Heartbroken , I've been for you.

It's funny how listening to old songs can always bring up that emotion. I'll hear Regina Spektor and think about a friend when I was 18 who had long hair and smoked cigarettes. She had a cool tiny car with leather seats. We were the "outlaws" because neither of us drank and we'd listen to indie music and sit at diners and draw on the back of place mats with oil pastels. We'd drive to this one church and sit in the parking lot painting (seriously) with her car doors open blasting WHY? and we'd did this for an entire summer. That was the summer I felt like I belonged somewhere, that was the summer before we moved and I felt completely content.

Her and I were together every single weekend and we'd fall asleep talking in her bed and wake up to the smell of her mom cooking us pancakes. I still remember the day I felt like she was pulling away from me, it was right around the time I met my first boyfriend and she got really distant. I tried to come up with reasons why she didn't want to be my friend anymore wondering "What did I do?" and after ignoring me for weeks she finally came up with a few poorly worded excuses, which behind all the passive aggressiveness evened out to "I'm just over our friendship."

We never talked again, three years later we still have mutual friends but it's pretty obvious that what we had was something better left in a memory. I'm not jaded from the whole experience because obviously handfuls upon handfuls of friends have done pretty much the same thing as she did, but in theory she was the first. She was the first real taste of how a friendship ends and before her I'd never been friend-dumped.


[hits the nail on the head...]

I'm happy I've grown up and I'm moving out of Delaware. I'll miss a few people and I have no enemies, but there's a lot of heartbreak and family ties that have me eager to get out of this. I feel like certain events that have taken place with my family in the past few years have stunted my growth emotionally.

A few years ago I asked a friend of mine who had a similar family situation as me, why she chose to attend a College three hours away from home. Her response was "I knew that if I stayed at home I'd do nothing but try and take care of my family. I'd be going to community college and waiting tables doing the same dumb shit I did my entire life, I'd slowly start to die." That always stuck with me for some reason and I've finally realized that I'm that girl.

You forget how to take care of yourself because you just want to make it easier on your family. Nobody wants to see people they love hurt, and nobody wants to seem like a martyr so they keep it all inside. Because of this I've turned into a miserable shell of a little girl who is just waiting for people to fuck me over. I never wanted to be that person, so when it's time I guess you know it, I know it.

Naked On My Goat before throwing the manuscript in a furnace.

I've accepted my fate as a 21year old who sometimes scribbles thoughts onto the backs of napkins at a diner. I find little scraps of paper hidden between books I never finish, stuffed between the cracks in these walls or tapped to a dirty mirror where a four year old painting sits. I go through phases where I feel things so I want to write them down. I go through phases where I feel things so I want to knit and sew or mix paints, turn on music and create some bullshit that I'll shove in my closet a week from now. I have phases (or maybe these are just moods) where I think about how much can change and it makes my head feel lopsided and all I want to do is melt in a warm shower. I'll never understand why I push those who struggle to stay in contact with me away, and sulk for the attention of those who are already shoving me halfway out the door. I don't mind if you forget me.

"OH YEW THOT I COULDN’T FREESTYLE ON YOU, BOO?”

"You owe everybody an apology for your shit, ho."








"COULD BE A CRACKHEAD! THAT GOT HOLD TA THE WRONGGG STUFF! N IT TOLD 'EM TO GET UP IN THE TREE N PLAY A LEPRECHAUN!"


--

Some oldies but goodies.

And I've got no pity for the girl in the city

This weekend starts the countdown; 5 weekends left until I leave.
I'm already starting to feel a little homesick.

Nothing but dead ends

You can find me here for the most part. Follow me and I'll follow you back!

you have no right to what you feel inside

all Polaroids were taken from here

I go back and forth between wanting to keep this blog starting a new blog (fresh start) or just taking a break from the blogging world all together. I have a good amount of subscribers (xox) and I realize that at times my entries are about as taxing as blowing bubbles, but I'm having a hard time figuring out what I want to keep this thing around for.

I sort of started this as a big girl version of my livejournal (I know .. I know..) I'm still pretty active in the lj world it's my guilty pleasure. It's a million communities all dedicated to fashion and makeup, saving money and healthy eating. I have my ~*lj friends~* who I get insight into their most intimate and private moments. Some of my "lj friends" I've been following around, journal to journal since I was 14! Now that's some serious dedication. I figured I'd make a blog just as a place for my creative writing different interviews/album reviews/a place to express new songs I'm loving/incessant babbling/etc etc. But unfortunately I'm in one of the biggest transitional phases of my life at the moment, and my head is all over the place.

I'm having a hard time finding my niche with this thing.

