it's the sundial in you built in your bedroom. you said, "this represents all the days you weren't here to light up (in) my room." you're wrong though, i'm always there. it's the poetry staining your skin in my mother's lipstick. my favourite perfume sprayed on your pillowcase. these are the only reasons you can't get me out of your head. making you love me is a full-time job and every night i love you back is a wasted paycheck.

it's terrible. there are some moments that make you want to cry because you can't go back to them and you really want to. nostalgia is cancer of the memories. all the people i look up to look down on me. the worst part about that is the fact that i don't care. it's a little saddening obviously, but they're still incredible people. in the bigger picture, it doesn't matter anyways. some people got it and other people don't. i agree but i'll never understand. it's that very quiet voice that comes from the middle of your chest, speaking your strongest in the most pathetic way. mine always says "I'm sorry" and i don't need to explain why. you'll snort when you read this, so i hope you get some trick-wind nasal disease. imsorry this cancer has spread to my thoughts

they always say, 'burn all the liars'. and all those people who's hearts you broke are out breaking the hearts of others. and only because you showed them how. in love with the rights and the wrongs and the everythings in betweens. if you saw how bright he shone, you'd understand. the way his blue eyes look in the sun and the strangely appealing scent that follows him around. it's not that i like him. it's that he's way too hard to ignore, and i'm not after romance anymore. i'm not after anything to do with him. but really, you can't not look. and anyways, we're friends, i guess. 'no one cares.' it's true, but that never stopped anybody from trying. cigarettes suck and they make me paranoid. i'm a good girl, i swear by this reputation. i'm a filthy liar, and i'll never come clean. i drink but not the point of getting drunk, i smoke but never more than once a month. 'no one cares', and i don't keep secrets for the attention. i'm through with what i'm expected to do. i hate the way they look at me like i let them down. they think i'm the responsible one. shitheads. the only thing i can hold down is the blame for all the mistakes i keep making. bad memories make me happy because i'm sure they happened. God should hate us for how ungrateful we are. but i bet to him we're just demanding toddlers. i'm scared of all the people i start to like. and i love the people i hate more than anyone ever could because i'm completely certain. fuck rye, i'm catching fire.

myspace sucked me back in, the music was too seductive. all those bands just waiting for their egos to be polished; me with a rag and spray of compliments in hand. i'm keeping it simple though. confidence and conversation can get you anywhere, i swear. i did not sleep last night and am exhausted. hopefully, this means that after my homework is finished i'll be able to sleep. and yeah, hheres the lin,mk myspace.com/punchedouteyes i am so clever, oh how clever am i. crowing like i got something to brag about. you don't know how things go down in this part of town. it's almost as if you have a choice between a shoot-out or shooting up, if you get what i mean. and if you do, it doesn't make any sense at all. yea

i feel bad about telling people not to talk to me. but not really. if you can spell, i guess we can talk. i don't like the idiotic messages i've been getting though. you know who you are. aim; ashgoldprint i'm aware that it screams 'douchebagdouchebag', but fuck you. i need to re-learn posture, mine has been terrible as of late. it's not a burden, i'm just trying to relax in all the wrong ways. toothpaste and eyeliner will get you far enough. the rest has nothing to do with starry eyes and a blinding smile ps: those 'captcha' letters sure are inconvenient for the people who are machines.

it's not 'here and now' as much as it is 'now and then'. i watched Enchanted with laura, i loved it. i'm either seeing Semi-Pro or Never Back Down tomorrow with this other girl i don't really know, harleigh. depends on how well i can pass for 18, ahaha. i don't see how S-P can be rated R. i've been having good days. i'm not into expectations and i'm doing pretty well through an outersphere. but i really can't care enough to go digging deep. i am finding some things that i do not want to forget, and in the end, i'm not sure. good(people) memories can turn bad; vice versa. this is just an ode to 'will you remember me after tonight?' the outcome is predictable in the way you shield your eyes from the sun. i spent so many years not wanting to grow up, and then i did. i'm backpedaling but all it's doing is stopping me from going anywhere. this is one of the old bikes that have a pedal break. you probably don't understand what i mean, but you weren't there that summer so i can't blame you. i wanted to watch Lord of the Rings yesterday, but we didn't have the first one. we only have second and third. i've never watched the movies. oh, and i finally saw Gramma's Boy. funny in a WHATHEFUCK kind of way. "I'm way too baked to drive to the devil's house."

