These words.

Oh God,
Not this again.
Stripped from hope,
Twisted until I bend.
Hopeless romanticism,
Was never common.
The positions,
The holds,
The chains,
Grab your crown.
You've won over the dead.
This heart has never before been clenched.






I can't fucking stand thinking sometimes.
Most of the time.








Whatever this is.
I hate and love it.



And I am sure that every person will know what I'm saying.

They will all understand exactly how I am feeling.

But gosh, it's like nothing anyone has ever felt before.

It's like Clash of the Titans: Certainty vs. Uncertainty.




I wish that.

I wish that things would just fall into place, without giving me time to second guess myself.
Without time to feel unwanted.
Without time to feel abandoned.
Without time to feel threatened.




How can I constantly ask myself if I'm saying the right things?


I just feel complete ache.
So dissembled.
So disgusted.


Yet I feel beautiful.
Well kept.
Wanted.



Why is there never a balance?
This Earth is a flat disk, constantly tilting radically and I have no grip.



"I'm always wishing, I'm always wishing too late for things to go my way; it always ends up the same."




Guess how this post came to be.
You will never get it.
Never fully comprehend.

Clone.

I don't know what is causing this insomnia. Maybe it's the constant thought. Maybe it's the light. Maybe it's my ridiculous sleeping schedule as of late. Maybe it's because I'm starving. Maybe it's that latte that I drank around 8:30.


No matter what, I don't like it.

I feel like getting shit done, but I have nothing to really do that makes sense to do this late... or rather early.

I read two long chapters from a book called Without a Net. I still like none of the characters, which means that I still do not enjoy the real people, since they actually do exist. A real life story about living out of a car with three children. But at least the book is good thus far.

I wrote some random shit down for my faces collection that I'm going to work on. I'd love to actually incorporate a woman's face, but for some off reason I can never really get it down. How hard is it to draw a doll? Apparently really hard. Unless I go into huge detail, then I can just take two months and plow through a realistic portrait of someone. I'm trying to figure out which moods I would like to convey in charcoal, though. I have what I would assume to be angst, something for what I'd presume to be pride, and I have something written down for wrath. I want to do something for romance, "love," whatever you want to call it. I wrote a poem, but I am fairly shotty at love poems, so I am unaware if it is any good, or not. Maybe some of it is good, and I could just detach certain parts, and add others to make it more... my style. Instead of seeming mushy, I suppose. I am not exactly one to write something positive about romantic interaction, ha.
I do want to, though, do my drawings on different kinds of fiber. I've already done one on a regular stretched canvas, but I think that doing one on a paper bag would be awesome. Just anything that I can find, or something. Maybe a piece of wood. Maybe just a large sheet of paper.

And I'm writing about stuff that no one cares to read about.

Lately I've noticed that a song can just completely change my mood.

If I listen to something sad, I become depressed.
If I listen to something revealing, I feel open and breathing.
If I listen to something lovey dovey, I feel immersed in that "crush" feeling.

I don't know if I should just go for the ride of being able to be controlled by lyrics so easily right now, or if I should be a bit wary.
Of course music has always had an effect on my general mood, but the act has always been when I was already feeling the way the music conveyed the artists' moods and feelings.
Now music has been completely controlling the way that I feel.
It's like I am stripped of personality and self control.
But maybe this is a sign. A sign that I should not feel like I am in complete control. That I need to just "go for the ride," so to speak. Delight my life with even more spontaneity than I already do.

It has been a great break from reality.

I want my Third Eye back. Of course, we never lose it, but I mean that I physically want my microdermal back. So badly. I feel so... incomplete.

I haven't posted a blog that has completely ran on tangents in a while.

I am hoping for an extremely rad 2011.

God, I am so fucking hungry.

I watched Scott Pilgrim vs. The World tonight. Finally. That was much overdue. I absolutely loved it.

My hair grows fast. I can't wait until it starts to curl up all adorable again.

I want something really good to happen.

