i wore a Tybalt costume. black tights, my dad's salmon shirt, and a belt. i kept it on the entire day. i'm going crazy. i want to see him every second of every day. but i'm not allowed to because we're not close enough. i don't usually get sexual fantasies, and i still don't, but is it wrong to picture these tights ripped off? i'm sorry, i guess. slowly buiding up the guts, i cant wait for you to shoot me down. break me down so badly. i've never dissected someone so horribly. everytime you smile at me, i wonder if you're telling your friends about this stupid girl who won't leave you alone. i wish i wouldn't have to do all the work in this. whywon'tyouloveme? it keeps repeating itself in my head. you're just the only affliction i have right now, that's why you're so important. nobody really gets it. you make me nervous. you make tybalt nervous. why are you so hard to understand? or maybe i'm just trying too hard. probably. i'm doing pretty much everything wrong. 'get over it.' yeah, okay. i will.

i sound so happy and arrogant in my past few entries. because that's what i am. deflecting misty raindrops with my crinkle-eyed smile. he said it brightened up his day. but i don't think it does anymore, or maybe i'm just being insecure. i hate how he's the only one who has the power to make or break my day. it's not stitches or scars with him; it's hello or no hello. i feel guilty when i'm having good days(touch wood), kind of like i'm robbing from the mouths and giving to the eyes. not complaining. i wish you could see the sky the way i do. 'it's raining, why are you taking a picture?' you don't understand. it's irrational for me to like somebody like him. i'm a fucking psycho and he's not. it only gets me down some of the time. i try not to think about it. i'm always so afraid of destroying beautiful things. kind of glad i can't hurt helena anymore. you don't understand that either. i still love her more than most. all the bestfriends i have expire after a year or so. facts of life. I'm whistling in the key of hopeless love and screwing everything up with a nod of my head. this, and only this, you understand. should've known better than to call you out.

dude, youcantshakeus can really write. i have a shitload of homework to do because of all that school i missed. grade nine is serious buisiness, they say. i've been procrastinating all week. i feel like micheal from The Office, but i have to do a little more than just initial some forms. i'm kind of scared of going back to school. all those people i've known since grade seven. this is the longest i've ever stayed in one school. i'm might try to switch to a private school next year because i'm a douchebag. it's not anyone's fault that i hate everything. except my parents, right? hah, totally kidding. on the whole bestfriend front, i'm getting better. she was always a bitch but i needed her and for some reason she needed me back. she chose the road always taken and i'm sitting in a tree somewhere west. she's got all her friends and i got all mine. i'm not standing at the crossroad of evers anymore. i already told you where i am, and it's not called "compromise" if you actually "want" it. i've been writing this entry for way too long. i wish i could marry Dwight and live on his beet farm. my heroes are as followed. tyler durden, dwight schrute, rant casey, jesse lacey, dsajk, ldsjldlsljds, aldsajd, ljsadl, and pete wenz. there's a lot more like you know oscar wilde van gogh etc gsdsadjdlak tired ssleepthitg HOMEWORK must do or i'll be all stressed out all of tomorrow and i'll miss school on monday because of some crappy angst trip. ash durden; resident lifer

i told everyone i had the stomach flu and didn't go to school for a week. i never, ever want to go again. just because. yeah, i'll be going tomorrow. turn that frown upside-down, right? i can't seem to remember my own life story. all these books and movies and songs and paintings and people are just so much more wonderful.

