So This Is Friendship

You should come drink champagne and whiskey with me.

Where?

My place. Come in your pj's. We'll get buzzed and watch daytime television.

Gimme an hour.

Forget What You'll Never Remember

Lalalala.

There are things a person shouldn't do.

I've done them.

No regrets, right?

You have no idea.

I've never felt more alive.

I'm sorry, baby, please don't hate me.

Zepellin The Christmas Rat

I'm getting a pet rat today. She's black and adorable and I'm gonna name her Zepellin. Which i think is the cutest rat name ever. Maybe I'll get her a harness and take her for walks. I'm not sure yet.

I'm currently fitting back into a pair of jeans from eighth grade. And they look better now than they did then. This event pleases me in about four different ways.

But, back to Zepellin. I'm really excited, cause for a really long time now I've wanted something to take care of all on my own, something that was completely dependent on me. And, no, boyfriends don't count. Hahaha. So I'm getting this little creature that will depend solely on me. And possibly ride around on my shoulder. I'm so okay with this.

Christmas is like two days away. Two days! I love Christmas. I love all holidays. They offer you a chance to be something you don't get to be the rest of the year. Like, at Halloween you get to feel like a kid again, dress up like someone (or something) you're not and eat a ton of candy. At Christmas you get to have your house covered in wrapping paper, your bank account exhausted and your dress size go up. All totally worth it.

My dog Cosmo is a boxer-great dane mix. He's huge. His head is twice the size of my new little pet. I hope he likes her. And doesn't eat her. Other rat owners compare the experience to that of owning a very small dog. We'll see.

Hyperventilation

This is so bad. I can't breathe at all. I can't. I can't even think straight. I can't do this.

Begging For Another Chance At It All

I miss that family so much. I miss dodgeball. I miss the youth musical. The old days, when me, Cara, Abby, Laura and matt Claney were the only kids from our grade that went. Sitting in Tim Hunt's basement every Thursday night with Tim, Mark, Jeff Morris, Bryan, and sometimes one or two others, and then, later, in the corner of the L couch every Tuesday night with fifteen, twenty, twenty-five people. Surrounded by a group I trusted completely. People who knew more about me than I did. I miss walking into the building and having eight different friends run toward me, arms outstretched, wanting a hug and to hear/tell the latest. Holding a friend, sobbing into their hair and them not minding. Mostly because they were sobbing onto my shirt. Playing piano and singing with Kayla. Taking dumb pictures with Katie and the awkward way we hugged because we're the same height. Topics class, the lock in, ASP, Guitar Hero, handprints, graffiti boards, holding hands, under the stairs confession sessions, stretching my arms out, up to the sky, singing my heart out, my soul about burst. He is jealous for me. He loves like a hurricane, I am a tree, bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy. Mark playing Jason Mraz songs, Mark teaching me how to look into the emotion of the Truth, Mark with his t-shirts and jeans and converse and Bible and guitar. Singing on the worship team. Skipping Sunday school but attending youth group devotedly. And I'll stand with arms high and heart abandoned in awe of the one who gave it all. I'll stand, my soul, Lord, to you surrendered. All I am is yours. Sitting in the choir room, causing a ruckus for Bill, then Jean. I like to think they loved us anyway. Skipping youth once or twice, cause someone just needs to talk. That morning that Bree pulled me out of church to go vent in Mark's office. Sneaking back into the church at 11pm with PM, Cara, Seth, Christian and Kaitlin to cover the floor in verses. Kaitlin brought caffeinated beverages. Dance parties, King's Fest, Bryan Joseph, Bethany, Courtney, Jen, Alex, Matt, Cate, Laura, Lorris, Abby, Zaq, Claneys, Ande, Tim, Bree, Amber, Chelsea, Alec, Katie, Theresa, Katti, Natalie, Ange everybody who was a constant part of my life. Everyone that i haven't seen or talked to in months. CrabCrabCrab. That musical where we got Bill to dress up like a sheep. Every retreat we ever had and the absolutely stunning memories that I have from them. Running through the aisles at the concert, a chain of hundreds. Prayer labyrinths. And realising that God might just have a Southern accent. Broken Yoke, Harlend, Through A Glass, Casting Crowns (Katie Brown, do you remember that summer we spent listening to Casting Crowns and decorating the graffiti boards?), Hawk Nelson, Third Day, Family Force Five, Relient K, David Crowder, TobyMac. I miss it all.

