xmedicatedxsmilex's Xanga

Just when I think I'm invincible...

Fri, 23 May 2008 18:19:51 GMT

"You make it hard to breathe. It's as if I'm suffocating, and when you're next to me, I can feel your heartbeat through my skin. It makes me sad to think this all could be for nothing. I wish there was a way for you to see inside of me. I've never felt this way about anyone or anything.....I know exactly what you're thinking, but I swear this time I will not let you down. I'm not as selfish as I used to be. That was a part of me that never made me proud. Right now, I think I would try anything, anything at all to keep you satisfied. God, I hope you see what losing you would do to me. All I want is one more chance."

So, of, course, I have a dream that involves everything I don't want to think about. It was perfect, too. Goddamn subconcious. It never lets me rest, always churning out this kind of crap. And I was naked. Completely naked. And no one cared. I ended up putting my clothes on at one point, because I was cold. Strange. I don't have many naked dreams. I just looked up on some dream intepretation website what that means, and apparently, it means my desire or failure to get noticed. Well, that's dead on. Gah.

Why does my cat think the perfect place to clean himself is on my lap? While we're at it, why does he chew on metal and play with his turds?

I miss Sue. I'm not going to be able to deal if she ends up getting that new job and moves to Virginia. Yeah. That's gonna be a whole bag of nothing fun. I mean, I'd be happy for her, because it's a good move up the ladder, and she'd get more money, but I'd loose the only father figure I have in my life. I already lost my biological father, and to loose the closest I've ever had to a real dad, it'd just be bad. It would only reassure my fear of everyone abandoning me. I wish I could go with her. I would, too, in a heartbeat, 'cause really, what's keeping me here? I don't have family, I don't have a lover, I don't have any outstanding obligations. What difference would 316 miles make?

"Why is it that every time I think I know the answers, someone goes and changes the questions?"

Later, my loves.

A song that no one sings

Thu, 22 May 2008 00:25:46 GMT

"Twenty days at sea, my skin is blistered from the heat. I can beg, and I can plead, but what I get is never what I need. This is the part where I'll admit I'm getting what I deserve, and now, I'm lost at sea. I'm drowning in what I won't be. I'm haunted by the sound."

So, I started cleaning my room today, which is good, yes, but it's also horrible. I don't even know how to express how I feel anymore about anything. None of the words I come up with seem to match what's inside. It's so frustrating to just keep saying 'I don't know', but the truth is, I don't. It's like I'm a stove with four burners, and I'm trying to cook things in ten different pots. I'm overwhelmed, yes, but it's more than that. This huge...emptiness, without purpose, without meaning, without love. I can handle it, I say, but I can handle everything until I can't, until it gets too big or too much or too deep. A flower without water. A town without police. A car without wheels. A guitar without strings. What good are they? What good am I? The garbage bag's full, crammed with papers full of incoherent drabbles, carbon copies of my 3 a.m. state of mind, empty soda bottles, dust from cigarette ashes and stems. It's sitting by the door, heaving with dirt and reminding me of all my loose ends, threating to tighten and strangle me. I feel like the epitome of a failure, unemployed, undesireable, unwanted. I need something. Something strong and sure, something resiliant and humble. I'm losing faith along with my hope, and I need something to push me firmly but not roughly, something to hold me but not too tightly, something to keep me wondering. I'm not perfect.

Later, my loves.

All I need to make it real is one more reason

Tue, 20 May 2008 00:20:12 GMT

"I have a problem that I can not explain. I have no reason why it should've been so plain. I have no questions, but I sure have excuse. I lack the reasons why I should be so confused. I know how I feel when I'm around you. I don't know how I feel when I'm around you."

