you can have it take it or leave it

I feel no sort of obligation to anyone. I do things now because I want to and not because someone wants me to. Fuck you if you expect anything more from that. Because you won't be with me all the time; this is my life and these are the choices that I make.

Perhaps I'm just not good at being cryptic anymore. Perhaps I'm sick of being alone. my words are that of a child and soon I will look different than before.

follow me down.

woman like a man

hey, this is me getting out what I want to say so you can read it. Keep it in mind.

I'd rather be your friend for now from what we previously discussed. It's just easier that way for me. I have college looming overhead and my friends are enough.

Also, I don't feel like I like you as much as you like me. It's weird. but I don't feel any obligation toward you whatsoever. I don't want a relationship. Not, like, never ever, but not for the foreseeable future. Perhaps not one with you either. You're too cool of a person. My first impression was right or wrong? Don't know. You're awkward and I'm being a bit of a child but I can't deal with that.

Who am I kidding, I'm always a child.

But you make me nervous as fucking hell and you're ugly but you're not. I don't know. I just want to be your friend. I kind of regret the initial reaction and I regret making out with you and I regret being an impulsive idiot. I feel as though there will always be this tension and i know it's mutual. I wish you didn't like me as much as you do, then this would be easier.

fuck all I fucking hate this and you but not really.

asdfhlhfdlasdfhlashflafjdhlashfdj.

misery is so fond of me, he curls against me at night and whispers sweet nothings

I have memory lapses, forgetting who I tell things to. And I'm unforgivable at this point.
"Stop making excuses for yourself. You're too wrapped up in yourself."

Well I'm sorry for not being the perfect mannequin you want me to be. It's all about you if you like, every single last bit of it, even if I'm lying through my teeth. Not it. Can't play the game, don't want to, miles and miles and miles. Things don't come in threes anymore, they dawdle on bye.

"I love you dear, but you're really quite the drag. What you need is foresight. She seems to be good at that. Pyre, love, you fucking suck."

Why thank you, I do try. I do weddings, funerals, bar mitzvahs...

You wish. Try me. You'll no doubt se something close to love. The sun rises, the sky is blue with regret. I can't speak in anything but lyrics, tuneless because I lack a voice. I lack a heart. You say I'm compassionate, lie detector determined that was a lie said to please me so you could get what you wanted. Well, is this what you wanted? Me begging on my knees? Me distressed and worn down? I'll martyr myself all I like, it's my right. kay thanks.

Awww, petty baby. No one gives a shit about your problems. Well, wouldn't you know? I've got no real problems but I like to make believe. Instead, I just have anger. Anger sorrow pain the like you wish you wish you wish.

Drives me up the wall but I wish that you could reply. I wish I didn't have this shameless crush on you. Shameless. Shame shame shame.

Directionless as we are. Fuck God, I've got the friends in my head to fall back on. You wish you were so acid bright and wise as I am, oh you wish. Asterisk smilie face.

Love the fall but hate where I land. Mind the gap (whatever that means).

this is what you get, and it's all you deserve too

It's remarkable how I hate using the word remarkable. I feel too old when I do so.

It's notable that today is the anniversary of something. something that never was.

ha.

we had a history of violence together

My heart aches for people I barely know. Why do I want you so?

"not going left, not going right"

I'm in love with that song.

And not with you, kid. You're out of luck today.

I missed you, in short terms

in the long shot, I was nothing really.

Fond of your affection. I won't even understand what this means when it's all done. And I want my death because it will be the only thing that's all mine. All mine. I don't want it now, but I want the experience. I guess if I knew, I'd be okay, but you can't know. It's not allowed. "Oh love, I missed you so much. I did. And would you hug me, I'm dying for your arms around me." Though not so dramatic. But the intention would be the same. If my world were perfect. I can't help speaking in fragments. I need to do work, work, work, but my mind is in a perfect dream.

I had the credentials and everything, I was just too fucked up for words.

Oh, my despair! How fucking laughable. I'm a right mess and an awful one at that. Insulting myself is just the custom around here. You should know that, silly goose.

Condescending all the same, you loved me for it, all of you, once and never again.

you are

things not worth rhyming

[perhaps you are not]

the death of me

after all

especially in fragments, truth be told, wouldn't you know

sing like it

I was always a beggar and a loner,
never stepping twice, never making mistakes,
and all too accustomed to the meltdown

and I loved you still

and after it all i was vague as ever, beautiful as ever, personal as ever

and it was all a lie

I feel like a fraud, now as ever. I walked so far that I can't see your face anymore and it's all better off that way. It once had a tune that I remember all too well, that I'd like to forget. Am I getting better? I don't know. I swear I'm not a liar (though yes, yes I am, and a hypocrite too) I just don't know.

