i need a bad habit to rely on. is this really growing up? i'm trying to convince myself that this is just teen angst, but then why am i shaking but i guess this is better than that zombie feeling. it's not love, but it'll do. atleast i can hear my pulse. in the ring with my lungs. marriage or a life sentence. i've had so many bad habits. my nails grew back in. my lips are constantly covered in gloss to end the chapping. candy wrappers vs bones. the proverbial scars are fading away. these bruises never last long(enough). i'm immune to caffeine now, it's like drinking blood. no effect unless you're dead. but i drink it anyways, cause it gives me something to hold on to. i'm thinking of getting into the big leagues. if there's a way, i'll have the will. but i'm not going searching for disaster. cause that's too needy, even for me. tearing apart single strands of my hair. cause thats how they do it in real life. if you pick apart the individuals, soon the whole foundation starts to look wrong. but nah, i'm just starting to get split ends. my head's starting to come apart in my thoughts. i've dropped everything that ever meant anything. figure skating used to feel so good. now i'm afraid i'll break through the ice and the concrete floor underneath. i've never felt so full of lead. my mother is so dissapointed. iusedtobesopretty. i guess singing doesn't count. it divorced me. oh the friendship. me and the friendship. we have all these photos buried deep within the closet of my memories. isn't that where you put the things that break your heart? oh no. sorry. according to my reports, i don't have one of those. so it's all good. it gets off free. think i'll call one those help lines just for conversation, wonder what the person will think about van gogh and morrissey. please ignore the lisp. i never meant to sound like this. the no seatbelt song by brand new.

it's funny to watch my name move down the ranks. i wonder when it will disappear completely. too tired to care. a vegetarian zombie. all i care about is lying in bed all day. after my french religion exam tomorrow, i'm going home to sleep. and after i wake up, i'll stay in bed. they will forget me. and things will be better for them again. i don't know how this makes sense. i'm just going crazy. all these people in my life. pouring them through a strainer. let's see who sticks around. too broke to pay my reality check. staying in the kitchen after closing. sleeves rolled up and soap suds all around. this is growing up. i know how things will go down. no one stays for the bomb blast. they only want fireworks. i am just collateral damage. but i burnsobright. what really matters anymore? i've gone nerdcore, so i'm not pretty anymore. i've gone insane, so i'm not lovable anymore. will power vs. gasoline. i'm not sure which is more efficient. i don't care though, whatever gets me through. this is past wanting help, attention, or love. everything is fake. the way their smiles look after a few months. the way their eyes avoid mine. cause i got x-ray vision with a bonus 'goburninfuckinghell' laser. 'too many nights of with to go without' bullshit. maybe you're just not as strong as i am. 'are you fucking dead or something? its like you're trying not to talk.' actually, i'd say you're stronger. this is to all the people who used to love me. but don't anymore. and that's the key. cause i'm not bringing you down with me. nightmare smiles and dotted half-notes. sketching out a plan for imprisonment. tired of bungee jumping off the edge. the thrill is all gone, and i'm halfway there. i know how to stall, and i know which stall is best. shoot up in downtown, logic doesn't matter. and this sounds so good.

Best friends means I pulled the trigger. i can hear her screaming at me. And I've got a twenty-dollar bill that says you're up late night starting fist fights vs. fences in your backyard Wearing your black eye like a badge of honor Soakin' in sympathy from friends who never loved you nearly half as much as me damn it. needles can stitch it better, but they can also get further under the skin. "no one deserves the title bestfriend if they don’t sound like the cavalries cannons or aren’t willing to bleed next to you." -peter wentz half in, half out my window ledge. Best friends means you get what you deserve.

i guess i have no idea what the hell i'm talking about. i'm too young to be thinking this way. i should be worrying about hairstyles and teenage heartbreak. but i don't care about any of that. i care about finding oceans, bestfriends and peace. but that doesn't make me better than them. it makes me worse!

everything feels pixelated as i slink down the stairs to feed my fish. think she's still alive behind all the green on the sides of the tank. i wonder what's on her mind. stretch out my hand in front of my face to try to convince myself it's not a dream. exams on monday. with my fractured state of mind. fuck. i want to learn about winston churchill and the deepest parts of the ocean. not of mitochondrion and electrostatic series. you really wouldn't want to know me. i'm a black hole. a venus fly trap. slap you around if you don't meet my standards. if curiosity doesn't kill you, karma i will. mail me a box filled with individually-wrapped shards of hope. and a lock of your hair for a final touch. looking for a dance partner and not a lover.

right and wrong fight all night and i am the battlefield. right will always win. it just takes its sweet time and mine. check out electric president. http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=44357182 you can't change me without my permission.

sitting here swimming in my school notes, eating salty vegetable stir-fry and overdosing on caffeine. everything feels so out-of-body. people still stare at me. i thought being ugly was the same as being invisible. but i guess dark green glasses aren't enough. kind of dizzy in the way only a stoner would understand. mom suspects carbon monoxide poisoning. but she's crazy. 'runs in the family' an overused joke, but it's something that you laugh at out of habit. don't love anymore either, but i say it out of habit. ironic how the meaner i am, the more they fall in love with me. i don't care anymore. not many people even get on the dartboard, let alone the inner circles. i blindfold and spin them round. somewhat worried that i am going bad. that my kindness is dissolving. a chemical reaction. it's the little things. the dirty(or flirty) looks. ignoring drive-by smiles. picking apart your insides. breaking you down with a grin. it's awfully difficult though. jiminy cricket is screaming, 'turn off your head!' or maybe it's 'off with your head!' never know with him. it's not about showing how you feel. it's about hiding it. it's not about being better than everyone else. it's about being worse.

the more i push away from humanity, the more it calls me. i unplug my answering machine, the messages are starting to become pathetic. now playing: dirt-filled browns; straight from the ground into my sockets. uploading images of dead bodies and dreams. input and output are never equal, and this is the absolute worst ratio i've ever had. 'why should we forgive others?' is a different question than 'why do we need to forgive others?' but i always ask, "what would jesus not do?" and i choke on my consequences like the attention i never got. this is a conflict of moral, meaning; it has dropped but they are still demanding more. this is the weakness spreading through my limbs with the cold weather. you just couldn't swim fast enough. and i am writing the hook without bait. current hobby: catching fish and throwing them back into the bowl.

thanks to WishingForYou for getting me into haiku poetry again. i admire her, by the way. 400 memories of deleted pixels. anyways, she's the one who inspired me into getting into this journal business. learning about forgiveness in religion class. it makes so much sense. afterall. this is the house built out of grudges and run on revenge. sorry for being such a teenager. but, what can you expect? my head says 18. my soul says 8. let's just call it a DRAW. fire. can't see the outcome in all the dust and tumbleweed. welcome to the wild, wild west. crawl into your heart my favourite dark corner cracked plaster and ink

i am the charm to your responsible. i am the one who everybody loves and hates at the same time. never in between. i am the one who could always do it better. but then sometimes, i couldn't do it at all. you were so consistent. i am the one who could work the room and get favours. but when i have to talk to everyone at once. on the stage; i stutter. when i am at the same level, i glow. i am the unreliable one. i am the irresponsible one. i am the smooth-talker. i am the one who's never home. i am the one with the stupid ideas that turn into epic stories. i am the one with the temper. i am everything and nothing at the same time. you're the real good guy. but no one notices because i am supernova. thebrightestexplosion. 'strangely fulfilled by the idea of loving strangers and hating my few remaining friends.' - peter wentz