To Hide

We all hold on to "you love me, don't you?" desperations

in a nation where mediocrity's accepted

and insanity's rejected,

where women are weak and men are pathetic.

Put up your mask and never forget it

until it falls away and breaks down,

have a mental breakdown.

Stupidity is over now and cliches finally get drowned
in tears of mourning for our fate,

tears of fear and tears of hate.

It's all irrelevant, you see,

until you find out what makes them

me.

I Want To Be Your Goodnight.

There are days

when the only thing I want in the world

is to get through it

and still be holding your hand

when we're standing on the doorstep

and it's time to say goodnight.

A Timeline of the Fargone

8.42 pm Talked to Mike. He told me he'd text me when he got up so that I could get up to study.

8.53 pm Went to bed.

12.00 am Woke up to three texts from my drunk dad asking me why I wasn't home.

12.28 am Upon realising that I was home, he came in and threw a styrofoam container of pizza at me.

12.32 am Got up to drink half a carton of orange juice.

12.40 am Went back to bed.

8.36 am Mike texted me to wake me up.

11.24 am I woke up.

11.33 am I have five essays to write today and can't remember my password to get to the assignments on the website.

11.45 am Waiting for password to come through my e-mail

11.52 am Figured I'd do something productive in mean time. Blog, apparently.

12.32 pm Had to get my dad's car from the bar and drove halfway to Latrobe before realising I needed to be in Greensburg.

1.02 pm Still waiting for that password...

It's nights like last night that make nothing feel like a whole lotta something.

End Over End

Dreams are capturing my interest lately. I'm doing a project on them for my psychology class. AndI'mlearningthings.

Only 15% of the population dreams in color.

Dreams about sexual encounters are more likely to represent an area of your life that you're very invested in, rather than a person you're sexually interested in. For example: a sex dream about Evgeni Malkin most likely represents an extreme love and investment in hockey. There are, of course, exceptions to every rule...

Dreams involving nudity most likely mean that you feel vulnerable in that area of your life.

Dreams involving being chased often mean you're feeling guilty about something, while one where you're chasing something means that there's a certain goal you're trying to reach in some area of your life.

There are two theories of dreams. One is the Freudian theory which assumes that dreams are an individual's subconscious' way of trying to tell the conscious self an important piece of information. The other states that dreams are the mind's way of processing the events and

information that it experienced during the day.

Which do you believe?

Do you dream in colour? I do, usually, but sometimes I get a black and white or sepia one.

Do you remember your dreams? And, if so, what's the weirdest dream you've ever had?

I've started keeping track of mine on a second blog called Fractured/Subconscious at http://www.fracturedsubconscious.blogspot.com/

Consciously telling yourself that you'll remember your dreams before you go to bed actually increases your chances of remembering them.

The average person spends about six years of their lifetime dreaming. That's over 2100 days spent in a different world.

Blind people do dream. Whether visual images will appear in their dream depends on whether they where blind at birth or became blind later in life. But vision is not the only sense that constitutes a dream. Sounds, tactility, and smell become hypersensitive for the blind and their dreams are based on these senses.

Five minutes after the end of the dream, half the content is forgotten. After ten minutes, 90% is lost.

The word dream stems from the Middle English word, 'dreme' which means "joy" and "music".

Men tend to dream more about other men, while women dream equally about men and women.

Studies have shown that our brain waves are more active when we are dreaming than when we are awake.