I think that this may be a green Christmas. Tonight felt like Spring.
And I can't wait for stuffing.

I know how I feel right now. I know everything that I need.

Mother, Can I Be Pretty Too?

I am supposed to be a cosmetic prodigy.
I am born to be the most beautiful human being that you have ever laid your eyes upon.
I must create a painted face.
I must have a raw face.
I need to make my hair noticeable.
I need to make my lips plump.
I need to have rosy cheeks and a curvy, yet slim physique.

I am supposed to be a confidentiality.
Every person wants in.
The everyday paparazzi.
The everyday rumour.
The hearsay of my life, whispered through every hall I pass down.
My life, controlled by people who do not know even my name.
My rights, ripped away from my body.

I am supposed to be an intellectual.
How I must yearn for a higher education.
I need to be placed in the corporate machine.
This is how creators are born.
This is how successful people are born.
I must step onto the conveyor belt.
This is what my family wants.
I must take my place in line for debt and embarrassment.

I am supposed to be addicted.
I am the very definition of sober-lacking.
I am the contents of which you journey.
A get away, a path to a door from problems, I am.
Problems that we do not face.
Let go.
Substance has our souls.
Like babies, we are born addicted.
I must shiver from withdrawal.
I must cringe to the knowledge of human awareness.
This is the only place that I must go.
They would never want me to stop the numbing.

I am supposed to be Christ.
I must worship.
Never must I will to go to Hell.
I cannot set my own beliefs and goals.
I cannot set my own regulations, my own commandments.
Never must I believe in anyone else.
Love can only go to the beauteous creator.
Never will my family ever come first.
He gives me all, I never work for myself.
I never live for myself, nor anyone else.
Only Him.

I am.
I am.




With all of this weight, I just cannot fit the slim mold.

I will be awake and suffer with my insecurities.
I will be my own teacher.
I am an architect.
I will reach my meaning through my third eye.
I will not be replaced.
My love is foremost to my life, to my real protectors.
I will be loyal to the ones who revive.
Happiness is my first calling.
I am beautiful, without perfection.

You are beautiful.
By yourself, you are immaculate.
My attention, and everyone else's, you have.
You can have a clear mind.
You can have fresh air as a release.
Our souls.
All of our souls, they intermingle.
Please.
Please see this.
You can be alive.
You can be alive without all of their opposition.
You can be alive without drenched awareness.
Please see me.
Please seek me.

Say my name.

Have you ever thought that nothing was real?

That every single living being was completely fake in our society's "reality"?

How the hypocritical mass of existence is only there to entertain all of the other hypocritical masses?

How human beings only look out for themselves?

How so many people fit the mold, even if they don't feel as if they themselves fit the mold?

Have you ever noticed that the people with any different perspective are shunned?

How those people are looked at as awkward and strange?

What about noticing how extremely intelligent people are thrown to the curb and stomped by people who are so good at memorizing books and mathematical problems?

Did you ever notice the way that popular turns into rubbish, and then turns into popular?

How about watching yourself be a stepping stone for others?

I guess that I am just full of questions.

I have just seen myself as the person who gives others a good time. The person who gives people happiness, but is then just pushed away. I suppose that this is okay for me personally, because I get bored easily, I like to help people, and I honestly can't stand most human interaction. Strange, since I seem so outgoing, is it not?

I suppose that this post is only of my thought process and consciousness, which is surely alright.

I just want to know why I push the people who I actually am interested in being actual friends with away, and to the point where we never really talk. When we do, it's awkward. I just don't understand why I help people to understand themselves and press them toward what they truly want and love, yet I, myself, happen to create destruction for, well, myself.

And this is not saying that everyone who I've strayed away from are people who I have been admiring from afar, because there are people out there who are just no good. But really, I remember certain people and I just cannot understand, even with how self-analytical I am, why I desire to push away from those people, yet be so eagerly attached and pulled to them from a, what might now seem creepy distance. But I promise it's not really at all creepy, just a wish that I had pushed that picnic to happen, or a wish to have not so greatly detached myself from that ever embracing hug that generated true delight from either party, yet I would never show my emotion.

