| In a time of great sorrow |
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| 10:05am 09/02/2008 |
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mood:  the other other mood
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One man stood tall on a grassy mound, his fluffy hair rising with every breeze. He shouts, though no one can hear him. He sings his songs of war and marches up and down, his undecided soul dancing between heaven and hell. A great battle took place on this very field. And on this very field is where many heroes remain to pace with aggitated strides mumbling and groaning their unfailing strategies of human demise. They claim victory for there are no enemies in sight. It must have been a valliant sweep for God was on their side. And those most dear to sobbing soldiers stand by their side in silence. No word or comment is powerful enough to break the wall that shields their weary vision. |
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| Mom almost said 'fuck' today. |
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| 10:39pm 08/01/2008 |
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I'm told not to worry, but I know something bad will certainly happen when I don't.
After three months of thinking about it, my birthday came and went. I'm not going to record the strange things that go on in my apartment. One simply must be there. I loved it and hated it all at the same time. We all had our laughs, and I didn't forget to turn on the waterworks before the night was over. Neither did Beau. I feel that I've traded everything great in my life for something that I'm unsure about, though I would never consider reversing it all.
"They don't love you like I love you." |
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| I'm not happy about this. |
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| 08:14pm 23/11/2007 |
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mood:  crushed
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I'm not happy about any of it. I'm happy with myself for not doing the obviously stupid thing, but the build up was my fault. There are times when I don't see it coming, and then suddenly there it is. And now, not only can you see it, but others can too, and it's too late to stop and explain. You just have to ride it out and become something in the eyes of someone that you don't, absolutely don't want to be. What a pickle I'm in slash on. lol, but now's not the time for pickle jokes, now's the time to be rendered helpless, admit defeat, and start over. I hate that I've worked so hard only to retreat and start again from scratch. One day I'll get it right; bits and pieces are slowly becoming second nature. Being wary of wolves is important. Medical is important. A car with good gas mileage is important. Not divulging your entire personal life is important. The people who were there for me are gone. What's left but apathetic people, angry people, and wolves.
I should do myself a favor and give myself a big scar that will draw wandering eyes away from all else. Keeping things from my parents is important. Realize they will protect you in the most embarrassing way. Today I'm just full of hate and grief. No one is here to comfort me. I shouldn't feel bad talking to William. I don't want to bother him. Ninety percent of what I say is a complaint. I won't tell you what the other ten percent is. That man has me figured out. I hate him. I don't want to see any of those people, I really don't. And it's not just a "I'm tired of them retarts," I cry myself to sleep thinking how I don't want to go to work. It was so bad the other night, I wished I still lived at home, so it wouldn't be a problem trying to jump start my writing and drawing again. But, fuck that.
The best thing that's happened to me in the last twenty-four hours: Chris and Lisa stalling to go to Lisa's grandmother's house for Thanksgiving. They say how awkward it's going to be and how it's just an obligation. Lisa says she'll miss Thanksgiving, but there's no talking her out of Christmas. *because of the presents*
I'm full of food, but I want to keep eating until my stomach explodes. I mentioned it to my mother. I wished they hadn't fixed my heart. I wish I was pumping three times the blood I need and won't live past twenty-five. I don't think I want to live past twenty-five. I'm having a hard time turning twenty-one.
I'm writing about the horses. I told Vickie where I got the idea. She won't tell I don't think. South Park: Mormons episode, hells ya. I want sock and adobe photoshop and a toyota yaris for Christmas or nothing at all. I feel like William's mother with the gifts I'm buying him. I just don't feel like getting nonfunctional, practical gifts. I'm so old and boring. Three people at work today commented on me being sixteen, even Charles. I like Charles... His name is like Kane. "YOU NEED A MORTICIAN!" |
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| What can I say |
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| 01:41am 23/10/2007 |
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mood:  enslaved
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I hate fucking ambiguity, but I can't seem to get away from it all. Always veering towards something you think you could understand. It leaves you assuming, guessing, pondering what the fuck these feelings are doing displayed in a font with not nearly enough justice to emphasize the importance of an emotion towards a particular person because of a certain incident that happened at an almost irrelevant moment but strikes the heart and betrays the trust that you know is no longer apparent and is being forced in remembrance of better times and stronger bonds which hold no truth today where the lies and deceit fester and eat away at the last bit of hope one grasps to in a vain attempt to keep alive a feeling worn thin from hardships and long overdue to be stamped out of existence by the cold realization of the inevitable where people come and go and friendships die as abruptly as they began. I'm not a good person until everyone is pleased; I'm not beautiful until every guy wants to fuck me. I am not innocent until no one knows me. |
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Read 1 - Post |
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| I just remembered... |
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| 12:38am 13/09/2007 |
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mood:  anxious
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I should drink caffinated beverages before going to bed.