Physiologically speaking, researchers found that during dreaming REM sleep, males experience erections and females experience increased vaginal blood flow - no matter what the content of the dream. In fact, "wet dreams" may not necessarily coincide with overtly sexual dream content.

People who are giving up smoking have longer and more intense dreams.

Toddlers do not dream about themselves. They don't appear in their own dreams until the age of 3 or 4.

A person cannot snore and dream at the same time.

Synesthetic Synthesizer

The double bass

this double bass

is pounding, thudding,

buddinginmymind.

And I need it,

and i need you,

you to

push through

my denial

into thatbestembrace.

Moving, moving together,

apart,together,apart.

And that double bass.

The push, the pull,

you can't stop,

but it's okay, because I can't get enough.

Waves and chills and shakes and trembles and fortes and pianos and this and that and you and me and give and take and more moremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremore moremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoreOH MY GOD.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

again?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

do you have to ask?

The bass line resumes.

It shivers its way through me.

Like your words,your thoughts,your movements.

Like you.

Do This With Me?

I had a fortune cookie today.

The little scroll of paper

said simply:

Don't panic.

Impression

This morning I woke up wrapped tightly in my blanket
and freezing cold.
I instinctively looked to see
which way I should roll
to get back to you.
Imagine my surprise then,
when I found you weren't there.
I snuggled into the impression
you left in my sheets,
closed my eyes,
and drifted back to you.

The First Step

Are you gonna be okay, honey?

I don't know, Sam, but I'm smiling.

I hear that's the first step.

Its a nice first step.

Seeing Isn't Always Believing

I'm remembering my dreams more lately.

Sometimes in the usual

"I had such a weird dream last night"

way.

But more often

something during my day

sparks a feeling of recognition.

I've seen this?

I did something like this?

And I know

that I've dreamed it.

Perhaps the night before

or two weeks ago

This strange remembering of mine

confuses me at times.

Because I swear I've seen that look in your eyes,

that hopeful quirk of your smile,

the flattering, sweet chivalry in your words.

But I swear it was someone else before.

You Show Your Pain Like It Really Hurts

And I can't even begin to feel mine.

Hello there, little one.

Can I just tell you that I'm sorry?

So very sorry.

I'm sorry that you never got to see this world,

so bright, so alive, so colorful, wonderful, fresh-air-beautiful,

and I'm sorry that the last thing you knew was

nothing but impact.

You probably were lovely.

You probably were beautiful.

You probably had your daddy's blue eyes

and your momma's fire-engine-red spirit.

Are things like "spirit" already encoded

in beings at your stage of development?

We couldn't have given you much,

and things would have gotten very dificult

in a lot of ways,

but we could have loved you.

Or at least loved you enough to make sure

you'd always be loved by someone.

We gambled,

we lost.

But we might have won, in a way.

You probably were smart.

You probably would've had great taste in music.

You probably would have had a best friend

and fantastic hair.

Big, curly, blonde hair.

And a smile that could light up a city.

We love you

even when you're not here anymore.

When worlds collided

in a cosmic crash.

And in the dark, smoky settling

of the glass and debris

you were lost.

Could I just be you tonight?

Up Up And Away

i think it turned ten o'clock but i don't really know
then i can't remember caring for an hour or so
started crying and i couldn't stop myself
i started running but there's no where to run to
i sat down on the street and took a look at myself
said where you going man you know the world is headed for hell
say your goodbyes if you've got someone you can say goodbye to

i believe the world is burning to the ground
oh well i guess we're gonna find out
let's see how far we've come

How long till we're confronted
with how far we've come?

This is more than a story of
The end of the world.
It's a story of hanging on,
of being terrified,
and then

letting go.

Because letting go is the only way to move forward.

It's a story of people whose loved ones
have died.

Of love that's broken up.

Of kids whose best friends have
gone to college,

the army,

across the country,

out of our lives.

And all of these things
are the end of the world
for someone.
The end of one
specific
someone's world.

And they've gotta pick up.
And they've gotta move on.
And they've gotta find out
just how far they've come.

