modern life is war

"The grass was never green.

There was never purity.

Some say it's all over... stupid fucking jaded burnouts.

Young ones: carry on. Destroy and annoy.

Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

Fuck The Glory Days!

We don't care what you think.

We don't care what you say.

You don't get to decide It's ours.

Go Away. Shut up."

i'm nervous, and terrified, and i just want this over with. i want to be comfortable, with being out of my comfort zone.

also, i lied. i've never felt that 'sizzle' because i've never felt that. i've never done, and i'm jealous. i just want it over with, so i can stop being on edge with that conversation, and maybe that sizzle will be something i know.

but how do i make that happen, when i can't even look them in the eye

you know how i know that i'm no good at relationships?

i can only interact, be my self, and flirt with boys i know i'll never see again.

they're what clicks,

but hey, bright side - i'll always have a future in prostitution.

anxiety. anxieties.

old journal entries sum up present day fears so well, are you ready to remember yet? am I?

" The Glue holding us together is crumbling. Gone. We were always together. Siamese twins, joined at the hip. But Siamese twins can be separated. and are. And I notice it, but you don't. You keep moving on. Maybe I was the only one who saw us like that. Siamese twins? What happens when the connection is broken? I'm replaced, again, I'm replaced. And you forget. But I can't. Why can't I forget? My entire life is memories now. Maybe to make up for all the memories you don’t pay attention to. But why me? Why am I forgotten? replaced? burdened? These memories should be yours too. Can they be erased? I know it’s too late to start over here. Can I go somewhere else? somewhere far? somewhere where you’ll know how much you’ve taken me for granted. But i know it wont happen. Because I’m always there to be taken for granted. And I don’t know how to change. I don’t know how to erase the memories. I don’t know how to replace you. I don’t know how to crumble the glue myself, instead of letting you do it all. I don’t know how to separate. how to change. to be gone. "

it's such a cold december

i like how my hair is thick and sticky, with sand and salt and air. i breath easier and i've never been this anxious to get started before. still they're put off for last minutes and panic attacks that i know are coming. can i handle it? how fast will it go? 9 days until i see her again; i'm scared and exited; it won't be the same, but it will do. i've missed her, badly. i just wish sometimes that we could go back and do it again; maybe there would be more appreciation. or maybe i'm just remembering golden days. bury the scar moments; out of sight, out of mind. i think. 4000 songs, californication, matt costa and the blue album lost bellyring balls 'why so serious' and wafflehouse at 11 icees in a rival schools back yard and towel dresses in the gas station august 22 and it's all over

i was bored before i even began

the build has begun

a rushing list of to do's

casually preparing for a climax

that none of us are ready for

-

i have no idea what to act

now or ever

boredom isn't a choice now,

my mind is empty of option and inspiration

-

i am lost within myself, and safe within my pillows

a two hour staring contest with white canvas isn't helping

and my confidence is chipping

you know, again.

-

and the baby steps taken cross football fields of time

hurling forward, stretching backward

terrified and terrible

empty

-

always empty

mad

in my self

fingertips catching and clawing at the edge

-

the dirt nestles under nails

flung in my face

falling over my options

obscuring my answers

-

i don't like sister's friends

because she's too much like me

and i don't want her to feel

what i have felt