Thursday, July 21st, 2011;
The wires that connect aren’t working. I’m afraid that soon, it will stop working completely. During these times of uncertainty, that is when I should be working to fix it. Being prepared. Yet…I am not. I put too much faith in the maybe yeses. I can’t believe I have been given away.
Dislocated.


Friday July 22nd, 2011;
Looking at words I planted long ago, the water that raised still waters me now.
So when I glance at the old, grown meaning, it still applies.
Transcending.


Saturday, July 23rd, 2011;
I am not creative, to say I am implies I create.
But nothing is new, my imagination isn’t as wondrous as I make it out to be.
It just takes what I already have and warps it to a new tale.
Manipulation.


Monday, July 25th, 2011;
The best joy of all,
Through all the dark and sad times,
Is smiling truly.
Haikus.



Tuesday, July 26th, 2011;
My friends are utterly insane, and I love them so much. Maybe that’s why I hold my truths that don’t even matter so deeply hidden. The need for truth never matched honesty for me. Lies and honest intentions are so much more meaningful.
Sacrilege.



Wednesday, July 27th, 2011;
Shallow is what shallow does.
I don’t understand how people can be like this. There’s no rhyme or reason.
Illogical really, how their actions and words never meet.
Done in all honesty.
Fake.



Thursday, July 28th, 2011;
Trying to come up with an explanation, and I’m succeeding, somewhat.
The issue is, my words won’t work. They won’t hinge, they’re allergies.
Can’t stand the truth, so what’s the point in saying anything?
Stumbling.



Friday, July 29th, 2011;
It does matter where the wind blows. It matters that you notice and change its course if need be. How often do we do what we said we would never? We tiptoe across the line slowly, not realizing until we’re on the other side.
Petty matters grow, and soon we become what we said we’d never be.
Monsters.



Saturday, July 30th, 2011;
The end is approaching quickly, so saddle up your bags and say goodbye.
How long have you been sitting here waiting for something you hope will never come?
Too long, darling, too long. The door is open, take it, there is a beginning at the end of every story.
This is not a book, but a chapter.
Enter.



Monday, August 1st, 2011;
She waited, looking up.
There! Standing at the very top.
She shook her head dismally, the first was very unhealthy indeed.
Too long she waited, too long, for a stumbling.
Finally, the fall.
Twisted halfway, and her heart stopped for the entire pause down the cliff.
When it was time, when the almost end was here, she held out her hand, to catch in her fingers.
Everything depended on this moment.
Slipped through her fingers.
She didn’t know to where.
Missed.


Tuesday, August 2nd, 2011;
I can’t help but count, with each knot I tie, how many memories have been in our strings.
How many words, and no words have passed through us.
How often tears and laughter and happiness and sorrow have stolen our faces.
And I sincerely wish that I am not the only one who notices,
How time passes quickly, and an ache passes through my heart as I wonder how long this will last; in short years we will depart, and that is pain too deep to bare.
But I will keep threading through, even though it takes me eternity to,
Because there’s something here, there.
Knots.



Wednesday, August 3rd, 2011;
Even in my dream I knew I was dreaming.
But only at the end, God, only at the end.
So real it seemed, enough wonders to keep me happy forever.
Enough fuel to bring that giddy smile everyone knows so well.
But it wasn’t real.
And it will never be.
An ache, that’s what’s left when I wake, an ache.
The saddest thing is, it could be. It could come true.
It is not even asking much.
Just a little more.
But even that is too much.
Pull away from my subconscious, because it knows the truth.
How perverse, these cruelties.
I redeem myself, in
Loneliness.



Thursday, August 4th, 2011;
It feels so odd, needing others to tell me what I should already know.
Has my world become so disoriented that I can’t even tell time anymore?
How does this affect my sovereignty? I prefer the world of autonomy.
Dependence.



Friday, August 5th, 2011;
Nothing that exists is real. Or matters.
All that you need can be found in the up in the airs, and that’s rarely reachable to any.
So catch it when it falls, save it when the sky is bleak.
Because all the rest is full of
Misery.



Saturday, August 6th, 2011;
I don’t hate you, just pity you.
Justification for today can never be yesterday.
Only tomorrow.
So hold your breath and sink deep.
Your lungs fill up with lies.
When will you realize?
You’re
Drowning.



Sunday, August 7th, 2011;
You expect someone to be telling the truth, to have the best intentions.
Not honest only when they say they are.
A betrayal of trust, I deem it so.
I thought it was a promise.
Broken.



Monday, August 8th, 2011;
The stars that touched my eyes are fading.
Being taken away by the vices that leech off the unwary.
I grab and I tug and I pull and I try to get them back, but they have their own stars to admire.
And I hate it, I hate those lights.
They’re thieves, that’s what they are. Preying on my fireflies.
I uncup my hands and let them go, with bitter sorrow in my sleeves.
Knowing they’ll come back, if they come back at all.
Wrenched.