Impact.

yes, i believe in love,

yes, i'm a dreamer.

but i'm not alone.

there are more of us than you suspect,

and we've got bombs.

bombs of truth and beauty.

Living On Hold.

there's more to this story.

but i don't feel like telling it right now.

HIATUS.

new subject.

Eff it. Nuke it. Start over.

Life In The Living Room III

The concert.

It was in Cleveland.

Three hours there, three hours back.

45 dollars for ticket and gas that I'll never see again.

All totally worth it.

I fell in love

with music I'd barely given a passing glance.

I made friends

and played the "A, my name is Amy" game

with the people near us in line.

I stood up against the stage, right in the deathwall

and got touched by the lead singer.

Who didn't have pants.

I stumbled out of that place

bruised from my face to my feet,

dehydrated, soaked with sweat, exhausted,

and so so so so happy.

Alive.

Life In The Living Room II

It started with a decision to say Yes.

A friend and I were hanging out.

It was about seven and we were in Greensburg

when he asked "Wanna go make our mono-ridden friend soup?"

Our mono-ridden friend lives in Latrobe, so by the time we would get there,

make soup, socialize and get back it would be late-ish.

I started to say no, like the responsible adult type thing I am,

then thought

"Why not?"

(famous last words?)
(or famous first words?)

We went, listened to loud music and on the way there
stopped in a parking lot to dance.
I so easily could have missed the entire thing.
So when he asked if I would go to a concert with him the following week,
I said

yes.

Life In the Living Room.

I feel like I'm seeing things again.

Not that my life has been bad lately.

It's been quite copacetic.

Mike and I are rather happy, school is going well, my job's a breeze, family's been chill, I'm making new friends and reconnecting with old ones.

Yeah, life is good.

But I haven't been living. Just existing.

Existing well, but still.

There's more.

Philosophy At Its Finest

"If a tree falls in the middle of the woods, and there are six stoners there to hear it, does it make a noise?"

"It'd better, 'cause I just heard something."

The Little Boy Who'd Argue With A Tree

its a blue october day. i have music boiling inside of my veins. i have art clouding my thoughts. i have creativity waiting to explode out of me in every direction and i'm not sure how to channel it at the moment. i could draw, but i feel like that wouldn't be powerful enough. i don't have the words to write it out. i wish i was a better piano player. i wish i had an audience that i could get up in front of with a microphone. i haven't sung in public in a long time. i don't think i ever realized how much i depended on that rush. its not the attention. its the feeling that your voice is buildingbuildingbuilding from your core, down to your toes and in one huge wave, is suddenly washing through your entire body and out into the room. there's only one feeling i've ever experienced that would be comparable to it, but we shan't go there. i want to sing on a stage again. or with a band again. then again, today i think i'll settle for curling up on a couch with a good friend, listening to good music, writing decent half-songs and watching decent half-movies. it's that kind of blue october day.

Six On One. Half Dozen On The Other.

Don't think of it as

unraveling.

Think of it as

untangling.

I'll Stand.

It's a beautiful day outside.Blue skies.Fall breeze.Green,red,orange,brown leaves.

I'm gonna go driving. No destination. I'll be back Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday Sunday Monday.

Burn candles. Dream. Hold.

Hold me, hold her or him or whoever it is you've pledged to hold.
I'm kind of battling with myself anymore. Determined to not be a hypocrite (that which I detest so much) I pulled away, unwilling to give up what I had found in him. But now I'm not so sure. I still don't want to give up what I've found, but I miss the guidance and purpose that place used to give me. Can I have both? Do I have to give up one for the other? I know the answer is yes. I can't full-heartedly put my soul into both.
I only have one soul.
I don't want to waste it.

Live Harder

you'd think the death of someone in my life
would make me want to hide
or be careful.
or at least feel a little less invincible.
if you thought this, you'd be wrong.
YOU'RE ALL WRONG
it makes me
it makes me want to drive 70 miles per hour
down back farm roads,
listening to bad pop music
and great rock music
with no discretion.
peripheral death makes me reckless.
it makes me.