Every morning I wake up thinking about the same person. Same arms and feelings blah blah blah all these things I can't seem to get out of my head, they run through my eyes and drip down the back of my throat. I'm doing my best to stay realistic and not get so jaded about the situation, but to be perfeclty honest everything kind of hurts. And when I'm sad it's hard for me to write. I'm the type who keeps everything locked between my chest, I don't know how to express myself (imagine that) so I guess the writer in me isn't all it's chalked up to be. I try to articulate and make sense of my feelings but I just feel numb.

I'm in this constant haze where I have to keep asking myself "when will I stop feeling so fucking boring?" I can't believe half the things I'll be doing in the next few months. It scares the shit out of me, but that's good. I can feel change digging it's anxious claws into my stomach, turning my intestines and making weird noises whenever I think too long about my 13hour flight. I discuss the possibilities of earthquakes with my mom and we both laugh and say "well shit, I hope that doesn't happen." I sleep with my dog ever single night because I know our days are numbered and it breaks my heart.

For the first time in my life I'll be living in a house (an apartment actually) with no animals. No dogs. We have three dogs now (I even work with dogs) It's going to be insane not having a little booger following me around ready to cuddle whenever I'm sad. But I guess it's just one more thing that's going to be different, amongst the huge pile. C'est la vie.

happiness is sitting on a train alone, watching the gray February sky (that makes everybody hate winter)
and knowing that Spring is waiting at the next platform.
happiness is knowing that in two weeks this too shall pass
happiness is falling in love with a song and listening to it over and over again, because you've always been the kind of girl who plays things out
happiness is falling in love with a perfume and wearing it over and over again, because you've always been the kind of girl who sticks with a scent
happiness is eating chocolate when you know you shouldn't
it's having a nana who sends you text messages using abbreviations and nicknames
that have stuck since childhood "luv u sweetie u r my cats meow!xo!" (wish somebody still called me cats meow)
happiness is accepting that it takes shit to make bliss, so cheer the fuck up!
happiness is fat free cream in your coffee that doesn't taste like it's healthier
happiness is hearing your dogs snore
happiness is the sun setting (pink) on a field of glistening snow
i think i get it.

I'm your luv goon...

I'm not sure what to use this for anymore.
--

20 years of snow.

Today is a snow day because we all know dogs can't get haircuts when it's snowing! The entire east cost is in a state of perpetual bedbug mode, because you can't do anything productive. The moment you shovel your sidewalk there's already a powdery dusting adding up inch by inch. Tree branches are weighed down with powdered sugar snow piles while kids scream and shout to go outside, but their mom's can't even open up the front doors, they're frozen shut. The whole stillness and purity of this snowstorm slowly lost it's charm when my power was out for 5 hours.

Apparently 1,700 people in my town were without electricity. Since my mother and I rely on space heaters as our sole source of heat we were fucked. My mom being the absolute freak that she is was running around like a chicken with her head cut off "SHOULD WE TRY TO GET OUT NOW? SHOULD WE GO TO A HOTEL?" I stared at my mom decked out in pink pajamas, she looked like a little kid. "Mom, it's just snow. We live in a neighborhood not Nome Alaska." Finally my mom calmed down and we decided to wait it out. I piled underneath tons of blankets and just took naps all day with my dog. A few minutes ago I woke up to my mom shouting "YEAHHHH!!! THE POWER IS BACK ON!" And I'm so thankful. Do ya thang Delmarva power company, you're the bomb.



Keep ya boots dry

I'm "alternative"

One day my heart beats with passion
The next it waxes black
If I seem a little callous
I assure you it's just a scratch

I remember when you told me you'd been so unhappy. I tried to bring you back to me but you curled up on the other side of the bed, so I pretended to read my book. On page 22 you tried to touch my shoulder. On page 45 your ankles were wrapped around mine. I let my fingers fall onto the back of your neck and tugging gently, I smiled as you pulled me towards your side of the bed. Waking up in a tangle of warm shoulders and knotty hair. four-four-two thousand and seven.

“Just because you love someone doesn’t mean they make you happy.”

Memory will rust and erode into lists of all that you gave me:
a blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest,
the best parts of Lonely, duct-tape and soldered wires,
new words for old desires,
and every birthday card I threw away.

So I walked away all perfumed, felt just the same but brand new.

I was searching through my purse for my sugar-free bubble gum when I found something glorious. Something better than the 9 different chap sticks I smear onto my lips and better than the 3 tubes of practically the same color nude lipstick. I found secret money. Secret money (if you are somehow UNAWARE) is money you subconsciously hide from yourself (because you know you're a compulsive spending asshole) that you stumble upon days; weeks or sometimes even years later! I found two $20's wrapped around my train ticket, and shoved inside the r2 train schedule I keep folded inside my purse. Finding extra cash was by far the highlight of my entire weekend. Everything else sucked. People don't like me and I'm going to die alone. Womp womp.