I am never satisfied.

Now.

You are nothing special.

You are everything special.

We are all beautifully crafted creatures, all out to be what the mold feels is good of us.

For us.

As scientists try to clone us, try to make us live longer, make us drive faster, make us our own personal tracking devices; we are losing what we are organically.

Constantly told to not do this, but instead do that.

We're told to eat differently, that we're all corporate scum, that we are all a part of the system.

We all should branch. Our own personal Jesus. Create our rules.

There are no sins. There are no sins.

You own what consumes you. You own even this idea, and it consumes you.

An opinionated, illuminated threshold.

You can contemplate every single philosophical piece of logic, but you are still a piece of shit.

We are all life in the present.

Stop thinking about yesterday, or tomorrow. There are no hours. There are no minutes. There is the sun.

Go to sleep, then wake the fuck up.

We are all terrified that we will miss something. No matter who you are, you are terrified to die. To not exist.

Stop talking about how you love make-up. Stop talking about how you hate make-up.
Stop talking about how shitty your life is when you made your decisions.
Stop talking about living a certain way, and then not doing what you want to live by.
Do not take any of this into consideration for your own personal ideals.

Make your own fucking belief system.

Be the beautiful nothing that society has created.

Start a fight, beat yourself up, spread your words through paint across the walls.

You've created now your own personal revolution.

Don't you dare forget to dance.

Billie Jean is not my lover.

I was thinking today, just a few hours ago, how I feel as if a lot of people, actually everyone has a pseudo security blanket. I was then intrigued to know which was my own. I toiled in my mind to figure out what keeps myself sane. I have decided that my hair is my security blanket. I create new versions of myself very often. I do not want to ever look the same, because being the same for too long absolutely terrifies me. Change is good. Having shaved my mohawk back in completely with barely any hair on the sides, I feel as if I may just completely get rid of that security blanket. I feel as if I need to take my hair completely off. Yes, that completely scares the shit out of me, and I'd probably cry if I were to do the action. But what if I need it? What if I need to break from being able to completely conceal myself from different varieties of expression and change? I suppose that shaving all of my hair off would in fact be a large change, but the idea would not be the same kind of change that of my initial security blanket problem.

Or maybe I just have an extreme sick obsession with destroying something beautiful. So many compliments to my hair, no matter what I do with it. Maybe I just want to strip people of that. Maybe I want to destroy my own ability to create myself anew.

Or possibly it's a subconscious spiritual matter. I feel as if I need to go back to how I was created. Completely innocent. Completely naked and irritable. Confused. Back to Earth, instead of within this capitalistic Hell that we all need to fit the mold.













I need to be pushed into reality.

Under the ground.

I am the requisite to your dreams.
The meaning of life;
I am a human unaware.
This purpose;
I crawl to you,
Your footsteps.
Grazing my soul,
You consume my Earth.
I am the requiem to your body.
Cold and on the floor,
You lay as I converge.
The motions,
You have none;
A recluse from reality,
You speak with no meaning,
No translation.
I am the requisite to your intentions.
I abide by rules,
Broken and blistered;
Your fire,
It pours to my body's convenience.
Your contempt is lucid,
Running away to vast guidance.
I will always be alone.

Scream at me and say.

They're so happy.
So completely happy.
I'm so fake.
Just pretending to be them.



I think that I need a nose job. My nose takes up about 75% of my face.



I can't be myself around anyone.
Everyone will just judge me.

Most times I feel like there is not one single other person who fully believes in allowing a person to live his/her life the way that the individual wants to live.



Why?







The worst blog post to ever be created.

Rip your heart out.

He doesn't even know what he's saying.

He's just talking to be listened to.

To be listened to.

He's just talking to be listened to.

And it's the worst kind.

