| (no subject) |
[Jun. 22nd, 2009|05:15 am] |
in this span of time, i have loved and lost and learned more than i can ever comprehend. this has served me well. but i feel it is time for a change. i need a new platform on which to express my thoughts in order to do justice to the new people i have met, the new emotions i have discovered, the new world i have fallen into. i am still drinking it in, the sights and sounds, the countless new memories i have forged. i always said i wanted to leave. and now i have. this is the new rage, funky fresh in back in the flesh.
MOVED. |
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| Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters. |
[Jun. 11th, 2009|07:16 pm] |
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We take ourselves very, very seriously. We are the peacemakers, the do-gooders, the givers, the savers. We are on time, overly prepared, well read, and witty, intellectually curious, always moving. We are living contradictions. We are socially conscious, multicultural and anti-corporate but we still shop at Gap and Banana Republic. We listen to hip-hop, indie rock and country on our iPods. We are girls in hooker boots, wife beaters and big earrings. We make documentary films, knit sweaters and DJ. We are "social smokers", secretly happy that the cigarettes might speed up our metabolisms, hoping they won't kill us in the process. We pride ourselves on getting as little sleep as possible and thrive on self-deprivation. We drink coffee, a lot of it. We are on birth control, Prozac and multivitamins. We do strip aerobics, hot yoga, go five more minutes than the limit on any exercise machine at the gym. We are relentless, judgmental with ourselves and forgiving to others. We never want to be as passive-aggressive as our mothers, never want to marry men as uninspired as our fathers. We carry the old world of guilty—center of families, keeper of relationships, caretaker of friends—with the new world of ambition—rich, independent, powerful. We are the daughters of feminists who said, "You can be anything" and we heard, "You have to be everything". We must get A's. We must make money. We must save the world. We must be thin. We must be unflappable. We must be beautiful. We are the anorectics, the bulimics, the overexercisers, the overeaters. We must be perfect. We must make it look effortless. We grow hungrier and hungrier with no close what we are for. The holes inside of us grow bigger and bigger. |
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| static in my head |
[May. 18th, 2009|07:07 pm] |
I crush up my pills and snort them like dust. They are my sugar. They are the sweetness in the days that have none. They drip through me like tupelo honey. Then they are gone. Then I need more. I always need more. For all of my life I have needed more. My pills are methylphenidate hydrochloride, brand name Ritalin, but I will take Dexedrine or any other kind of prescription amphetamine that I can get. I used to swallow them, ten milligrams at a time, every four hours, no more than three times a day, as directed by my physician. Then I took more, and more often. Then one day I cut one in half, trying to extend the supply, and some powder crumbled off of my uneven slice. I could feel my face light up: I might as well have been Columbus, discovering America while looking for India. I snorted it up, as if it were cocaine, and something different happened in my brain, a scratchy rush. Since then, I've been crushing them up like that on purpose. I inhale forty pills a day. That's how I spend my days: I smash up powder and make it go away.
...
Pills are my everything. At the end of the day, other people ask themselves: Is this all there is? I don't wait for the answer. I'm not stupid. I don't wait to see if today will be better than yesterday, because I already know. And these pills are deep inside of me. What person could ever get this close? Who would want to? And I swear to you, and I don't care how this sounds, I think it's love. If you don't understand, you don't know what love is.
More, Now, Again (A Memoir of Addiction) - Elizabeth Wurtzel |
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| Neil Gaiman and Maggie O Farrell (how very interesting) |
[Dec. 27th, 2008|01:58 pm] |
What are you supposed to do with all the love you have for somebody if that person is no longer there? What happens to all that leftover love? Do you suppress it? Do you ignore it? Are you supposed to give it to someone else?
I never knew it was possible to think about someone all of the time, for someone to be always doing acrobatic leaps across your thoughts. Everything else was an unwelcome distraction from what I wanted to think about.
I still cannot believe you have gone. Before this, I used to wake up and wonder for a split second why I had this weight of grief pressing down on my chest and why my pillow was wet. I used to forget because it was just absurd for me to be without you. Absurd.
