Forever Young.

Jekyll and Hyde.

2010-10-25T01:35:00.000-05:00

I'm significantly happier than I used to be, but I can't help but cry when I'm alone late at night.
It was never supposed to be like this. None of it. But here I am, living it.
Late nights with my friends are the easy nights. I come home happy and too tired to do anything but crawl in bed and sleep so deeply my dreams get crazy. But now that I'm alone, only a few of my nights are like that and I have to succumb to how I got left behind and how I shouldn't have been. I become at home with the mess of my room, the clutter and chaos comforting. It's just another one of my mechanisms to materialize my absolute and utter helpless feeling.
I know I'm really sick. I've accepted that. Once I got past all the bullshit and came down to it and I saw what was really underneath my petty problems, I got it. It's not even that I'm embarrassed about it. I have great friends. They would support me. It's more that I don't want to become another teenager drug induced to feel happy again. It'd be like a submission. Like I'd be all those whiny brats who cry because their parents don't get them.
It's not that I want to be happy all the time; I don't. I just want a little control back. To be able to handle things and be able to work at things. And it almost makes me want to get some freaking help. But then my mind spins and I think who the hell would help me for free? Who would be able to understand why I can't throw that away or why I can't get out of bed?
I hate looking in the mirror. Not only because I hate the outside but because the outside is just an outcome of the psycho on the inside. Like Jekyll and Hyde, but the monster is winning. Always.

A poem.

2010-03-13T22:09:00.000-06:00

A man once drowned in a fountain of angels.

People sat and watched under a sea
of black and light.
An angel was once caged and chained by a man.
God slept on over a sea
of death and sorrow.
And all the while,
a single lark sang a deep and hopeful tune.
Five branches crossed over an ancient crypt.
May all who seek find empty wells.
For the man with the blood of the Angel,
who soars into the heavens
and lights like the sun,
may he find the hope he seeks.

To a Robert Burns

2010-03-03T20:34:00.000-06:00

The best laid plans of mice and men go often awry.
I backward cast my eye on prospects dear.
And forward, though I cannot see, I guess and fear.

Just once I'd like a plan to actually work. I spend way too much of my life making plans and never going through with them or having them fall apart. But then, such great poetry wouldn't be written.

Let's be honest.

2010-02-04T00:14:00.000-06:00

I won't wear my retainer every night. Hardly once a month even. I can't always get up to take my contacts out before bed. I floss once a week. I can't not Facebook stalk and I can't always be in the mood. As much as I want to, I can't bring myself to go buy more hair dye to cover the blonde peeking through and I don't have time for a trim every two weeks. Despite good intentions I tan once a month and work out even less. I cry when I say I don't, which is nearly every time. And let's not even bring up homework. For all the things I wish I could do, I can't even do what I need to. Everyone knows flossing is important for oral health and wearing my contacts to bed has been really bad for my eyes according to the eye doctor. Yet I don't. I am a bit lazy. I will admit that. But maybe I'm just so set on being who I am I won't change. Maybe that's why I can't move on because even though I know I have changed and everyone else has, I refuse to believe things can't be the same. Where's the wake up call?

I just learned what some of these keys do. Look at this! [ ] \ { }| ^ ~ `§ σ ô

A day and a dream.

2009-11-02T20:43:00.000-06:00

Clear as day. Most days are hazy and the light makes things warped. Daytimes lies. When people say clear as day I think something goes off in my head to be wary around them whether they see the irony in their words or not.

I had a dream that I swam really far down in the ocean. And I was terrified because deep, open water scares me. And there were tons of jellyfish all around me as I went down and they were stinging me. Then I got to the floor of the ocean. I started touching all their tops and they were smooth and soft and they all gathered around me. And I heald my breath the whole time.

I'm tired...

2009-09-30T23:16:00.000-05:00

There are some things in the world that you just can't pass up. You just can't have an opportunity for some things and not take it.
1. A visit to the beach.
2. A chance to whistle without being annoying.
3. Painting with your hands.
4. Learning something interesting.
5. Listening to a good song.
6. Something sweet.
7. A really good hug.
8. An adventure.
There is so much people deny themselves or others when they just shouldn't. It is sad that some people don't ever get a chance to do anything worthwhile for themselves. I don't mean in the world or the environment or finding a cure for cancer. I mean for themselves. And that is so sad. And so many people do it.

The seconds the soul is cradled.

2009-09-10T21:26:00.000-05:00

This morning I woke up and I drove to school. And the air was cool and clean and I could feel fall coming. And I wondered if, on our deathbed, right before the end, we closed our eyes and went back to the happiest time in our life. If our eyes saw no priest, or empty alley. No relatives holding their breath or a dark hospital room through milky eyes but we saw with the crystal clarity that is only possible through rememberance of true happiness, the best day, the best hour, the best second, of our lives. Where he lived up in the mountains with his young wife and made love to her every night and somedays they stayed up talking until the early sunlight streamed through the window. Or where she swam in the small pond in the woods where the water ran so clear she could see the millions of colors of the rocks and the plants and the fish that swam inches from her. Or simply when they stood in the doorway holding eachother for twenty minutes straight with no talking, not trying to kiss, no moving, and absolutely no selfishness. I wondered if the last second, we looked back and we saw it was all worth it for that one time. To be really happy. And though we all may not die in a happy room or in a serene way, and though some may be crying and be in terrible pain, that last moment will be one of home and happiness and a sense of being found.

And if I were there when Rudy was sleeping, the bomb about to hit, I'd say to death, "I know you. And I know humans haunt you and the terrible things they do. But cradle his soul in your arms, not over your shoulder or hanging from your fingers. Hold him like you held the children from the gassing chambers and hold him like you held her little brother. Hold him like he's just the lemon haired boy dreaming about the kiss from the book thief next door. Walk with him down what's left of Himmel Street and hold him in your arms while she finally kisses those dead, bomb burned lips and I want you to cry. Because you'll never get a vacation with humans. And because I know he makes you cry, the boy who wanted to run like Jesse Owens." And I'd look death in the face and I'd know him. I'd see every sky and every color he's ever seen and I'd cry with him for the glorious and terrible human race.*

*If confused, please read The Book Thief by Markus Zusak in its entirety.

Parallel Universe.

2009-08-23T19:07:00.001-05:00

So there is a theory that because the universe is infinite, there are more of us; exact replicas of ourselves living different lives at this very moment. Parallel universe. So somewhere, unfathomable distances away, we are living an infinite number of lives, each one different based on the many decisions, actions, choices, thoughts we have every second. Actions and thoughts others have. So somewhere, I'd like to think, I'm happy. Somewhere my mom is okay. Somewhere I'm not so sick all the time. Somewhere I'm with you. Somewhere I have less scars. Somewhere I lived up to my potential. Somewhere I still think the world a happy place. And that has to be enough for me, that there could be a life that worked out. It has to get me by knowing that in a way I am living out the life I wanted. So for now, we can just do our best, and late at night we can open our drawer of dreams and look at the life it could have been. That we are living somewhere else. Because it's beautiful and we know, deep down, that life was once possible because we once deserved it. Yes, I know the pain it brings, searing through our veins and straight to our hearts and that every night it's harder and harder to close that drawer back up. But we do, because we have to be brave and we know the hopelessness we feel would be so much worse if we clouded our minds with the dreams we can no longer have; the life we no longer have the chance to live. If I could, I'd reach my arms into the universe to simply place my hand upon your face. The face that does not belong to me in this life, but to a me in another, just to have a feel, a connection, to the you that I love.

I hope that this brings me to you, trillions upon trillions of light years away.

If this is it, I want to say the right thing.

