Bulletproof weeks

I'm spending time going back tonight.
Because the other day, my mom asked me if I wanted to go see Jamie tworkowski speak at sage college. And I had forgotten about how much To Write Love On Her Arms has meant to me. And how I found them in the first place.
I used to want to be an intern for them in florida. I remember saying I want to be a part of this. I think it might be uncomfortable to go with her though. Because she used to come to church with me, and it was uncomfortable. They would talk about love and God and she would nod and make sounds of agreement like she lived that way.
And it bothered me so much. Because her nodding and righteousness didn't matter. Thats not what any of it was about. It's about humanity and community, and you're supposed to do something, not sit there and nod and look like a good person. And then when it's over go home and act hateful, because you nodded in church so people think you're good. No.
I don't want this night to end up like church.
But also, I don't understand how she thinks.
I don't know if I can talk to her during the car ride home about what they will say.
Because to her, it will only be something to talk about.
But I wonder, if I tell her what I think of the world, how will it hit her?
If we talked about all those people I said
You know what, sometimes I dont blame them.

Ghosts

When he told me about the clouds in the night sky.
How they escaped the chimneys and turned into ghosts.
He was scared of them.
They're you.
The voices,
The screams I hear when I'm in between asleep and alive.
They're you.

Shouldn't have to ask.

I want someone to kiss and hug. I crave affection.
I haven't felt like this since right before I met you.
You were so different.
I don't want someone to ask me how my day was everyday.
You shouldn't have to ask me.

2/16/11

Sometimes I lose myself.
I don't participate in life.
There's so much I don't understand,
That I tend to separate myself.
I see things so simply.

"The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me" -Ayn Rand

I admire Ayn Rand for her freedom. She made herself heard.
Can you blame her for thinking she was superior?
Everyone gave her so much attention.
It all seems like a huge contradiction to me.
But still, Can you blame her?

Smile

I don't think you understand...
That it completely makes my day
if I say something that makes you smile.
I wish we weren't so different.

Human.

Without government it would be chaos, he said.
No, It's already chaos. It's chaos either way.
"Government" is not the problem, people are the problem.
Aren't we all people?
I am the problem.
I am a saint and a sinner.
There is no difference.

I do not possess a political mind.
I can only think about humanity, people.
Politics make no sense to me. Government bewilders me.

Why

Completely and totally empty.
I get so tired sometimes that I can't make myself function.
WHY do you hate me so much?

What I live for

There are times when I understand how people can take their own lives.
And there are times when I remember why I don't.
What I live for.

Trying not to exist

I'm sitting here trying not to exist
And you think I can't hear you.
But I can.
It's just curtains.
Who really wins?

Brother

How dare you fucking talk to my brother that way?
I don't think you understand that I would lay down my life for him
And all you fucking care about is getting this "growing up" thing over with.
Like he's a burden on you, like we all are.
You seem to really believe that he deserves the way you treat him
All the fucking yelling, and the hate.
He is the purest, honest, most beautiful kid in the world.
And you werent even listening when he told me about the clouds in the night sky
Floating from the chimneys turning into ghosts.
Just fucking listen.

Feel Something

"It's good to feel something"-Aldous (get him to the greek)

Not crying doesn't mean I'm happy. I know that good and bad always come together.
And when I think about it, some of the happiest times in my life also were the saddest.
There was this one summer, the summer before high school, when I laughed the most I have laughed in my entire life. I remember it in glimpses. Walking down our street laughing, jumping in the pool laughing, talking on the phone laughing, everything was bright even when it was night time. I was so happy and comfortable and it was new. And so was the saddness. Almost every night that I was alone, and some nights that I wasn't, I cried myself to sleep. Over what he did. And how they lived. When I'm happy now, it's in a different way. It just feels different, older. But sometimes the saddness feels exactly the same. Especially here. I lie on my back staring up at the cieling and the room starts to close. Nothing really changes but it feels darker. And it starts slowly. And before I know it, it starts to come in glimpses again. I close my eyes and start shaking. Choking, I can't allow myself to breathe. I struggle, making pictures in the shadows through blurry eyes. I think of him lying in prision. Wondering if he's looking up at the cieling feeling this exact same way. Or maybe he's not. Wonder if maybe he still hates her enough to pull the trigger again. Or maybe not. I think of how everything was ruined.

The saddness is always bigger than the happiness. That's just how it is.
And I guess that's why when you choose happy, it's that much better.

