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| im just rewinding through the dark hours i spent this summer, curled up under the shower, finding it hard to breathe. back through beautiful, infinite moments, staring up at the sky with him. further, to a perfect winter, to the harsh lights in the salon as my familiar chest-length hair piled around the endless tiles. pushing back into memories of lying on my gameroom floor, laughing so hard that i felt like i knew what crying really should be. endless smiles and moments that defined friendship. holding onto a grudge against perfect red hair, an adorable smile, and the way he walked as i sat in the cool chaos of the cafeteria floor and etched regret into my arms. the typical teen angst, the hours of betrayal, back to austin, leaning over the railing on the deck off a building floating above the sunlit hills, dreaming of jumping off and soaring over the scenery (if only for a second). back to rain-soaked days with his arms around me, to brief flirtation and the hum of the overhead projector. to the chains, the makeup, and changing in the back of the school bus. back to trying too hard, and not trying enough. to walks outside under a sunbathed sky with his singing voice wrapped around mine. to the connections that mattered. to the depression that never really went away.
to the growing up that ended all too soon. |
| i dreamed i was shot in the back.
and the shock ripped through me, and the third eye poured from my open mouth like blood. everything swirled infinitely, and i felt beautiful. |
| i want to see us connected by neon strands of silver and green. and i want to be able to fly for one last time and see the pattern that forms. |
| have i mentioned before how much i hate the bitching and squabbling? standing in my doorway, screaming "im going to call the fucking cops, mom," and yet it all leaves a familiar and dull residue in my mouth. am not quite sure where my life is going when i have lost all conviction and sense of stoicism. its always the same. the agony cycles. and the helplessness of being unable to cut is yet again the decoration on my fucking coffin. staring at the ceiling, laying on my bed, listening to bright eyes and watching the world fall apart faster than conor oberst can remind me that there is the promise of a love that i could never feel. i have never wanted to live this way. but i have always wanted to die. strap me down and crash this car. the night has not yet faded. this connection has not yet passed. |
| i can change i can cut it open. |
| maybe im an extreme atheist. i dont believe in anything anymore. especially not myself. i wondered last night if being manic made me two separate people. i sat there, swinging aimlessly on the bench, and asked myself what i wanted so badly. i think ive been lying to myself for a while. i dont want happiness.
i just want to feel like im alive. |
| there are too many memories in everything. is it possible to peel away the past in tangible layers and burn it all away? |
| this entire thing feels like a joke. where i am, what i am doing, and how i pull myself through the days. this mind-blurring routine of two a.m. showers and plastic association seems like a bad habit i will wake up from unexpectedly, quickly. |
| the worst is over. |
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