I hate everything right now. I hate that the sound's decided to not work on my computer. I hate that I can't fix it. I hate that I hardly ever see my mother, except when I tell her I'm sad. I hate that I am sad. I hate that I have been sad. I hate that I can't stop being sad. I hate the fact that if I'm sad for too long, they'll leave, because apparently I'm such a hassle. I hate that Sue might be leaving. I hate that my mom can't even give Sue one day of time for her birthday, even a few hours would be nice. I hate that I can't get over rejection. I hate that I have to get over people. I hate that my wisdome teeth are coming in and making my mouth throb along with my head. I hate that I hate the dentist. I hate that I don't see Octopus as much. I hate that it's not the same. I hate that I had to open my fucking mouth and inevitably break my own heart. I hate that I found this box of notes and decided to read them. I hate that my relationship with Fernando got so completely obliterated. I hate that Zombie and I aren't close anymore. I hate that everyone I date loves dick more than they love me. I hate that my abdomen is killing me. I hate my period. I hate that even if I wanted to get married, I can't. I hate homophobes. I hate asparagus. I hate the window in my room. I hate the flies that get stuck in it in the summer, 'cause it's broken. I hate that my landlord's a crap weasel. I hate that he doesn't fix anything. I hate that all the bulbs in my fan are blown out. I hate that I need a ladder and six extra feet to my height to reach the fucking fan. I hate that my cat's a needy, vengeful idiot that pisses on shit when I'm not home. I hate that he's also illegal. I hate that I'm hungry, but I can't eat. I hate that my favorite pajama pants have a massive hole over the crotch. I hate that I have to take the damn garbage, all seven bags, out front. I hate that no one anywhere wants to fucking hire me. I hate that I'm afraid. I hate that I'm alone. I hate that my life is so fucked up. I hate you. I hate them. I hate me.

What I wouldn't give for a nice bottle of valium.

Later, my loves.

You're onto me, all over me

Thu, 15 May 2008 00:05:46 GMT

"Time to tell me the truth, to burden your mouth for what you say. No pieces of paper in the way, ’cause I can’t continue pretending to choose these opposite sides on which we fall, loving you laters, if at all. No right minds could wrong be this many times. My memory is cruel. I’m queen of attention to details, defending intentions if he fails. Until now, he told me her name. It sounded familiar in a way. I could have sworn I’d heard him say it ten thousand times.Oh, if only I had been listening. Leave unsaid, unspoken. Eyes wide shut, unopened. You and me, always between the lines."

Demi Moore. Oh. My. God. She is so aksagfadhkldfhklkfhrey5. There are not words. She surpasses them. Wow. Just wow. Ashton Kutcher is so freaking lucky. It's not fair. Why can't I have sexy time dreams with her?

Speaking of dreams, my dreams have reached a new level of weirdness. Now, they have elements of....sadism, and semi, if not fully, forced sex. How creepy is that? It's not very pleasant. At least, I'm not the...dominant one. Yeah. I don't know. Overall not good feelings ensue. And it's always the same person. What does that mean? Too bad I'm not rich. I could hire a dream analyzer, get their take on all this shit. Interesting view points for sure.

I absolutely adore tea. Lemon tea. Green tea. Peach tea. Chamomile tea. Earl Grey tea. English Breakfast tea. Black tea. Oolong tea. All of it. I. Love. Tea. It's like my love for cheese. Cheese, yes, cheese. Delicious, creamy goodness. Cheddar cheese. Swiss cheese. American cheese. Muenster. Brie. Colby. Pepper Jack. Gouda. Camembert. Montery Jack. Asiago. I WANT SOME CHEESE.

Later, my loves.

Just like a paperback novel

Sun, 11 May 2008 13:15:50 GMT

"Silly me, look what I did again. I found what I want, is what I cannot have. I didn't mean to be so predictable, but I blame it all on who made you irresistable, and it isn't something I need, 'till you tell me I can't. Why wear my heart on my sleeve when it looks so good in your hands? My heart breaks in a heartbeat, and you're stormy when you come and go. Taste of something so sweet, should have warned me 'bout the undertow."

So, I tried to write something that didn't include romance or sadness, because I didn't feel like focusing on that, and this is what I got. Hmm.

She was spontaneous, harder to capture than the wind, and I knew I'd follow her, if only to watch the spirit inside her glow. We ran through the half flooded streets, rain pouring down heavy, our laughter ricocheting off buildings and wrapping around lamp posts. I stayed a few steps behind, watching her break out of her chains, smiling as she called my name from up ahead, asking me to join her. I jumped in puddles as passer bys stared at our childlike fun, our ritual cleansing. She had pulled something out of me, something deep and unchartered, some new kind of freedom that I had only ever attained in dreams. She had opened a door I thought for sure was locked, and she walked right in, rearranging the pictures on the walls and the rugs on the floor. I didn't mind at all. The rain ceased, and we continued to walk casually through the dark streets, exchanging stories, asking questions, finding more common ground to stand upon, to bind us together. I looked over to see her playing with her soaked hair, pushing it back over her shoulders, and she had never looked more beautiful or vulnerable. I knew in that moment that I'd protect her without question, that I'd fight off the demons she battled without a second thought, and I wouldn't stop unless she told me to. We had achieved a loyalty, a trust that I vowed never to break or bend. I loved her as much as a friend could, surpassed my own limit of caring and let her farther in than I had most, and she knew.