love is an empty word for me, meaningless, and my delusions of grandeur are all withstanding. "jump out the window, i can survive. stab myself, i can survive. shoot myself not because I want to die, just so I can shut my brain off and not think anymore." time is going by slower than i thought it was. I could be doing so much more and there's so much I owe to school, home, my friends, my life. I'm fucking up and i'm getting more and more depressed. It's just a part of growing up. Go fuck yourself then.

in need of help, now as ever, and i can't even hold on anymore

i still haven't come to terms with

my selfishness and stupidity.
how I hurt others along the way and how obnoxious I am.
how teenaged and mediocre my writing is.
how I'm really not that smart, I'm just a "stupid fuck with brilliant luck" who can only quote songs to describe myself.
how when I put myself down, it hurts everyone more.
how I'm dragging everyone down with me because I can't bear the thought of losing anyone, not when it's happened so many times before.

to my parents: I'm sorry for not being everything you wanted to be. I feel as though I can't win with you. You say you're going to support me in whatever you do, but I dance around topics involving who I want to marry or be with because I see mom's shudder and I hear dad's want to say "it's your CHOICE" in what he says. I can't measure up to your expectations. I can't take the pressure. You do so much and I'm so scared of everyone and the world and having to take care of them when you die. I wish it was an "if". I truly, truly do. I don't want to go away. I don't want so many things that are in my life because I brought them upon myself. I have so much, you say that so much, and I now know I do, but still I forget it and I feel like even you two are going to get sick of me too. Like I'm getting sick of myself, like the people I love who leave me in some way.

I don't know what it is anymore, not at all.

to my friends: I regret so much I have said and done because you have been there for me regardless. I ignore the fact that you have your own problems and I just rampage. I get drunk and make phone calls. I lie. I cheat, I break promises, I fail at all things a decent person could. I'm a mess, the friend you can't count on. I say things and do other things, and I'm spiteful and wrong and I make so many mistakes and I, I, I can't lose you all to this. But I'll never show you so there is no point. I can get out of bed, I ignore it and I instead spread my misery to everyone else. it is my curse, family curse, person curse, it's all mine like a blanket or a toy except it's just sad. I'm amazed that you haven't disappeared, I'm amazed you haven't said what's wrong because I know it's coming.

People I love in my life leave me, so it's so hard to let go.

Follow me. Don't follow me, too dangerous, stand clear, stay back! I'm a whirlwind of bad excuses and false hopes, no presents, no showers, no love affairs for lack of commitment. I want someone to hold me -- you to hold me, him, her, they, it, whatever -- and tell me it's okay to be fucked up. I can't convince myself because I can barely hold on as it is. I'm going insane. I think sunsets are lame and nights and days are both overrated. I hurt my life and my imaginary love and my imaginary hiding places. I wonder if anyone reads this, like I read other blogs, anxiously waiting for more inspiration and more heartache. "nobody likes me, maybe if I cry" She describes it all too well.

Too sick to eat, too sick of myself to be awake, too afraid to sleep. I don't notice cars. I don't notice street signs. Letters swerve and disappear. I am the cure, I am the curse. I am the queen of being vague and a bitch to boot. goodbye in so many languages just to throw you off. You'll never catch me, I'm far too unnoticeable.

so sorry that i refuse to apologize

but of course!

Here I am crying over something that's a stupid teenage thing but here's what's happening.

I am getting out of the house and not doing what I should because I can't concentrate on it because I'm going fucking batshit insane. I'm hearing things on a loop on repeat when they're not there, PEOPLE ARE FUCKING TALKING IN MY HEAD THAT AREN'T ME. I'm seeing things that aren't there and I'm imagining myself dead and my friends dead and things in ruins and having horrible dreams and how the fuck am I supposed to let you know that without you committing me or coddling me or losing trust in me or anything I don't want or need? I need to be alone. I need to die, I need to do something to escape this bullshit that is called my life.

I'm going crazy and you won't believe me. No one will. I just want to die right now. I can't pull any sort of card and I don't know. I feel like my blog is my best friend at this point because it can't have a fucking opinion and it can't yell at me, or make me feel small and useless, or make me want to destroy myself from the inside out. Fuck it fuck it all I hate this and I hate you and I hate hate hate hate hate hate all of it.

fucking faggot

fuck you and your career and all your useless things

ps this is a letter to myself.

i know it's wrong, but i want some sort of horrid disorder

I have something to blame for all my fucking problems, my zoning out, my most of me.

-why I wake up with all the bruises and cuts that I can't explain or even begin to understand where they come from.
-why I hear voices in my head and aloud and I feel hands on me when I'm completely alone.
-why I feel something else take over me when I'm angry, another person almost, and I can't explain why I just said that or I just fucked up your perfectly arranged things.
-my hatred for everything and my other worlds.
-the fact that I feel so much pain from some stupid little thing for hours after the fact.

it's all closing in. I hate it i hate it.

rr again

and hours and hours and hours

you're still not done, he said, and left with a wink.

