rachel191919

Journal entry from last night.. a little dizzy/high off some pills so bare with me:


ambiguity is an art in and of itself
the hollow feeling of the night; the moon, the breeze, the silence-- it strikes the chords of my senses with the passion of a lovelorn pianist. the silence has always whispered to me in the voice of ramapant chaos that only my ears could hear, and in vibrations that only my fingers could feel. i could reach down into myself and try to draw the perfect words from the stagnance of my essence's well, but essence is not substantial enough in my eyes. but rather, i wish to throw my whole self into the light. for, nothing is quite as sensual as seeing through your own eyes and looking so hard at what you refuse to see.
it was an endless cavern filled with each of my everythings that was lodged in my chest cavity, as everyone has. though the question still remains how long ago the apparatus stopped throbbing the sense of humanity through me. was it a day? a week? my whole lifetime? or was it just a sudden change of everything around me; inside me? when was it that i became a human being, devoured by the very opposite of life: apathy?

the choice was my own, i will not denounce that fact. but the consequence was nothing short of an internal catastrophy. i became an apostate of my own principles, morals, inhibitions. defying and betraying those dearest to the very marrow of my existance. and what was worse, i could not care. i was detatched from all that was once a part of me and made a hollow, stoic imitation of human.

that which has been caused cannot be undone. and the worst of it all is that i am the cause of my own inner bitterness. and even now, the story is hazy as the nights that appeal to me so much. especially tonight, when all sight and sound are in a blank space in time and all i can look to is the candlelight on my face through the looking glass on the wall. i do not like the light. it shows WAY too many of my flaws. so now i am going to blow out the candle and wait for some sound to drown out the thoughts that are using the area behind my eyes as a trampoline and bite my lips to hold back my screams because no one can know that i am afraid of the dark.

"At best, I can watch myself, sit alongside this vacant corpse, and watch the roll of tears, but there is no sense of release because there's no one inside. I'm gone. Knock-knock? I've disappeared. I've come so close from so far, I hide behind this window and look at myself, look at a life I'd rather not see."

--- Prozac Nation

...i'm on the ledge of the 18th story...

Just a little drunk.. thoughts to you and only you.

Not a lot of the things that you say to me are sincere. And i've started to live with that.
There are things that can be done to make the questions stop coming...other than just asking them.
And i know that you have some about me and i've never asked you to keep your mouth shut.
But it sure does make functioning a little easier. So what? you're your own person. We all are.

So why the fuck is my life so centered around someone who's gone already,
and someone who's gonna kill me before i'll ever succeed at getting them even housebroken???

I have a list of the rules that i've never followed, and it seems to me that
i would still be the same if i had. So please tell me why.. Is there some sort of craving for
control, or a habit of manipulation? because it's making it impossible for me.

Sometimes tracing the lines doesn't quite get me there. I need to make new ones,
see what's inside on top and underneath. It's your fault too. I didn't fuck up everything just for spite.
I never thought i'd be in this position but of course i am, and i get no praise for trying and fucking up.. just a smack in the face and a few dollar bills. You know what?

I liked it better when you were gone..

i can't push aside the clinically proven fact that things change at more
of a speed than there are numbers to count it. and we can never remember
the if's and's or what's but the idea is always there.. i can remember
some things that were said like they were scripted and rehearsed for years..
but others, they're just.. others. it's the time of year, it's that i'm

leaving soon, it's who i always felt something profound to the point of
tasting it with. it's unrequited. it's idiotic and it's nothing. it was
fleeting and a nonchalance that was compacted tight enough to always stay
the same. barely agknowledged when it was seeping out of the hollows that
were made after it all disappeared. i can't see how it went unnoticed.
and i can't understand why i never wanted it to to be. the end, because
i was thinking about it too hard and missed the oppurtunity to improvise..

I never thought it would be enough to just show you what I've been thinking. But there is a gauge in my cranium that is making my brain short circuit from the rest of my extremities. I sometimes have mental pictures of what could happened, what did happen, or what never ever could possibly happen.

The vividness is all so endearing and glamorous. If only I had the talent to put my mind into words and pictures, I would be the next hybrid of Dickens and Van Gough. But I appreciate questions of tender torment that afflict my noggin.. hehe.

I seem to be a bit high of my ephedrine dosage today.
It's a nice change from the evil world of truth and reality.

46 Days...

Full of second thoughts and high hopes, they make such a sickening mixture
when you don't know what to expect. Life isn't bliss.. life is just this.. it's living.

So this is odd.. I'm the one who is supposed to care about the neverending redundancies that are being stomped into my ears but my stupid little springtime song is drowning them out. It's a good thing cause I've been talked to the point of throwing up my cryptically patronizing advice enough to drown in. Meaningless anger is the worst. These endless days are finally ending in a blaze, and we are just waiting and caught in the fire.
 