2009-06-29T01:37:00.003-05:00

Here is my letter. Maybe someday, after things have long changed, you'll find it and read it and know that somethings don't change.

Dear,
Love has been a tricky thing with me. I know what it is and I know what it isn't and yet I still haven't got a clue as to what the hell love is. I may not know everything and I doubt I ever will but I know somethings for sure. I know that love has not always been kind to me. I know that I haven't received as much as I should. I also know that I could be giving more. And the most important thing is that I love you. I've waited a long time for you to come around and when you did, it wasn't like I was falling in love. It was like like took me and shot me into the air and I kept going. When you left, it was like I had to fall back and the Earth's gravity sucked me back to the ground. It hurt. And I'm sure it always will. Some days it's the same as it was when you were first gone. Other days, I pretend not to care and I just feel like being destructive. But the days that hurt the most are when I think about you more than the other days. Like when I look at that cat or at that moon or even when I chew gum. I can't let go and I'm sorry for whatever burden that has ever put on you. No matter how hard I try, there is a hope that maybe, if you always know I'm here and how I feel, you'll realize while watching TV that you made a huge mistake and you want to come back. I know that won't happen. Two sides battle. Hope and eternal hopelessness. I'm the casualty. I just want to say that no one will love you like I do. But the real thing I want to say is that I never got the chance to say thank you. You changed my world by loving me like no one else would; like no one had the courage to. I hope with all my heart you can be really happy. You are the love of my life. This may change. I don't know. The important thing is that you made me want to stay around to find out.

Love always,
Emily

P.S. Thank you also for being my best friend. My very best friend. And for doing your very best to teach me things I wanted to know about like cars and about some things I didn't realize I wanted to know about like country music. Goodbye.

Greetings.

2009-04-02T21:00:00.002-05:00

Meet my grandfather. He was born in '33 and spent his whole life paiting signs on huge buildings. He can carve you the Mona Lisa on a woodchip and he thinks all hospitals are uneccesary unless one of his family memebers is in one. As a kid, his idea of Sunday school was being dropped off and walking right past the church to the drug store to read comics until Sunday school was over and he could walk home. He was thrown out of Lutheran Bible school for making references to the pastor's mother. He claims to hate dogs and you see him sneak everything from steak to cookies to any dog he meets. He's the only person in the world I know who can fix anything. His big calloused hands have rocked me and picked me up off the ground with tenderness. He loves jokes of all kinds. He knows all the trees and all the birds. Meet my grandfather with me, for the first time.

Blues and greens.

2009-03-31T21:23:00.002-05:00

Sometimes, we will really feel the world. We'll hear everything that it is always trying to say. We can it flow right through us. And it scares us. Shakes us to the core. Because it's easy and safe to think we are all alone in the vast sky above our little brains. But there it is. Below us and above us. It's everywhere. It's going in between the very atoms of our bodies and our brains. So next time we drive, we'll put our bodies out the window again and open up and we'll feel it.

Red, the blood of angry men.

2009-03-13T00:40:00.002-05:00

Somedays, I'll wake up and feel like I'm in the movie August Rush.
Other days, I wake up and I'm in the passion of Moulin Rouge.
On some, it's Chorus Line, all the way.

Today, I woke up and I was in Les Miserables. Mainly the part where everyone dies, which is most of it. But the ending mostly. With all the dad back up and the flag waving and the red and blue everywhere and the song just beaming. Yes, that was this morning.

High school.

2009-03-09T22:06:00.002-05:00

Okay, listen up.

You will get lucky. Because you are hot and great in the sack.

Let's go to prom and fill in all the blasted stereotypes. Let's get drunk and have sex we think we'll remember the rest of our lives.

Beat me. Ha.

2009-03-06T00:16:00.003-06:00

I fell down the stairs.

I got punched.

I have a hickey right on my boob turning a disgusting color.

I fell off a bench.

I scraped my leg on my car.

I slammed my hand in the front door.

I cut my leg shaving.

I'm a crash dummy.

Camel Crush

2009-03-02T23:31:00.001-06:00

Screw my big, beautiful dress.
And my stupid diet.
And my tan.
And all that money.
Screw prom.

Let's take a drive.

What is in a name?

2009-02-26T23:12:00.003-06:00

I once heard a boy call my name. He called it loud and clear and I turned. But here is the thing about names; there is always someone who is near who has your name, too. I turned and saw a face I didn't know. When I realized it wasn't me, I went on, hating all the parents who had to name their children with the same name. I once heard a boy call who I was. He called it loud and clear and I didn't turn. I went on hating all the people who knew who I was.

I will name my child something hardly anyone has so they can always get away.

Me

2009-02-18T22:22:00.005-06:00

I make up Broadway musicals and their scores in the shower. And they aren't half bad. The choreography is trash, but I haven't got much space to work with.

I am not an organized person but I freaking hate dirt, mostly in other peoples houses.

I am very passionate. About a lot of things. And I am full of empathy.

I can read like a demon and their is no one who can brush their teeth with such fevor like I do.

I am appreciative of good music and anything broken and it's possibility.

I can make anything craft-tastic with sequins and ribbon and glitter and stickers.

I'm not close. Hardly a baby step. But it's better that going back.

Just.

2009-02-12T12:40:00.002-06:00

All my life I stumble,
But up here I am just perfect,
Perfect as i'll ever be...

The new visualizer on iTunes makes me want to cry. I imagine it is the closest I'll ever get to the things people see when they have that disease where they can see sound. Kind of like the Northern Lights, which I have also not seen. I want it on my ceiling.

X

2009-02-07T17:24:00.002-06:00

I've always made the good choices. Yeah, I fuck it up a lot. But there is never a time when I sit back and say "Shit, I should have...yada yada." The time when I'd just rather die. He tried to off himself. And if he had died, it would have been on my hands. He came to take me to the hospital to see him and I said no. I went and got drunk. Made new friends doing ecstasy. And I'll never get a chance to apologize. He made my life hell years ago and here I am feeling sorry for being the reason he would have died. Life is never what you expect it to be. Stop making plans.

Buffalo Wings.

2009-02-02T22:12:00.003-06:00

I'm going to run. And I'll keep going. So far that the burning pain in my legs will numb and the blisters turn into calluses. And I'll do my best not to look back. Just wait. One day I'll be here and the next all you'll see is the dusty trail that I have left behind. I'll go until the trees and grass and sky all look new and different and unrecognizable. I'll run until even I am different. And if I'm not, I'll just keep running until I am. Because running will be better than sitting around watching my ice heart melt into cold useless water that will evaporate at the first ray of sunshine. Maybe I'll run so much that I'll lose my humanity. Maybe I'll just become a buffalo and I'll roam forever. I'll be a buffalo and get wings and fly. Ha. Buffalo wings.

Which is more foolish, a child afraid of the dark or a grown man afriad of the light?

Lennon.

2009-01-29T21:06:00.002-06:00

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy.

I like your cheekbones. How they are carved from clay. The red brown clay of your skin. And your deep black hair. You know how it shines like silk. You're warm and tall and full of muscle. Sometimes when you smile just the right way, the crooked way, I want to cry. Because I love you. I love you when I don't even believe in love. But I am always irrational. I want to claim you. I want to keep you so you can always keep me from falling into a thousand pieces. You are my best friend. I want to hold and hold and hold and never let go. I want to always inhale how you smell like the earth and the ocean. And how you smell like sweet hookah and the time of the world. I can't lose you today.

Colored underwear.

2009-01-28T17:32:00.002-06:00

Monday=Red
Tuesday=Yellow
Wednesday=Green
Thursday=Blue
Friday=Purple

Doesn't Monday just feel like red? I'm dressing according to the days of the week. I'm currently looking for underwear in the corresponding color and with the day of the week written on them. So, if anyone knows where I can find such a thing, let me know.

