(no subject)
painting. and am covered in paint.
resolution: be a hippie.
i'm a liar.
and i'm secretly terrified. so... don't tell anyone.
i did my best to quit smoking at midnight.
all the bands were awesome. and berlin is beautiful.
i'm going hungry this year.
and i'm okay with that.
i feel sick everytime i look at THEM.
i don't want her to go back. but maybe i'll be relieved, in a strange way. like the world will start turning again. but i really don't want it to. i belong with her, somewhere.
my gamine. she looked adorable with her incredibly tangled turquoise hair. made her eyes look more clear, and her face more aware. yes, this world sucks. but she knew it would be okay. and now, with her hair brushed, i'm not so sure she believes me.
this creative flow is disgusting and murky. like trying to swim in the santa ana river. three inches of mud and pollution.
we went to the beach today. nobody has ever really looked more beautiful than the two of them smiling there. or so i thought at the moment. maybe i lied. we kicked sand.
and walked over to the crab. and i had to walk away so they wouldn't see me crying over something so incredibly stupid. but. he had barnacles, and was probably as happy as a crustacean could get before he was tossed in that bucket. and i had to walk away, because he was still moving when i shook the plastic a little. they could at least put some water in for him... but they didn't. so i ran. and they all laughed. looking back, it seems far too perks for me. running away like charlie would. but. that's the way i felt. and still do. maybe there's a reason i fell in love like that.
i have to get away from here. these words, these molecules. are eating me alive. i finally found my safe place, and now i'm far away from it. i feel shackled and under the dominion of a tyrant. california.
there is no place for wishing here. no room to hope. the smog suffocates all good things, and chokes the breath from innocence's lungs.
it really can't get much worse, can it? so angsty, so vile. i think i might have lost three lbs just thinking about vomitting.
they left us all alone here. and we're painting. and i'm talentless.
resolution: be a hippie.
i'm a liar.
and i'm secretly terrified. so... don't tell anyone.
i did my best to quit smoking at midnight.
all the bands were awesome. and berlin is beautiful.
i'm going hungry this year.
and i'm okay with that.
i feel sick everytime i look at THEM.
i don't want her to go back. but maybe i'll be relieved, in a strange way. like the world will start turning again. but i really don't want it to. i belong with her, somewhere.
my gamine. she looked adorable with her incredibly tangled turquoise hair. made her eyes look more clear, and her face more aware. yes, this world sucks. but she knew it would be okay. and now, with her hair brushed, i'm not so sure she believes me.
this creative flow is disgusting and murky. like trying to swim in the santa ana river. three inches of mud and pollution.
we went to the beach today. nobody has ever really looked more beautiful than the two of them smiling there. or so i thought at the moment. maybe i lied. we kicked sand.
and walked over to the crab. and i had to walk away so they wouldn't see me crying over something so incredibly stupid. but. he had barnacles, and was probably as happy as a crustacean could get before he was tossed in that bucket. and i had to walk away, because he was still moving when i shook the plastic a little. they could at least put some water in for him... but they didn't. so i ran. and they all laughed. looking back, it seems far too perks for me. running away like charlie would. but. that's the way i felt. and still do. maybe there's a reason i fell in love like that.
i have to get away from here. these words, these molecules. are eating me alive. i finally found my safe place, and now i'm far away from it. i feel shackled and under the dominion of a tyrant. california.
there is no place for wishing here. no room to hope. the smog suffocates all good things, and chokes the breath from innocence's lungs.
it really can't get much worse, can it? so angsty, so vile. i think i might have lost three lbs just thinking about vomitting.
they left us all alone here. and we're painting. and i'm talentless.