'my bitter pill to swallow is the silence that I keep'

it's the story of my life.. most days i'm stuck in some alternate reality that's right here but i just don't see the way everyone else seems to. i stay up all night, watch the sun come up and shine itself through the vertical blinds. not thinking, just watching. keeping an eye out for something worth seeing; a story to tell, a picture to have in my mind that i would draw if i had the ability.

Who am I to complain when everyone else thinks that their life story is a more harrowing one. But no no no that's not me. This isn't my life story, this isn't even my life. I try to predict movements and words. I assume things before I give them a chance to just happen. And I always assume the worst. Certain people highlight that little smudge on me. Others cover it up, or scare it away completely.

So which one are you today? personality number 1337. Happy or sad? woman or girl? drunk or sober? I'll fight back as long as I need to but i'm not throwing punches if you've already hurt yourself. So which is it? I really need to know. How do you like me? happy, talkative, insightful, staring at you like I've never seen anything so beautiful? or emotionally bankrupt and utterly defenseless?--and not because I have no ability, but because I've used it all up on you.

I hate having dark circles under my eyes and trying to function on no fuel but worry and sleepless nights. But it happens to me every night. Once upon a time there was someone who admired that in me. Someone who thought my eyes could only see the good inside. Someone who felt like a fucking lush just for wanting more of me. I feel and I love in more ways than I can ever find enough words to explain. But I need you to be someone who's worth it.

"there's no sentimental value to the rose that fell on your floor/ there's no fundamental excuse for the granted i'm taken for"

It's so sad to say, I waited. I even knew it would happen. I was taken for a fool and was completely disregarded in the only thing I asked. I had no expectations and absolutely no judgements. Cigarettes and kisses were taken for granted, wasted and pitched and washed down with something that burns. I left bruises. You.. well you left me, at home, worrying at 2 am. It's not that I didn't talk. It's that you punched too many walls. It's not that I was too agressive. It's that you always thought I was leaving. It's not that we didn't try hard enough. It's that you forgot how much I cared. And I somehow let myself forget how much you DIDN'T.

I'm so tired of all the ambiguities and unexplainable broken bones. No explainations. No names. I wonder if this ever makes sense to anyone but myself.. and after a while, the meaning gets erased along with the translation of all the symbols. Soon it's too vague to understand and it's down to pretty words that keep everyone guessing. Including me. It's never too personal, but I sometimes worry that it is for you.
And who am I to write your name, when I don't even know how your life works. All I seem to know is how i'm treated. And I try to bend and not break for you but sometimes I just get the feeling that I need to stand back and watch the havoc only i've caused.

I am not too sure what's happening now with much of anyone that I love. Some have disappeared and others won't get out of my fucking sight. I have this ability to make them stay or run like hell, but unfortunately I don't have the nerve to actually do it. I sometimes wonder what's inside me that attracts so many people and then subconsciously fucks it all up. Good things started happening; some have stayed for more, and the ones in shambles, well I think that's all my fault- but not my intention. So, what? what now? what could I do now that won't give me a past to look back on and cry about?....or at least want to wish back?

You know, I don't suppose it matters anymore that I'm happy...or at least well on my way to it. Because there's always the thought in my mind of how things could have gone otherwise. I don't want to be forgotten, or let go of. And I don't want to forget, or let go...

How come in my head flesh seems thicker???

Time to grow he says..

The Hell you say?


Both my energy and my smile are beginning to fade. What ever happened to the days where I would stay out and awake all night, laughing and drinking and being merry? Ninety percent of the time, I would honestly rather curl up in my own bed and enjoy a good conversation and good sleep at my leisure. I'm sick of hearing the phone ring. I groan when I hear a knock at the door. I'm just sick of it all.

As far as school is concerned, I've dropped off the face of the Earth, or never existed, one or the other. Nothing. Now someday this week I've got to drag my sorry ass down to the school, explain my situation to a teacher that doesn't know I exist and make plans that will end up not coming threw. I tend to suck up precious oxygen.

Not to mention I'm going to miss you baby. A lot. Your too far. I can't wait 'til you get your own place. I can have all the comfort of being at home without actually having to be.. at home.

I still have yet to see a shooting star. But I did see a beautiful sunset this evening. Just pulled over and watched the sun set. I love those little things.



Hugs to all who continue to read my entries.
<3

Going to take a little trip away from this madness, leaving tommorow bright and early till monday late at night. I'll update soon.

May all of you have a weekend filled with peace and love.