Oh, boob. The sun woke up. Again. Will it ever just wait? Just a single night?

Old words.

2009-01-24T00:01:00.003-06:00

Gay is such an ugly word. Both by what society has put upon it and the actual sound. I wish there was a nicer sounding word. But gay is tearing my life apart. I'm not prepared for this. I need to run away, just for a few weeks. I'm too young to be old.

Sincere thanks.

2009-01-23T00:27:00.002-06:00

Thanks for all the notes on my writing. I wish I had time to make it better but it's already late. I think I am the only student who has the guts, or the ADD, to not turn something in on time in my AP Lang class. At least I tried instead of handing over the dead lifeless papers I usually do. But thanks again, they really did help.

Secondly

2009-01-21T21:47:00.002-06:00

Third Grade
All of the kids in our neighborhood played outside at the same time, just before dinner and right after lunch. Riding bikes, digging holes, and making war. I was alone one day and walking on the sidewalk three houses down the street from our newly built house. Our house was fresh and clean and very white. It hadn't been broken in yet. I felt safer outside in the dirt with my feet cut from running around barefoot over the sand and pebbles the snow trucks had left behind from the icy winter like Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumbs. The outside has been used for millions of years so there is no worry of getting it worn. That is where I found myself, playing in the sand, when the boy across the street rode up on his shiny trick bike. He was the kind of child who was unintelligent, comanding, and loud. In a child's world, it was all that mattered. I had never been in a child's world for long. He ordered me to lay down on the sidewalk. He usually liked to play these games in the privacy of my basement where the walls resembled the concrete bricks of a jail cell. I surrendered myself with my head in the grass and my body stretching across the cement. He towered above me with all his authority and without a word pedaled his bike over my stomach . The compressing of my skin and my muscle sounded like a steak being rolled into itself again and again. The wet meat squishing and the blood forcefully rearranging in the muscle. I begged for mercy, but I didn't have the power of innocence. No one wants to show mercy on a broken girl. He had previously made sure of that. Once more, he turned his bike and rode over me again, my stomach meat becoming softer, tender. When I could finally open my eyes again, I saw my savior. A soft white light shone around his hazy silhouette that blocked away the sun. A hand that no god could have reached towards me, picked me up from the ground. No adult could understand how to save me from my unwillingness to get off the sidewalk where rocks bore into my back. I ran with my bare feet up the street to our clean house, never looking back. I'd heard the sounds of him avenging me before and I could hear them again in my mind. The sound of wind and the sound of meat being tenderized.
I have never lain across the sidewalk again. I've been to scared he won't come when my stomach is flattened all the way down.

Tenth Grade.
The circles under my eyes started on one Friday night full of sweet smoke and hot, dewy skin. I went home late and hid the evidence of a second life under my clothes. While I was in the shower trying to scrub the dirt and sweat from my pores, I leaned my head directly under the hot stream of water and cupped my bruised hands around my ears and listened to the water roar. The powerful noise becoming thunder rolling just under my skull over the vast sky of my brain. The water streamed down my face making it hard for me to breathe, but I couldn't let the sound disappear. Not yet. I let the thunder pound away every thought and every noise. In one second, I lost my breath and had to step forward. The water changed. It sounded like the Pop Rocks we used to eat. The snapping and the crackling of the little candy sitting on our tongues and when we parted our lips we let the sound out, making it loud enough for each others ears. This time I was alone with no one to share my crunching noises with. I slammed the shower off before I had to listen to much more.
A shower doesn't always wash away the dirt, but if things get loud enough, it can drown it.

I suppose this is my second rough draft. It's about my experiences but based on the format and style of Indian Education. There is no racism because it isn't the common theme of my paper. More comments? The last really helped. I like this a little better.

Help?

2009-01-20T20:21:00.002-06:00

I have to write this paper for my AP Lang and Comp class and it is supposed to be based of Indian Education which is where a Native American man ties the theme of overcoming racism and seeing how white people see him to each grade and an event that happened in it. So here is my rough draft. It needs work. I missed the day of peer editing. Be my critics.

Third Grade

All of the kids in our neighborhood played outside at the same time just before dinner and right after lunch. Riding bikes, digging holes, and making war. I was alone one day and walking on the sidewalk three houses down the street from our newly built house. Our house was new and clean and very white. It hadn't been broken in yet. I felt safer outside in the dirt with my feet cut from running around barefoot over the sand and pebbles the snow trucks had left behind from the icy winter like Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumbs. That is where I found myself, playing in the sand, when the boy across the street road up on his shiny trick bike. He told me to lay down on the sidewalk. He usually liked to play these games in the privacy of my basement where the walss resembled the concrete bricks of a jail cell. Learning early on that listening to the older kids granted me certain access to various clubs, I settled myself with my head in the grass and my body stretching across the cement. He towered above me with all his authority and without a word peddaled his bike over my ribs. The compressing of my skin and my muscle and my bones sounded like a steak being tenderized for supper. The wet meat being pounded in with a wooden mallet. I begged for mercy, but I didn't have the power of innocence. Once more, he turned his bike and rode over me again, my stomach meat becoming softer. When I could finally open my eyes again, I saw my savior. A soft white light shone around a hazy silohuette that blocked away the sun. A hand that no god could have reached towards me, picked me up from the ground. No adult could understand how to save me from my unwillingness to get off the sidewalk where rocks bore into my back. I ran with my bare feet up the street to my clean house, never looking back. I'd heard the sounds of him avenging me before and I could hear them again in my mind. The sound of wind and the sound of meat being tenderized.
I can still hear the meat of another sounding so much juicier than my own.

Tenth Grade

The cirlces under my eyes started on one Friday night full of sweet smoke and hot, dewy skin. I went home late and hid the evidence under my clothes. While I was in the shower trying to scrub the dirt and sweat from my pores, I leaned my head directly under the stream of water and cupped my bruised hands around my ears and listened to the water roar. The grandeur of the noise becoming thunder rolling just under my skull over the vast sky of my brain. The water streamed down my face making it hard for me to breath but I couldn't let the sound disappear. Not yet. I let the thunder pound away every thought and every noise. In one second, I lost my breath and had to step forward. The water changed. It sounded like the Pop Rocks we used to eat. The snapping and the crackling of the little candy sitting on our tounges and how when we parted our lips we let the sound out, making it loud enough for eachothers ears. I slammed the shower off before I had to listen to much more.
Later, we ate Pop Rocks in the shower and almost went deaf.

Looking back to the future.

2009-01-14T20:30:00.000-06:00

Years from now, we'll look back and wish it could be the same. We'll say we were just kids having the time of our lives and we were taking the world for our own. Claiming that the drugs were experiments, things to make our suburban lives more interesting. We'll say that it was all in good nature. Our memories will fail on the hard parts. The parts we can't down. That we had alternative motives. Some of us needed to be lost, some of us were pressured by people we wanted to love us, some of us were serious addicts, some of us were looking for a fun time, some of us wanted to make it easier, some of us were just looking for an escape. We won't remember that because we'll have to remember the reasons why. All we want to remember is the highs and the laughing and the crazy shit that went down. The unspoken understanding of the things we went through to get to that point. The understanding that there is more to getting through life than whitty phases and intelligent one-liners. For now, we'll smoke a bowl, do a line, pop a pill, or drop a square. We'll drive around and enjoy the world that seems so small.

Oh man.

2009-01-11T17:28:00.001-06:00

No more depressing days with smoke filled nights. It's way too much to handle. I can't even control it right now. I'm losing my fucking mind. All I remember is the snow. And the blue.

