Wednesday, July 27, 2011

If your life were to suddenly be curtailed, especially now, I would be very broken.

What would you do?

What do you mean?

When you heard of my death.

Most likely trudge through the stages of grief. Cry and read your letters, exchange condolences with your friends and family, probably write a very dark poem or two among other expected things. I predict having a difficult time loving again because of the fear of loss at any given moment. Just the thought brings me to tears.


Wednesday, July 20, 2011


Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Things that are absolutely positively horrifying and embarrassing and sad:

- When your boyfriend finds your private blog and the list that you made of things that tick you off when you're angry with him
- When your parents make you cancel on him five times in a row
- One of those times on his birthday
- As a result, he has a shitty birthday
 I'm so glad most of this has blown over. It's been an emotionally taxing week.


Friday, July 15, 2011

A fair warning to those of you that try to get attached to me:

- I'm overly-emotional
- I make promises I can't keep
- I lie to make others feel better
- I have a short temper
- I have a tendency to hurt the ones I love
- I'm lazy
- I'm ignorant
- I often feign optimism
- I'm naive

If you're still interested, godspeed!


Wednesday, July 13, 2011

If I were given the option to make my own decisions, I feel as if I would make good ones. I would have my own time to think them over instead of being more inclined to do the opposite of what my parents tell me to.

Oh well, I have less than a year until I'm free.


Monday, July 11, 2011

some more love letters:


There’s something sad about the melancholy beat of one’s heart. While there is no definite beginning to its cycle, the very last thud will rip the most miserable of pangs through the chests of everyone near. That one little organ will go through the toughest of times over the span of a human life. Its alarming speed when two lips meet for the first time, or its near inactivity when enveloped in the warm calmness of NREM slumber. Some might be clogged with poor meal decisions, and others might be worked to the verge of near exhaustion.
My heart likes it when you whisper sweet things to me, when you touch me, when you tell me you adore me. You keep it happy. My heart would very much like it if you stuck around.


It’s kind of funny how love makes poets of us.
I once heard that love is humbling. It’s frightening how much a romantic relationship exposes you to another person. You let them see your hopes and dreams and fears and insecurities. You can tear off your clothes and have sex with anybody, but you are only truly naked when those delicate subjects are finally unearthed. So it wasn’t just the times we pleasured each other in the seclusion of your bedroom, but the nights we cried into the phone about our hearts’ troubles. There were only a few select times that I could visualize the walls breaking down, and I could finally peel away at your layers of flesh until I found my way to your heart. It gets a little tough at the ribcage, but I think I’ll soon be able to make my way through.



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