Right.Write.

So I haven't posted in a long time, but nothing amazingly spectacular has happened. I have no inspiration to write, therefore nothing to write.

Um.

Did I just fuck everything up?

StrongHearted Young.

As the sharks swim their circles around the ever dissolving island, the people squeeze and squeal and scream. With ever-increasing volume, buhbum-buhbum-buhbum pounds in their ears.

What to do?! What to do?! What WILL we ever do?!

*Jump to your death, loves.* his raspy voice scrapes the insides of their ears as he whispers *Jump, swim your last stroke, and die.*

NO! they scream. We will not! We can fight!

*HA!* he says. *Like you can fight MY demons! I placed them here solely for your destruction.*

They weep, they beg, they make deals with the devil. They do everything they think possible. Other than taking action. The island is still depleting. The sharks are still swimming. The evil still buhbum-buhbum-buhbums in their ears.

Only inches left to stand on and BUHBUM-BUHBUM-BUHBUM in their ears penetrates all blockades of hope. Surging headaches rage through their heads as their eyes tear from the noise, fear, hopeless agony.

*Hehehe* he cackles. *There is no hope for you.*

Please, please, please! They beg, again.

*Why should I save your meaningless lives?* he questioned. *What purpose would that serve me?*

He watches on as sweat beads form on their brow and as veins protrude from their stressed necks and bodies.
He watches on as a small girl, barely three years of age, turns her head upwards towards the blue skies.

With a strong, yet wavering childish voice, she tells her family, "Why should we be afraid? Have you not looked upwards to the beautiful skies?" She asks this of them, though knows already to not expect a response. Continuing on, she informs them of the hopeful birds. "My family, these pure white winged birdies fly above our heads. Did you not hear the gentle flapping of their wings? Surely it overpowered the evil splashes of the sharks."

The young girl reasons with her family, showing them what wonders soar above them while their eyes remained focused on the evil below.

Hah.

Don't you fucking lie to me.

Dig.

A deep hole in the middle of my chest.

And w-a-t-c-h my insides spill out.

See how vulnerable I can become.

Observe as my armor fades away.

see.me.fall.apart.

Isitsowrong?

That I'm jealous.

He followed through. He did IT.

And I'm too fucking scared.

Avoidance.

Truly one of the safest things.


Because when I avoid, I don't get stressed.

Before, when I let things in, I got stressed. And I got worried. And then I got unacceptable grades. That's not okay.

So I'll avoid topics that cause stress or tension. Then we'll be okay, right?
Nothing to worry about because we avoided it. It's not really there.

Freetime.

It's almost a foreign concept and I'm just now becoming acquainted with it.

I have time to go out to dinner with friends.
I have time to watch TV for a half hour without feeling guilty about not doing homework.
I have time to..just..not stress or do homework or study or worry.

But. With all this time. I can't get lazy. I will NOT sit here every day doing nothing. Next week, I'm going to start exercising and being healthy and not being a lazyfatass.

This is good.
Exercise is good.
Staying in shape is good.
Free time is good.

Future?

With you, of course, my love.

Image from https://postsecret.blogspot.com

I think there's two.

Setting: Taking an exam in a large room filled with nearly a hundred people.
Thoughts: Oh, damn. We don't know the answer to this. We'll go with this choice, then.
OH! We know this one. We'll go with this.
Hmm.. We'll stick with this answer, then.

What if there's really two up there, and the other only comes out sometimes.
I'll catch myself thinking "We" a lot, often when making decisions. It's a bit frightening.

Moon.

*I see the moon and the moon sees me.
The moon sees someone I'd like to see.*

Let's lay, under the moon. Where the stars kiss our cheeks and fireflies dance among the grass.Children giggling, capturing the happy lights in jars.
Soft tickles of grass on our faces, the sweet smell of summer filling our noses.
Bright, sometimes orange, let him soar above us. Connecting the hundreds of miles and erasing them.
He created a bridge for us to cross, and we are together; united, despite separation.

Images from http://amolife.com/image/

Depths.

A lot of the time, I can't understand what is being said while the band is screaming and pushing out all the notes possibly played in a few seconds. I let this noise absorb me and take me past where I am - into some dark place, covered by noise and surrounded by flashing dark images.

When I reach this place of complete darkness and flashing images, I sink into myself. Deep, deep down and forget how to think. Thoughts previously assumed and contemplated fly away, too light and airy for the depths of my current state of mind.

Until I receive an interruption from some outer source, I hover here and sink. Hover and sink.. No, those words don't go together. But, then again, they do. In a perfect, odd pair sort-of-way.

Um.

I apologize for the lack of depth in my posts.

Write.

I think I'll write you a letter today.

Questioning.

Does anyone really care?

Sure, the way I am may affect them - what I say, what I do.

But, the people I pass by every day in the halls. Do they care?

Probably not, because as far as I can tell, I fade into the background.

Maybe?

Maybe this raging headache that I can't think through will end up being a brain hemorrhage that can kill me.

That this is all the pain I'll have to suffer and I can move on to [maybe?] a better life.

Raging.

Poundthumpsearingpain.

I can barely look at the screen before the whiteness enters my head like a white hot iron scoring a bull.

Manicinsanecrazygirllaughter.

I walk down the halls and think. Think thoughts that don't make sense to me.

Stressnauseahomework.

I take a breath before I forget to inhale again and remember the milelong list of work that needs to be done and things that need to be attended and people that need to be pleased.

It's Not Easy.

And as night turns to morning and morning into later days, the hurt I feel is stronger than before.

Howcouldshe?
Whywouldn'tshetalktome?
Howcouldshe?
Shecould'vetoldme.

See.

Why can't you see with my hands holding your fucking eyes open?

Shout Out.

You're out there talking about what just happened. What you're about to do.

I'll say hushhush, like always. And take my mom's anger. And not cry. And seal my lips.

Sofuckingwhat.
I'm giving up.
You gave up.

Fucking pile of goddamn horse shit.

Wondering.

Today:
End of the long car ride home.
Playing around in the car.king up do
Parents inside picg.
Fake punches.
"I'll cut you" I said jokingly.
"You already cut yourself" she lashed.
"You bitch" I retaliated.
Silence.
Fuming anger.
How could she?
Of course she knows,
but how could she?

Yesterday:
Leaning on my arm watching the billboard.
She stares at my wrist.
"What are you looking at?" I question.
"Your bracelets" she replied.
Your scar, she probably thought.

Glances over at her phone.
She deletes messages.
One from cousin, after I changed in the room.
*delete*
What did it say?

Breathe.

Such a simple action, yet..sometimes I forget to do it. My body is on autopilot, as usual, and it malfunctions. The world around me is suffocating me and taking away my oxygen.
Side effects include:

blurred vision, anxiety, headaches, exhaustion.

Now. Give me my oxygen and stop covering my head with this fuckingplasticbag. I can't do it, world. I can't fight while I'm not breathing.

New.

I followed my dearest friend and made some changes (quite a few, actually) to the blog.
Hopefully, you'll enjoy the new view.