light a match. . . go on and do it.
It's past midnight. Day after Senior Picnic. I've decided to update my icons, etc because I can't sleep. Moreover, I should redesign my xanga cuz it's really out of date now. Times have changed a lot. I'll keep the LJ layout cuz AnGie designed it for me. (Thanks! ^^). Ah, nostalgia.
Did you ever play with matches when you were little? You know, lighting them, letting them burn down, lower and lower, until finally so close and so hot that you knew you'd burn yourself so you'd drop it and snuff it out? Really? Cuz I never did. Must be why I'm so bad at it now. I feel like I'm lighting matches all the time now. Except, instead of letting them burn out in safety, I let them smart me first. Little burn marks all over my hands. One of these days I'll lose my hand. Someone pass me the gasoline.
Closure. Wow, I need closure so much and yet I can't get it even if I tried. I want to box it all up in nice little labelled boxes and stack them high and away in a shed somewhere far far away. Someone pass me the duct tape. I have a history of letting boxes reopen themselves.
Put my tender heart in a blender and watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion.
So I'm a senior. I wonder how's it gonna be. . . when you don't know me. . . how's it gonna be. . . when you find out there was nothing. . . between you and me. . . how's it gonna be? Graduation is upon us and I feel. . . a whole lot of nothing. Perhaps I will feel remorse someday for not forming stronger bonds with my high school peers. Hell I'll miss some teachers more than some of my classmates. Perhaps not though. I will feel remorse for not getting to know better some of the interesting personalities. But that's difficult and with the airhead I was when I came into this school, not exactly possible. Sometimes I wonder if the people in college will be any better. In a scary way, I fear not and that worries me. My hope is though, that I'm slightly wiser the second time around.
I should be more sad at graduation. I'll miss some people terribly. But I've also realized that those people will keep in touch no matter what. And the others? If I don't really talk to you now. . . chances are. . . I won't five years from now either.
Ok, I'm throughly emo. I'm beside myself on several matters. I need this to be over. Now.
Edgar, we need to get together before I leave. I know I've probably told you this before but you've done so much for me during this whole high school rollercoaster crap. I don't think I could ever thank you enough. Our lives have taken different paths and that'll be even more true come fall when I head out east and you start touring. WoW, who would have thunk? Gluck with all the music, I know you'll always be some place you love cuz you have the heart for it. Nevertheless, I've been a bitch and a half and icy-cold, in part because I've been busy and sick [ok seriously, it's a problem when you have more than a passing familarity with all the doctors in the office] but also because I'm just really confused about a lot of stuff lately and don't feel like talking to people much. Still. We need to get together.
[.]
Did you ever play with matches when you were little? You know, lighting them, letting them burn down, lower and lower, until finally so close and so hot that you knew you'd burn yourself so you'd drop it and snuff it out? Really? Cuz I never did. Must be why I'm so bad at it now. I feel like I'm lighting matches all the time now. Except, instead of letting them burn out in safety, I let them smart me first. Little burn marks all over my hands. One of these days I'll lose my hand. Someone pass me the gasoline.
Closure. Wow, I need closure so much and yet I can't get it even if I tried. I want to box it all up in nice little labelled boxes and stack them high and away in a shed somewhere far far away. Someone pass me the duct tape. I have a history of letting boxes reopen themselves.
Put my tender heart in a blender and watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion.
So I'm a senior. I wonder how's it gonna be. . . when you don't know me. . . how's it gonna be. . . when you find out there was nothing. . . between you and me. . . how's it gonna be? Graduation is upon us and I feel. . . a whole lot of nothing. Perhaps I will feel remorse someday for not forming stronger bonds with my high school peers. Hell I'll miss some teachers more than some of my classmates. Perhaps not though. I will feel remorse for not getting to know better some of the interesting personalities. But that's difficult and with the airhead I was when I came into this school, not exactly possible. Sometimes I wonder if the people in college will be any better. In a scary way, I fear not and that worries me. My hope is though, that I'm slightly wiser the second time around.
I should be more sad at graduation. I'll miss some people terribly. But I've also realized that those people will keep in touch no matter what. And the others? If I don't really talk to you now. . . chances are. . . I won't five years from now either.
Ok, I'm throughly emo. I'm beside myself on several matters. I need this to be over. Now.
Edgar, we need to get together before I leave. I know I've probably told you this before but you've done so much for me during this whole high school rollercoaster crap. I don't think I could ever thank you enough. Our lives have taken different paths and that'll be even more true come fall when I head out east and you start touring. WoW, who would have thunk? Gluck with all the music, I know you'll always be some place you love cuz you have the heart for it. Nevertheless, I've been a bitch and a half and icy-cold, in part because I've been busy and sick [ok seriously, it's a problem when you have more than a passing familarity with all the doctors in the office] but also because I'm just really confused about a lot of stuff lately and don't feel like talking to people much. Still. We need to get together.
[.]