I will never find a place where I am happy.
I get tired too easily but won't ever sleep.
Comfort isn't something that I am ready for again, I've spent too many nights being uncomfortable that discomfort is now my safe place.
Get me out of here.
Now playing: Merchant Ships - For Cameron
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Sometimes I feel that
Saturday, August 27, 2011
I wish
that there was a way for me to put myself in your dreams.
That way I can tell you that I miss you, even when you are asleep and we can't talk.
Friday, August 5, 2011
I am a ghost
and if it were to be told where I've been, you'd find yourself surprised.
I hide myself well.
I make it seem that I was never there.
Because I am most often a secret.
Now Playing: Caesura - Helios
Thursday, July 28, 2011
I am comfortable
with where I sit at this moment.
Confusing the lightning bugs with the stars.
Looking up from my place in the grass.
I feel you with me.
Your voice in the crickets' chirp.
I am alright.
Now Playing: Parrot Flies - Algernon Cadwallader.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Sleep, for me
is like the most elusive creature, something spoken of but never captured. A man possesses a grainy 35mm film strip of sleep and experts study it day and night questioning its validity.
I don't think it's real, but I want to believe in it.
There are four walls. There are two doors, two windows, two mirrors. One mattress resides in the room, on the floor in the corner. There are no curtains, there are no shelves, there is no comfort. You can't see the floor, there are too many clothes without homes. If you could, you would see years of stains, burns, and rips. The walls look weary, there are holes left from fists and feet, the door frame is a death trap from a time when I was young, I locked myself in and my father broke through. The electrical socket is pulled from the wall, a reminder that loud music was not accepted.
I never did get around to fixing things.
Maybe I leave them though, as a reminder of the past. I can look at them and remember the days before I gave up, before I lost hope, when I wanted to be different and prove something. I could tire myself out fighting for a purpose, exhaust myself with tears and swinging fists, weaken my voice with screams of defiance, and eventually, I would sleep.
The more I've grown, the more of myself I've lost. I understand that I don't sleep because I'm already asleep. I'm in a perpetual state of unconsciousness and apathy that lives like a giant fog surrounding me. From inside it seems unbreakable, almost inescapable, but it will lift someday. I will find my way out.
Now playing: Elliott Smith - Roman Candle
Sunday, March 13, 2011
It has been
far too long since I've written anything.
But this week has been nothing but awful, and I can't feel anything anymore.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
I would wake up
in the pouring rain every day for the rest of my life if just to bring you back.
I wasn't ready for this.
To everyone who said God took you and that was okay, then fuck them. I needed you more than he ever will.
I owe you for more things than anyone could count.
I wanted to repay you, I swore I'd be something and come back to take care of you.
For the last three days I've been screaming "fuck you" at the sky, sobbing into the grass, throwing fits and tantrums like the baby I feel that I am without you.
I hate every single person at that funeral home who wasn't on the floor in a heap with me.
Preacher man says, "This is just a test from God, Samantha." Yeah? Well fuck you, I'd repeat the second grade as long as I live if it meant I got to have her with me.
People talk about the day they found God, I'll talk about the day I lost faith in everything.
Now Playing; Hospice - The Antlers
This place
is godless, ghost infested. It's a fucking devil town if I've ever seen one. The people here walk around as if sunlight means nothing to them, like they don't believe in it, like they don't understand that without it they wouldn't exist. It's the most basic form being taken for granted, and if they cannot appreciate this, then they cannot appreciate anything. Yet they can treat some other being as their sun. A revolution of their emotion around something so unstable as another's emotion. But we do not see the sun. "Your heart is what makes mine beat," what a sick and terrifying proposition that we have put forth here. That does not exist, love does not exist for every reason that humanity does not exist. Ask people why they are alive and you will find a multitude of pseudo-meaningful excuses, every one of which at their core are based in water all of three inches deep. We are all so fucking shallow. We are shells of what was intended and then lost when the sun was forgotten.
Now Playing: Makers - Rocky Votolato
Monday, February 21, 2011
Almost a week
has gone by since I wrote anything.
This post is mostly just blog for blog's sake.
To reassure you I am alive.
Now Playing: The King of Limbs - Radiohead
Monday, February 14, 2011
It is February
fourteenth, and nothing more.
By nothing more, I mean nothing of importance for me at least.
For the last two February fourteenths of my life, I have had someone to spend it with. This year, I don't, and I feel liberated. In fact, I'm quite happy about where I am.
I spent the last two with a boy and Ben Folds, who had conveniently scheduled shows within days of the fourteenth both years.
While those were two of the best days of my life, I'm still quietly okay with being in my room, kept company by a few cigarettes and some iced tea.
I'm alright.
My future is not in jeopardy because of one lonely day.
For clarification, I'm not that lonely.
There is a boy though.
That small amount of me that can still feel things isn't expecting anything, but I caught myself wondering today, whether I would get anything.
I won't.
That's alright.