But you did die. And for no reason at all.
‘Life goes on’: so many people had said that to me. Yes, life fucking well goes on but what if you don’t want it to? What if you want to arrest it, stop it, or even battle against the current into a past you don’t want to be past? ‘You’ll get over it’ – that as another. But I didn’t want to get over it. I didn’t want to become used to the fact that he’d died. That was the last thing I wanted.
After You'd Gone - Maggie O Farrell
It's not hard to own something. Or everything. You just have to know that it's yours, and then be willing to let it go.
Stardust - Neil Gaiman
The old woman took the umbrella, gratefully, and smiled her thanks. "You've a good heart," she told him. "Sometimes that's enough to see you safe wherever you go." Then she shook her head. "But mostly, it's not.
Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman
God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players [i.e. everybody], to being involved in an obscure and complex variant of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.
Good Omens - Neil Gaiman |
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| EVENING COMMISSIONER |
[Jul. 28th, 2008|10:20 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | motley crue | ] |
what doesn't kill you only makes you.. stranger.
WHY SO SERIOUS?!!! LET'S PUT A SMILE ON THAT FACE. |
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| Speak your spears, I've braced myself for the fall |
[Jul. 24th, 2008|07:44 pm] |
it's all i ask.
i am sliding back into pseudo living, pseudo joy. disassemble Despair and all i get is the minutes that have turned to hours, days that have veiled a cloak of fragile existence. existentialism never looked so dire. right now, you're under siege. and my heart is a badly built bridge running on lies and pseudo truths.
broken down to be fulfilled. this will not be to our disadvantage. we are not that weak. on grass, skin to skin, bite down sorrow on our lips, shave off misery, get high off the fumes of our history.
hold me brethren, i am ready to fly and not fall, live and not fear, love and be loved. |
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| Remind me that we'll always have each other when everything else is gone |
[Jul. 21st, 2008|08:45 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | SUCKER TRAIN BLUES | ] |
i accidentally selected the song on my ipod on the way to school today. and i swear, everytime i hear it or any massive attack song for that matter, i am once again captivated in your room, tracing patterns on your back, patterns that would fabricate together to form a map of how i get the fuck out of there alive and independent. and i never saw how i could not need you anymore, not need to feel my fingers trembling like a fault line when you kiss my forehead, my eyes, my nose and then my lips. not walk a block down from where you stay at two in the morning with tears collapsing over my broken heart while i struggle to light a cigarette. i was wrong. and all it takes is some one to be kind to you for awhile, to not judge your irrationality as unintelligence. but then that short time starts to become a long time and soon, you will need someone to be kind to you all the time, to always remember that your irrational actions are not for lack of intellect but rather a span of discerning incapabilities.
one day, i will start handing out pieces like its jigsaw and people will lose interest in my game. in turn, i will fragment and combust.
but before that, i will need to be early for school tomorrow. i will not be late again and end up smoking away my first lesson with random people i just met.
ahh fuck i love school. |
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| Binge and purge |
[Jul. 15th, 2008|07:26 pm] |
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i am a fucking binger. i miss you so much i think i will tattoo you on my back just so i can see you in the fucking mirror |
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| Cos on a one to ten, she's a certified twenty. But that just ain't me |
[Jul. 12th, 2008|09:44 pm] |
 
 
fuck i feel so fucking lucky i might die from all the fucking luck. the answer to your question is yes. with every beat of my breaking heart. i want to paper my room with your photographs. every fucking inch. and then drink until i pass out in a room full of you.