Restless.

I not mature, I'm just smart.
because being mature requires experience, and being smart requires being observant.
Sitting and watching. And that's all I've ever done.
And I have to stop. I can't get any smarter.
I'm restless.

Wrong section.

I think of you sometimes, when I look in the mirror and see the person you used to see. And It makes me happy to be that person again, and sad because you were the only one to see her.
And you are gone.
How did I go through this much of high school with out going to a hockey game? I looked over at all of them and noticed that I was sitting in the wrong section. These entire four years, I have been sitting in the wrong section. With the wrong people. And I know that I will look back and wish that it was more than it has been.
I've never been able to understand how she can be content with not taking chances. It bewilders me to an extreme that she can watch people having fun and not wonder what it's like and not want to join them. It seems inhuman. And I've missed my chances, because high school is ending. And I'll never know.
On graduation day I'll cry, because of every homecoming, and basketball game, and dance that was not enough. I feel like I havent "done high school" the right way. I haven't had all of the fun experiences so many other people have. And I want to know what that feels like. Why can't I know what that feels like?

In this moment

I've been getting this odd dizzy feeling lately.
It's almost like I can feel the earth spinning.
Like there's something in me that refuses to stand still
In this moment.

Fear is the heart of love

Fear is the heart of love because youre afraid to hurt them.
You're afraid to dissapoint or embarrass them
Or be somone they're ashamed of.

And she said, "It's so ugly, It's almost beautiful"

Goodbye.

I don't fucking have my entire fucking life figured out.
I won't pretend to know what I'm doing, or that I'm happy when I'm not.
So goodbye.

2/11/11

We're all murderers and saints.
There is no difference.

Places.

There are places in my heart that even I don't dare to go to.
A dave matthews band song reminds me that I'm alive tonight.
I finally looked at the clock, just in time to make a wish.

Warning: this post is cliche.

See that I know what I'm doing.
I've gotten here without any help from you.
And you are what's keeping me here.
Suffocating.
And now I know what to say on a job interview.
And I know how to talk to college representatives.
And I've figured it all out by making mistakes.
And I don't know if I will stop being disappointed
When I ask for help and you don't bother.
And I embarrass myself. Again.

Why would you want me to end up like you?
Killing myself to do work I hate until I can't function anymore.
Why would I want more of that?
Unhappiness

Turning down the music.

Lately I've been finding myself in more and more of those unexpected situations where you don't know how to react how how to respond or what to say first. Sometimes I wish I was one of those people that could come up with a lie to smooth everything over on the outside when I need to. To save myself the embarrassment of being so painfully honest. Caught on the spot, I am an unorganized, stuttering mix of messages. Too much all at once.
I don't know how to talk to you, in a way that you'll hear me.
And sometimes I wonder, when you yell the way you do, if what you want more is to be heard, or to hurt me. Each time you hurt me differently. It's a different reason for the same thing.
Why don't I turn down the music for you. Maybe it's because when I want to find quiet I have to wait until three AM. Or maybe because if I did, that would make me "good" in your eyes, and I'd rather you just see me. Maybe because you're already mad when you ask me to. You assume your "authority" instead of just being. Can't you just be?

The worst feeling:

Seeing your friends having an awesome time without you.

Chicken noodle soup, thunderstorm, & saturday night

Little things are what makes this sucky night a little bit better.
Tastes like quiet childhood.
Like my mother curled up reading
On our living room couch on rare summer afternoons.
The way she was supposed to be.
I've always thought that people who love each other
will bring out the best in each other.
Everything I do seems to bring out her worst.

Again

Crying like that again felt foreign and numb.
It made me remember who I was.
When I knew what I was doing.
Before it had gotten old.
I had sworn that I would never get used to it.
That I would always let her hurt me as much as the first time
So that I wouldn't forget. So our pain would always matter.
But it was always just me.
And I wonder if when I finally am free, will I remember who I was?
I need to find out who I am without the pain.
The pros and cons of staying here.

Movement.

I like the way my clothes smell like dance studio.
I like the smell of cigarettes.
I miss the feeling I would get
as I was flying through the air.
The satisfaction of landing a tor jete.
The movement.
Everything else is old.
Everything else is still.
Hopeless.

Belong.

I bet you feel really great.
I don't know why I cried.
I don't belong here.
No where
is quiet
enough.
I can't respect you.