Below you will find a direct copy-paste from my old Xanga site. Sometimes it is nice to look back, to know that I've been somewhere before, and that its easy to see the sun if you can just make it till sunrise.
enjoy!
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june 14 2004
I'll be captivated. I'll hang from your lips, instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above.
I'm suffocating. I was unpacking my laundry and I think I just lit too many candles. The room isn't on fire- and if it were I wouldn't be sitting here- its just all the candle smell. Such tight space, and I can't open my window because its stuck. This room isn't tiny at all, just I am, I think. I'm letting my room fill with frangrance and still light, and eventually I guess I'll just kinda melt into it. Where does the wax actually go when it burns? Is that what is twisting around my lips and stifling my breath? Wax to vapor. I wonder what I'll burn into.
Look who's laughing now that you've wasted how many years and you've barely even tasted anything remotely close to everything you've boasted about look who's crying now.
My door sticks to its frame to the point where I have to pull at it a couple extra times to get it open. It traps me in here. But when other people try to open it, it works fine for them. It lets them leave, but for me it fights back. Is it cos the room is lonely and it wants some company? or because if I'm trapped in here then it has better chance of confining me. Suffocating me. Either pushing me down into a tinier space or forcing me to grow up and pull harder till the door breaks from the frame, lets me free. Its coincidental that my door is the only one with a lock. It locks itself upon closing, but gives me the option to lock myself in twice.
I never wanted to give you away. I still love you, but I don't need you.
Romance movies are all I've been watching. Even FRIENDS reruns are seeming romantic to me. My reading choices are either romance novels, the kind you take to the beach to read outloud and oogle with a best friend, or magazines with headlines like "Your Sexiest Shoes" and "7 Foods That Go Straight to Your Thighs". (Baked chips, gummy bears, fruity yogurt, reduced-fat cookies, fat-free frozen deserts, artificial sweeteners, chick-specific energy bars.) Being independent has stolen away all my feelings. Its no longer clear whether I'm choosing to fight off guys because I don't need them, or because I can't handle sharing. The room is big enough for two people. There's a bathroom right there, and enough closet space for another person to move in. But the door sticks. I'm sure he could get in, and then he could get himself out. But once the doors closed, he's gone. He'd make his getaway while I fought the door. It may not be coincidence that I am guy-less at the moment. It could be due to my new found indepence. Could be my sticky door. Could be I'm too tiny. Romance isn't all butterflies and rainbows. Thats happiness. Thats never ending, so long as you never let yourself think. Romance only happens in the movies. Romantic things are all a matter of opinion. Romance is just a dream girls have when they think about meeting their perfect guy, their perfect wedding, perfect wedding night. All a dream. If romance is dead, where is there reason to believe that romantic things can still happen. All the wonder of love has disappeared. The media has dissected it and left it for dead. Love isn't a feeling anymore. Its a compatible merging of resources, abilities, and personality. Bittersweet. I'll feel differently if I ever fall in love again.
You tell me where to go, and though I might leave to find it, I'll never let your head hit the bed without my hand behind it.
Leaving another world behind scares me. I left it, but not completely. Someday maybe. As of now though, I've left my best friend behind. My confidente. My only person in the world who knows me even remotely well enough to surpass what any stupid kid on the street could read off my face. She can read it off my face, off my hands, off my purse, off my shoes, off my emails, off my profile, off my music, off my hair color, off my letters, off my colors. Its not very often that someone finds a best friend who can do that. Or, who has been doing that non-stop since 4th grade, Since the invention of frustration paper. Since 8th grade, Since operation pretty necklace. Now I've lost my train of thought. So long. So long. And non stop. I owe her my world. And she is worlds away from me. Sometimes closer than others but Its hard to be there for her with such different worlds.
Ballerina- you must have seen her- dancing in the sand.
I didn't mean for this to turn into a dissertation. Only wanted to let it be known that my candles are a bit overwhelming and I'm not entirely sure I'm up for so much alone time. I'll be first to admit it when I get lonely. I'm not, just yet. Soon I think. The room is just so big. I'm too tiny to be here alone. Once I blow out the candles and the smoke clears, we'll see who comes around.