Hugs <3

Contemplating going friends-only for my journal? Or stopping all together?
Any thoughts or comments would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.
<3

I've been waiting for this call for what seems like an eternity. When is it going to come?
Here it goes.. sure I get lonely sometimes, but that doesn't matter, you are not lonely. You are obviously happy and that's all I need. I hate being a gush but it's bound to happen to everyone eventually. I live in the moment and I do it only with people who make me better, and the most I can give them is a respect that they know will never go stale, ever. Never ever dissapear. For some reason the respect I have for him is unbelievable, even after he cut my heart out. Does that even make sense?

I've kept a notebook the size of my imagination filled with things I want to happen but what does wanting get you? It seems to just raise your hopes past the point of redemption and then you let yourself down hard and fast. You know what is unbelievably sad? I don't even remember my dreams. What's the point? I most likely won't be around to attain or even hope to aspire to attain them. Another sad thing is I know used to wake up happy beside him. That has to mean something... that's significant enough to believe in.
And the smile on my face when he was around, is one that I couldn't possibly paint on every day.. it's too complicated. This is so simple to me now because I can walk straighter and talk clearer if I just think about it hard enough, about us being together. But thinking is for things that have A REASON. Thinking is for finding reasons.. fuck when the other person believes there is no reason left, what do you do?

Could I consider myself a better person? I don't think I could improve myself drastically enough for that. Honestly, I really don't want to. I'll stick around and wait, just because I feel like there remains hope. I also feel I don't have anymore choices in my life. I hate it but love it, because that is love. I now know more than ever before, and I know you have that choice. I know you can disappear just like that, you can be gone forever now.. and I'll never feel anything other than just before now. Because just before now.. is all I've got left to hold on to.

When phases end and that number rises every day in the back of my mind but slowly goes down on the scale... it's always so brand new to me. I relive it every day and there is nothing I can do now to change my fate. Eventually this will all catch up with you as well, but in a different way. Right now I want to remember the old us, or what we could still be and have for each other.. to help ease my mind into this slow process I call my death.

I don't hope that you regret anything, I hope that you remember something.. something strong enough to bring you back to where you came from to feel it one more time. Back to me.. in my arms. I miss the feeling of every minute of everyday being near your soul.


But you can't tie up loose ends if you've only got one piece of the line..

Second thoughts and high hopes make a sickening mixture when you don't know what to expect. Ideas, never amount to anything. We are what we are born and nothing else and it's disgusting that it's taken this long for any sort of epiphany to knock on my brain and ask for a place to stay. It was over before it started since it first began.... now.. TIMES UP! Were all alone, its all over again. EVERYTHING I've wanted has been fictional and I should know better than to have hopes for anything good, no matter what the circumstances may be. I should have seen the truth written in his eyes, what he wants is what he has right now, not what we could be. That's just obvious reality. And I'm now going to face that, ready or not.

I'm sorry that the thought of "us" being something again, even crossed my mind cause it didn't ever even cross yours. Sad but true. Lost love is what you will now be too me.

I think about myself when I'm bored, does that make me a narcissist?

I am an introverted naive and ignorant girl with extremely long brown hair and tanned skin. I trust people too easily and forgive before I get an apology. But then I take the whole trust issue to a gross stalking level when I feel I am about to lose that person, which indeed makes me lose them. It's like my senses tell me to move along the process of losing them cause im going to anyways or so I feel...

I'm an ordinary girl with an oversized heart that has a gravitational pull for assholes, fleeting romances and left behind dreams. My opinions are more inconsistant than my moods and I want more than I am and ever will be.

My eyes can tell a story that only one person can read and it takes me a lifetime to get over being rejected. I always believed in the word "love" but never believed in true love till I met him..

And even really hating someone is a foreign feeling for me but people seem to form opinions about me before I can send a friendly smile their way. My mom always said hate is a strong word.

I realize I am not a social butterfly, in fact I'm not good at being social at all, especially with strangers. Once I have a friend they are a friend for life, at least in my mind.. although i'm only one girl.

I sleep to dreams that I rarely remember and I am never good enough for myself. I talk on the phone with my eyes closed and I play with my hands when I eat. I have a very fake laugh because when I laugh I'm normally faking. Most people aren't that funny, but I don't like to let them know that.

My best friend is and will always be him even if I no longer am in contact with him. He knows more about me than I do about myself. He truly does amaze me every time we speak and he is the only person who I have ever invested my entire heart in. Writing is my passion, although I'm not so good at it. I'm obsessed with pretty pink things and I love to watch the stars come out at night, lying on the grass... which I never even got to do with him.

I rarely even sleep until the sun comes up. I'm always attracted to guys that seem nice and good, and i spend my weekends with my family. I'm so easily amused that it's pathetic and I don't like how I look without a tan or bronzer. When I do go out on the rare occasions, I carry a purse full of things that I never use. If there's a song that I like, I listen to it on loop for days until I can't stand it.