And then I couldn't focus enough to say anything of worth anyway. |
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Read 1 - Post |
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| I got a new haircut and wrote a story to celebrate. |
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| 07:01pm 23/08/2007 |
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mood:  excited
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"She always warned me that there were three kinds of drunks - sad, affectionate, and aggressive - and that I'd most likely turn out to be the aggressive type. But it was her twenty-first birthday, and she didn't want to be a lonely drunk. My first time drinking, and I already out did myself. I awoke with the kickass feeling of an average hangover, headache, dehydrated, the works. Maybe I was being the gentleman I always am, or maybe that's just where we happened to pass out, I on the floor, and she on the couch. I rolled to my back lifting my face from the vomit stained carpet. The white ceiling was the only damn area I could tell that wouldn't have to be cleaned up. Everything from the walls down was stained from last night's revelries. How in the hell could three people make such a fucking mess. From behind the couch I could make out her arm uncomfortably hanging off the couch. 'Baby,' I groaned. I reached for her fingertips. Her arm slid off the couch. It hit the floor with a sound not quite that of a thud because of the carpeting and all, but it might as well have been an earthquake. Strange as it seems, I recall pulling it towards me rather than jumping away in fright. I guess the hangover was still keeping my rational behavior at bay. I held her hand as if she were there in her entirety comforting my fear of the limb that had crawled off the couch and wouldn't let go of my hand. I saw the pool of blood reaching out from under the couch. The rest of her must be on or under. First things first, she wasn't under. Expecting to see her body whole or in pieces strewn across the couch, I freaked when I saw nothing but a giant fucking red stain. I grabbed the kitchen phone and dialed my best friend one-handed. As it rang I could remember buying the alcohol, starting light until my best friend arrived, and taking shots for every time someone in the movie said 'Trumpy.' I hung up on his voicemail and contemplated all possible outcomes to dialing 911."
Caution: Drinking may cause unexplained loss of limb(s). |
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| Week 1 |
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| 01:05am 26/07/2007 |
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mood:  excited
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So far a smooth transition.
I'm sitting here now eating a bag of popcorn that's ten times the price of the popcorn in my cabinet. But I can afford it, and it taste brilliant a day old. Fresh popcorn has nothing on day-two day old.
"Hey oh."
Oh yea, meet the robinsons was a weird ass movie. Accepting that it is disney and many question arose, I said don't let it ruin the movie. HUMOROUS is all I have to say. Reminded me of the incredibles, I love that movie. I love playing the super hero. CITY OF HEROES!
H: Shannequin V: The Sexy Plot Device H: The Panda-Bear
I decided that I'll take my time on my projects. I need to resume slowly or I'll get frustrated. I should just get to cleaning. I hate doing laundry. That's all that's left. |
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| I don't like feeling so fragile. |
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| 03:49pm 19/07/2007 |
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mood:  content
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They can only be controlled so long before catastrophe. I wish I could handle it better. A snap and a short drop, and suddenly life seems glum. I drive us up a wall until I finally fall asleep in a corner. I don't even remember climbing back into bed.
There's so much to do. Easy enough, but I'll feel aweful every step of the way. Love the change, hate the transition. At least I'm not working towards happiness, that I already have. If I can lower the level of frustration and raise my pay per hour, it's just a perk, really.
A wise man once said, "Professionalism is... and that's what I want." Why do the words come so easily for certain people. I guess I wouldn't trade a beauiful smile for wit. That's one thing that will stay with me forever - those kind words.
"Can you break this spell." |
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| Here's to the glue that captures all those hurtful moments. |
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| 12:53am 28/05/2007 |
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mood:  restless
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I'm going to miss it. I'm going to lie in bed not wanting to get up because dusting is all there is. I'm going to sit on the floor for hours and know no one will trip over me. I won't eat because I'll be spending all my money to cool myself. I won't feel bad about not being productive because it'll be my own fault. I won't be able to lie awake at night for hours wondering what I could have done wrong. I can't get sick and run away because I'm already away. I'll finally escape to my home instead of from. Paint my flaws for all the world to see. Touch me, and I almost can't contain myself. Speak, and enjoy my blinding anger. What holds me together? We can be sure it's not rubber or glass. I'll make things worse, but it's amusing. What else do I have to do? It's funny because they can't do a damn thing about me or I'll cease to be the holier philanthrapist. I won't do it. I'm too tired to retaliate. I'm too tired to go through with it. I couldn't pull it off anyway. I don't need to. Another year, and I'll have it down. Another year, and I'll not deal with it. Another year, and I'll forget. Another year, and I'll only have to worry about being too tied up in life to let go. As soon as my mortality scares me, I become worthless.
"By the time we get through, the world won't be the same, and you're to blame." |
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| Hiatus |
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| 12:35am 09/05/2007 |
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mood:  fruity
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I realize that I'm not where I used to be. In some cases that's a good thing, but as far as most everything goes, it's not. I'm not deleting everything like before, I'm just taking a little break. Here's to good times. I hope it only gets better. |
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| PS |
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| 12:46am 06/05/2007 |
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mood:  crushed
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Spiderman 3 sucked balls. SUCKED BALLLS. FUck in random ass comments and shitty emo-jazz. Was there no other way to stick it to MJ than to become the cat's meow? TEH HELL AM I TALKING ABOUT PEOPLE! |
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| Tired of... |
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| 12:43am 06/05/2007 |
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mood:  crushed
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This shit ends tomorrow. I'm going swimming for the first time in years. Jones Beach doesn't count. I didn't get to swim. I'm not going to sit around on my ass when I've got an entire day to make happen. |
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Read 1 - Post |
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| LOL |
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| 01:33am 02/05/2007 |
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mood:  groggy
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I'll admit to having one problem, but only I know what it is.