the incredibly fertile and charming dustin wood left Grand:PM and joined Crush Luther. i saw them yesterday and he's a total sweetheart, i think i'd actually go to Toronto to see them again. makes you weak by crush luther i only knew two of their songs, but i knew all the words to those songs. i hate those kids who just stand there and blink up at the stage. you can listen to the band in your bedroom. why not show them you care? i'm starting to listen to more of their music. CDs i want: Evening Out With Your Girlfriend Never Mind The Bullocks, Here's The Sex Pistols Crush Luther A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar and some others but they didn't make the list.

i shot it in the chest then in the head our paying guest is leaving. she's been here since september 2nd. she is leaving march 13th, as in thursday. i'm going to be missing the first Crush Luther performance to see her off, but i'm not that into that band anyways, and i'll be able to catch the second performance either way. The Capital Poetry Collective will also be there, they're pretty much a group of poets. let me join, haha. i don't want her to leave. she actually wanted to stay but my dad hates her. he is a racist and that really bothers me. i'm huge on martin luther king jr, GANDHI, nelson mandela, rosa parks, etc, etc. i don't want to be left alone with just my mom and dad. all the goddamn memories, i can't remember a thing now because of how hard i'm trying to forget. names, places and dates escape me but the stories WONTLEAVE. three people in a house with four bathrooms. what the fuck. she's scatterbrained, overtalkative, pretty much crazy. that all gets cancelled out by out unbelievable decent she is. she'd do anything for anybody. what's really amazing is how she's over 40 and going to University to become a teacher. kudos to Nel. hanna's gone too, to scotland. helena left and i don't think she's ever going to come back. mary is gone to utah, but i'm a little sad at her. she doesn't care much though, so it's okay. wherami? iamhere. wish(ing) well. i stole his style, but he stole my attention. i still smell rain when i hear the song i'm supposed to hate. mostly, it's just one connection after another. i don't burn a bridge till i've crossed over to another; common sense isn't always this common. maybe i should just learn to be happy for myself. being human nevermind. i really want a tattoo. i have a great one in mind, but i'm not going to talk about it. i'll try to become friends with a tattoo artist so i can get one as soon as possible. i can't wait to embed a future regret in my skin! anyone want to be my friend on livejournal? yeah, me neither.

life as of late: 'i've crawled home from worse than this', but i'm still crawling home. hey there, you selfish bitch. you're not the center of my life anymore. start a conversation yourself or leave me the fuck alone. i'm not "quiet" because there's something "wrong". (as if you care) it's that i'm "tired" and you're boring. you get anal when i talk about books, movies or music. and i'm not in the mood for a bitchfest anymore. hello brightest star in the sky. i'm the biggest blackhole and a huge fan of yours. i know you're a little of out my league but. i've got a big mouth and maybe you could handle shutting it up.

i'm not here for anybody. there's no one who'd call me the second before i opened that bottle of pills or loaded that gun. and that's the whole point. i could be that somebody for someone else. i might not change the world but i may change just one person. it's all i need to know. i may not ever get better, i could help someone else get better though. i'm just collateral damage at the end of the day. it's not about me at all; nothing ever was. there's nobody who stays up nights thinking about me. i'm not that type of person. i know exactly what i am(not). you are who you are. and people don't change, really. this is growing up, but i never wanted that. i'm tired of everyone thinking that people care. they don't. slit your wrists and cry yourself to sleep. i don't care. pop pills and jump bridges. good for you. stop whining about how fucked up everything is. we know, okay? we kind of live here too. i'm down for disaster. i'm up for screwing over society. i want a fight club. i want a project mayhem. i don't care about your abusive father or your psychotic mother. go start an online journal and stop calling me. my phone is not broken, i just don't answer it you stupid fuck. get into drugs or something, i'm not your goddamn therapist. i'm not here to help you; i'm here to watch you hit bottom. we are not friends. we are cellmates. never get those two mixed up. yeah, i'm bitter and this entry is completely uncalled for. i'm a huge hypocrite and an all around bitch. the best part is, no one means anything to me. and even on your best day with all the planets lined up, i would never love you enough to care.