things you are not doing right now: thinking about me. things you are most likely doing right now: not thinking about me, updating your facebook status a billion times, not thinking about me, texting some girl, not thinking about me, playing some video game, not thinking about me, doing your homework, not thinking about me, memorizing lines, not thinking about me, watching a movie, and not thinking about me. things that i miss about you: your smart-ass sense of humour, your intelligence, your perverted jokes, the face you made when you sang, your blazing spaniard eyes, your funny t-shirts, your single dimple, your taste in music, and your eyebrow-waggle. things i will not miss about you: your indifference, your dishonesty, your selfishness, and your rejection. it's day 4 of goodbye version 3. this is most likely the finale since you don't really give a shit anymore. i wish how you felt about me affected how i feel about you.

i wish i could have my questions answered. why do i mourn for something that was never alive? i feel down-trodden and left behind by something that was never real. i felt hope for something that was naught but a dream. we destroy oceans and skylines for things that will never exist because of how badly we want them to. i am not sad but my spirit is cracked. i bet on something that was the least likely to win and felt hurt when it did not. i carry those final words in a sheath strapped to my hips. the hilt is made of indifference. it's a deadly weapon that cuts through only me. we carry the causes of our despair. whether or not we use them is what counts.

This will be more to-the-point I sent him a message after about a week and told him that I still liked him and that I wanted to know if I was just wasting my time. He said, "you're wasting your time" and that was it- a clean cut. And finally, for the first time in a while, I was getting exactly what I asked for without loopholes of any kind. There was no hook to keep me waiting. No smile added to keep me running home every night. There was nothing at all.

I wonder about all those nice things he said though. Were they not the truth? Or is it just easier to think of everything as a lie rather than to accept that it ended normally as all things do? Also, who decides what love is and what isn't? I've seen people throw the word around and I've seen people keep it locked up. Sometimes, the young teenagers who are made fun of for thinking they are in love, they get married. And often, the adults who we revere for actually being in love, they get divorced.

I don't think God decides things like this, actually. He doesn't seem to meddle in our love affairs, opting rather to let us handle them ourselves. I don't blame Him at all because they are very messy. Do we decide what love is, then? I know there are many different types of love, but do we decide? I think the only love that God tries to sway is the biological love between parents and their children. Even this, I think, is a struggle after a while.

Maybe I'm just too used to being forgiven because of how pathetic I look when I say, "I'm so, so sorry." I don't think I was in love with him. However, I do think I compromised way too much for nothing at all.

I'm happy right now. In a turbulent way, but it's there all the same.

Neuroticism be damned and insecurity sent to Death Row. We have no need for anything but joy.

we never really know who we really are because once you think you have yourself figured out, you're already in the process of changing. it's comparable to the way you'll never know what your own voice actually sounds like. it's the same as a photograph of a moment. you don't look as happy or insecure as you felt when shrunk to 5x7. i'm lost but i keep making up directions for myself just so it looks like i have still have my cool. i never had cool though. i always had lukewarm and a big smile. i ran into a dead-end but i'll just move with the cheese, y'know. i don't really care "who moved it", i'm just going to sit and rest for a while. i'll get up, consult my crayola maps, and keep moving soon enough. i'm not going to do well on my exams. i don't know. i'm not as intelligent as i used to be. i'm a lot more psychotic though. i've always been hard to get along with after the first two weeks. connections are uncomfortable and it's easier to sever them when i get up. the best thing about that dead-end was finding "Los Campesinos!" they are amazing. suggestions of their music: "You! Me! Dancing!", "Knee Deep At ATP", and "The Sea Is A Good Place To Think About The Future". they sound so much better in this open corridor than they did in that cramped thought process you kept me in. the acoustics around you were horrible. and here, here they are clear. time is like buckley's.

oh MY. i have not been hurt like that in a while! golly. tomorrow i will wake up and get through the day. then i will come home and study. and then on tuesday, i will wake up and get through the day. then i will come home and study. rinse and repeat till friday when i have my exams. saturday morning, i will go to work. then i will rest. then i will study. sunday will be studying. monday will be studying. tuesday i will have my two last exams. if you don't talk to me, i will delete you for good without fear of missing you. i'll learn russian or something. who needs spanish? screw you!

i am REBORN. two hours of crazy, lucid dreams. about an hour of sleepwalking. there is no death in this room anymore. this heart is red and it beats wildly and i am ALIVE. there is hope for the future and it is intoxicating my senses. i have found that better place within me. i can save myself from anything. if you find me dancing around my room at 6 in the morning, don't ask. there is no clear answer except for illogical and unadultered JOY. nobody can stop me ever because i won't let them. i will be sad but i will be happier. gandhi, dumbledore, and king jr. all up in my ears. my head is clear and i will make some coffee and be fully awake. i will wake up at 6:30 every morning and go to sleep at 10:30 from now on. i will it so. no more chemicals and no more "seasonal affective disorder." i have found that blazing sun in my soul. ALSO, if you message someone, PUT A SUBJECT LINE. even if it's "haskdjhskld", otherwise they receive the notification of a message but no message to speak of. whoever sent me a message should resend with a subject line if they want to speak to me. i'm pretty nice, you know. therapeuticsmile, this is not directed towards you. i got your message and will reply to you tomorrow since i'm a little footloose at the moment. :D

i'm a in a hobbes-like stupor. the tiger, not the english philosopher. it's freezing outside but boiling inside. it's messing with my immune system and i think i'm getting sick. anyway, i guess this is a filler. i'm kind of tired. well, maybe i'm more like satchel in get fuzzy. i can't really relate to people- only cartoon animals, i suppose. i wonder what my dad got me for christmas i want to step on the box but i can't think of a way to make it seem like an accident. maybe i'll step on it anyway. my poster of the van gogh painting "cafe at night" keeps falling down. i kept it rolled up under my bed for the longest time because my dad said he would get me a nice frame for it. last night i just gave up and stuck it on the wall perpendicular to the left side of my dresser using cellotape. i don't think that makes sense but i understand what i mean. truth be told i'm kind of under the influence right now so it's hard to haslkjaadsadk so you know i dont know what

there is so much i have loved but it is gone now. i miss it, obviously. i just want to relive previous parts of my life like the way you can reread your favourite parts of a book. there isn't any light where i am right now. it is cold and sad and hopeless. my heart has rusted and my mind is in hibernation. i am alone within myself. there are no words where i am. i get jolts when people ask me about you. little memories of the light fill me and then they are swallowed whole by the dark. i shrug and tell them that you don't exist anymore. the futile, the futile, it outweighs the beautiful.

i don't like them. apparently somebody sent me a message but i can't read it because they didn't write a title. titles are stupid. you need the queen to get a title in the first place. AND SHE'S BUSY OK?

i am alone. there is a single soul inside of me and no heart or mind. i am sappy and a fake. i will never be happy again. i will substitute chemicals. four years and i will never be anything. being right or being wrong, i am always hurt. i am always wrong.