Nightime Snow.

2009-01-10T10:09:00.002-06:00

The snow that glitters the second the sun comes up. The quiet. The silence. The untouched. No tracks of those who have walked before me. Only mine can be seen. The world belongs to me. The white can be gathered in my arms forever. Then the sun rises fully from the ground and the white is suddenly blinding. The world awakens and instantly feels to big. And nothing is mine. Selfishness must be given up again. The cruelty of the way the world must go on.

Well,

2009-01-08T18:47:00.002-06:00

HOLY SHIT!
This is incredible. So I have been mixing music and I believe I've come up with the most glorious music in the world.
Kerli Koiv's "Walking on Air" added to Mute Math's "Typical"

You have to mess with it just right but, holy hell, you'll know when it fits.

Poignant.

2009-01-06T21:46:00.000-06:00

So poignant. And the pressure of the fire on the flesh. He burns holes in your flesh. With his tounge. And you can feel the heat when his eyes search over you. And it hurts to listen to him. And to watch him. And it hurts when you don't. So poignant. And it will cut. A man will kill a girl and bury her body and she will decompose and flowers will spring up where her body was and bees will use the flowers to make the honey and the father of the dead girl will eat the honey. And he will become the girl. You used to dance. You used to dance like the trees did before people came along and ruined you with their greed and their poison and their cars and their hate. You killed the dancing trees so you become the dancing trees. So poignant. The pressure of the ice on the heart. The only way down is to fall and years later when you are much younger, we can go back.

Movies and dreams and lists.

2009-01-04T01:51:00.002-06:00

I fucking love The Chronicles of Narnia. There isn't a doubt in my mind about the awesomeness of the movies. So, I'll stay up late not doing homework that should be done and watch them. Because they deserved to be watched.

I still remember it. The paint peeling away. I can't stop thinking about it. I need to find it.

I want to sleep in Cinderella's castle. Add it to the list.

Just the two of me.

2008-12-29T00:06:00.003-06:00

ME: I regret so many things. Somedays I am so stupid and I make the worst choices in the world.
BETTER ME: But you are working on that. Experience will shape you into a better person if you let it.
ME: I love dreaming. I never want to wake up. I sleep all the time. I'm losing the battle agaisnt it again.
BETTER ME: You love the sunrise. You love the mornings. You can't lose. You'd miss them forever.
ME: My dreams are becoming terrible too. I never want to lay down at night.
BETTER ME: The night always tries to take you and sometimes you let it. Lay your head down.
ME: I still miss him.
BETTER ME: That didn't stay for a reason. You have to stick aroud and find out why.
ME: I can feel myself getting sicker. It's running through my veins.
BETTER ME: This is the one thing you cannot run from. You cannot run from yourself. It is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. It is the end of the beginning. If you can't let go now, you will miss the rest of the story.
ME: I need more time.
BETTER ME: Why live forever if you aren't even going to spend the time you have already living?

ME: I am alone.
BETTER ME: We both are. We may always be. But we have to find out.

ME: I'm scared.
BETTER ME: So am I.

Never a word to me of selfishness.

2008-12-24T21:03:00.003-06:00

I sat. Looking through a window. Watching you ruin me. And I kept my mouth shut. I let you walk all over me. Use me. Hurt me. You didn't care. Selfishness consumed you and all you saw was a mirror. Watching yourself become what you wanted. But there I was on the other side. Seeing the same image you saw. Seeing the same problems. Watching them. Helping you fix them. But then I forgot myself. I had my own life to deal with. And it didn't matter. It was all you. And I let it be. And I still am.

Breaking through the blue.

2008-04-22T13:44:00.003-05:00

Maybe we can't all be looking for something amazing or profound. We can't search for organization in our lives and hope things will fall into place with the help of fate. Looking doesn't always guarantee finding as those of you know who have ever lost that left sock or the tickets to the homecoming game. The world may always seem like it's conspiring against us but really, it's just ourselves making every bad thing into a terrible thing. We conspire against ourselves because it's easier to explain how things are hard for us or how we failed if something is working against us. When we look for meaning or miracles or whatever it is, this is how we feel. Everything becomes smoke making it hard for us to see what we are looking for. Every time you try harder to see something, the smoke gets thicker. What we don't realize, is maybe the smoke is profound in itself and it's the worlds real signal to us. Everything against us, to realize it's there are run knowingly into it, that's profound and anyone willing to look for it, is just as amazing. Maybe everything I am writing means nothing and I think that's okay. A lot of things mean nothing like wire trash cans full of holes. But the truth is, sometimes, nothing is all I can handle. Sometimes it's all I want to handle. And if that makes me happy, why not?

Last shot?

2008-04-09T11:19:00.003-05:00

Dear ____,

Just for the record, it still hurts. Every time I think about you or what I should have done differently. I'm sorry that I screwed up and that I continually nag you. I love you. I'm sorry for that and I'm sorry I'd do anything to have you back but you were my best friend and you don't even care about me anymore. I'm just a hassle. I understand you want to be cautious but screw cautious! I'm not an idiot. You belong to her now. You are happy and I get it. I just want my friend back. I can feel that everything you say is just to pity me. Just stop. Just care. Maybe not like you used to but care. I'm sorry things ended how they did and I'm sorry you could care less and I'm sorry that you are you and everything. Help me.

Emily.

The truth no one will ever read. Or care about.

2008-03-31T21:37:00.000-05:00

Wanna know my biggest secret? I was planning something great for it but what's the point? I'll die before I get the point. So, here it goes.
My biggest fear is that when I am on that overpass watching the ground fall beneath me more and more, and I do finally decide to stop fighting and let my wheel drift just a little bit more the the right and over is what I'll think on the way down. That I won't think of everything that made me want to do it but the things that held me back for so long. I'll see beautiful things and see happy memories. The best part of my life flashing before my eyes in those three seconds. Not just that but I'm afraid I'll see what hasn't come and what now won't. The eyes of the man I would never get to love. The first steps of the son I would never have. The life I would never get to live. And after all that, in the millisecond before the sounds and crashing and breaking of the car, I would realize something. I would realize I changed my mind.

Before you go.

2008-03-18T17:53:00.003-05:00

Dear ___,

I'm listening to you talk on the phone right now. How quiet you are. It's just a whisper. Slowly every word struggles to get beyond your lips. It's much better now. Better than it was. But I can still tell. I spent my life memorizing your voice. Now I know the one you have just as well because of how it isn't like your old one. Knowing something by what it isn't. I forget what theory that is and who's it was but it doesn't matter. I feel like I should tell you this. It feels like the end of something. He's cheating on you. And it's fairly recent. From since I was in 7th grade. It was after, but not right after. I am sorry I hate you. And I'm sorry you are unloved by everyone. I know how you feel. But I still have time. You don't. And I'm sorry your life was wasted like this. I wish you had a second chance and although I can no longer love you, I'd give my life just to let you start over. For the record, I used to love you. You were my everything. As it should be.

Forever sorry,
Emily

Repeat repeat.

2008-03-04T17:04:00.003-06:00

This one is to you. Again.