robert is king today. but only because he comes cheap. and jim and jack and the likes come at a price i am so fucking not willing to pay just to get high. which does not make sense because i am so fucking compromised already. |
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| The moonlight and her beauty overthrew you |
[Jul. 5th, 2008|08:22 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | bananarama | ] |
i will dream calmly that i can hear the song from miles away, i can feel the melody as it's carried in the wind. but when the morning comes to steal my darkness, when the sun rises over the sea, if i have to be honest, i have cried myself to sleep. the sleep that so far, has still managed to elude me. i thought that today, it would be easy to manhandle, it has always been until as of late, easy to manhandle, easy to manage well my pretense. but from the weeks ago, it has been morphing. and right now, it is the most delicate i have ever seen my life become. and right now, it has no regard for gravity or wind. it's like sand, pouring through the seams of my fingers, like an automobile built without the idea of brakes.
so i can choose to arbitrate my life. or walk the few kilometres out for a bottle. cessation is the key. like when you hit pause in a game to decide your next move, i believe my life works the same way. i just don't quite believe i will ever have a notion strong enough to pass off as my next move. i am built mainly on temporization. |
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| FUCK |
[Jul. 3rd, 2008|02:05 pm] |
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I WOULD PAY ANY RANDOM PERSON ANY FUCKING AMOUNT FOR A DEATHCAB TICKET NOW. two words. well three, in my case. Fucking. Sold. Out. |
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| Bleed. |
[Jul. 1st, 2008|09:23 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | massive attack | ] |
 
it's ironic. how i end up slightly wasted and taking advice from a girl who used to be destruction at its very peak. you know what, i don't even know why you would care because we have never been good friends even though i got the feeling we would be someday. but you're right. and i am going nowhere and i know it. and maybe you're right about how i used to always do better than this and then by some reason i keep hidden, i started selling myself short and not giving myself a chance. and when i fuck up, i fuck up bad. i meant what i told you. i just want to drink and smoke and live a fraction of the life i am supposed to leading. and hopefully, at the end of the day, the fractions will amount to alot more than i can hope for. i am building my life but while i am at it, i am also compromising myself in the worst way. and one day, i will wake up and not be safe or strong or sober. and all i am doing is sitting at the pool and looking at the kids who are so innocent, who think that they can be anything they want to be in this world and nothing can mess them up. and i don't remember ever being like that. if i was, it must have been a hell of a long time ago. all i remember is the loneliness and the boys and gradually the men who knew nothing about holding a heart. and then it was the cigarettes and the alcohol and smoking pack after pack, glass after glass with people i don't even talk to anymore but once thought would have done anything for me.
you are wrong about one thing, however. my best defence is not shit. my best defence is sitting somewhere at the opposite end of this country. and if he is thinking about me, i know he will be worried. and honestly, sometimes i am too. i think i am you now. and i hope one day i will be able to say the same things to another person who needs it. because that would mean that i am past this and stronger than i ever thought i would be. |
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| Disease |
[Jul. 1st, 2008|01:07 am] |
   
i hope sitting on the Right side of the room is bringing you as much comfort as it is bringing me. i don't want to run anymore. i wish you were here to hear this. i know how happy it will make you. and i just want to tell you over and over again. i don't want to run anymore. no one else will be as proud of me. and no one else will make the world stop spinning.
Illegitimis non carborundum |
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| FOAD FOAD FOAD FOAD FOAD |
[Jun. 29th, 2008|04:24 am] |
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i am actually quite angry on the inside. mostly because you lack the right to speak of such things and the person who enabled you was a person who was (is) very dear to me. and i guess betrayal is one of the emotions but not the strongest one. because mostly i am angry. and i feel like destroying something or someone. so the next time i see you, i might annihilate you with words or just kick you in the ass while you're not looking. i prefer the former of course. but... slight complications would arise in the form of your pity party against me. which of course leaves the idea of not fucking meeting you at all. and i like it. very much. because honestly, most times, you annoy the fuck out of me anyway. |
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| 39 |
[Jun. 28th, 2008|03:14 am] |
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i couldn't take it so i texted you. even if i know i will not get a reply. texted you again and again and i finally know the meaning of dead silence. either the copious amount of vodka or the coke that has been sitting on my table since the morning that you left, will numb me. and right now, i do not care which one does the trick because we are sitting under the same fucking sky but i can't speak or feel you breathing life into my spirit. |
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panicparade's journal
drunk