Tuesday, August 9th, 2011;
I feel myself slipping. I look at words and the urge to read is not there.
I have to study, there’s a test tomorrow, but instead, I lay in my bed thinking of nothing.
I turn on music, but I tune out almost instantly.
I look but there’s a glazed dullness in my eyes.
Where’s my vibrancy, my energy?
I’m only young! It should be here!
I look in the mirror and instead of a smile bringing light to my face, there’s only dissatisfaction.
People come and go and I don’t even notice or miss.
It’s scary how quickly I’ve turned into a zombie. How time passed like nothing.
And all I want now is to feel alive.
Because for now, I am nothing.
Just a
Ghost.



Wednesday, August 10th, 2011;
Books are calling me today.
They whisper in my ears, eager to show me their worlds.
I’m drawing close, so close, to sinking in.
But I need to be wary.
There is nothing more dangerous than an idea.
Contagious.



Thursday, August 11th, 2011;
Our miseries are our own choosings. Pain is only what the mind makes of it.
So this heart can’t break by anything but this hand.
Everything felt is everything taken.
Mind over matter.
To think over to feel.
Choices.



Saturday, August 13th, 2011;
I’ve been taking my time,
Taking it slow,
Looking before I leap,
Planning before I go,
I am worried less,
Things are more smooth,
You would think everything is perfect,
But the restless spirit in me can’t help but feel,
Strangled and tied, drowning at sea,
So maybe it would be better, even though it is worse,
To jump off the edge, and not worry about the fall,
And take the lows that come with the highs.
Because even though I know I might die,
It’s worth it, so worth it, if it means I can
Fly.



Sunday, August 14th, 2011;
As with the beginning of everything, things change.
News of new arrives, people come out of nowhere, hair gets snipped and colored, plans are made, you give up, you move on, you toast to newness.
Change.
New.
Beginnings.



Tuesday, August 16th, 2011;
Back in the fray once more, and it’s exciting! Riveting!
So much happiness and joy and once more I belong.
The time for calm summers is fading away, the tide is coming in.
But even though I am enjoying the energy, the vibe, I know it is dangerous.
Any moment things can go for the worse. Any moment a tornado might hit.
So I walk forward, but walk carefully.
Swimming not drowning.
Because even though it does not seem like this, this place is a
Warzone.



Wednesday, August 17th, 2010;
I expect too much from myself.
I expect perfection, even though it does not exist.
Yet, I do not live up to my expectations.
I barely even try.
My failure is my own.
Weak.



Thursday, August 18th, 2011;
I am a liar.
Pretending to be what I have argued and rationalized to be not true.
But justified in doing so anyways.
I know though, this will come back to bite me.
I should have learned my lesson, this pattern is not new, not at all.
Yet like always I am running away.
So weak, so pathetic.
Coward.


Friday, August 19th, 2011;
I am not a pushover.
There is no emotional attachment to getting my way.
People think they have control over me but that is not true.
No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
Don’t think you’re getting to me.
Inferiority complex.



Saturday, August 20th, 2011;
No matter how many times I wash my hands, the feeling remains.
There’s this scratchiness to my skin, as if I swam in sawdust.
I scrub it all off, or atleast, try to.
But to no avail.
It’s all over, my hair feels rough, my feet in sand, my lungs filled with dust.
Get it off me.
What will it take to make this go away?
Spreading.



Submerged;
Took a dip off to the waterside.
It’s so calm here, the water ripples and bursts and it is quite splendid.
I let myself into below too deep, floating just enough to breathe.
And I wonder, why I am not drowning already.
How my lungs are surrounded by water, but still take in only air.
All of a sudden, I feel as if my skin isn’t thick enough, and the water will just flood me anyways.




Monday, August 22nd, 2011;
And I wonder if it was worth saying what I did, if it would be heard and understood.
If seen and not just look.
And I wonder if I am making a fuss where I should not.
If fake peace is better than honest war.
But it is too late to be taken away.
I’ll save this breath for another day.
Mumbling.



Tuesday, August 22nd, 2011;
And I take it as a challenge.
To be cleverer, to win, to embroider better.
To twist intricacies, though unnecessary,
A smirk to my lips, snap of my fingers,
Difficult to imagine losing in this realm,
Unbeatable.



Friday, August 26th, 2011;
And if the known is known, why follow this pretense?
Why pretend? I tell myself not to, knowing that there is no need.
But I guess there’s an inclination to the shiny old.
A preference to avoid rubble.
Crumbling.