Dear ____,

It was never like I wanted everything to happen that way. And it's certainly not how I wanted things to turn out. In the beginning, it was easy to not feel much. Well, I don't know if that's the right way to say it. I felt something. Just not like you. Something told me that you chose me because she wasn't available anymore. I was the second best thing. After awhile and you made the choice and I forgot about it. You were so perfect and that was so wrong for me. I got mad all the time because I knew I didn't deserve you and when the next girl came around I'd be left behind. I don't know how long she has been there. I'm scared to know. I think you really did love me. I know it was hard. I know. You loved me even though I wasn't the best. I don't think it was what I was ready for. After my whole life of never being loved without questions and then you come along and get really close. But not close enough. You left. That's what killed me. Why should everyone else get to be loved so unconditionally? At all, even? When I am not loved at all. At the end, I was just second best. I think I was the whole time. Just until your budding relationship got going. That was the only time you needed me. But I needed so much more. I don't know what could have happened later on. If you were the "one" but that's just the thing. I don't know. I'll never get to know. With everyone else it was so easy to know they weren't right. But, you could have been. I hate that fact. You know that saying "better to have loved and lost than never loved at all"? Maybe it's not true. Not for all of us. Maybe it only applies to the people who have been previously loved. People who were born with people and families who have loved them unconditionally. To be honest, everything that I have gone through, if I wasn't able to change it, I would want it all gone. No matter how amazing you were. To lose something perfect isn't worth going back and risk losing it again.
I still love you.
And so does she.
I know who comes in second place.

Always,
Emily

Fall. It's okay. You don't need to catch me.

2008-03-01T23:10:00.002-06:00

There are so many things I wish I could just forget.
Every dumb mistake.
Everytime I got left behind.
Everytime I cried.
And every funeral.

What happens when my memories are the only things that keep me alive?

But at the same time are the things that make everything worse?

A sea of open thought.

2008-02-27T20:20:00.001-06:00

Maybe we can't all expect we will have a second chance.

Maybe we can't keep waiting for what we want.

Maybe we will never understand what we are doing here.

And maybe, we should all be allowed to change our minds.

Shawn the kind musician from Nebraska.

2008-02-23T23:22:00.004-06:00

I screwed this life up. I want a new one. Pack my bags, run away to some quaint little town where no one knows me and start all over. I can tell them lies. Tell them my name is Penelope or Ruth of Beatrice. I could tell them I used to be a librarian or a ballet dancer. I could be anything I want to be. I could tell them the truth or I could lie. I could tell them I had 12 brothers and sisters. Not that in particular but what matters is I could tell them and it would become me. I could be anyone. Leave everything I didn't want and take all the things I did. I wouldn't mess it up. I'd make it a good one. I have nothing here. Nothing to lose at all. All these people would eventually stop searching. Their ignorance would be every one's bliss. I'd want to be Shawn. I think it should have been my name. Emily means industrious. I am not. I'd be Shawn, the kind musician from Nebraska. I'd be a better me.

A fight for the plastered life.

2008-02-20T11:15:00.002-06:00

In high school, everyone tells you that your life will begin in college. Why not now? They've got me so fooled. My life is here, now, at this moment. What am I waiting for? I can't seem to wait for something but the life I will have has started. It's all around me and filling me up. It's happening and I am sitting her cherishing a day of no school on account of extreme cold? There is so much in this world that I want. I'm so afraid I'll never have enough time and even if I did, there are things in the world I will never know, never be. Why am I sitting here wasting away like every average person. All my life I have been average and maybe that's not bad. But everything on the inside of me, is not average. Not one bit. I am a freak and I want the whole world to see it because I don't want to be safe anymore. I don't want to hide or sit back and wait for something that may never come. I will be the world. Not someday, not tomorrow, but now. Now and always.

The truth shows up once more. How coincidental.

2008-02-16T23:24:00.002-06:00

Everyone says the truth sets you free.
Free from what?
Even in America we aren't truly free.
Sometimes, lies are the only thing that we have to keep us from losing it.
Seems to me that the truth is overrated.
And besides, does anyone know what real freedom is anyways?

I'll bet not.

HA! Secrets of my humor.

2008-02-15T12:31:00.006-06:00

I hate having so many secrets. It's tough when you are sitting around sharing your life with your friends and you have too many terrible secrets that you are just accustomed to it. Sometimes, I hold my secrets in for so long that when I let one slip, people are so shocked. And the fact that I tell them to people I don't really care about doesn't help. When you grow up with so many lies and so many things swept under the rug, it becomes a part of you. When I tell my secrets, there is no weight lifted or huge miraculous thing. I could care less. The real secrets I have will never be told. No one would ever be able to understand them. That's okay because when I feel obligated to share a secret equally as dark as one that has been shared with me, I have no trouble. The secrets I don't care if people know are dark, yes. But the secrets I keep to myself, the ones that have no start, no end, no story, nothing understandable, are the ones that will inevitably lead to my destruction. I wish my secrets could change my life but they can't.

I still love him
I miss my brother and I wish he would run farther away
I know that my friends are ready to leave me at any moment
I hate wearing socks but I've racked up hundreds on buying them
I'm the only one who knows about his affair
I've never been first at anything in my life
I'm scared a lot but I make everyone think I don't care
I cry all the time
I've planned my own death on many occasions, but I've always been too scared
I hate being nice when I fall in the shadow
I am not happy, and I never was
I feel like we are just in another fight and that you'll come back soon
I hate that nasty lotion you gave me
The only people that love me, see me once a year
I hate who I am and who I am becoming
I closed my eyes and I pretended it was you
I can't stop myself from lying

All those nasty secrets eat at me but I could care less. Telling them won't save me. Friends won't and family won't. I laugh when I write this because I may seem like one of the most unhappy, emotional, depressed, suicdal people on the planet. I'm not. If I have all the secrets and I lie all the time, I have to be able to see the truth in others and in the world. If your fucked up like me, you see shit like that. I don't think that's so fucked up.

It's hard to smile but I love a challenge.

2008-02-10T10:20:00.000-06:00

Dear ____,

This is something I have been putting off for a long time. Something I should have said more often even when things hadn't changed. I am sad about what happened. You were my sister. I should have accepted our odd friendship because sisters aren't always nice and they don't always do the right thing. You didn't treat me how I deserved but I let that fact get in the way of everything. I still remember that one time when we snuck out and you thought you lost your phone and you slipped and fell on the ice. You threw the toilet paper down and started crying and cussing. I tried to reassure you but it was so funny and it took everything in me to not laugh louder. And I remember when we were really little and we used to sit outside in those lounge chairs in the summer and play truth or dare with everyone. Remember all those sleepovers where we'd laugh at the dumb people on the internet? And remember when I told you that I pretty much loved you? Then there was the time with the ramen noodles and your mom was on her way. It's kind of blurry. It wasn't even that long ago. The begining was. Fourth grade. Now that is a long time. I can be a jealous person when someone really matters. No one mattered like you. You started to become someone I didn't even know. And all those friends. They weren't like you. You wanted a different start and you became one of them. To all the secrets we told and to all the ones we didn't. To every apologetic hour and every step away from your house taken with pride. I'm sorry. Because of what you were to me, because you meant so much, I will miss you. I will always love you. Maybe we can't go back but the past always stays with us. Don't ever forget. Even the bad parts. Remember those so you can remember how good everything else was.

Always,
Em

Dropping in with words or meaning.

