the moon's premonition.

Sugar coating this wouldn’t make it better. 

You make me feel guilty. You make me feel guilty for caring, for feeling, for thinking. You make me feel guilty for trying, and apparently failing, to fulfill your expectations. But I don’t understand your expectations; I don’t understand your reasoning. I don’t understand the words that don’t come out of your mouth. I don’t understand the choices you make or the actions you take. 

 

I can hear you, even when you think I cant and your words burn.  I had made it my duty to comprehend the vastness that is you, but I can’t unravel it.  And I am exhausted, this quest has consumed me for far too long and I am worn out.  I don’t need to rest, I don’t want to stop, but I am attempting to remove myself anyway, because I know its what you want.

 

Can you blame me for trying?  I guess sometimes the broken is truly unfixable, which is sad.  And it makes me hate myself for wasting so much time, effort and thought.  My apologies.  I’m done now.

for nothing

two weeks gone to waste.

damn it.

how pathetic.

What do you want?

a simple observation

My hands look so small right now. I see them and I try to fathom them, short nails, untamed cuticles, two gold diamond rings. My fingers, which typically appear pudgy due to many years of knuckle cracking, seem slim, frail and weak.  Somehow there is a faded heart drawn in pen, on my left hand.  How it got there, I am unaware.  I stare at them, busy at work. They glide over the white and grey letters, making something. Creating something useless. Something pointless. They bend. They hurt, they ache right now. They are wrinkly like my grandma’s used to be, they are tired.  Six freckles, so small, hardly detectible. My hands are a mystery. How can they do the things they do. How do they express everything and nothing.  They are just hands.  But I have somehow suddenly realized that hands, my hands, your hands, are capable of far more than we ever thought possible.  Hands hold others, make them feel safe and comfortable, wanted and loved. Hands hurt others, they shoot the gun, cut the skin, stab you in the back. Hands are beautiful, they are disgusting. They hide things in their plams, keep secrets, keep me warm. Mine are soft.  Blonde thin hairs, barely visible.  Palms fleshy, cold and clammy. Each crease like a scar, forever there, never to leave. I see veins, blue and purple. I squeeze my palms shut, digging my the tips of my nails into my skin. It might hurt, but I don’t feel it anymore. I want to see the crescent shape my nails make in the palm of my hand. The little half moons that only remain for a few minutes, reminding me of my presence. Then they fade, forever gone.

 

I need a more permanent reminder.

asking nicely.

84 Days

when did the love turn to fear? i am so afraid of you. your presence scares me. you leave me anxious and worried all the time. i know you are judging, and your thoughts terrify me. so i hide, and i speak no more. 

Suburban.

And there sits the white picket fence, in its box in the corner of that green room. Its ready to be assembled, its waiting for me. It’s trying to tempt me with the picture on the box, saying all this could be yours. The picture is of a house, a large blue house, with an inviting red door and shutters on all the windows, and the same sprawling white picket fence. It’s a beautiful house, a happy house, a house with no troubles or worries. The family who lives there loves each other.  They are playing with their dog in the grassy front yard. They smile. Real genuine happy smiles. They are content.  This fence is keeping them together. It keeps them safe. It keeps the dog from running away. It keeps unwanted intruders out. It keeps them delighted and blissful.

 

From the outside my house looks similar to the house on the box, it looks like all the other houses in this average suburban town.  It’s large and its blue with an inviting red door, and shutters on the windows and a grassy front lawn. But on the inside it’s run down, pathetic, exhausted and scared.  There is no dog, no family. It’s not a happy house.

 

But the white picket fence has the ability to hide the forlorn character hiding within the walls. No one would know that the inside has no furniture, no light bulbs in the lamps, and no paintings on the walls. That it has an inch of dust covering the dark wooden floors, making it difficult to breath. No one would know about the green room.  They would walk their dogs and children past my house, touch my fence and find it safe to assume that my house is a happy house. 

 

I assembled the fence years ago and it’s too late to take it down.  Without the white picket fence my house would display sadness, and ruin the entire aura of the neighborhood. 

 

So the fence stays.

Conclude.

I blame the stopping and starting on you.

Your excuses are implausible.

I'm not going to try again.

i wanna see your face.

WHAT THE HELL?

so you know when you are a little kid and you are like "oh i wanna be a doctor, teacher, singer, ect. when i grow up"?

it kind of just hit me. this is "when i grow up". when i grow up is right effing now.  when the hell did that happen? oh my god. oh my god. im like freaking out now. 

i know that this sounds so dumb and cliche and all that shit, but i dont care. no ones going to read this shit anyway.

i remember last year at this time when all the seniors were leaving and me leaving seemed SO far away. but its like now. in 15 days i am going to be done with high school, forever. its so bittersweet. but quite honestly its much more bitter than sweet. 

im not trying to be a downer. 

I KNOW that i am going to love college

I KNOW that i am going to be fine

I KNOW that i am going to have "the time of my life"

I KNOW that i am going to make plenty of new friends

I KNOW that it is time to move on from high school and begin the "rest of my life"

I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW!

but i am not ready for this. 

I AM NOT OKAY with packing up my shit and moving across the country

I AM NOT OKAY with the fact that in 15 days the drama room will be a place to visit, it will no longer be my home

I AM NOT OKAY with leaving my people. the ones who know me inside and out.

I AM NOT OKAY with the fact that your friendships are going to continue to grow while i am away. 

I AM NOT OKAY with the fact that when i come back its going to be like for a visit. not forever.

I AM NOT OKAY with only being able to talk to you on the phone and via text and facebook. no matter what anyone says NOTHING compares to talking face to face. and hugging.

I AM NOT OKAY rooming with someone who doesnt know me, who doesnt know what i deal with in my mind on a daily basis.

I AM NOT OKAY with the fact that my little brother is going to be taking ownership of my car. he has no idea how sentimental that car is. the conversations, the arguments, the talks, the songs, the tears, the laughs, the bonds, the advice, the confessions. my car is my place. my safe place. 

I AM NOT OKAY with the fact that when i freak out no one will be able to comfort me, to calm me down, to tell me to get out of bed when i've been lying around all day.

I AM NOT OKAY that no one will tell me to stop, force me to stop, when i start again.

I AM NOT OKAY WITH ANY OF THIS.

and that is why i am scared and why i keep saying i dont want to go. i am so scared, more scared than i have ever been in my entire life. i have always know and appreciated how good i have it here. i am constantly surrounded by the best people. although we all have out flaws, and each friendship has its ups and downs, i have the strongest support system. and in a matter of months i'll have no one. and i dont want to start over. i dont want to start from scratch. i dont want to try to make new someone understand me when there is already someone who understands me better than anyone else.

Fuck. i am not okay with this. i have so little time left. and then its all over. and then i have to sit at my computer many miles away and watch as your lives go on without me. i am not okay with it. i know i have to be, but hey, this is a blog, so i can say whatever the fuck i want.

I DO NOT WANT TO LEAVE. I DO NOT WANT TO BE SO FAR AWAY. I DO NOT WANT TO HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL THANKSGIVING TO SEE YOU AGAIN. 

I WANT TO HUG YOU EVERY DAY. I WANT TO TALK TO YOU EVERY DAY. I WANT TO TELL YOU EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. I WANT YOU TO TELL ME EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME. I WANNA SEE YOUR FACE!!! AND "YOU" ARE NOT JUST ONE PERSON. YOU ARE A FEW OF SPECIAL PEOPLE. YOU SHOULD EACH KNOW WHO YOU ARE.