Saturday, August 27th, 2011;
I love gifts. I love giving gifts, I love getting gifts. I love the idea of here’s a representation of how much I love you. I love knowing that when they see what I gave them, they think of me and smile. I love looking at what someone gave me and smiling. I love making the gift, thinking of what they mean to me as I do. I love knowing they put effort into it. I love when I buy the perfect gift or get the perfect gift, because we know each other so well. I love figuring out exactly what to give after being stumped. I love looking back and seeing all we have been through. It is hard for me to remember but in these gifts I do.
Shared.


Sunday, August 28th, 2011;
My mind draws a blank, I have nothing to say.
No thoughts seem to matter, everything’s extinguished.
I remember why, it is the peace of the morning.
Of the sun rising and the moon hidden away somewhere in the sky.
Fueled by light, I am
Alive.


Tuesday, August 30th, 2011;
I swallow the words I want to hear,
But not the ones I need to know.
Tastes delicious, so heavenly,
Feel so light, so powerful,
This is the energy of me,
Yet it’s dying,
Why is it dying?!
I feel it fading away,
Pushing away,
And I grasp,
Pulling closer,
Or trying to,
This is the death of me,
Once gone,
Never returned,
And I am left,
Feeling ravenous for something better.
Starved.



Wednesday, August 31st, 2011;
The aroma of freshness is in the air,
And I wonder what I wrote,
Long ago,
On the meaning of each month,
And how their whims and tides fall on me,
If it is true, I feel prophetic,
As if I wrote my own future beforehand,
But if not,
I feel the need to identify with it anyways,
Because I can not help but trap myself,
In
A
Box.



Saturday, September 3rd, 2011;
I hate them.
I hate them for fooling me.
While I lay asleep, they’re so real to me.
This is the life I want.
Maybe it isn’t perfect but it is better than what I have.
The sad thing is, I think it’s true, it makes sense to me.
Then I wake up, and stark reality hits me and it isn’t.
It isn’t true and all of what I believed was a lie.
And I go through my day, but I can’t help comparing this world to the fantasy one I just left.
The desire to sleep all day overwhelms me.
Death seems worth it here.
Dreams.



Sunday, September 04, 2011;
And I do not remember, I look back and I am searching for the memory, for the reason why this meant so much to me. It’s just a haze, but I’m pulling, grasping at straws, at maybes. But I can’t, I just can’t. Then I wonder, why bother? Why bother if you can’t remember? Why hold on to something that was not important enough to stay in your head? Might as well forget, it is so much easier this way.
Blank.



Monday, September 5th, 2011;
Oh I wonder why you are here,
When I never asked you to stay,
Uninvited you are,
Please leave,
I asked more than once,
Do not think I welcomed you,
Simply took advantage,
Of judgment lapses,
So now you won’t go,
Why torture me so?
Planting false truths,
Leading me astray,
Only to wake up,
Drenched in lies,
So plunge me,
Free me,
This will be the death of me.
Mislead.



Tuesday, September 06, 2011;
Ripples of paranoia,
Thrones of conspiracies,
Duplicitous,
Manipulative,
Deceit,
Malice,
Oh how this game is played,
I never asked,
To be a contender,
And the pawn used,
How repulsive,
To do so.
Jeux.

Wednesday, September 7th, 2011;
Because I have no answer,
No answer to questions asked, unasked, wished to be asked,
The gears in my mind could probably pull it up,
Drag it from all the covered memories,
Yet this is a betrayal,
I cannot reveal myself,
Never could,
Drowning the past,
But forgetting it can swim,
Maybe if I was asked,
I would have the courage,
To
Answer.


Thursday, September 8th, 2011;
Bundled in the middle,
Rings spinning around and around,
Getting bigger and farther,
Then it stops,
And from it there’s eight lines, pulling out,
Trapping the rings,
But they keep growing, getting bigger,
Under the lines, over the lines,
And they exceed the lines,
But they stop too,
Everything stops.
Everything
Stops.


Friday, September 9th, 2011;
I do not understand,
How people can be illogical and irrational,
When they should not be,
And logical and rational,
When they should not be,
How can you live like this,
Both being numb to everything,
But also letting emotions cloud judgment,
I guess it is just me,
Who follows both,
I think it is better this way,
The thing is,
I
Am
The
Only
One.


Saturday, September 10th, 2011;
And I think that whoever spoke of death like this,
Was right,
That it was saying,
You are too good for this world,
Because even hell can be better,
Than this dirt,
That monsters there,
Could not compare,
To the ones here,
Ghosts I do not fear,
They can not hurt me,
And I can not help but think,
That heaven is just a state of mind,
And I can think my way
There.

Sunday, September 11th, 2011;
There is no words for today.
Silence.

Tuesday, September 13th, 2011;
And I look at what was written by someone else’s words,
Many a long time ago,
And how it can be found in me,
So close,
So dear,
Yet,
Not of me,
Not anymore,
Because that time long ago,
No longer applies,
To the time long awaited,
And so these words,
Must be thrown out,
Got rid of,
Because there is no bearing,
Such
Unmatching.