Moving out: +1 Motivation -1 Sleep deprivation
Final quest before death. You'd think I'd have some time, but I'd like to enjoy it, too.
Hahaha, oh William slow down. Give it two seconds next time. Crown Victoria's aren't only prefered by old people. |
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| To bugs. |
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| 01:17am 01/05/2007 |
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mood:  tired
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Murrs was a bug, but not just any bug. Murrs was a fine bug. He had wings like many other sorts of bugs, and though small, he was a giant among bugs. He lived in Ember Forest which is far away from anywhere known to the reader. One day Murrs caught up with his good friend Peeps the bunny. Peeps told him he can no longer afford the high price of gasoline and couldn't drive Murrs to the grocery store. When Murrs offered to chip in for gas, Peeps declined saying using petrolium is evil. Out of luck, Murrs opted for the next best thing - scavenging. He followed his senses to the warmest house on the street. Thinking that heat equated to ovens and baking, Murrs decended and squeezed his way through the nearest window. As he creepy-crawled his way down the cool brick wall, the only thing keeping him from being incinerated by the intense heat, he quickly realized that this heat wasn't eminated from any sort of range, but from passion and some hot-ass baby makin! Hot DAMN! is what Murrs would have said had he had a good understanding of the English language according to public education. A shriek was heard and Murrs new it meant one thing and one thing only - ultimate satisfaction slash oh god there's a bug on the wall kill it. A giant eye peered over. As its gaze bore down on the buggity-bug, Murrs came to turms with the fact that he must have lived a life of pure evil in his past life which is why he is a bug, not just any bug, a bug about to die. His only hope was that he lead a pure enough bug life to be reincarnated as some higher being, anything really. He hoped that offering to pay Peeps money for gas would void the fact that he was using evil to propel his car. The end had come. There he was, and there they were. Miraculously, Murrs lives to see one more day before he gets sucked into the grill of his own car. To this day, endangered bugs everywhere know the story of Murrs and how he escaped eminent death. The details have become a little distorted over the weeks, but one thing remains the same, those forgiving words, "Let him be. He is a fine bug." -The End- |
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| Almost there. |
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| 12:53am 01/05/2007 |
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Three months ahead of schedule. I like to think of it as a good sign. But when something goes right for me, something else most definitely goes wrong. So, I bought myself a giant peeps bunny plushie to make myself feel better. It's helping.
"I've exposed your lies"
Dear Diary, Today Dinah-saur got her claws stuck in my blanket. She would meow for me to help her, but everytime I tried, she would bite me. My father said he could relate. I told him to shut the fuck up. But outloud, I said "..." He tells me I have problems, and that moving out won't solve them, and that I do have problems, and not to sleep with Philop, and that I'm average, and that I can't overcome social standards, and that if everybody else fails, then I should, too. I told him to stop talking to me like that, but outloud I said "stop talking to me like that."
"Unbroken virgin realities"
And now I will finish up with a story about this time I saw someone.
There was...........uh.......more than one of them. I......uh......didn't listen to anyone. And I.........uh.......didn't do things right. I am trying to......uh.....fix things. The more I try to fix.......uh.....the worse I make it.
"I think I'm drowning, asfixiated. I want to break the spell you've created."
But what do they know. They know me, they know themselves. But they don't know me.
"Can't stop it screaming out. How did it come to this?"
"Isn't it a kind of a dream floating out on the tide, following the river of death downstream or isn't it a dream?" |
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| I can't believe it. |
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| 01:56am 30/04/2007 |
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I'm just shocked I didn't notice before. I guess I spend all my time sucking up so hard, it's hard to care what I have to put up with.
There's those times in life when I'm brought into the right moment and all else can go fuck itself. I live and breathe for those moments. They're hard to come by because everyone around you has to be a part of your moment. It's usually inspired by someone else since I have nothing awfully amazing to share. The chase is always on until I finally realize I've gone too far, and this is no longer the story of my life. Well, I am not a sidekick. I refuse to follow to the ends of the earth. It really was a beautiful thought. But it was just an idea inspired by listening to good music on a good night after an open conversation. I love to be depressed, and I seem to find love through depression. I love to be picked up and told I'm allow to feel hurt, it's okay to be human. I will feel better on my own time, not because Christians tell me to. Just so you know, releaving pain through pain is retarded. 1313 Underwood Avenue. It's a dream come true. What is this all about you ask? It's about wasting time at two in the morning. That's all. There was only one true sentence.
"It really was a beautiful thought." - Shannon |
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