no day but today.

how good it feels to re-read the past.these slice-of-life pieces.these long forgotten memories.how good it feels to realize that you are really changed.different.cleansed.you have let go of so much.you have grown those wings.you have met those people who will help mold you into that mermaid-in-jeans you have always known you were.you are half way there, baby.

fuck the nights i spent in strangers bed.fucking boys just because they told me i was pretty.fuck the cigarettes i smoked just because i could.fuck dragging rusted sliver blades across my wrists in order to smile.fuck the people [friends?lovers?strangers?] i've lost along the way.fuck the words that were once used to scar me.fuck feeling trapped inside my own body.

i would never relive those years. i'm so much stronger now.so much smarter now.i'm a different person and until today, i didn't realize just how different i have become.

i can smile.i can laugh.i can feel free.
<3

you can learn a lot of things from the flowers

it seems that beauty exists in few forms. in pain. in reflection.  hardly ever in people.
 is it sad that drugs are the only thing that make me appreciate the beauty of this earth?  that the only time i can really hear the flowers tell their stories or feel the trees speak with the sway of their branches is when my mind is tricked into seeing patterns, colors, images with blotter paper.

it was really like a trip back in time.  we laid in the sunshine, the powerful rays kissing our faces, our arms tickled by a million greenest of green blades of grass, the sky changing colors from blue to purple to red back to blue.  the trees tiny skeletal branches extended into the sky, sometimes there were more, other times less.  we sat by the memorial, and for a few hours, we really were the hippies who were shot on our campus.  there we were; our dreadlocks, our flowing skirts with patchwork patterns, our mushroom tanks, our ackward, dancing and our music from decades gone by.  there we were, inhaling and exhaling life. 
     i truly do love LSD.

but if that's what it takes to be free i don't mind
still is still moving to me

i'm slowly starting to accept that the past is not permanent, and i can change things i don't like about myself.  i can still create beauty without being in constant pain.

i feel like i'm finally making friends here.  there is something comforting about a night guided by singalongs from an acoustic guitar, a night when strangers turn to friends.  a night when i see the people around me for who they really are, each with their own seperate identities, seperate experiences.  these people are what i will remember about college.  life is all about who is in your life, not what is in your life.  and these people make me feel whole, make me feel alive, make me feel exuberant and refreshed in a way i never thought i could feel.

 All the flowers
Would have very
Extra special powers
They would sit
And talk to me for hours
When I'm lonely
In a world of my own

perfect skin. perfect teeth.

like the cover of a magazine

usually it takes the right mood to strike me.  && usually the words just come.  but it's been so long.  it's hard to believe i am even able to write at all anymore. 

what has happened to me.  maybe it's the lack of drugs, the lack of reading in my life. the lack of a muse. i just feel that what i write now is trite, cliche, boring to say the least.  but you always are your own worst critic.

i'm not sure what can even give me the edge i need again.  is it because things are going, dare i say it, too well in my life?  there's no turmoil, not enough drama here.  maybe when the summer comes && i'm back at home [stuckinthatplace] the words will come again.

at home it's still broken bottles, broken doors, broken fists.  at home it's still boys with dirty apartments opening their dirty mouths and using their dirty hands to destroy.  at home it's still girls who are too [tiredweakinsecure] to give up on the boys they "love". 

at this point in my life i am severely doubting the signifigance of love.  it seems like a nice ideology, but really, i could survive with my pen&paper, mp3 player && some beans&rice.  maybe i'm just taking things for granted, but you tell me what the point is when we all die alone.

so basically my life is a big ...blah  maybe this is what college does to you  makes you stop dreaming and wishing and start working.

really all i've ever wanted is to be beautiful. i think it's  [overdue] time for me to really become the glittersparklespanglequeen i've always wanted to be. but how that can be achieved in cheap dorm room bathrooms, with cheap thrift store clothes && my cheap [usedbroken] body is beyond me.  beauty seems to be something that comes natural, along with a sense of style, soft, bouncy hair && smooth skin.  beautiful isn't something you can buy at a store in a bottle of shampoo or paint on with a mascara wand and eyeshadow brush. so you will tell me that beauty comes from the inside, but i think that's a bunch of bullshit.
>>beautiful people have it so much easier<<
&& no one can deny that.

i wish i could create something beautiful at least to make up for my lack thereof.  but i'm just so burnt out.  too many white lines i think.  i'm just numb.  i'm just jaded.  i'm kind of just over it all.

&& you would think that i would've grown up so much my first year away at school.  but really i've just been doing what i always do and hiding from the inevitable.  one day i'll have to grow up, and the honest truth is that it probably won't turn out the way i picture it with my knight in shining armor and my house by the beach with palms in the front yard. 

let's just keep hoping, shall we?<3

 how do i feel at the end of the day?
are you sad because you are on your own?

amped up on too many caffeine pills to make it through the mornings, afternoons, evenings of lectures, notebooks, ackward conversations.

 do you need anybody?

finding it harder and harder to grasp the words.  what has happened to the beauty that once flourished?  now it's all lost in too many meals, long research papers, friends without identities, shared bathrooms and a room that will never be my own.

so it's just a different set of circumstances, a different set of rules, a different set of faults, a different list of things that make me want to hide.
          but has anything really changed?
i still find it hard to think of myself as anything but average, sometimes less than.  i'm still hiding from myself, covering up my faults with silence and burying myself in my books and notecards to keep from having to make too many human connections.
    yes,  i'll still skip class if i know i have to speak to more than one person during the whole hour and fifteen minutes.  why do i find it so hard to make small talk?  not just small talk really, but any kind of talk.  i'm a mute around strangers.  i feel like i don't have anything in common with anyone i meet. i know this can't be the case. or can it?

i'm painting a room in a colorful way **

i have grown up in a way i don't think many people who are in college have.  i've seen way too much, touched too much, felt too much for someone who wasn't even 18. 

         i can't play my music as loud as i would like. and music is one          of       the few things that keeps me sane. 

i have the whole world handed to me but it's just never enough. i keep making decisions that are potentially harmful.  i think i was just born with this underlying urge to destroy myself.  it's uncontrollable.  i just want to fuck things up as soon as they are going good.

as i sit here writing this i am most likely causing myself to fail my english class, because it's my 6th absense and that's when she can drop you.  i'm nervous about that, but more nervous to go.

   i need to start taking my anxiety meds.

but i have to admit it's getting better
a little better all the time