Yeah. Obviously, I miss Chelsea.

Later, my loves.

This time, I'm mistaken for handing you a heart worth breaking

Fri, 09 May 2008 16:24:45 GMT

"If it makes you happy, it can't be that bad. If it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad? You get down, real low down. You listen to Coltrane, derail your own train. Well, who hasn't been there before? I come round, around the hard way, bring you comics in bed, scrape the mold off the bread, and serve you french toast again. Well, ok, I still get stoned. I'm not the kind of girl you'd take home. If it makes you happy, it can't be that bad. If it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad?"

So, what the hell is going on? I'm bored. Sue's taking a nap, and my pretty mommy isn't home yet, so I decided to write my inane thoughts down. Hey, it passes the time.

Text messaging. I love it, really I do, but it has its drawbacks. You can't tell inflections or tones of peoples' voices, so you can never really tell if they're being sarcastic or whatever else they might be. That bugs me, because people assume. Don't get me wrong, I totally do it too, assume that is, and it sucks. It ends up in fights or pissed offness, and if there's anything I hate, it's fighting. Anyways, it was just on my mind. I wonder how many texts I send a month. Or a week for that matter. Cause I know I can have close to or over 100 in my inbox in a day's time. Damn.

So, online dating sites....not that bad, actually. Especially ones that cater to gays and lesbians. You can meet some really interesting people, who live close to you, which is always a plus. Ah....the wonders of the internet.

Colby, Chub, and Ed are playing at the Taxi Cafe tonight, and I said I'd go. I haven't seen them in a while....probably since Bill's funeral. No. I saw Ed at Wally World the other week, but still. And I love watching them play. It's just a matter of transportation now. I guess I could always call Ed or Tiff and ask them to take me. Yeah. I don't think they'd mind. We'll see what happens.

Unfaithful = An amazing move. Go watch it. Now.

"This is how you remind me of what I really am."

Later, my loves.

I know what died that night

Tue, 06 May 2008 22:37:07 GMT

"I can remember a place I used to go, Chrysanthemums of white. They seemed so beautiful. I can remember I searched for the amaranth. I’d shut my eyes to see. Oh, how I smiled then, so near the cherished ones. I knew they would appear, saw not a single one. Oh, how I smiled then, waiting so patiently. I'd make a wish and bleed. While I waited, I was wasting away."

Today was thoroughly enjoyable. My mom came home for a bit, which was nice. I miss her a lot sometimes. Eh. Let's not get into sad things. I'm liable to become miserable quickly.

I seem to have nothing to say, or nothing I want to say. Odd. I'm generally full of inane ramblings that mean nothing. Think if I keep typing I'll eventually have something to say? Just keep hitting keys and wait for something to pop into my head. Type. Type. Type. Type. Type.

I want to color.

Oh, I love Chelsea. Love.

"It rubs the lotion on its skin, or it gets the hose again."

Later, my loves.

I keep turning around

Sat, 03 May 2008 01:06:49 GMT

"If you hear me talking, listen to what I'm not saying. If you hear me playing guitar, listen to what I'm not playing, and don't ask me to put words to all the silences I know. And don't ask me to put words to all the spaces between notes. In fact, if you have to ask, forget it."

Glass House is the most amazing song ever. It is my favorite song in the world, and it fits so perfectly. Every line. Every chord. It's perfect. It's so me. Ahh...I love Ani DiFranco. I would run away to Canada with her and get married and have trillions of babies, if she wanted. I wish I could've seen her in Harrisburg a few months ago. That would have made my whole entire life. What would I do without music?

Today sucked, but that's nothing new. I think it's an indication of things to come. May is to be a bad, bad month. Though, the 22nd is going to be good, 'cause it's Sue's birthday, and we're going to Virginia to visit her mommy. Strangely, it's also Shelby's birthday. I always thought that was kinda weird, but then again, I'm weird. You know, in all honesty, I kinda miss The Shelbinator. And the fact that I can't use The Shelbinator as often. Lol. Well, I guess I could, but it doesn't have the same effect. Anyways, yay for Virginia Beach and lesbians! Doesn't get much better than that.

