Doubt is burning my veins, fear of being used is strangling my breaths. He's non-respondant for the um-teenth-million time, and tears are starting to cloud my eyes. There's a bloackage in my chest, and with every minute that passes by it grows larger and bigger... my lungs barely have enough space to fill with air; with each exhaled breath air ( Read more... )

There is nothing to say, and yet everything. How can there be a way to explain and to tell of the events which have formed the better portion of this past year, without first giving myself the moments needed to collect myself from the chaos, to say nothing, so that I may then say everything? I am at once at a loss for words, but also, instantly ( Read more... )

I'm dying.

This once was a haven. I'm revisiting and hopefully I'll stay. This time around I won't be so liberal with who will be allowed into the depths of my soul. If you are on this friends list and don't reply to this entry, I'm deleting you. I might have already deleted you. I'm not adding anyone unless I know them and trust them ten fold. I need a place ( Read more... )

New journal. Moved. Bye. I might still use this journal but we'll see.
STATICMIX

My muscles are sore from sleeping. My eyes droop from dreaming. I saw you Toots at Thanksgiving time, and pushed you into a pool, only your name was Ride. Or Ryde. Or it could have been Dave. Something. And then you were mad at me, and I stayed in the rented holiday house we were renting with a million other girls. And then I decided to leave, and ( Read more... )

A quick breath inhaled. A sigh. A smile. A yes-I'll-be-your-girlfriend. All but nine months ago.

Nine months seems awkward. If nine months ago he had kissed me and dined me and seduced me and impregnated me, I'd be a mother. Like I said, awkward.

But I'm not. And he's all but impregnated me, which isn't to conclude we haven't been close. I ( Read more... )

I need a view. A breathtaking oh-my-candle-sticks-and-ice-cream view. A relaxing hide-away. A me-zone. A place where I don't have to explain all the misfortunes and how they make me feel. Because they make me feel like a piece of month-old-chewed-gum stuck to the oil-stained-100-year-old-carpet. And all I want to do is sob. And fly. And get away. ( Read more... )

I need a rescue mission.

LOVETHESTATIC.ORG
(yes baby)