-------------------------------------

There is something about "scenes" that I just do not want to be affiliated with.
I don't want labels.
Why do they make explaining the way that I live my life so easily, though?
"Straightedge."
"Vegan."
"Etc."


I feel as if I should talk to someone.
I have no one to talk to.


If only I could be, a size negative three.



I wonder how I would react if there were a virus outbreak in which turned people into zombie-like creatures.

I want to go to a beach. Badly. All I want is sand and salt water.

I think that Seth is sick.





All I do is wait.
For everything.
And everyone.

Can't be.

You are not real.

You are a figment of my imagination.

A figment that I have created to pressure me.

To push me.

To make me actually be me.

But you are just a creation.

A creation created by me.

Only me.

But I share you with others.

I share you with others.

But you are only a figment.

A figment made only by me.

--
I never thought that I would end up this way. Or did I just not think at all?

I am swimming through a pool of uncertainty.

At least I can be positive.

You measure too much of yourself.

The very least that you could do would be to please stop barking. You are not going to get what you want.

I've come to notice that I change myself often, yet can live off of the same sandwich, same band, same memories, for months.

My cat loves paper bags.

My baby.

Yesterday an old man smiled at me and said good morning. Then the old man turned around to tell me, "You know, you have a very pretty face, but you ruin it with all of those buttons." I smirked and laughed. I do not know if he is wrong, or if I am wrong. The prettiest face: all punctured, cut, and destroyed. The prettiest face: all embellished, genuine, and symmetric.

Doing things all by myself is hard. Doing things all by myself will make me a better person. Doing things by myself will lower my confidence. Doing things by myself will make me learn and teach.

Give me motivation and a fake personality to graze through. Give me real people to not waste my time on, but to invest my life in.

Give me nothing to destroy. Give me everything to re-build.

I need to sell stuff, get money, do art, buy tickets, drive places, stop sleeping, get another job, and rent a cute little studio on the Commons.

Fuck, I need to get dressed.

Bent over the grand piano.

I am truly in need of some self exploration. My life is grand, beautiful, and I am loving every single minute of it.

Your negativity does nothing to my positive mood. Neither do your lies nor your obnoxious outbursts. Stop hating yourself and everyone around you. Start growing up.


I'm done with children.



I am free.

I am thinking about quitting my job and just driving... everywhere. Traveling. Meeting new people. Everywhere. Meeting people who I've been talking with. I need to get out. I don't want to be tied down!

I am going to start selling stuff that I make on Etsy. Links and whatnot will come as soon as I set my seller's account up. :]

I love cities.
I love my city.

I am going to be meeting up with a new friend tomorrow after he gets out of class. We're going to have yogurt. I am excited.

I'm thinking about seeing a movie by myself. For the first time.

I'm getting kind of... tired of all these guys wanting... yeah.

GIVE ME SOMETHING REAL.
SOMEONE REAL.

If anyone could help me out with learning German, that would be awesome. This is a serious goal of mine that I have had for years. Beautiful language.

You are the understandable deception, hero.

I am going to be setting up my first skin removal very soon. I am happy.
I also want to get my first tattoo soon. I just need to find a place that would be willing to tattoo my hand.

Apparently I am interesting enough to have pictures taken of me in the city? Huh.

I lost the o-ring on my labret. I'm so glad that I'm not good enough to be responded to about this matter. Thanks friend.
Oh well. The genuine people shine through!

Is anyone as confused as I am?
I am so excited to finish starting this life.

I'm actually saving money. *applauds self*

The more that I feel as if I am becoming comfortable with my physical self, the more I feel fat and ugly.
All I can do is laugh at this.

Why are people so surprised that I eat fairly healthy at such a young age? Do I look like I should be eating candy bars?

Why does everyone that I meet think that I am at least twenty-two? What if I really AM twenty-two?
I somewhat wish that I weren't so grown up. That I weren't so grown up by the age of five.
The "old spirit" in me does not want to be so... ah.

I am loyal. What are you?