There are so many people that I wish I knew, that I wish I could talk to and tell my secrets. They're so big, they're so successful, and I want so badly to be in that circle so I'm validated somehow. Always a dreamer, a quitter, a lover (but no, no) and a fighter for a stupid cause.

i am the kill, you see

and I delayed everything I did always, even now

It's so much easier to do this than to take the time. I'm bound to my technology, the breath of machines, the breath of disease as well, always just the right words or I freak out

"leave her alone, it's not that bad" until it gets worse, you fucking bitch

Maybe I'm just wrong, maybe no one is (use me holly, come on and use me, though I didn't even write this line) You know me best, after all, now don't you with all the condescensions necessary and I don't even know if that's the right term! fuck it! fuck you, stupid whore! (My maturity is striking) i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you.

nothing is funny because everything is, and don't decipher this because you're wrong already.

and i shouldn't feel

as though it were breaking really
because it's not, because my corrections are merely reflections of my transgressions. the dull sound at the end, the anti-din, the zone where I sleep too late and eat too much.

it's funny how fast I'm falling and how I still can't let you go, let it go, let go. I want to affect someone so badly, just to make a difference in someone's life, have them think about me nonstop for a change. maybe i want him to fall off the face of the planet and for her to love me again. maybe i want a lot of things I can't have.

I want someone who can be there for me, someone who will slap me and tell me I'm wrong and tell me to stop martyring myself, and then to kiss me better. Or hug me better. Or simply be patient with me, because I'm all sorts of fucked up and I get nervous just thinking about someone loving me that way, like that, like all of that. A bundle of conflicting emotions, in a satchel or a handkerchief.

and I feel like one of those rock stars who uses their blog to write cryptic messages. I idly wonder if anyone reads this from time to time. and then I realize it doesn't matter who reads this, they can't say a thing. they can just be affected.

that alone is reassuring, at least.

this is a place for my deeper thoughts, but...

RULE 34 HAS JUST RUINED MY CHILDHOOD.

ruins

i had felt you

better by my design, by design, screen, desire

forceps, concepts, made up words and misprints

"boy has fears of a child" I don't want to grow up I swear it

and I can't deny you everything anymore.

much love, much love, squalor and all the rest.

progress

January bit me baby-gentle and still left a mark,
an imprinted arch, easy like the sun.
it was the best blur:
(field trees sidewalk school home home school you you you)
and I couldn't have wished for anything better
if you sold my dreams and pocketed the rest, it was fine.
teenaged and irrelevant, the girls laughed
as they cradled the world in their painted hands and jewels.
It was there that I wanted to evoke some form of tragedy,
to be still, to stand with limbs jutting into awkward angles,
wearing the white dress you loved on me,
dusted with blues that would make you shudder like no other.
charmed, I was so sure of that, impassioned by how you moved
my conversations were rehearsal on the streets at night
wild and alone, with moonbeams for eyes
and bones beneath taut skin
I spoke such pretty words, made all the right moves
and still could not get you to look at me.
The cat scratches on my hands chased one another, not making it.
As I prayed you weren't in love,
it was as though I had passed through time by mistake, still a child
broken and crazy I didn't belong

I was too medicated to feel your grip --
or maybe I felt it and I just didn't care, like with everything else,
words slipping like water through my stubby cracked fingers
postmortem depression, I supposed, with the melodrama to match
the flowers floated on air and flew away, with hints of tar and lace
and I smiled for lack of any appropriate reaction
otherwise I would have cried, I really would have, honest
leaning against the cardboard artwork I wanted to destroy
grimy and decayed because I didn't want to be noticed anymore,
and it was a time when I just didn't want to wake up anymore
and I wouldn't miss the sunlight, and I wouldn't miss the rain
those things held so dear in single numbers, small teeth and all
I listened to synthetic music and felt the same,
and I finally felt your grip, and the prepositions and connecting words
it all made sense somehow, through the worn away haze, unappreciated
"there is no finality as there is no certainty. there is no finality as there is no certainty."
and I was still killed by the oncoming car
and I was still killed by the onslaught of pills
and I was still killed by assumption
and I was still killed
I hoped you slept well that night, up till all hours, still wide eyed and plagued
I ignored the sunrise, like I always do, flattering by reflecting its acceptance
as I waited for you to let me go and watched you leave without a look back

"your anxiety is endearing, but really love, get a grip"

I am jittery like always, thoughts racing, head pounding.

miss that, miss that, miss that, miss you, miss us.

fuck, and that's all I feel.

we are useless words, the word "useless" popping up everywhere, and unashamed and proud and all that. and i'm freaking out and i want to cry, I want to scream I want to do all those things I see in books in magazines in love and lovers of it. my ideas of humanity are off and that's fine by me just as long as you keep it down

"maybe yr just like me
maybe noone is" (wentz from wherever)

and it rings true after all because i can only quote things I didn't do but make sense, it makes sense, it all makes sense in the end.

and it never goes, never ever until i die, which at this rate is not far off

save me