I had bad blood,a twisted mind, a pecarious upbringing.

8:39 - 8:57 I really can't think of a single thing to write.

My words don't travel far. They tangle in my hair and tend to go nowhere.

They grow right back inside
right past my brain and eyes
into my stomach juice
where they don't serve much use
No healthy calories
nutrition values
and I absorb back in
the words right through my skin
They sit there festering inside my bowels

Things on rotation : fake Gucci sweatshirt, brown keds, cherry coke, Claritin D, blueberry granola, flannel sheets, Regina Spektor, my space heater, black Cleopatra hair, my dogs all the time. Working, missing ring (still) birthday soon, new jeans and carb-heaven is in my near future.

Nothing is terribly new. I met my musical counterpart a few weeks ago. We're working on meshing his insane classical guitar skills in with my folky-shy lil'girl voice. Looking forward to future endeavors in that area! Today a man at work told me my name is "beautiful and unique" which made me smile. I'm so glad my mother decided to name me Erica, I like it more and more the older I get.

Speaking of older.. I keep thinking about all my past birthdays, the ones that stuck out the most. Here are some recaps (as far back as I can remember.)

I had a birthday sometime in elementary school where my moms friend brought over a trunk full of old clothes, and we all played dress up. There is a picture of me with tons of makeup on and this flapper-style dress. My hairs long and blown out and I have bangs! This was a good birthday, and for some reason the pictures from my birthday party were in my towns newspaper? I still have the article saved somewhere.

Then there was the bday my freshman year of hs aka THE BIG ONE FOUR, where my mom took my two friends and I to the Dover Mall. I mean, first off, the Dove Mall? Really mom!? And to make matters WORSE my mom had the NERVE to bring my little brother, who I had placed a vendetta upon the minute he came out of my mother's womb and took the spotlight off *me. He of course being the adorable little shithead that he was, took all the attention off of me ( a duhh) and somehow turned my friends against me (!!) and they all ended up making fun of me, on my motherfuckin' birthday! ASSHOLES.

I remember hiding in a dressing room in Jcpenny's because I didn't want to be around anybody (puberty much?) Of course in retrospect I was being a jealous little bitch, but nonetheless it was a pretty shitty birthday. We ate horrible pizza in the food court and somebody across the room got into a fist fight. Tables were being flipped and people were screaming, the mall security guard sped over in her fucking electrical wheelchair. I may or may not have turned on Missy Elliot's "Get ya freak on" in the car ride home, only to be laughed at, yet again.

My 18th birthday was spent on the internet trying to convince people to hang out with me. My birthday always falls on or directly before/after Thanksgiving, and that year it fell on Black Friday. Not a single human would do anything with me. My poor mom and step dad ended up making me a car and buying me an ice cream cake, pretty pathetic. The next day I had work, which was unfortunately the highlight of my entire week.

Here's to not throwing myself a pity party and hoping 21 is a little more loving. xo

Somewhere between the sticky floor and the cracks in the ceiling cuddling my semi automatic, what a very fuzzy feeling

Friday the 13th wasn't terrifying or unlucky at all.

"I wanna hear your voice and look in your eyes and kiss your lips and feel your skin."

She whispered "Maybe one day you'll really understand. You'll know how it feels to wake up alone. There will be ice frozen across the inside of your chest. Icicles will form on your ribs like a steel city bridge. Your cheeks will never feel warm, your bed will never be home. You'll desperately try to break the spine from your back, soak away worry in a hot tub. But it won't work, nothing will work. Maybe one day you'll understand how lonely it is to be trapped inside these arms."

He looked at her with those soft brown eyes. His lips parted ever so slightly and he sighed "I'm sorry but I do no feel anything close to that." His head fell into his hands, clumps of hair screaming between his fingers.

This was the reason she could never be tied down. No matter how many times she let her heart escape and go about loving, the feelings always ended up leaving. They sunk deeper into an unknown chest cavity, also known as the human time capsule. The first kiss, secret freckles, the smell and silent hum he'd make when kissing her, all these memories weren't meant for living. This was the hardest part, realizing that no matter how many times she let herself love, that they would always get up and leave. Her reckless fears of abandonment weren't so reckless. What's the point in having someone love you if they only stay with you out of fear? They weren't looking at you like some goddess, their eyes weren't trying to drink you up, you were just a project. They felt sorry for you. That was pity. You just needed them at the time and they just wanted to help. They wanted to crack open your mind and here your sob story while they spit out the bad parts, only to have them look at you like some belly-bloated Ethiopian in the end. They'd throw a bag of rice in your direction and say "Look, fuck it. I did all I could do. I did my part. I'm not such a bad guy." This was the the hardest part of all.

Saturn squares Pluto, which suggests that your changing values are becoming very different from those of your friends.

I keep having dreams where I'm swimming in an ocean full of Jell-o. What the fuck does that mean?

Everywhere it's six-sex-six by luck

Fall music







--



There is a secret freckle directly underneath my cupids bow. I have a scar underneath my right eyebrow, thick indented and uneven skin in criss-cross pattens, evidence of a surgery I had when I was 6 months old. I have one dimple in my left cheek. My teeth are crooked. I can pop my left thumb out of socket. I can cross both of my eyes. I'm awkward and weird, I like to crochet and read borrowed books. I'm obsessed with good smelling things and I actually suck at making pancakes. I'm still working on the art of being "mysterious" one day I will figure everything out.

Earth will either live or turn to dust

Curly hair smells so damn good.