I'll be your cryin shoulder. I'll be love suicide. I'll be better when I'm older.
I'm suffocating. I was unpacking my laundry and I think I just lit too many candles. The room isn't on fire- and if it were I wouldn't be sitting here- its just all the candle smell. Such tight space, and I can't open my window because its stuck. This room isn't tiny at all, just I am, I think. I'm letting my room fill with frangrance and still light, and eventually I guess I'll just kinda melt into it. Where does the wax actually go when it burns? Is that what is twisting around my lips and stifling my breath? Wax to vapor. I wonder what I'll burn into.
Look who's laughing now that you've wasted how many years and you've barely even tasted anything remotely close to everything you've boasted about look who's crying now.
My door sticks to its frame to the point where I have to pull at it a couple extra times to get it open. It traps me in here. But when other people try to open it, it works fine for them. It lets them leave, but for me it fights back. Is it cos the room is lonely and it wants some company? or because if I'm trapped in here then it has better chance of confining me. Suffocating me. Either pushing me down into a tinier space or forcing me to grow up and pull harder till the door breaks from the frame, lets me free. Its coincidental that my door is the only one with a lock. It locks itself upon closing, but gives me the option to lock myself in twice.
I never wanted to give you away. I still love you, but I don't need you.
Romance movies are all I've been watching. Even FRIENDS reruns are seeming romantic to me. My reading choices are either romance novels, the kind you take to the beach to read outloud and oogle with a best friend, or magazines with headlines like "Your Sexiest Shoes" and "7 Foods That Go Straight to Your Thighs". (Baked chips, gummy bears, fruity yogurt, reduced-fat cookies, fat-free frozen deserts, artificial sweeteners, chick-specific energy bars.) Being independent has stolen away all my feelings. Its no longer clear whether I'm choosing to fight off guys because I don't need them, or because I can't handle sharing. The room is big enough for two people. There's a bathroom right there, and enough closet space for another person to move in. But the door sticks. I'm sure he could get in, and then he could get himself out. But once the doors closed, he's gone. He'd make his getaway while I fought the door. It may not be coincidence that I am guy-less at the moment. It could be due to my new found indepence. Could be my sticky door. Could be I'm too tiny. Romance isn't all butterflies and rainbows. Thats happiness. Thats never ending, so long as you never let yourself think. Romance only happens in the movies. Romantic things are all a matter of opinion. Romance is just a dream girls have when they think about meeting their perfect guy, their perfect wedding, perfect wedding night. All a dream. If romance is dead, where is there reason to believe that romantic things can still happen. All the wonder of love has disappeared. The media has dissected it and left it for dead. Love isn't a feeling anymore. Its a compatible merging of resources, abilities, and personality. Bittersweet. I'll feel differently if I ever fall in love again.
You tell me where to go, and though I might leave to find it, I'll never let your head hit the bed without my hand behind it.
Leaving another world behind scares me. I left it, but not completely. Someday maybe. As of now though, I've left my best friend behind. My confidente. My only person in the world who knows me even remotely well enough to surpass what any stupid kid on the street could read off my face. She can read it off my face, off my hands, off my purse, off my shoes, off my emails, off my profile, off my music, off my hair color, off my letters, off my colors. Its not very often that someone finds a best friend who can do that. Or, who has been doing that non-stop since 4th grade, Since the invention of frustration paper. Since 8th grade, Since operation pretty necklace. Now I've lost my train of thought. So long. So long. And non stop. I owe her my world. And she is worlds away from me. Sometimes closer than others but Its hard to be there for her with such different worlds.
Ballerina- you must have seen her- dancing in the sand.
I didn't mean for this to turn into a dissertation. Only wanted to let it be known that my candles are a bit overwhelming and I'm not entirely sure I'm up for so much alone time. I'll be first to admit it when I get lonely. I'm not, just yet. Soon I think. The room is just so big. I'm too tiny to be here alone. Once I blow out the candles and the smoke clears, we'll see who comes around.
I'll be your cryin shoulder. I'll be love suicide. I'll be better when I'm older.
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L
Five years ago...
ReplyDeleteAnd life goes on. All the good, all the bad and all the ugly. But there is a timeless beauty in your words. Surely you must know this.