2008-02-06T22:32:00.001-06:00

Dear ____,

Just saying hello. I have more thoughts to spill unto you. Everyone is always talking about dying these days. Everyone sees it so final and terrible and maybe it is. And, the fact of the matter is there is a lot of death in the world today. It can be quite sad. Death is sad. But what makes me mad is the fact everyone takes so much time to tell someone they'd die for them. Sometimes, it doesn't even take a person that long to say it. I know I've said it. I used to think it meant a certain thing. I thought it meant you'd do anything for someone. It kind of does. But, maybe I knew what I was saying all along. For someone like me, who has seen death, faced it, and me, who has seen many terrible things and heard many sad stories, for me, I see everything from a different point of veiw. To me, death is easy. An escape. Death is how to run away because life is different. Life is so much harder than death. To say we would die for someone is so easy because we may mean it, but it in it's directed use, is meaningless. In life, there are things worse than death. There is death a thousand times over when you live. There are many things I would die for. More than the average person. But me, there is only one thing I would live for. And it's you. I am alive now, because I haven't yet felt the need to die for a purpose. I had my purpose to live and being so alive scared me and I let it slip. I think what I have been meaning to say, after all this time, is that I'm sorry. I know it wasn't you. I'm sorry and I'm so sorry and I will be forever. I am asking what I have been hoping for. I am asking for you. For my second chance. A big chance. Maybe not to start over but to fix things. A second chance to have a real reason to go through all this everyday. Until then, only my endless and pathetic hope will keep me here. And the fact that I have surrounded myself with the most amazing people in the world. I may slip up here and there and be with people not so amazing, but those people that stick with me, who've been there, will keep me until I find what I am looking for.

Forever sorry,
Emily

Untitled.

2008-01-30T23:01:00.000-06:00

Dear _____,

Why'd you have to leave? You had your girls. You weren't alone. Parents shouldn't have to bury their children. And children shouldn't have to bury their parents before they graduate high school. What is she going to do when she gets older? I can't even believe that you are gone. I'm scared because things are never going to be the same again. I'm mad at you. But I am going to miss you. We all will. I'm going to hate having to watch her suffer. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything that no one could understand. I'm sorry. Goodbye, _____.

Emily

More bull shit.

2008-01-26T23:32:00.001-06:00

Remember those talks about bullying in school? Where you really thought that things could change for you when they talked about how bad making fun of others was? There were always the people who spoke out in the discussions. Not the people who wanted a change. The people who cared about how they looked. They would say "I try not to be mean to people." and "If someone looked like they were having a hard time or someone wanted to sit at my table at lunch, I would be nice and try to accept them." Load of bull. I was one of them for a while. I faltered back and forth between the bully and the victim. When I was the bully, I'd try and make it seem like I wanted to be nice. But, then, when I was the victim, those discussions with those lying 12-year-old classmates made me want to scream. I hated them. I wanted to throw things. The victim never speaks up but the bully will always lie. I wouldn't scream or make a scene. I'd sit there and nod my head like I agreed with everything. Those poor middle school kids and those terrible people who hurt them. Councilors couldn't care less. "Concentrate on your school work and things will get better." or "Try talking it out with them. Tell them politely that you would like them to stop." Message for all you guidance councilors, that has never worked, it doesn't work now, and it never will. Every hour of every day, 57 teenagers try to commit suicide. Don't pretend you are getting better at you job. That is 6 times more than it was 20 years ago. The world changes. People get meaner at a younger age. Stop doing the same god damn thing you used to. You can't pretend that if you rules apply to the world you wish you had, it would change into that perfect world. Make your rules for the world we actually live in.

Emily

I know quite a bit.

2008-01-24T22:19:00.000-06:00

I always wished to have freckles, straight hair, long nails, tanned skin, a nice smile, greener eyes, and to be everything I am not. People always told me to be happy with myself. There is no universal rule like that. To be yourself and people will like that. It's a load of bull. People always want a good, pleasant lie. The real me destroys, hates, and is not good in any way. The real me believes in mysteries and doesn't believe in the lies of religion, parenting, government, schooling, and friendship. Especially love. Why? Because the real me isn't loved. What do you do then? When being yourself gets you hate and pain? Being myself was always important, but now that I think, I'd rather be happy as a lie than unloved as me. We aren't all meant to be happy in life. Some of us weren't meant to be born. We are the ones who ask "What did I do wrong?" only because we aren't good enough. Some people, like me, will never get a chance to be happy.

Emily

P.S. I'm sorry I said no. I wanted to protect you because I cared about you. I will regret it my whole life.

To those who deserve it.

2008-01-20T16:47:00.000-06:00

Dear ______,

I hate that he could have gotten away from you terrible people (if you could call yourselves "people") but because you made him screw up and he isn't getting anywhere, he's going to get caught. And we'll both be left here in this hell hole. If I can't make it out, neither can he. And I will do everything I possibly can to get you screwed a thousand times over. I hope your wasted, maggot infested body burns in a flaming, isolate hell. My hate for you, will ruin his chance of ever being happy. I wish I could stangle you and watch your eyes roll into the back of your head. I want you to die. You and all your friends. I blame pieces of shit like you who can't do anything but get high for the way that he is. The police will find him. How great will he be then? If only you knew his secrets. Our secrets. The ones never spoken for they are so dark, they could empty everything inside you. The ones only I know. Just the walls and I. If you knew those, it would change everything. Even you may have a soul, no matter how pitiful and lame it is. It's weak. And broken and used. Worthless. You couldn't handle it. I can. I have kept them inside me for years. A lifetime. They would destroy everything that's left of you. She asked me why I though I was so much better than you. It's because I am. I am so much stronger and better than you. You will die and the world will go on. Lives will improve with the loss of you. You are nothing. No one will mourn when I take away your very last breath. They will rejoice with the passing of a piece of shit like you. I hate you. I hate you more than I have ever hated anyone. If I could get away with it, you'd be dead in the next 3 hours.

Emily

You're a friend.

2008-01-17T20:19:00.000-06:00

Ahh, yes. Yet another letter that will never be read by anyone but me.

Dear ______,

You are right. You know it. I know it. I wish I could listen to you. Most of all, I wish I could explain to you, but you mean so much to me, that I don't want to tell you because I care about what you think. That's why I tell other people my secrets before I tell you. What they think won't affect me but if you were to ever think badly of me, I would be really upset. My reasons are stupid and they hardly make sense. I want so badly to just talk to you but I can't. I'm afraid you won't understand and if you can't, then no one will be able to. I have made so many mistakes and I don't want losing you to be one of them. We never fight and although this technically can't be considered one, I know what you mean. You know me and you are right. What I am doing, isn't who I am. To be honest, I have no idea who I am. I know who I'm not. This isn't me. I think that maybe people find themselves and then see who they aren't later on. For some reason, I'm going backwards. It's really dangerous and odd but I think knowing who you aren't is just as important as knowing who you are. I hate that I can't stop myself. Just yell at me. That would help. Or, maybe it wouldn't. Knowing you are dissapointed in me may be worse. I never cared whether or not people were dissapointed in me until you and her came along. You mean the world to me. I want to be myself because I know that if I'm not, I'll turn out to be the same as her. I've become one of those people we always dissaproved of. We were so much better. I knew you guys were so much better than me. I just never knew I was so much worse. Just don't give up on me yet, okay? Just not yet. Not yet.

Emily

P.S. What I did can't be taken back and I'm so stupid for it. I'm way ahead but you guys are so close to leaving me behind. Just like they did.

Crayons from the box.

2008-01-15T20:30:00.000-06:00

Dear ____,

So, I just closed my eyes, and pretended it was you.

Emily.

P.S. Wild Blue Yonder turned out to be a very beautiful color. It's too bad I never realized it until now.

Scared infant goat mouth.

2008-01-11T21:18:00.000-06:00

I have yet another letter. To her.