Finally Morally Devastating

I'm listening to really sappy music, talking to a friend about dealing with death and I just finished The Reader, which ended up being the first book to make me cry in a long time. I started it this morning and, between classes and free time after school I finished it. I couldn't bear to put it down and when I had finished, I closed it with a sense of...closure, I suppose. Imagine that. I walked away from it stunned, and with a new perspective on love, ethics, innocence, desire, history, decisions, coping and reading itself. It's been a while since I found a book like this. They come through a person's life so rarely, so that when one does, I cling to it with all my soul. One of those books that you know will stick with you long after you've read it. The kind that, on a rainy day that's perfect for reading, when you don't quite have the drive to start a new book, you can always pick back up and jump back into.

My favorite kind.

Last Wish

I'm dying. Please wear your sexy jeans to my funeral.

Self Destruct. Now.

feeling like a bad personnever meant to hurt youthought we were okay, apparently notcan't we just go back?i miss the friends we wereplease don't hate mei'll never forget youi'm sorry that i loved you.

New Favorite Photographer

Max Wanger is my new favorite photographer. His photos are stunning. Especially his portraits and things. You should all check him out.

Now.

here-> http://www.maxwanger.com/

or here-> http://www.maxwangerblog.com/

I'm The Kinda Guy Who Laughs At Funerals

I work at Greensburg Country Club in the banquet department. I'm basically a fancy waitress who doesn't get tips. And who has to wear a silly tuxedo vest. One time a man told me that I was "such a good little penguin." Also, all of us girls on staff seem to get hit on a lot. Whether this is a by-product of our uniforms or alcohol consumption, I have no idea. But I don't understand it, because, as I told a good friend the other day, it's not like we're scantily clad Hooters girls with our bazoomas all akimbo and there for the taking. We're tired, harassed, food-smeared girls in tuxedo shirts and vests. But I digress.

We do a lot of weddings at the Club. Like, every weekend. And every single time the new couple goes to the dancefloor for their first dance, I cry like a little girl. It s different couple every weekend, different wedding colors, different "how we got together" story, different dress, different song, but its the same every time. Every time, the bride looks up at her new husband, so sure that this is the man who will be wrapping his arms around her for the rest of her life; who will be taking care of her, comforting her, laughing with her, crying with her for as long as she lives. And every time the groom looks down at his new wife with the love and assurances of a thousand lifetimes, knowing that this is the woman he wants standing next to him for the rest of his life.

And every time their song starts to play, even though I don't know the stories behind those songs, I know that it means something to them. It was playing in the restaraunt on their first date, or every time they turned on the radio it seemed to come on, or it played after the first time they told each other how much they loved each other, or it just describes them so well that it means the world to them. And I cry.

Last night I went to Mike's cousin's wedding. I had never met the happy couple before in my life, but, as usual, when they started swaying to their song of choice, the tears started flowing. Mike laughed at me, but not before I saw him swipe a hand over his own eyes. We were holding hands and looked at each other. and it felt like we got caught in each other's eyes; like we couldn't look away. It was lovely, and I cried more. Cause that's what I do at weddings, apparently. It was a beautiful moment, and I think his mom got a picture of it. Hahah.

I don't know why I'm saying all this. It isn't my usual style at all. I just...it made me happy.

By the way, the picture I used for this post is Fe and Jason, the couple whose wedding I attended last night. Aren't they adorable?

To Be Reminded Of This

Radioactivity

(Radio Activity)

isn't always

a bad thing,

you know.

I Won't Give In To The Beginning Of The End, Again

I'm starting to wonder

whether anything is special at all.

Or is this whole thing

just a repetition of your past?

A self-fulfilling prophesy

that we've been weaving here,

between us.

Take away the sensation inside.

It's literally making me sick.

I can't breathe right.

I'm nauseous.

