|
[March 12th, 2009 @ 10:36am] |
|
Last night my dad, my boyfriend, and I were standing in the kitchen. My dad was showing us how he put new calking all around the sink, and told me not to use the sink or get the area wet. The notoriety of my avoidance of doing dishes caused my boyfriend to remark sarcastically "that shouldn't be a problem", to which my dad started cracking up and high-fived my boyfriend. Burn? Yes. It happened.
|
|
|
|
[November 13th, 2008 @ 8:20pm] |
i can't even put into words how petty i am sometimes.
i'm just really jealous, what am i supposed to do about that?
i dont know
im going to massachusetts tomorrow. with casey. and i'm nervous about flying.
|
|
|
|
[October 11th, 2008 @ 1:11am] |
when i used to feel this way
i would write it down
and slap it out,
pound it out like meat on a cold stone.
i worked at a coldstones, once.
that job was awful.
i think all things eventually turn awful
i am upset that i've lost
my saturday morning
to some fiend, that i don't even know.
the fiend of party til you puke.
i miss you.
should i start writing notes again?
i don't think i can be cute like that anymore.
i don't want to put it on, you know.
the thought occurs to me but i brush it away,
because i feel like maybe only once
only once
can you be that way
then maybe you have to grow up.
i'm sleepy,
and i already know i wont sleep well tonight.
|
|
|
|
[September 10th, 2008 @ 12:03am] |
|
it is finally real when you write about it.
|
|
|
|
[September 9th, 2008 @ 11:52pm] |
it is a strange thing
to watch yourself morph,
into something that you never really thought you'd be,
something that you've always made fun of.
it's pathetic.
and i hate myself for it.
this month has been full of shit.
bad cars,
too little money,
too much money,
pain,
fleas,
silly fights,
and the like.
but there's something else.
adoption,
my little furry child,
lucy.
she's sweet and mine,
i mean,
ours
and
now i wake up at night if you're not next to me.
and i hate it,
because that means i've become attached.
i used to sleep fine alone,
now i have scary dreams,
and i wake up and go downstairs and wander around
my big quiet house
with little kitten paws echoing behind me.
what is it that i've been drawn to?
it can't be the security,
i've always hated people sleeping over,
sleeping in my bed
and using my pillows
but now it isn't like that.
i want you here,
almost all the time.
so sickening.
but you said that you feel like this is your home, too.
i'm scared to fall back into the person i used to be with someone new.
granted, someone better,
but the patterns i created then are still mapped
somewhere,
inside my brain
and each touch draws them closer to illumination.
we might both suffer from the same ailments:
bizarre insecurities,
but i try and pacify you
and can only hope you'll do the same.
|
|
|
|
[July 14th, 2008 @ 1:01am] |
i feel just like a satellite in orbit
i keep going around
and around
and i cover the same ground,
but the data is never new.
we are doomed to repeat mistakes,
and follow our old cycles.
what i need now more than ever
is some reassurance
because i've got more doubts in my head,
than truths.
nothing really has proved itself.
to me.
and i know that nothing is concrete,
until you fly at it.
face first,
at maximum velocity.
i'm not the person i could have been,
and i don't live in the moment.
i love the beach until i'm there,
i love people until i'm with them,
and more than anything i hate.
sand,
sun,
human beings,
and the likes.
|
|
|
|
[June 26th, 2008 @ 12:23am] |
it was hilarious,
a confrontational conversation,
made completely in jest.
on my part at least.
bitch,
i said,
bitch,
don't ever talk to my boyfriend again.
or i'll beat your fucking face in.
people are so touchy,
honestly.
|
|
|
|
[June 26th, 2008 @ 12:18am] |
there is a place
where i can feel safe
surrounded
sound-proofed
with silence blaring
all around
but here
i can be alone
and just think
or just forget.
i do feel badly,
because,
there are so many things i want to say.
but i can't manipulate words
like i used to do
and i can't express
how i used to feel
still feel
but it'll fade.
besides,
language is a barrier,
and never
in the history of the world
have two separate entities
been able to communicate
and understand perfectly
and this should be no difference.
my pain is not your pain.
your sorry is not mine.
human emotions i've found are so easily crafted
and therefore i am cultivating
a garden of hate
to replace all the other gardens
i've ever grown.
|
|
|
|
[June 25th, 2008 @ 12:44am] |
i feel like i'm always
getting myself in this situation
i don't want to just be
some girl
that gets used over
and over again
and it seems to happen
it might be happening again
it might be too soon to tell
what a fucking predicament
what a confusing situation
if what you want
from me
is a promise
then i'll give it
but i need the same,
at least i deserve it.
someone needs
to finally understand
that i deserve more
than what i've gotten
because
i could be great,
you know.
i think we all need recognition
for these things.
i know i do.
|
|
|
|
[June 24th, 2008 @ 1:13am] |
1:02 AM
and i can't sleep.
one arm can, but the rest of me,
well no.
heavy with the weight of death,
that one bad arm tingles
all the way from the bathroom
to the kitchen,
and when i touch the door handle
its like seven different string rays
attacking the same limb
in some sadistic harmony.
but i want something.
cheerios and milk.
ice water.
something to soothe.
so i'm sitting down here,
eating,
alone,
in the dark.
and my mind is both blank,
and occupied.
my eyelids are heavy,
and i just shovel cereal into my mouth.
it's like im eating my way towards
some sort of answer,
but i don't know what question ive asked.
i only know that i am hungry.
and i can see my fathers shadow,
on the wall,
against the stairs.
he calls my name.
aryn?
are you ok?
can't sleep again?
i think,
does it happen this often?
have i become a pattern,
a regular?
but i snap instead.