Dear _________,

I have no other way of explaining my feeling towards you than the simple phrase "I hate you". I hate the way you chew your food like a goat and how you drive like a mentally disabled 97-year-old on crack. I hate how you think puzzle pieces fit together when you shove them until they are bent and twisted. I hate how when you do things, your left hand just hovers, almost entirely useless. I hate how everything you cook turns out as something that looks like it came form a dead animal's stomach and I hate how when you make candy at Christmas time, you screw it up and ruin the nostalgic moment of it all. I hate how you forget things and how you get mad at people for the things you do wrong. I hate everything about you. How you raised your son, and how you treat me and the way you walk. I hate how your eyes sometimes look like an infant's, lost and empty. I hate how you try to talk when you have an already too large amount of food in your mouth. I hate when you make jokes and smirk halfway through when they aren't funny, no matter how clever you think they may be. I hate how you are under the impression that my friends find you funny when they are just laughing out of pity, politeness, or nervousness. I hate you for everything you've done and even the things that happened to you that you couldn't help. I hate it. But really, what I hate most of all, is how my friends hate me for hating you. For them not understanding that I wished you would have just died. I hate you for them having sympathy for you and not me. I hate that no matter how badly you treat me, I will always be the selfish one and the one who is acting horrible or being mean. I hate that I want you dead. And I hate that I'm the only one in my family that has the guts to tell you to your face, yet again making me the bad guy. I hate that you didn't just die so I could love you when you did. Now, when you die, I'll hate you and I won't really care. And I hate you for that. And I hate you because I know it's not my fault for hating you, but everyone believes it is.

Emily.

Sometimes, I wish I wasn't so scared to pretend to be happy. And sometimes, I wish I wasn't so scared to be my horrible self. And I'm scared at what that means I am.

Destroy my ocean.

2008-01-09T22:27:00.000-06:00

Sometimes, when it's quiet, and every sound stops echoing in your brain, almost until there is a soft static, you can hear yourself create an ocean. The rolling waves of breath in and out and in and out. You can close your eyes and see the blues and greens and greys and whites. The foam gathering on the sound of you lungs. Sand mingling in your skin. Delicate and fragile rocks filling every bottomless pit. And the pounding in your ears, the sound of pumping blood, doesn't fit. It isn't part of the ocean. Because of it, we aren't the waves or the sand but with out it, there is no breath and there is no skin and there is no mind being feed just like Ocean who changes her mind whenever she needs to and is fed by the life breathing within her. She does not depend on anything that does not belong in her. Not like us. So, we destroy her. Only because we can not be her. Because we can not depend on ourselves alone. We depend on a breakable, fragile, pitiful organ. We hate the ocean, because it does not.

2008-01-06T21:30:00.000-06:00

I like this letter thing. I'm going to do it again. This one is to me. From my head to my heart. Or one personality to the other. I'm not quite sure, but I am still saying to myself.

Dear Emily,

You are acting too pathetic for words. You are ruining your life. You almost didn't pass you favorite subject with a teacher who was incredible. You are screwing around with people you shouldn't be all because of a boy. Just a boy. A boy who didn't even love you. Not like he loves her. You tried so hard to get him back and fought with so much and guess what? He still didn't care. He doesn't care. You lied to your friends yet you told your secrets to someone who barely knows you. Your life sucks because you deserve it. Your brother is gone. Seems fair considering you haven't spoken to him in years despite the fact you were always around him. You seem upset because he has never said he loved you but you can't honestly think you deserve love. Your parents hate the way you sing, even though you love it. You got in the way of their dreams. No one loves you and that may not be your fault entirely. You gave plenty of love and you got screwed over. Sucks. So why are messing up someone else's love for another? Even I don't get you. You are mean and heartless and sad. Sometimes, you can be amazing. So nice to your friends and such. I wish you could be happy. I wish you could get away from all these people who were supposed to be there. Don't give up, though. I know you've tried to and I know you are in a lot of pain but maybe faith is just the thing you need. You can't keep being ice woman. You haven't gotten what I know you should have and that isn't fair. I mean, I know. I'm you. Someday, you'll find that amazing, Irish, soccer playing, lyric writing, charming, handsom, green-eyed man that will make up for every person who left you behind or gave up on you or who never loved you. You are smart and funny and nice. Don't ever forget that. And let go of him. He's not coming back. It's time to stop the sleepless nights and sad days. You have to move on. He found someone else that he loves so much more and you should let him be happy even if it means you are out of the picture. Let him go so you can get on with your own life. You should get to be happy, too. If it counts, I love you. Not a lot of people can say they love who they are. Then again, not a lot of people are like you.

Love,
Your smarter self.

Sometimes, all you will ever need is a slap in the face. Even if no one is there to do it but yourself. I think I'll keep this letter thing going.

Letters to the Unnamed.

2008-01-03T15:56:00.001-06:00

This is a letter to someone who shall remain nameless (for their own sake because I have lots of very strong easily-angered friends). I haven't ever had the guts to actually write this person a letter or tell them what the following letter explains (well, not entirely) and I felt it needed to be said. Even if I am the only one who will ever read it. I hope you know who you are. In more ways than one.

Dear ____,

I am disappointed in you. Extremely disappointed considering the stupendous amount of hope I had in you and what you could give. The promises you made to me where more that hollow words. To me, they meant something. You should definitely think about an acting career because everything you said to me turned out to be a horrible lie. No one gives up like that. Especially you who was so stubborn and never gave up on anything. And sadly, I see why you left. She's cute. Freckles, sparkly eyes, nice smile. From what I can tell, she's perfect for you. And she's been there for a while, even when I was there. And I had no idea until every last amount of dignity I had left was gone. What's worse is that you and I both know you got the better end of the deal. You took your time to ease away then hit me with everything like an atom bomb. It's not like it is in movies. The broken, pathetic girl doesn't get to be happy. Her whole life doesn't become some fairytale. She's left wishing she was dead and away from her empty shell of a life. I got fucked over. And somehow, you still have me. You have me when you tossed me aside. Every freaking memory with you just makes my chest ache more. Sometimes I think I see your face in other people. I see you in my friend who makes the same jokes as you. I see you in my parents who never knew. I see you in myself who you used to care about. For god sakes I see you in my dog who we used to talk about. Everything I have now just seems sullied by the mere remembrance of you. You're off and running and I'm still not done falling. I want to be rid of you but I am stuck because you won't leave. I'm going insane because of you. I'm starting to forget how to breathe. I can't even feel my body. You were never a jerk. Not technically. But you are cruel in the worst of ways. Not meaning to, but you could have helped it. To be honest, I sometimes fear that you might be the death of me. You gave up on me and it makes me feel like I'm not worth fighting for. I would have fought for you. I did fight. Why wasn't I enough for you? Why didn't you believe in me? Why should you get to be happy and why should she get to love you? I want to hate her. But it would be so unfair. She never did anything. You did but I can't bring myself to hate you. I want to be happy, too. They say it's a choice to be happy but every time I smile it's like someone comes along and slaps it off my face. I feel like giving up. I just never want to get up off the ground. Suicide is for pussies but I don't think it will come to that. You've done most of the killing. All I need is to lie here and let go. I really want to.

Emily

That's my letter and although no one reads this, I hope he finds it. I secretly want him back, but he's already somebody else's.

Christmas Magic.

2007-12-24T18:30:00.000-06:00

Happy Holidays to all in celebration. I love this time. Brother running away, parents fighting, debt, whores, mistakes, and unhappiness. Christmas spirit right? The only thing I love about this time, is...well not a lot really. I guess I like the commercials. They're not too bad. I just wish time wasn't so quick when you get older. It makes everything less magical. I'd still like to believe in it. I'm not ready to let go.

Great ball of fire.

