Love

My tears are busy
too busy to visit me.
they are aging over you.
Much like they're supposed to.
My tears are wine, and someday,
maybe we will get together.
Maybe find a rusted corkscrew.
Make a toast and uncross those stars.
Or maybe we won't.
Maybe I will just be.
Keep them in there, like that bird.
and live like I'm supposed to.
Until the time is right.
Until I'm quiet and gray,
and all I can remember is your freckled eyes,
and how they looked at me in that way sometimes,
when a lazy sunday summer dusk caught them.
I'll sneak into the night
and find some place all alone,
to sip that bottle sad and slow.

Strange Fascination.

David Bowie makes me really happy.

Well... Maybe G is just an Asshole.

I set my schedule for next semester and enrolled in my classes about a month ago.

This morning, I went to check my PAWS account as I do every day for updates.

I noticed that all of my classes had been dropped.

This was due to a technical error, an email wasn't sent to me informing me

that if I didn't pay my $200 tuition fee a hold would be placed on my account.

I made some calls, and paid the fee.

I was then informed that the hold would be released, 

and my position in the prior enrolled classes would be held.

A few hours later I went back to double check with what the lady had said.

I wasn't enrolled in any classes, and all of the ones I had been in were now full.

Later on, I told a psychic I felt uncomfortable going to school.

Not because my grades are poor, or that I have issues financially.

Just an overwhelming sense that I should be doing something else.

 Experiencing something I won't find in pursuit of a degree.

She laughed at the typical nature of my concern and motioned towards the deck.

Then I pulled the death card.

Seriously?

Zzzzzzz

Tomorrows

"I guess that your kind of truth is just the ghost of your lies."


I wish I could throw you up. I wish that I could, but instead, I just heave. I heave, and I want to die. And like the morning after a night on the town, I swear I never want to love again.

But I will someday. And that, my love, is the end.

October!

I think my brain is actually numb, but I'm certainly being reminded of the treachery in procrastination. I've been trying to develop my political beliefs a lot lately. Im reading a book titled "America You Sexy Bitch" by comedian Michael Black and Republican Meghan McCain. Yeah, John McCain's daughter. I was hesitant, but it was the only book I could find in Barnes & Noble that approached politics generally  and was composed by authors of opposing parties, so I decided to give it a go. It's actually kind of interesting. I seem to identify well with Meghan's views, but not all of them. She's all about getting rid of the old right-wing assholes that make the republican party look like a bunch of illiterate red-necks. Pro-choice and gay rights, amongst other things. She catches a lot of shit for it too, which disappoints me.

Politics are so incredibly fucked up.

It's raining. It's pouring,

It's raining, it's pouring.

 It's not actually pouring, 

but I like it anyways.

I Guess It Must Be Up To Me

A slow bottle of champagne makes multiple hours of studying significantly more enjoyable.

This one is for all the pretty boys on campus that smile at me, and a laugh at the thought that you were threatened I'd care to be with any one of them over you.

Ridiculous, my love. Astonishingly ridiculous.


I wish nineteen year old you and nineteen year old me could hang out for one night, and listen to Bob Dylan, and read poems, and watch Star Trek, and go for a walk.  Maybe get some 40oz, and smoke some pot. And smile. You're so damn beautiful when you smile.

Direct

Lately, every time I get sad, I think it's the saddest I've ever been.

Then I realize that without you, there will always be another sadder time.

I don't care if you aren't reading this.

I still love you. Every night, every hour, and every minute, of every single day.

It's excruciating, and exhausting.

But it seems to be all I have left of you, 

so I hold on, tighter than ever before.

to my self-pity, my depression, my empty heart.

It motivates me.

I would rather feel broken by you than loved by anyone else.

I mean, i'd of course rather not feel broken.

But It's all you leave me to hold on to,

when you cut me out.

We are ridiculous. 

And I know you don't know what else to do,

and I knew it was coming sooner or later.

"I Love you. I'm a stupid fucking idiot in Love. My Love is only matched by my stupidity, because after how hurt I am, I'd do it all again just to be with you."

I'm a stupid fucking idiot. I tried pretty hard not to be, but with something as meaningful as you, and us, and sitting in the aftermath alone.. all I can do is doubt myself.

I hope you're okay. I hope you aren't telling yourself I don't love you, or blaming me because I didn't come back when you wanted me again. But if you are, just remember when you are done protecting yourself, and you're laying down alone, sad, or angry, or missing me, or unable to sleep, that you are still in my heart.

Blue Moon

I'm convinced no one will ever know how fragile my heart actually is.