It's like a throbbing toothache of the mind.

I'm tired.

I just want someone to tell me

that its all gonna work itself out.

I just want someone to tell me

that I'm beautiful, that you love me,

that it'll never fall apart.

I just want someone to give me

a long kiss goodnight

and tell me

everything'll be all right,

tell me that I won't feel a thing,

And Give Me Novacaine

28

It's gonna sound rather silly,

and more than a little vain,

but sometimes I'm afraid

that it might be me you're talking about.

Funny thing is,

I'd be glad if you told me it wasn't about me.

I spend so much time wishing

I could be better for you.

Or something.

But I'm happy the way I am.

I just wish you could be, too

Kayla

When I think of

The Fabulous

MissLyla...
I think of ladybugs, and pandas,

4 am viewings of trippy movies and late night confession sessions.

I think of Rocky Horror and RENT,

and sketches and how he came over on Wednesday.

I think of playing dress-up in my closet and Beerfest

White pianos and dark red roses.

I think of how much I miss a different time and space,

where at 6am I would race to the computer

to search for new words,

and every Sunday was a dedication to

the most beautiful girl I know.

In every way.

I think of books, and poems, and stories,

and ramblings....

wordswordswordswordswordswordswords.

I believe that

The Fabulous MissLyla

may be made up entirely of words, actually.

Her words are stunning.

Have you heard them?

Have you seen the images she weaves so deftly,

using naught but the language

living and breathing inside of her,

poised for its release upon the world?

You should.

A splendid time is guaranteed for all who read

the words of

The Fabulous MissLyla.

She'll leave you breathless.

Miguelito

Mike and I aren't perfect.

(We get angry. We snap. We fight. We cry.)

But we're perfect in our imperfection.

(We're sorry. We apologize. We forgive. We make up.)

He's my best friend.

(That's why we work so well, I think.)

He was my best friend before he was anything else.

(He's still my best friend before anything else.)

We're rather different in a lot of ways.

(But where with other people differences would clash,

our differences compliment.)

What I lack, he makes up for.

(And vice versa.)

Even if we don't stay Together,

I'll never love him any less.

Just differently, I suppose.

I don't like thinking about that, though.

We're happpy together.

Why plan for anything else?

Ande

AndeAndeAndeAndeAndeAndeAnde.

Ande.

I'm sorry, my dear.

I know I've dropped off the face of the Earth.

And I miss you

sososososososososososososososo

very much.

I'm back, though, yes?

yes.

You write beautifully.

Sometimes I wish you would be less cryptic when you write.

Sometimes I want to know exactly what's going on in your head.

I always see you smiling.

Do you ever cry?

What makes you cry?

And what makes you feel better?

How do you keep your chin up?

What inspires you?

What disappoints you?

What is reality to you?

What do you think of me?

If you could be an animal, what would you be?

These are things I wonder when I think of you.

You make me think

BIG THOUGHTS.

Little Miss Kate

I wish...

I wish I could make things easier for you.

Everytime I give you a hug

I wish I could make your world a little brighter.

You're such a strange, lovely, little creature.

Where have you been hiding my whole life?

And why?

Don't hide, please.

You have far too much to say.

And it's all far too interesting to go unsaid.

My adopted little sister, ich liebe Sie

Blaine

We're a lot alike, aren't we?

Sometimes too much alike.

Probably why we get along swimmingly much of the time

and want to kill each other the other times.

I messed up. Bad.

I'm still so sorry for that.

I'm a lot more spineless than I like to let on,

and gave you a perfect example of that.

Things are going well though.

You intrigue me.

I'd love to sit around and pick your brain.

("Pick your brain" is such a creepy phrase. I don't actually want to pick around in your brain. But you know what I mean)

Making cleavage pins, and completely meaningless goofing around, and talking about life

with you.

Its never a bad time.

I probably whine too much to you.

Sorry.

You're kinda my go-to girl.

Because Kate would be awkward as a go-to girl.