2007-12-09T23:27:00.000-06:00

So I finally get what those people are talking about when they do something stupid just because they can control it unlike everything else in their lives. I didn't even realize I was one of those poeple until a while ago. But, that does make me like most people. Almost no one realizes what they do or who they are. Not really anyways. In a way it's a very hopeless feeling. It makes you try and stop time or stop the world from spinning or make it go backwards, kinda like super man. Sometimes, all I want to do it sit and listen to the sounds of the grass growing but I can't because it's winter and snow is everywhere. I really hate snow sometimes. It's too white and blinds you whenever you look at it. And it only stay beautiful right before dawn when no one is awake to ruin it with salt and sand and dirt and car tracks and imprints from boots. I can only look at it at night. Only when the moon is bright enough to make it glitter. Everything looks beautiful in bright moonlight. It's when the source of the moon's light shines that makes everything ugly and true.

Death in the Bermuda Triangle.

2007-12-02T02:41:00.000-06:00

Sometimes, I will take the time to pay attention to my parents and then maybe, just maybe, listen to the shit that spills from their rotten mouths. I find it so horrible they way they look at each other with hate and a painful amount of desperation. How could anyone live like that and not have tried to stuff a grenade up their own ass? The things they say to me and how they purposely try to make me mad. I want to vomit up every horrible moment of this life so I can forget it and maybe have a chance. I want a chance to not know who they are so that maybe I won't turn out to be exactly like them. But, I know I can't do such a thing. Which is why I tell people I am never going to get married, never going to have children, and am going to die in my 20's so I won't ever have to become like them entirely. People think I am twisted and a freak and they are right. I am demented. I don't want to get married and hate the person I'm with but stay with them for my druggie son and fucked up daughters sake and end up making every mistake I tried so hard to avoid. Fuck that. I'm out.

Point your finger around.

2007-11-24T23:00:00.000-06:00

So you know how you feel when you find out that people have lied to you for a really long time? Yeah, it sucks. And what's worse is that the only one to blame is myself. And I realize that I lied to myself for just as long and I started to believe it. Now, I'm the one left with all the consequences. Life has a way of sucking like that sometimes. I guess it's my fault for falling for it. The only person we can ever count on is ourselves and when we can't do that, we get screwed over. So here's a piece of advice. Count on no one to do anything but yourself. Everyone else will lie to you but you have the power to not believe them. Live your life for yourself and no one else. Besides, no one makes it out of life alive anyways. Remember?

Emily

P.S. Everyone knows but you. So do you still think you want to know? It can't be good if no one has told you right?

Don't tell.

2007-11-23T20:39:00.000-06:00

What can you do when you know that every secret you have kept has done know nothing to help you in your life? Sometimes, the biggest secret we have is so confusing and complicated, it takes everything in us to let ourselves believe that's it's actually real. I was reading people's secrets on postsecrets.com and some of them are so terribly sad and I wonder how people can be living with these things inside and then I remember that we all are. We each have the one secret, or those two, or more. And, they are painfull, and sad but we keep them inside because we are afraid. Not of what people will think of us but because if we keep inside we are the only ones who have to believe it and bear the pain that comes with it. If we keep it inside it doesn't seem as real and it's easier to deal with. But really, what's the point? No one ever makes it out of life alive.

Circles and hope.

2007-11-17T19:25:00.000-06:00

Sometimes when you sit all alone on a Satuday night with hair that looks like shit and your father claims that everything that has ever gone wrong in this family is your fault, you just don't feel like it's worth it. And maybe it's not. Maybe we shouldn't have to put up with it at all but we do anyways because we know that what ever we do to try and change it will make us lose everything we love along with whatever it is we want to change. It's a horrible vicious circle and it never stops. It's sad that it may never change for the most of us. I think that may be the hardest part. Knowing that it could be possible and having that small amount of hope but all along really knowing we are stuck in lives we sometimes wish would end.

Your average American fuck-up.

2007-11-12T20:48:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I get a little worried when I see some people not rebelling in some way against their parents. Not that I am suggesting that everyone show go pierce their tongue and join a cult, but a little rebellion is necessary. If you are never fighting what your parents do or say, you could be conforming to their incorrect ideas instead of forming your own. Take, for example, your average way too over protective, wrongly assuming, asshole parent who believes that a coat of iron at least 3 inches thick should be protecting their child at all times. Those parents can get really bad if their kids aren't slapping them on the wrist and saying "Hey, did I ever tell you your are a real dick wad sometimes? Well, you are." It is especially bad when you have that parent speaking out about it. "Well, I don't mean to make this any harder for you or put you on the spot (when they really do), but I am concerned about my child (when they really have just lost a way to either A. grab attention or B. speak about what they think)" They speak about the most ridiculous things. Like "Will the dorm rooms be at least 500 yards apart?" or "Are there going to be more than 20 chaperone's?" I mean, c'mon, your kid is going to be just fine. Stop pissing your pants and get a life that doesn't involve playing God to your child. So, in a way, I take back what I said. If you have this kind of parent, I say go get a couple tats and skip a class or two. You deserve it.

Who loves you baby?

2007-10-22T09:07:00.000-05:00

Sorry there hasn't been an update lately. I know all you rabid readers of my mine were extremely disappointed. The big thunderstorm two Friday's ago knocked out our power and then made our computer go out and it decided it never wanted to work again so here I am at my fathers office checking my 43 new e-mails and 10 new MySpace messages. I also happen to be failing English class because I can't turn in my assignments. Wonderful, no? Oh, by the way, I am starting this protest and a fundraiser to put a real candidate for the presidential elections. There should be someone I want to vote for. It shouldn't be that you should vote for someone just because you don't want the other one to win. It'll be great. Us youngins are going to actually do something, okay? I think we all need to get off our lazy asses and stop complaining about the government that we aren't even trying to change. I'll update with the details later. But, if you are going to be in the are for it, please come. It'll be like the seventies all over again. Like the modern day hippies but without the flares and tie-dye. Well, pray for my uncooperative computer back home.

Emily

व्हो लोवेस यू बेबी?

Dark Humor

2007-10-09T21:49:00.000-05:00

The other day in English class, we read a poem by Walt Whitman. It was about war. It was really great. I absolutely loved it. In the poem, the narrator was urging the drums and bugles to play louder so that no one would notice the horrible things of war. It was so cool how he explained it. I mean back in all the wars before Vietnam, the only time we really saw soldiers was when they came home and there was a huge parade and then Vietnam came and everyone saw what was happening in the real war, everyone threw a huge fit. He was so ahead of his time with the poem. It was great. I love poetry in English class. This other one we read was about how this guy found out how all of life was a dream and in war he awoke and saw that real life was nothing but a nightmare and then the last line was the most amazing. Such dark humor: "And when I died, they washed me out of the turret with a hose". It was so great how it conveyed how war takes away both the guy that died because he was simply washed away and the person who washed him away because it was inhumane to do such a thing but that's what happens in war. My English teacher is amazing. Okay, that's all.

Emily

P.S. Did you know that buy switching to energy efficient light bulbs, you save money because they are guaranteed to last seven years and each light bulb saves 25 pounds of carbon dioxide from being released into the atmosphere. The choice seems obvious; energy efficient, duh.

Questioning our position.

2007-10-08T23:19:00.001-05:00

डेस वार स्टील हवे पुर्पोसे इफ तेरे इस नो पाके तहत फोललोव्स

It's Hindi.

Translation: Does war still have purpose if there is no peace that follows?

The answer seems obvious. Is it really?

Number One.

2007-10-08T20:59:00.000-05:00

Hello all. From the title I assume you know that my name is Emily. I'm young and I have many Utopian ideas floating around in my head. Sometimes, I think my ideas are worth a shot. I get money for traffic on this site and I want to give it to charities. Mostly charities that will help people in third world countries who don't have food, jobs, education, or money for good medical assistance. Who knows, maybe my "perfect world" ideas could help make everything a little better. Remember, the more traffic I get on my blog, the more money for charities.