That one song that makes me sad no matter which kind of mood I begin in.

Hopefully the weather gets less rainy. I don't like the rain.
Though, I randomly feel like running out into the street, while it's pouring, and screaming.
Irony.

Your problems are nothing.

Missing out on so many shows because I have a job.
Driving too much because I have money.

Get me.

"You. I always love looking at you. You always look different. I never know what you will look like."

I'm thinking about colouring a red equal sign into the side of my head where my steps were because I'm bored with my short hair.
I can't ever fully enjoy anything that I do with myself.

Metric.

You look so stupid when you try to be serious. We all know that you don't take anything seriously. Not even yourself.

I seriously need to invest in one of those mini HD Flip cameras.

I'm trying to figure out different things to do for money.
Nude photos and sexual favours are not options.

My sleeping pattern sucks... my insomnia either comes back where I go to sleep really late and wake up really early... or I become lazy and go to sleep early and wake up late.
Do not want.

I hate being ignored.

I hate being tired.

I hate feeling used.

I hate being led on.

I hate hating things.

This girl is not caring anymore.
This girl is free now.
This girl is NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND.

This girl is not tied down.
If you do not want to put in the effort;
Neither does this girl.

What do I want? Someone spectacular. Something spectacular. Something far away. Someone far away?

It's in the way you speak.

Beautiful people are judgmental assholes, right? That is just me being beautiful? She's a kidder.

Ah, women were talking about their faces today on Tyra, and how they hate them. A feeling I've come across much more than once. Some girl said that she would sometimes skip dinner in hopes to get her cheeks thinner. The horrible thing about this is that these girls were eleven, twelve, one was even nine. What is worse, I think, is that understanding that these issues start very early has just come to view... oh, the remembrance of being a child and not liking anything about oneself. Oh well, I suppose. At least it is coming out now!

Romance is so ridiculously confusing. Why can't the right thing happen for me, at the right time, right now? Haha. Well, what is meant to be will happen, I suppose. Right? Right?

I'm not going to lie. I'm enjoying this one boy very greatly as of late. If I were to make a list of what I would want in a person, he would be 100%. I swear.

Let us see where fate takes this.

Is that cute?

"I will sing your cruelty to the rocks and mountains!"

You know, I was thinking about death and whatnot the other day (morbid, I know), and truly I feel as if I will take the sense of a euphoric life after so that death does not seem so tragic and fearful.

I have so much to do. I do not even know where to begin.
I seriously just want to get out of New York... just leave. I feel as if that would actually be the best thing for me. I'm not good with plans, so going without a plan sounds absolutely darling right now.

I still have to file my taxes.
I still have to sell stuff.

And apparently someone wants to take pictures of me? Huh, cool thanks. I get money? I might be really into this, then. xp

I've found that I would probably do quite a bit of anything for money. No sexual favours, though. Sorry, but I'm not that easy. HA!
I just want to get as much as I can, and just leave. I think that is why I am in such a quest for money as of late.

I've been in a huge mood to just put on some great, funky, poppy music and just dance like a crazy person.

That's a great idea. Yeah.

Man, I can't express how much I cannot stand bad repitition. Seriously. I know what plain yogurt is. Yes, I will point it out... stop saying "Plain yogurt," asshole. -_-

I really want to see Alice in Wonderland in 3D IMAX.

I think that another road trip is in order.




I think that I am going to take this step.

Fake me.

I feel so detached and alone tonight. Everything that I do and say is wrong to everyone, except for myself. I feel like an asshole, but everything just has to be said. I'm done with people and places, again.

I hate how I end romances, and then people don't want to talk to me, they go back to the "norm." I see how everything was just set to make me interested and lure me in like a fish with a worm. I am glad that I saw it all before, though. Before anyone got their hopes up too high. You're a liar.

I hate smoking.

I think that I am just going to stop caring. I'm just going to stop being one of those people who always gets stepped on, forced upon, and just stop with all of these people who are so inconceivably overrated.

