappear off the face of the earth sometimes, will you replace me? just accept the fact that i fuck up a lot. and 'is it forward of me to say that i'm the best you'll (n)ever have?' -peter wentz move on.

"i am put at ease somewhat by the inevitablity of strange and dark days. not light but the opposite, it is inevitable. this hotel room overlooks a city that i do not understand when usually i am overlooking cities that do not understand me. i dont have any "start over" left inside of me. i wish anyone would understand. all roads lead to longing. the neon signs never turn off here. there are oceans inside of me." - peter wentz as soon as you start to hate your old habits, you fall back into them. drown me in my literature. please make sure that i do not resurface. [i should have worked harder]

i'd say something beautiful like russe said in the latest journal before mine. but truly, i do not have it in me right now. Souvent le soir quand dans le soir qui tombe je laisse ouverte ma porte ma porte sur le soir je caresse l'espoir que le vent qui la fait battre ne soit nulle autre que toi et quand je ferme la porte ma porte sur le soir même si ce n'est pas toi le vent léger du soir caresse mon visage et me laisse dans le noir Grant Johnston writes shakingly well. french is such a beautiful language. i've been studying it for seven years now. my final plan is to shutdown and take my beatings. it's either this or plan good sleep. don't worry. i'll resurface soon enough. i'll be back.

i feel like a carved pumpkin. i'd explain it but that would be too pathetic sounding, even for me. fuck everything. what's changed from last year? -I'm more aware. -It's all more predictable. -I'm a zombie now. Tomorrow should be Bluesettes. I don't belong in Vertical Limit. I can't lie to myself anymore. I can't handle not being in Bluesettes. I have to face facts that I fucked up. And as you get older you get lesser chances. I know what kids like me deserve. And trust me, we always get what we deserve. I'm horrible to be friends with after a while. I'm unreliable, I never call back, I forget important things, I'm always atleast an hour late, I change too much, I have a horrible temper, I'm insecure, etc, etc. in the bigger picture, i'm pretty nice. i feel like such a big mess of a person right now. i'm sorry. i should be stronger than this. i'll toughen up. i swear. i wish I could promise never to complain again. but that's something I wouldn't be able to handle. last years wishes are this years apologies, every last time i come home. it's like pushing a broken-down vehicule next to a traffic-jam highway. saddening and so embarrassing.

you know what? i dream too big. but i guess that's why it is called a dream. oh and guess what? this is one of those 'emo' journals people bitch about. why don't you make a journal to whine about it? fucker. 'go out tonight and piss on her doorstep' each song i hear has such a different atmosphere. i wish there was a way to quote them all at once. because they're all so beautiful. i'm going to put up a poem from that old poem book i found at that book store in september. Fixture for years he was there every day at the same time for the same time one day he didn't appear gone for good it turned out no one knew where ---though a few regulars took long shots he'd been short on words about himself---he'd kept the conversation light despite his eyes and receding frame he was so quiet so much a part of the place none of us can describe him enough to satisfy a stranger he'll be missed---of anyone we'd least expected him to go the book is called Mirrors On Uncertain Mornings and it is by Grant Johnston. I posted another poem of his a while ago, just scroll down if you're interested. certain words can alter the entire atmosphere of a poem. tonight tonight by the smashing pumpkins is a beautiful song. panic! at the disco did a cover of them also. both the versions are nice. sort of makes your heart jump and spin in side your chest. believe in me as i believe in you, tonight.

I am tired of those stupid messages that describe the 'perfect guy', and what the perfect guy should do. Really now, would we do those things for somebody else? Maybe, maybe not. Most likely not. Be realistic. I'm currently in love with love, so I'm staying away from romance. It's dangerous to cheat on love. I'll have to wait till the time is right. I am not looking for someone perfect. I am looking for somebody with flaws. For somebody who is humble about their flaws. I'm a little bit shallow about looks, but I don't judge. I believe that inner personality can beautify the outside, if they shine bright enough. Unfortunately, the same does not work in reverse. in all truth, the most important aspect about anybody is intellect and personality. Besides, anyone can be beautiful. It's just the way the light hits their eyelashes. now the eyes themselves, they're very subjective. I could spend many days describing the kinds of eyes I've seen. And how they're almost all beautiful. I really love laugh lines on big, deep eyes with long lashes. I really love the interesting stories that fall out of a person's mouth when they least expect it. Especially when I least expect it. things I am sad about: bluesettes. no reason. other people's suffering. tactless idiots. things I am happy about: the weekend. hope. pretty books. good deeds. silence. brown mascara. things I am not looking forward to: exams in january. falling back into my old routine. being alone. things I am looking forward to: meeting up with helena again. christmas break. christmas. holiday cheer. being alone. santa; icon of hope. loneliness is in love with me. but love has a stronger hold. loneliness is my underdog. you know. they're really not all that different. my sky is better than your sky.

my good deeds make me have hope in my character. it's sad how people here are so self-conscious now because of the idiots who go around putting down journals. the reason people keep them public is to have a sense of communion. if you don't like a journal, shut up or shove it up your ass. Lateralus518, don't worry about venting. I'm sure you're a very manly man who is going through a bit of a hard time right now. Wishing you well. I have a lot of books to read. I want to start with Great Expectations. But it feels like one of those books you need to be ready for. any suggestions? I went to sleep a poet, and I woke up a fraud

on second thought. i dedicate this to the nauseating taste of failure.

i dedicate this insignificant and pathetic journal to nobody. because anyone else would be insincere about it. 'oh, yes.. this is.. nice' "fuck you" talk to the mirror, your tired eyes are killing me.

I said, "this won’t mean a thing come tomorrow", and that’s exactly how I’ll make it seem 'Cause I'm still not sleeping, thinking I’ve crawled home from worse than this great romances of the 20th century by taking back sunday. amazing how things were all right for a brief period of time on friday. stupid how they all started going horribly wrong. I bet it'll sneak up on me.