I wanted to show you. I thought you would understand, but I got so hurt along the way.
I became so focused on trying to find my way back that I lost sight of how to show you at all.

I wanted desperately to forgive you, I know you're only human. But I couldn't, and I can't, because my feelings for you are inhuman. My love for you is beyond life and death and dimensions. And unfortunately, the only thing that could ever match it's permanence, is it's frailty.

Now I have all of these things that have happened in my head. All these things I thought two people in love were incapable of doing to each other, and it's left me absolutely terrified of myself and the only  prospective partner I've come across thus far. I don't want to be alone, I don't need to be. But more than that, I don't want to have to deal with the paranoia I now seem to involuntarily associate with trust.





Goodnight.

Heartless

Trash, Go Pick It Up.

Sometimes I want to be pretty, sometimes I'm just dirty and sleep deprived.
But I'm never any of the girls you wanted to be with while we were dating.

"Actions speak louder than words, Samantha."

My eardrums have burst.

I may seem to be being unhealthy, but it really isn't that big of a deal.
Sometimes I just need to be reminded that despite whatever pretty words seep out of your mouth,
you haven't changed. And it all just makes me so incredibly proud of myself.

It has been nice, to be wanted. It's been nice to be held, and looked after. It's been nice to have someone there when I need them, rather than someone who determines for themselves if I need them or not.

And as for the times I've left him alone in his bed..
They had nothing to do with you or insufficient emotional fulfillment.

I'm just a scared little asshole who only really ever thinks of herself.

Ahhem

Looking back at the last four years, usually all I can see are the people.

How do you truly come to know someone? How is it possible to know anyone before knowing yourself? My adolescence has been plagued by questions like this, leaving me in this strange state of an almost inhuman humanity.

Everyone has a base of who they are.

My name is Samantha, I was raised in a loving family. The majority of my childhood was spent in the city, and the later half in stark contrast. I have one brother, he is six years older than me. I'm a Leo.

We are given this flatline that can be shared with any regular Molly or Joe, within, for most people, comfortable reason. If they like or maybe share similar qualities, we reach further. We learn each other's fear or fames. Hear stories, and illustrate a bit more of who the other person is. We take in their past, we tie it to our own and develop a bond that can from that point, if we so chose, keep each other around long enough to observe and create a more vivid understanding of who they are.

If you keep them around, until proven what you've imagined, we delve even deeper. And at some point, the lines between them as an individual and them as a part of you become blurred. We allow them, as they allow us, the opportunity to become more of their base line.

My name is Samantha, I was raised in a loving family. The majority of my childhood was spent in the city, and the later half in stark contrast. I have one brother, he is six years older than me. I'm a Leo. I have been in love with so and so for four years. My best friend and I get together and munch hot cheetos every Sunday.

The issue in all of this is, that once you start letting people in, and allow them to become a part of who you are, you can absolutely never not let them be a part of who you are.

My name is Samantha, I was raised in a loving family. The majority of my childhood was spent in the city, and the later half in stark contrast. I have one brother, he is six years older than me. I'm a Leo. So and so left me, and I had to be committed for three weeks. My best friend stopped liking hot cheetos.

Leaving your self susceptible to another person changing the base of who you are can be terrifying if you've been mislead or hurt by this process before, but the reality of it is that you have to. And you're going to find someone else, your going to find someone who likes hot cheetos again, and you might even find someone else who had to be committed. Life is so full of these complex little equations, and it leaves my head spinning. But I do think I'm starting to solve them a little better than I used to.

Or at least I hope.

Either way, all that can be done is all that will be done. One sleepless night at a time.

Sleepless. Sleep Less.

You are a crazy casey and a liar.

Anti-biotics make me feel like poop.

My toes are cold, and you're a little hoe.
So tonight I'm going to the capital of Rome
for kisses and big arms and smiles of gold.


I feel a little better now.

Capital Fiat Pop

Typical

I remember your silhouettes.

"Our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.
We're just a million little gods causing rain storms
Turning every good thing to rust.

I guess we'll just have to adjust."

I'll See You When I Fall Asleep.

Murder Gray

I'm sick of all the useless shit I do to keep from missing my parents.

Sunrise Cold

Everything's so different, now. By no means is that some awful thing. It mostly just is. Some things are harder, some things are new, and some things are just gone. My parents, essentially, live in another state. My brother is going to jail. I'm a student. My relationship is evolving. My dog is dead. Some of my friends have kids, or kids on the way. Life is most certainly happening, and yet, everything seems to feel more still than ever before.