Nothing against Kate.

Just against sharing with Kate what I share with you.

Understandably, I think.

You're one of my best friends. Hope you know that.

If you didn't before, you do now, I guess.

I hope you knew it anyway, though.

A Series...

I want to do a series of posts on people that mean a lot to me. So I'm gonna. 'Tis my blog after all. Here goes...

Updates Para Mis Amigos

So. I just started posting again.

(As you may have noted.)

And I've changed a lot since I last regularly wrote.

(Four months will do that to you.)

I feel like I owe an eplanation to my dear co-bloggers.

(My dear friends)

I'm not gonna be cryptic

(or particularly poetic)

with this.

Just sharing.

In April, I moved out of my mom's house to live with my dad.

(It didn't go over well)

It was kind of out of the blue and hurt more people than I anticpated.

(But it was something I had to do)

I didn't adapt very well at first

(as MIKE can attest),

but its gotten better.

I feel like I have a home now. Like I fit in with the people I live with

(my dad, his girlfriend, CHRISTINE and her daughter, DEANNA).

We have a beautiful, retarded lab-dalmation mix puppy

(she's got one brown eye and one blue eye),

named LUNA,

a sweet little gray kitty named MERLIN,

and an adorable tortoise named TIZA.

And last night my dad called me to tell me that there

would be a new addition to the family when I got home.

We got a new puppy.

A little boxer, mutt thing that we named COSMO.

(he's got one blue eye and one brown eye)

We got him from the pound and I love him.

I miss the rest of my family a lot.

(MOMMY, DADDY, SHELBY, BUFFY, GABBY)

I'm gonna make an effort to see them more.

I really do love them.

I haven't been to church in months.

(I feel horrible about this)

But with MARK gone, and so many new people, I hardly feel connected there any more.

(I'm gonna start back up at St. Vincent's this fall.)

Anyway. I'm different than I was. Different than the person most of you know/knew.

(But hopefully not unrecognizable...)

I'm less idealistic these days.

But more optimistic.

I no longer fight with myself for world peace every day.

(It probably will never happen.)

But I can make peace in and with my own life

and hopefully help other people do the same along the way.

My Baby...

...has a habit of pressuring me into doing things that I'm not always comfortable with...

(did you finish your homework?please don't go to that party tonight.sweetheart, please don't smoke that.don't put yourself down like that, i hate it.don't let them treat you like that.)

...and I love him very much for it.

You're Already a Voice Inside My Head

Hello there, the angel from my nightmare...

the unsuspecting victim of darkness in the valley

we can live like Jack and Sally if we want...

I have no reason to love this song as much as I do. I have no reason for it to remind me of two friends of mine who I haven't even seen in months. But I do, and it does. Those lines especially. I wish they could've made it. I even think that if they'd met at a different time, they might have. But they didn't, so they broke up. It makes me sad. Sad, because I don't have a better word for it. It's a simple emotion. Not quite primal...but instinctive. Childlike. They made each other happy. And now they can't be together. Its sad.

There's always the future though.

Reconstruction

I've unburned my bridges with a lot of people.

It's such a relief.

Remind me never to play with fire again.

Don't stay away

I stuck my foot in my mouth
again.
For all my intents, I hurt anyway.
Intention is only as good
as the action that succeeds it.
I wanted to defend you,
and I tore you apart instead.
I'm so sorry.
I'm so sorry, friend.
Please.
I owned up, I apologized,
I never meant any of it to happen.
I fixed it.
I fixed the bad I caused as quickly as I brought it on.
Please don't stay away.

You're wrong, y'know. I do know what I want

DearlyBeloved

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS, BUT WHAT A SHAME
'CAUSE EVERYONE'S HEART DOESN'T BEAT THE SAME
IT'S BEATING OUT OF TIME

The Difference

The difference between alone and lonely.

Can you hear it?

It sits between my hand and yours,

my thoughts and yours,

my house and yours.

You can hear it in my voice.