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Name: Becca
Gender: Female
Interests: art. wes anderson. bears. eric carle. haute couture. bland foods. eating disorders. español. harry potter. illustration. literature. provocative film. technicolor aura. bill murray. indie alternative folk. bukowski. new york. north dakota. trees. zebras.Matt. <3
message macaroni to me to see protected
Expertise: I can make good sandwiches.
Industry: Art
Message: message me
AIM:  WTFZOSAURUS
AIM: WTFZOSAURUS
AIM: WTFZOSAURUS
Member Since:
8/27/2005
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| i remember when i was all that you had.
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| im utterly terrified of what this has morphed into. i thought i would be able to handle a break but i can't/...i really cant fathom the thought of being away from your order despite how nonexistent it has grown these past months. amir keeps signaling at me like a lighthouse beam ever since he broke up with his girlfriend and notices how often i forget to tie the heart shaped id tag around my neck after morning showers. alex is doing shit to my head i can't even begin to understand. i don't want either of them. they would be so much easier to let go and latch on to. i can't imagine being held by them like the way you do. or treated so delicately. or waking beside their bodies in future mornings and being content with being in a normal relationship. i thought i could handle it but i can't... i can see it now. i'm still alive you know. i'm still the same.
i wish we could go back,
back to
severe, unnatural, drunkenly blissful worship.
 
there are no words that can possibly begin to describe how perfect these photos are at this moment. | | |
| it has been twenty days and i finally understand what my acid trip had succumbed to.
take every feeling and emotion you have been afraid to embrace since you were born,
unmask everything you have suppressed in your lifetime,
you instantly get hit with a combination of both
which unravels to be splitting images of what's in front of you,
a deep tunnel that only allows one part of your brain to focus on the present,
everything else surrounding is like time travel and your brain is too hectic and busy trying to process it all
you're not sure where you are, what the date is, who you're with.
your mind is being altered to rewind your memory and unlock what has been long forgotten,
you're in constant motion without even feeling it,
arms, legs, anything to keep up with your brain's rapid pace.
you close your eyes because you're scared
you're scared because you're used to being in control of what you've tried so hard to erase all these years.
a screen of mundane, sand based patterns
which strangely bares resemblance to the background of the rugrats' end theme song
meets you instead of the familiar vat of darkness speckled with dull colored flecks of lights.
an array of outlandish scrambles of letters forming foreign words pop against these patterns,
you start to realize this cyclone of images are your earliest most memories.
a cartoon your parents have placed in front of you when you were an infant,
collaborated with words said by family and strangers that made no sense to you at the time.
your chest feels dry and you begin heaving.
you begin replaying phrases, not even full sentences of things
that have stuck to you as important during that moment in your past.
most of them are things you wish you had never experienced again, a few are completely random and out of place.
you have a choice to panic because you can't handle your pandora's box from opening
or you can lay down, cycle your legs and arms like an upturned ant in rhythm with your mind's movement,
and wait it out until your mind unfuzzes and you hit reality.
it is the single most terrifying and thrilling experience you have and will ever go through.
to a point where it would feel almost wrong to do it a second time. | | |
| i'm nothing like i am in my dreams.
chasing after murderers and villains,
escaping from a totalitarian government,
participating in sword fights, duels, wrestling,
owning up to my mistakes and confronting those who hurt me,
defending loved ones, strangers even, with every ounce of my will.
i wake up a person opposite to my heroism.
shaking and too scared to fall back asleep.
dialing the numbers engraved in my memory.
turn the three light setting lamp from one to two,
because i was a coward when i went to bed in the first place too. | | |
| i feel like i'm shriveling up inside myself,
like a faint outline, ghostlike figure of a smaller me slowly corroding and curling at the edges inside my actual body.
i want to retreat back to my hermit ways so badly, but i know there's still at least a year's time
before i can bury my head into the warm nook of man forest
and rub my hands against the smooth groves of cartilage engraved onto milk plains
instead of having my head shoved into printed out chapter summaries of assigned literature
and hands busy swiping cheeses with obscure yet entertaining names such as "drunken goat" and "lamb chopper".
we have to hurry soon though.
i can't stand to pretend i'm fine anymore.
i can feel abandonment sneaking up behind me as each day evolves. i can just sit still and feel it. and i'm so scared.
i'm going to make this for you, embellished with a lion's mane, because you mean so much to me.
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