My writing seems to change if I write for too long.

I let people step on me until I finally explode, and then offer apologies out the ass. Once I get emotionally attatched I never let go. When I can't think of something to write I always go look in the refridgerator to have a diet coke or something to munch on... or typically I will just start making some long ass list of To-Do's.

I have a deep deep hatred for my smelly feet, and I like sleeping on HIS bed more than my bed. I cry when animals die in movies or when people lose their loved ones.

I hate pulling my hair back in to a ponytail cause it bothers me when it falls down. I rarely talk to everyone I used to know. I feel naked without him around, and I hate the way I look in the morning. Though he used to make me love it.

I needed to vent and needed to remind myself that I know myself more then everyone thinks that they might know me now...

I am capable of loving, of hating.. but the question is do I believe in those things?
At one point I thought that I did.. but ever so often I feel it in some obscure part of my body that only begins to live when I can finally realize that is what I feel. Is love and hate so intense and ever-lasting and whistful and dark and sinful and beautiful that they should be taken on with the most cautionary and tenderest grasp? Or are they just words?

Overrated and glorified in the limelight of one story or myth or person who encountered one moment or gleam of something that would only be described by putting those four letters together and compiling over-imbellished and chock full of nothing stories so that people would have something to hope for, or to fear.. to make the days go longer, or the nights grow warmer, or the air get colder, or their smile get wider.

It is all a hoax to me. People say ‘i love you’, ‘i hate you’ so often that I couldn’t be anything more than some form of expression. When someone speaks of their feelings, how can you actually believe them? You can’t see them. You can’t feel them. You can’t hear them or taste them. You can only trust them. And a sense of trust worth trusting is a very scarce substance to have coursing through your veins.

All there is to say is, love if you feel it.. but never trust the word spoken from another’s lips. And hate if you feel it.. but never speak of it, because nothing you have to say matters. And the chance of it ever starting to is just something that you can see clearly, but only in your mind. The human voice is a horrible thing to use.. and the language of the eyes is such a horrible thing that we’ve wasted. But even the eyes can lie and decieve. But my eyes are screaming the truth. And the truth is that I don’t see any point in being anywhere other than gone, because no one will have anything good to say about you until they never have to say it to your face.

Written to you (you know who you are):

So much has changed lately that it almost seems absurd to expect you to follow that trend. I know now that expectations are just as worthless as tomoatoes are to a fruit basket. It's not because they're always wrong or they have a dellusional effect on you.. it's because once it's in your brain, it stays. It grabs on like a mindfucking parasite that needs to think you completely dry.

You can fall in love with someone but then you'll always expect them to numb your toes after you fuck each other senseless, you'll always expect them to cut the fat off your steak, bring you roses, and you always expect them to love you back, let alone remember you.

And then, just then they could suck your heart out of every hole in your body simultaneously without anesthedic and throw it down a wishing well hoping you can still feel it break ...

And you would always expect them to be GOOD to you again, because you saw it once and some time, a long time ago you felt it-- you both felt it.. under your fingernails, and inside your lips. But unfortunately no.. that's just not the way it is anymore.



"Something so good could never fade away. Atleast you never expect it to..."

I can see a few things more clearer now.. not like i'm looking through a fishbowl anymore. I've learned to force myself to realize things that I refuse to acknowledge. Because if I intend to exist for any longer than this short time as I write this, I am obligated to feel things that I would die over. Nothing is as simplistic as I want it to be. Simplicity is a myth for my generation..and it's probably going to turn into a fairy tale years from now..comparable to the fountain of youth and unicorns, I suppose.

So I've set my sights high this time around..even though the sights aren't even something I can visualize in my mind. Graduate school and a college with so much ocean between here and there that weekend visits are unthinkable.

No reason I guess except I know that I can never get to where I want to be so I might as well let myself down hard if i'm going to go down either way.

And so the story goes where the motions move to others and in to a sequence of bumbling through 36 hour days and random laws of physics and geometry postulates.. eating something that I never like and missing people that I denied loving in the first place. That's life I guess.. or maybe it's just my life. Not so much miserable as it is inconsistant and unnerving. I've had to give up on people too much to be such a hypocrite.

It's not me. That sure means a lot to me. Now i'm finally letting go of holding on to something that never had enough substance to be real. Stepping over the door rather than through it and they steal it away from me regardless of how much I need it. Kicking and screaming, living and learning.. and fucking it all up. I don't see any reason or reward or moral.

The only reason people listen is because they're waiting for their turn to be listened to. And the patronizing gestures for spite and pity and debt wrench my teeth into each other.

You only take what you see, you say.. but what are you looking for?

Don't start.. you'll be over before it is.