Wednesday, September 14th, 2011;
I am not that naiive,
To be fooled twice,
So this time I am on my guard,
I actually don’t care,
I am not worrying,
Cause it is no good to,
This is a second chance,
And this will not be the end of
This.

Thursday September 15th, 2011;
And everyday I’m adding seven days to the count.
Just another seven days has gone by, will go by.
Yet so much has happened, so much will happen.
Everyday life changes, and I become infinitely more different,
You can’t hold to the me yesterday, this morning, tomorrow.
Because I was a different person then.
Transforming.

Friday, September 16th, 2011;
Things are so much better but I am going to go and ruin it. For some reason, I do not seem to be able to do calm waters. I need to throw a pebble, a rock, a boulder. Aren’t I an idiot? Thinking that what I do could change anything, that I matter. Oh well, because I do. Because I am too me not to. When things are brought to my attention…I don’t have patience. I’ll wait, I will, which only happens because my memory is wishy-washy, doing what it wants in rebellion of what I have done before, torturing my mind so it tortures me back. I don’t know why I do this to myself.
Rebellion.

Saturday, September 17th, 2011;
It is nice to have things go your way, for once.
Maybe it does more than that, but moments like these, these are the ones you remember.
Your heart does not have enough room for small memories.
They take up too much space.
All the big ones are blurs, and I guess that’s what we need in life.
Blurs.
Or else, what will stop us from living in the vivid moments of every yesterday?
Guess it’s better this way, to remember the peaks as fading memories.
Remembrance.

Monday, September 19th, 2011;
Preferring to change,
Then to hold dear,
Things that don’t matter,
To lose what does,
Been told of untruths,
And I can’t help but wonder,
How everyone,
Everyone,
Believes my projections,
Too mutuable,
I shall be,
Complacent.


Tuesday, September 20th, 2011;
When you expect something to arrive a certain way, and you’re so excited.
Waiting and waiting for that one piece of perfection.
Through every obstacle you did not lose hope.
And then it arrives….and it’s not perfect.
Not what you imagined.
Not necessarily bad, but different.
And you’re sitting there, looking at it, wondering what to think, what to feel.
Confounded.


Wednesday, September 21st, 2011;
I don’t understand what people see.
I don’t understand how they infer and believe all these things of me when I never felt that way.
I think there’s this enigma, people suppose, of me, but there’s not.
I don’t live in denial, I am self-aware.
I do acknowledge truth.
So I just don’t know, what is being seen.
Lost.


Thursday, September 22nd, 2011;
And I am just sick.
And tired.
I stopped breathing a long time ago.
No air has entered my lungs, nor left.
Drowning in every heave.
I stopped thinking a long time ago.
It hurts too much.
No thoughts have entered my mind, nor left.
Swirls in my head, break
Break
Break.
I hate feeling like this.
Like I am wallowing in the grunge,
That I will never be better.
Trying to pull back up,
But how can you?
When strength ditched you when you needed it the most?
Crumble, crumbling.
Fold myself into pieces,
Before I break into pieces.
Sick.

Friday, September 23rd, 2011;
That an increase in hunger leads decrease in preference and increase in search for food.
That decimals are better than fractions.
That 8 heads equals one body. But only vertically not the circumference.
That we don’t read every word, or hear every word.
That links don’t always work.
That books take a long time to read.
That orange juice and chocolate don’t mix well together. Neither does oil and water.
That the clock is ticking, and there is less than two hours left.
That things are ending.
Statements.


Saturday, September 24th, 2011;
I have been forgetting.
And I guess I need to remember.
I need to be prompted.
How easy it is to think of happy memories.
Or happy things.
But to remember to remember…that’s the tricky part.
Atleast for me.
So please remind, remind me to remember.
Because the spark is oh so important.
Prompts.

Sunday, September 25th, 2011;
They are still called the same, because nothing has refuted it.
Nothing changed the meaning.
But is it the same?
Things can happen in silence you know.
So maybe?
Unknown.

Thursday, September 29th, 2011;
Small things are big things.
I measure the stuff no one cares to notice.
I don’t understand how you cannot be excited about life.
Everything is something.
Suck the marrow out of life.
Smile.
You don’t need a reason to be happy, but you need one to be sad.
Be happy.
Just be happy.
Please.

Friday, September 30th, 2011;
I wish I had a pensieve like Dumbledore, for too much thoughts are going through my head to write all down.
Alas, I guess I must stick to being unable to.
Overwhelmed.

Saturday, September 30th, 2011;
Packing away everything, because I know that it hurts too much to leave out in the open. Thrown items on the floor of my mind.
Put away in boxes that are hidden in the basement.
Maybe looking at them later, seeing them differently.
But not now, not now, when it is too fresh, too raw.
Catalog.