"no, i was hungry".
my tone is so chilling,
so cold,
and i don't understand how i can be so mean
to my own father.
it's not really meanness,
i suppose,
just that waker's attitude of angst.
i think im just lashing out,
because i can see where my life is going.
and it ain't pretty.
i spent the day alone.
i worked extra hours because
i knew i had nothing else to do.
i went job hunting.
i have an interview on wednesday.
my nights have become empty.
i've got all this time that needs to be filled up.
i feel very lonely.
so i went to the book store,
read some articles,
and talked long-distance.
but it just ain't the same.
i see everyone living their lives
except for me.
so i want to pretend,
that i am.
and that involves cultivated
hobbies,
to fill up all these hours.
i want to pretend i believe
that each grain of sand is precious,
savoring it,
slowly rolling the hot,
dry little knives around on my tongue,
in a long procession that will last
from here to eternity.
or the end of my time.
just remember,
you're as great as the giants.
and lines composed
at 1:20am
are worth their weight
in thought.
|
|
|
|
[June 23rd, 2008 @ 10:32pm] |
i can count on two hands
the number of people i've let know me.
biblically, you know.
i can count on one hand
the number of people i've let know me.
deeply, you know.
i can count on five hands
the number of people i've hated.
i can count on one finger.
the number of people i've been
in love with.
there is only one person who i trust
more than anything in the world.
there are others i tell this to,
but i am a liar..
|
|
|
|
[June 23rd, 2008 @ 7:25pm] |
last night
i grabbed myself by the shoulders
and i shook.
sat myself down,
and was given a good long
hard talking to.
about the state of affairs.
the direction of my currents.
all of these things need to be addressed,
but not negotiated.
you alone are responsible for your happiness.
count on no one else to give you
blue skies or butterflies.
even if they did,
it would be the image
you've projected
like a flashing light on a hazy screen.
i give out this blue print of the people i want,
i shine that light on them and it's what they become.
here inside this warehouse,
where we are safe from the light of day.
i can pretend that you are something you are not
and more than that,
i can pretend that i am something i am not.
something i've always wanted to be,
and maybe felt at a time.
but it has been brought to the surface;
the oily secrets manifest
only on the ever-streaming waters of my life.
i want to bundle all these things and give them to you.
i want to make you me.
or imprint some piece of myself on you.
if for one second i could show you,
really show you how it felt to be near you.
the hatred and the desire,
all bundled together.
if for a brief second you could see through my eyes,
and feel with my heart,
and know with my stomach,
then you'd understand why i feel like the constant joker,
the eternal fool.
and the blue-print i had made,
that i projected on you.
it once fit,
it once was a perfect squeeze,
but now i see it sags in all the wrong places,
and hugs too tightly on the hips.
and where the mouth should be,
now theres no hole at all,
but rather the imprint of teeth.
i see,
the color has faded,
to a navy in the sun.
faded,
just like the connection.
|
|
|
|
[June 22nd, 2008 @ 12:35am] |
i've been coughing for days
it comes on worse at night
then i can't sleep
so i think instead
much much worse
than sleeping
is thinking.
it was a few nights ago
that i was seized again.
i got chills over my entire body.
i thought about not existing.
tried to pacify myself
with the fact that i do exist, now.
but time keeps passing
continually wearing on and on
so eventually it'll be true.
i'll return to the aether,
and i don't think i'll ever be ready.
going out now seems like a waste sometimes.
sitting at home is a waste too.
|
|
|
|
[June 19th, 2008 @ 3:12pm] |
my co-worker told me his girl is leaving him.
i feel bad.
i have been her.
i have been him.
now he's smoking again.
i would like to tell him that he could do better,
much better,
but i'm sure it'll be taken as an insult.
and they'll probably end up getting back together.
because often settling is better
than being alone.
|
|
|
|
[June 19th, 2008 @ 3:09pm] |
now i know:
each day is but a syllable,
slowly pronounced,
in the long joke that is life.
the punchline?
it's buried underneath the
cold hard surface that has
amassed on the opposite side of your popsicle stick.
but trust me.
it's not even a zinger.
|
|
|
|
[June 19th, 2008 @ 3:03pm] |
do i keep smoking
because i like an excuse to take a fast break at work?
or is there some other reason.
because i know why i started.
to be cool.
thats the only reason anyone ever begins anything.
to be cool.