glad you don't know me. swear ive lost what? mario party 3 on a nintendo64, oh the hours i wasted today. scream out sanctuary and marry me already. why does daisy love luigi? dont say youre philosophical, that makes the statement redundant. youre not in true love if you know about it. you're not a genius if your ego's a fucking idiot. even frank sinatra cant put me to sleep. but he sure can sing pretty. i bought two cds. My Blue Heaven and Embraceable You. i bought a another chuck palahniuk book. The Oral Biography of Buster Casey. i also own Invisible Monsters and Fight Club. my collection of books is growing. i got all the poems of Walt Whitman. I got all the works of Oscar Wilde. i got all the letters and paintings of Van Gogh. i got three charles dickins. i got the entire jane austen collection. the secret garden. anne of green gables. homer the odyssey. les misérables. catcher in the rye. mirrors on uncertain mornings. perks of being a wallflower. le petit prince. two Peanuts. more than fifty Archie comics, hah. plus a whole lot of nonames. it may not seem like a lot to you. but these are my own books. they give me a sense of ownership. (imissyouveera) they all sit in my room. except the jane austen collection, because my mom likes her a lot. i am fourteen(going on fifteen lalala) years old. would you rather i collect cosmo girls and seventeens? i'll subscribe today! seriously. but i can't decide between the two. all the books sit in a messy pile in the corner of my room. how books should be. wiped away the fog so i could run my fingers over the city lights. cold as ice and singing unattainable till you actually reach out. everyone wants to be touched in just the right way. eyes wide off hope, i want to be bright enough to blind you. roll down my window to get a taste; turning solids to gas with a flick of the wrist. blocking the rushing air with "the biggest dream ever." hand thrown out, palm facing up, my proposal to the speeding cars. come on now, keep up.

i lost the entry so i'm going to make it sound bad. why are people so pretentious about love? you can't think other people's thoughts or feel other people's feelings, but you can try. and anyways, you're probably an ugly fuck who isn't getting laid. i like seeing love, but i don't need it right now. "I don't feel bad for you anymore." i never wanted you to be. "But I was. And I'm glad I'm not anymore. You never deserved any of it. And I honestly, honestly laugh everytime you call me a judgemental bitch because of how big of a hypocrite you are." you're so bitter "Yup." i don't know why i keep letting her get to me. wait, i do! cause it's nine in the afternoon. your eyes are the size of the moon. haha, nevermind. she really is a judgemental bitch, just too closed-minded to admit it. i guess i am judgemental and bitchy too. but i can't believe that i was ever as bad as she describes. here's to hoping she drinks herself into a coma. it's the weekend, you know. and it really helps her forget.

i was reading the newspaper, it was featuring an article from a different newspaper. It was about a motivational speaker for teenagers. Her name is Dr. Karyn Gordon. There was this one quote from her. "I see behind the mask. They're lonely. They're known as the sad generation. They have beautiful, passionate sides, but they're struggling. It's no coincidence that they're the most medicated generation of teens in history." So basically, we're a whole generation of pussies. how hilarious and embarrassing. the future is completely fucked. and i'm really cool with that. i'll just kick back with my copy of Fight Club and plan out my part in destruction. fuckin a

it's over "miss" and "hate" are interchangeable. all the songs we loved together don't exist anymore just cause i said so. it doesn't matter anyways cause we're not who we used to be. all those terrible things you threw out at me right before the end. you meant them. and i don't know what to say here. only because this doesn't mean a thing. i'm gonna get older. and so are you. next week or maybe even tomorrow, i'm not going to feel like this about you anymore. that's the worst part. this is so anti-climatic and unimportant. it's not even whiny. i'm not begging and i'm not asking. i'm just saying, you know?

i just watched Fight Club after obsessing over the book by Chuck Palahniuk for so long. it was pretty good, maybe even as amazing as the book. the best part of the entire thing was that there was porn spliced into it. i couldn't stop laughing. if you don't know what i'm talking about go slit your wrists like you keep threatening to do; nobody loves you and nobody ever will. blow your fucking brains out you pussy. kick that fucking chair away and swing, motherfucker. all those pills you keep swallowing and spitting back out don't mean a thing. you're in it for the attention either way. if you're going to kill yourself, do it right. smoke three packs of cigarettes a day, cause explosions both real and unreal, shoot vodka straight from the bottle, inject 100% pure herione, whatever. you're nothing and you always will be. atleast fuck it up without class. no one cares and nobody's important. you can't change shit. i fucking hate you so much. i'm out punching brick walls and choking down all the things i swore i'd never do. x is overrated and so are you. i'm never coming back. burning all those "i love you"s and "be safe"s. you're not worth shit so shut the fuck up. this isn't about you, selfish whore. it never was. the last song about you was written a decade ago and it bombed even the piracy charts. i hope you fucking die so i can blow up everyone who ever loved you at your goddamn funeral. and i hope that anyone who reads this dies of sleep apnea. look that shit up, dumbass.

i don't got the guts to hurt anybody but life is pretty cool.