As time passes I am more and more certain that he cares for me, but as my best friend said, I'm still in denial and I still feel like it's too good to be true.
I adore him. I have for a while.
I enjoy looking forward to seeing him again, and even though I don't like being so far from him, I feel it makes things better.
He'll be with me in a matter of days, and I am happy.
So even if I don't have someone to kiss this year, at least I have someone to miss.
I'm alright.
Now Playing: The Earth Sings Mi Fa Mi - The Receiving End of Sirens
Friday, February 11, 2011
I will continue
chain smoking because it makes me feel better about where I am in the world.
For these few moments, I am alone in a cloud of smoke and smell and I am comfortable.
I am quiet and the world is quiet.
There is a feel between my fingertips and on my lips that I know.
It is a feel that occupies my hands and mouth and it is not your feel, and I am better.
I would smoke this cigarette forever if I was sure that it would stop the sense of your skin on mine, allowing me freedom from that ghostly reminder of your being.
This used to be the feeling to calm me when you could not, and now it is my escape from you.
The cold February has rendered fingers senseless now, and if I have not thanked winter for anything, I will thank it for this.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
A little farther
away from here
the sound gets quieter.
There's not a lot that we can still force out of our mouths.
It's more silence than anything else.
The ghost hands that we all remember still play a few chords here and there,
the noises still coming from the piano in the corner.
They're all in a minor key.
None of us can be happy where we are.
It's an overwhelming feeling of loss for all of us.
Fight, break, heal, break, and fight until we're nothing.
We lay on the floor near each other and stare into the ceiling lights.
We can't even begin to touch.
The hands that used to be magnets for each other are now full of static electricity.
This scene is full of old grays and washed out colors.
Like we got a bad developer who doesn't really know film.
He pulled the darkroom curtain back one too many times,
these pictures aren't the real thing.
Now playing: Happy Songs for Happy People - Mogwai
Saturday, February 5, 2011
It's enough
to make you give up, she says.
I know, it shows.
I'm in the strangest mood today.
I want to give up on everything. I don't want to lose you, but I want you to be gone.
Not gone from me, but Eternal Sunshine gone.
I don't want to have ever known you.
None of this works. Love is nothing like it should be.
Sad days, sad nights, missing the best times of everything.
Nothing works out in the end, it won't be okay.
Now Playing: Sounds of Salvation, Cassino
Friday, February 4, 2011
Whoever you
talk to in your sleep ties your hands and your feet
and you wake up like a pig awaiting slaughter.
These same people you know, they know more than I do.
They can show you your unborn daughter.
You see her face every night and every day is a struggle, staring hard at faces around you.
Trying to put shit together, does she have the nose or the eyes
of the girl two people ahead of you in line.
I wrote this and I fucking hate it. I'm going to post it anyway.
What a strange night.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Oh, here
we fucking go.
There is apparently nothing that can stop me from thinking about you.
I can lay with everyone else, but yours is the only chest I can fall asleep on.
I don't want to be so far away.
I don't want to be so attached.
But I am.
I fall in love far too quickly, I am reminded why I don't do this.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
There is not much
time that passes without a thought of something bigger. I don't want to let you go, for you to be the one that would get away would tear me to pieces. There are attempts made to fill the void, but I can be sure now that it is not working. I will lay with him and imagine you, hoping that his body would dissipate and only your frame would be left in that place. I just sit and watch that man sleep, entirely emotionless. When you sleep though, I feel more things than one human mind can take. You have grown into me, and I can not sever my own person. This is my fucking diary for the world to read. I keep it for reasons that I don't understand. I am an open door, please come in.
Oh dear lord,
she lies.
She makes up stories about her life, thinks of what she wishes it was, and tells people that it is just that.
She knows she's not interesting enough to be anyone.
Some days she lives alone, most days she comes from money.
Pretend, pretend.
She's been to Europe three times.
She's never seen anything farther than Chicago.
She eats caviar in the first class section of an Air Australia flight.
She's a vegetarian who lives on steamed soy beans.
She knows exactly what she's talking about.
But really, she has no clue.
Now Playing: Here, Hear II - La Dispute
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Think about this
for just a second.
Real eyes
realize
real lies.
I love words, I love thoughts, I love thoughtful words.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
I fall asleep
alone every single night of my life and I'm tired of it.
Where did we get off track? I live in a fucking devil town.
Now Playing: Noise Floor, Bright Eyes
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Fuck the sun.
We're tossed into the sea.
I'd rather live in days too dark than see you again.
I would be the one you'd never lay next to.So quietly.Our dreams are lost and beautiful.Miles from anywhere we can distinguish.How many necks will you break to get back home?"Enough," you said.This is where I walk away, tell youThings will be brighter someday. Scream it at the waves and do your fucking best.Tell the tide to stop its selfish changing so the moon can take a rest.We are glass children, lit to shine.Smart in the mouths but dull in our minds.I already posted this once. But there is more to it now.
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