as if "cool" is something you can actually forge yourself into.
i don't think so.
deep down you'd always feel the impostor.
and who should we impress,
if not ourselves?
with maybe sincerity.
these things i think are trite and useless,
i keep them in clippings
under my bed and behind my ears.
they are like the dust that continues to seep,
to fill every corner of my bedroom
until eventually one day i am furrowed
underneath the weight of half-formulated ideas,
and faulty opinions.
i don't have much of a taste for logic.
it's diseased
and when i try
i am like the headless chicken running around the yard,
screaming about nonsense.
change is something now i want to possess,
embrace.
i will tell you a secret.
or show you a trick.
no matter how much you change.
towards some ultimate goal,
it'll never be reached.
and if it is.. well,
what then?
recline,
admire yourself.
hard work and perseverance have paid off.
fill up the bank account,
water the lawn,
and sigh.
you've done it.
and we're proud.
|
|
|
|
[June 18th, 2008 @ 3:33pm] |
I've had so much on my mind lately
its the time to grow up
maybe move out
live on my own,
or with a roommate
but i don't make any money
i need another job.
and then theres school.
that'll never end.
each day is like waking up in a shitty nightmare.
the world just shits on everything.
and sometimes i think it
would be easier
to give up
stop trying to keep my head above water
sink. drown. what have you.
it goes like this.
i clean my car,
but i scratch it.
my antenna gets ripped out.
the dmv sends me letters.
they say,
"we understand
that you may believe
you are a good driver,
and yet
your driving record is
much worse
than the average california driver"
well, fuck you DMV.
Everyone already knows
that i'm a horrible driver.
i hear this all the time.
you don't need to send me a letter
to tell me this.
just take my money,
instead.
"we hope
that you will decide to change,
but the choice is yours"
well, yes, it is.
and yes, i do.
i do so want to change.
should i take this as some kind of inspiration?
i don't know.
i think my co-workers all hate me.
it's hotter than hell
and i keep having to park in the sun.
above all things however,
i do find satisfaction
in complaining
and making myself out to be much more of a
victim
than i actually am.
i just wish i didn't know that.
i've always thought lowly of women
who just marry men because they are rich
and can take care of them
but now it almost makes sense.
i mean, marry for love, if it's there.
if it even exists.
but i guess i can't blame someone
for wanting to be taken care of
and wanting a stress-free life.
it's what we deserve, afterall.
|
|
|
|
[June 9th, 2008 @ 10:26pm] |
when i was little
i dreamed about having a job.
adulthood was a fantasy
rich with independence.
but now i'm here,
well,
almost.
andi find that practicality.
logic,
and convenience reign.
and i cannot say i have not resigned myself to it.
i want the ease of a life free from decision.
i want a warm bed,
a safe hole,
and sex approximately four times a week.
i miss the delusions of my childhood,
where these things were all about
caution
thrown to the wind.
pushing all your chips in the center of the table,
calling in all bets on a long shot,
or gassing it through the red light.
i want these things so much more now,
that i know they do not really exist.
|
|
|
|
[June 9th, 2008 @ 10:16pm] |
i've got a big demanding mouth
i use it
push you up against a wall
but as usual
indecision seems to plague
and it's like a square peg
in a round hole
like the camel through the eye
of the needle
or some other quaint cliche that
might just
capture
exactly what i mean to say:
that i'm sorry.
for the situation,
for time wasted and now
the possiblities squandered.
and that one time
when it was all about parallel universes,
well,
i guess it really was comforting afterall.
i can't count the number of universes
in which i've gotten everything i've wanted
or the number in which i've killed you,
betrayed you,
or made you into something else -- perhaps mine.
i think these places are beyond numerous,
and now i know all of them would satisfy me
more than my current verse.
i cannot be quantified,
but you are like a math equation.
you have clear solutions,
boundaries,
and i find you formulaic.
so much different than myself in this regard,
that i'm fascinated,
and consider you
the romantic sublime to my every question.
|
|
|
|
[June 9th, 2008 @ 2:08am] |
today is a day i want to remember
first
my father made me sad with petty insults,
and then i was nervous
anxious
consumed with this fear
for hours, recalculating all
the mistakes i've made recently
only to be
compounded
by
finally asking the questions i want answers to
and getting a resounding "no"
which seemed like a harsh "not now"
"not ever"
i'm feeling more the fool than i've ever felt before.
i'm all dolled up in the masochist make-up
getting what i gave myself
sour grapes
bitter taste
and a little bit of heart break.
i never really contemplated before
what the outcome of all these hours would be
but i'm finding that this machine i've created is
incredibly inefficient
i poured in my body
maybe a little soul, too
and all i seem to get out is shit.
well, fuck you.
i'll forget you too.
all of you.
p.s.,
thanks assholes of the world
for ripping out my radio antenna
on one of the worst days of my life.
you really put the icing on my cake,
the cherry to my sundae,
and if it weren't for you
good hooligans,
i would almost be able to forget
that the world is full
of assholes and whores.
|
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
hitxthatxshit's journal