I should write a whole blog entry in LOLcat. That'd be borderline psychotic, I think. Hmm. Might save that for a time when I'm bored off my ass and possibly drunk, 'cause who doesn't love intoxicated blog posts...or e-mails for that matter?

So, I put my comforter and sheets in the wash today, but I have to do them separately, because my comforter is bulky and whatnot, but my mom came home, and I turned the dryer off, forgetting about my laundry until about thirty minutes ago, so now, since I don't want to sleep on the couch or without warm blankies, I have to wait until all of it is done drying. Gah. I'm so picky.

I'm running out of icons. That's sad, considering I have 4,367 of them. I just figured that out. I guess it's even sadder that I have that many. Well, if we disregard the copies, I probably have like...4,350. But that's still sad.

It's amazing the things people say when you're not around, the good things. Makes you question everything all over again.

Later, my loves.

I'm so sick of wanting all the things I'm haunted by

Thu, 01 May 2008 20:28:10 GMT

"Sitting in my glass house, while your ghost is sleeping down the hall, watching little birds fly, kamikaze missions into the wall. Think I'm gonna stay in today, sit on the couch, and watch them fall. And I guess the push has come to this. So, I guess this must be shove, but before you throw those stones at me, tell me what is your house made of? And if you think you know what I'm doing wrong, you're gonna have to get in line. Yeah, but for the purpose of this song, let's just say I'm doing fine. I guess I'm doing fine."

I spent the afternoon in front of the mirror, trying to pull myself apart, pick out all the flaws, all the defects, make myself clean, but all I could see was a whole, a whole face with no beauty, a whole person gone wrong. Am I really the only one who's waters are murky? I pulled back my hair, looked into my eyes, wondered if you could tell from the outside that I'm not good enough, that I'm the road that never gets taken. I took my shirt off and stared at my chest, critiqued my breasts, scorned myself for my weight, lotioned my arms until they couldn't absorb any more. I kicked my pants off and ran my fingers over the faded scars on my legs, the permanent reminders of who I used to be, the glowing demons that prove I've fallen more than once, that prove I'm a failure. I pulled off my socks and got in the shower, hoping the hot water could give me some clarity, some sign that my mistakes aren't the only ones painted all over the walls in this town, some indication that I'm not as bad as they think I am, and yet, they, don't know me, only know of me, and they pick out the worst parts of the stories they hear to hold onto, to put into a box on the dresser and pull out whenever they need it. They judge like God, like an almighty being with the right to tear me apart and shred me into something unnameable, something evil, and I wonder who gave them the power, the power to be cruel without knowledge or background, the power to devour a soul. I let the water hit my face, not caring that it burns, and I know I'm the hunted. I know I'll be dead before the season ever starts.

I just put tape on the bottom of my cat's feet. It was hilarious.

Later, my loves.

It wanted only to say what it meant

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 22:30:28 GMT

"And I'll never try to give my life meaning by demeaning you. And I would like to state for the record, I did everything that I could do. I'm not saying that I am a saint. I just don't want to live that way. No, I will never be a saint, but I will always say, squint your eyes and look closer. I'm not between you and your ambition. I am a poster girl with no poster. I am thirty-two flavors and then some, and I'm beyond your peripheral vision. So, you might want to turn your head, 'cause someday you might find you are starving and eating all of the words that you said."

I love tea. And egg salad. And warm weather. And how long my hair is. It hasn't been this long in years. I like it. It was down to almost the top of my butt when I was younger, but it'd get all tangled, and I actually broke a brush in my hair one day from the massive, death tangles. I promptly got it cut after then. It needs cut again, though. Just like a trim or whatever. But this is boring. Almost a whole paragraph devoted to my hair. Wow. I really am reaching new lows.

I finally got out this song that's been festering for days in my head. It's different than what I usually do, but hey, different isn't always bad. I actually really like it. It's more cryptic, not as straight forward, more like my writing. I enjoy the crypticness. Makes you think. And opens the door for many possibilities. I like possibilities. God, if my fantasy life were able to come true. There'd be mythical creatures and lesbians in shining armor, no republicans and talking pandas. And love that lasts a lifetime. How corny. Happy ending. Blah. Blah. Blah. Ever after. Why do I have to be such a sap? Why can't I be like some...ice queen bitch from hell? I imagine it'd be easier.

I want to watch Interview With the Vampire again, but it's at Sue's. *sad* That movie makes me feel better, for some reason. Odd.

"...but the world was a tomb to me, a graveyard of broken statues, and each of those statues resembled her face."

Later, my loves.