I wish that I had girl friends to have little sleepovers with and have conversations of life, love, and drama, because sometimes I just need to be a girl. I think that I may be going insane because I have become so detached from being a "normal" teenager, and detached from being a girl, because I just hate them so much. It all may just seem ridiculous, but this is how I feel.

I have so many plans, but I cannot actually plan any of them, because my actual plans never work out. I can only do things that are spur of the moment... nothing happens for me. Nothing actual, at least. I hate how I cannot plan anything! Ever! Agh, it's just that bothersome.

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and I have done nothing really to help anything nor anyone. I talked logically in the name of same sex marriage on a diary entry of a friend... that was it... and that is nothing. My day was completely wasted by sleep and tragic realizations that nothing is okay right now... and I don't know why my moods keep going on and off.

I definitely am feeling a blog coming up about organised religion and how it's a fucking joke, splurged all over the television and radio. Religion = Cult. Have a nice day, Jesus lovers.

Hopefully one way or another I can get my hands on some ten gauge labrets... that'd be mighty nifty. I should tape up my earlobes, since I'm never going to get in between plugs. Inch, here I come.

I really just need to dance out all of this bullshit. I want nothing more than to be raving within a large group of people who I do not know.

The show last night was really good. I guess that they raised two hundred dollars for Haiti. Good people, good music, good times. I wonder if someone hit my Third Eye in the pit, and that's why it has some weird raised part on the bottom. :/ I love Summer People. Seriously.

I'm not tired at all.

And I'm angry that these people are happier than me.

Ignorance is fucking bliss.

At least my hair looks awesome now that I've cut it and bleached a line into it. The upsides are so ridiculously simple.

Oh, and I just laughed at this: "A new poll found that crying children are the worst airplane passengers. The second worst airplane passengers? Terrorists."

Think occasionally.

I feel as if I am beginning to see through my Third Eye in all of its actuality. I believe that I can go forth and do the Third Eye ritual without any hesitation. With love.

I am finished with being let down and stepped on. I want to believe in life, and beauty, and hope.

I am going to have strict fasting rituals now.

I am going to take care of myself.

I am thinking about becoming strictly abstinent. I feel as if now I need to clarify myself and tell everyone that I do not "slut" around...

I made my first snow angel of the season today. It was invigourating. I had almost forgotten how nice it is to just throw back and wash away any worries, doubts, and sadness with a bit of old fashioned fun.

Time for sleep. Yoga in the morning. Fasting on organic orange juice and water tomorrow. It is much very well overdue.

Kachow.

I'm going to be bleaching a line in my hair today and I'm shaving back in my equal sign.

I think that I don't want to get married until everyone can. It truly quite honestly one hundred percent disgusts me that someone thinks about a gay couple, and all he/she can only think about is sex and religion. "Let's take the 'sex' out of 'homosexuality.'" This movement is about love. This movement is about family. This movement is about the beauty of rights in this country. I am going to be completely blatant with you: just because someone has anal sex with someone else, someone kisses someone of the same sex, someone acts in foreplay with someone of the same sex does not mean that that should disgust someone and it all most certainly does not mean that the marriage is only based because of those reasons. The idea that "God" made marriage only for woman and man is completely irrational and ridiculous. If "God" loves all of his "children," then he would allow such acts to take place and understand that we ALL are different, and with difference comes personality, in which he MUST love. Marriage is a RIGHT. This country is based on revolution, rights, freedoms, nationality, friendship, and should not be only looked upon as depriving its rightful people to their natural rights.

I cannot speak for anyone else but my own, but I can most certainly with absolute no regret say that I would be disgusted and ashamed if my country and people had to VOTE on my marriage as a "straight" individual. Heterosexual. There is no beauty nor pride in a "God" nor a "lifestyle" that does not allow all human beings the right to happiness.

I'm going to see Dallas Green tomorrow. I have probably mentioned this several times by now. I am an excited bunny.

Bring me your love.