he left this morning and i still can't stop crying my eyes, they're so sick of all the moisture every blink threatens cascades and i keep shooting for the waterfalls I broke his heart last night, although it already seems further I made him break, made his left arm tingle just because i couldn't promise forver the words, though, i didn't realize they'd be so vile so toxic, so disgusting I'd contaminated him, made him sick from my hurt and i knew i had to take it back, so i changed my mind I went ahead and promised I feel safe now though, i really do I am 18 years old and i am making a statement give me regrets, and tattoos, and everything else i can not change i'm still waiting for something terrible to happen it's time to start being reckless with ink and words and hearts, i am becoming a real person in response to every college essay lie, in response to waking up as soneone else's reflection i have begun destroying i am in love, so much in love, but i don't know if i'm allowed to be that happy it feels too off center, a drug altered universe my fingers are crossed, becuase i did mean that promise i believe in forver not lonely but at the same time there is still the pull in the corner of my chest, warning this could all unwravel

for some reason, whenever anyone tells me i am something negative that i don't try, that i'm pessimistic, that i don't quite fit in I just feel the need to prove them right the name they give me becomes a sheild you want bitch, i'll give you bitch you want apathy, i'll put on the show in storytelling today,i got the note "you don't seem too invested in this class-i really hope that changes" and so of course, since i couldn't change, i just made the difference even more blaring i glared off into space while everyone else was laughing i played with my hair, kept my voice so silent, counted down the minutes I think i wanted to hurt her, show she couldn't be the one to "save" me, have that plaque on her imaginary wall I cou;dn't ler her think she understands, that all i neede was a little attention People never realize that i notice everytime i make a mistake there are so few accidents in terms of my growing up they think they are helping, but really it just makes me fight even harder to keep the control when you are 17, you are not even allowed to have principles no matter how much i believe in writing or music, is still have to do my homework even though i know school is not that important, that in ten years i won't even remember the grade i got in ap statistics, i still have to follow the system in a marxist lense, i am the status quo good grades means college means money means happiness just a bunch of simple blended equations and who knows, maybe it works i mean, i'm not even a quarter into the average lifespan maybe eventually, i will find the freedom i keep fighting for maybe on the other end, it all evens out so i'll keep my fingers crossed, keep reading the textbooks because the future is all i have to look forward to

What does it mean to find meaning? Is the question in the answer or the answer in the question? Is there any substance to that, the redundancy, or is paradox pointless? I'm not sure and I don't think i ever will be I just responded to someone's journal for the first time and it felt like the right thing to do I love looking on here and seeing someone has commented on my work And on some level, I think that's all anyone really wants to be recognized and acknowledged, like yes, you do exist I see your art and i just wanted to let you know i'm listening you feel...important valued and to know i can touch someone else both by creating and by listening is powerful from now on, i'm always going to try to comment hopefully people will do the same for me? Lately, I've been spending alot of time observing there's this website stumbleupon.com that just directs you to random sites about everything now, while i would never sit down and google "cool art" sometimes the fact that its in front of me is enought to appreciate it it's like eating things just because they're on your plate i don't know, you might discover something worthwhile again with that meaning i still can't quite define it, but sometimes it just hits me i'll be reading, or listening, and then BAM! i just have a sense that whatever i'm doing is important I get that feeling when I write sometimes like maybe this is what i'm supposed to be doing? i've heard it said many times that everybody needs something to hold onto, but i don't think it's quite that simple I think everyone needs a purpose, some sort of philosiphy or atleast i do and because in all honesty i am just a mix of every experience i've encountered, my own personal mantra is kind of the same way I think that's why i've become so obsessed with dissecting I hate just the surface, the hi how are you, fine it's never okay to be not okay we need that white lie to keep the balance In my opinion, I think we have two real choices One is we can to some extent just go through the motions, convince ourselves that the things that make us miserable are merely mandatory obstacles to happiness, things we just have to get through, because that's just the way it is and we have to accept it. But the other option is we can curl up in a ball and just refuse to get out of bed because so much about this world is so blatently wrong and cruel, like destruction and polite conversation, and everyone is ants, and no one really caring, and the list goes on forever, but being conscoius of that sadness all the time to the point you can't fake it for long enough to do anything else? well that's how you wind up in a mental hospital "I know i'm not crazy, i've just lost my will" does everyone have those moments? i wish i could live for a day, a second, inside someone elses head just so i'd know See, the fact that the lyric even exist though does offer some comfort because even if it isn't everyone, atleast I Know it is someone else besides me

its all been said before every line every meaning every twist, interpretation pages and pages of reduncy laid out in front of me slipping fast down the screen and who the hell am i to think that my little bit, my repitition could contribute anything at all this is why i have run out of words it's all just clutter litter on the pavement for all the time wasters and dreamers people like me, who binge on words because they need an escape an outlet, a mindless activity, a semblance of meaning really, this is nothing really, i am just another person one out of billions, mediocre nothing special we don't NEED another person i am just so pointless it's killing me I feel like you are over my shoulder every word, which is also why i haven't been writing i don't want your eyes. don't want your opinions i shouldn't haven given you such easy acess i shouldn't have gotten this involved but yet, there you are all those miles away promising forever and i nod my head, say the right words but in my heart i'm almost sure it's too long i'm too tired to write well tonight or too something just an excuse but i do suppose it's better than blank pages