| It's that road. It may go ever on, but they never account for where it may curve out of sight. |
[30 Nov 2006|03:25am] |
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It's those who protest the loudest who're the dopes in life.
You lead one cause because you're afraid of seeing another. You hate one thing because it's perhaps the one thing you most want to believe in. And all along, there's this world just passing you by. And maybe you screamed too loudly, or maybe the right person just never stopped to listen or heard you scream at all, but in the end, there's you standing in the crushed, left-over ticker-tape, the kind with scuff marks and that's torn, and for the life of you, you can't remember what the hell you were marching for in the first place.
We play by certain rules here, that I know. And they dictate certain things, so maybe I should have hated Castro all along. Who knows? I didn't create the system, and I won't stand being called a victim of it. Because if at the end of the day all I can say is that I was never a victim, then I think I'll still be able to go out with my head held high and something gained.
So don't think of me that way.
Think of me as Peter because at least he made a choice. Even if it means you have to see the gates of Wonderland, and see the bolts holding them in place. And there's me on one side and what I have, which isn't bad. I mean, you can never go back, and living there is a way of surviving, but not much more. Eventually, all our paths have to end. And I get it now, what I want you to understand. Even though you probably won't want to; I've put it off long enough. That this is about middles and not endings. Because I know that to base your life on endings is to underestimate the importance of the ground in between and the way it weaves and dips and rises and, most likely, is covered in rocks in the most awkward places. Many rocks. Sharp rocks. The ones I'm missing.
She's crying as she writes this out for me. And it's so pathetic I think I'm beginning to appreciate it. I'm not killing myself or anything melodramatic like that. Just bowing out and going back behind the curtain, as all good players do when their part is done. Maybe I'll spend forever reading Dostoevsky in a cafe or something ridiculously clichéd and pretentious like that. Who knows? But here goes.
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[14 Jun 2006|09:59pm] |
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Is there really a point to celebrating your birthday when you don't plan on dying any time...ever? Why even measure if time's irrelevant? There's nothing there to count. Literally. You're outside of it, it's nothing to you, just something connecting you to the mortal world. That's how we measure. How we're forced to measure it, year by endless year. Until the years aren't enough and then we stop. It's the fear, it's mortality, it's extinguished candles on a birthday cake. Makes you wonder. Is that what you want? Is there something there to be jealous of? Is that your one connection here?
In other words, Happy (belated) birthday, Ben. My present to you. And not only because it's a heck of a lot easier than baking an apple cake. Mostly
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| [private] |
[12 Apr 2006|02:01am] |
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Sarah - stupid |
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I didn't mean it. And I didn't mean to say it to her, either. But fuck if it's not true. All of them. It's what they all think. She's fun to talk to, isn't she? But God forbid anyone ever wants to touch her. She can be funny, bitter, single Xanthe all her life and as long as she doesn't grow up, it's fine.
I don't care. I like Vlad. And Vlad maybe likes me, I don't know, we haven't had more than coffee. But I damn sure want to find out. I damn sure want what everyone else has. And I damn sure don't care what they think of him, especially when they've never even said one word to him.
That's all.
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| [Private, Writer Filter] |
[26 Jun 2005|02:09am] |
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postal service - district sleeps tonight |
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My writer's wanted me to say something for a really long time. I haven't. Mainly because I knew that if I did, they would be her words, not mine. And I don't think any muse wants that.
Leaving is always a competition, isn't it? It's like you get a prize if you're the first one to step away, the first one to not care anymore, the one not to hurt at all when it all falls apart, and that prize is your pride. Or something like it. The prize is that you were stronger, the prize is that you were never under anyone's power, and that you were never held under by the heel of anyone's hand.
Top dog in the fight.
But the funny thing is, the real secret is, that it's only bottom dogs that think this way. Compensation for bring what they are. Losers trying to be winners by not caring that they're losing. It's hard, ain't it? All the not caring and the not crying and the not hurting and the never looking back even when it's the only thing that you really want to do.
Masochist.
It's hard to tell, though, because sometimes you think you need something or someone and you really don't. But from where you're standing it doesn't look that way. Sometimes you really are being taken advantage of. Don't be so shocked. Despite what's PC, there really are just bad people in the world. The fact that they don't know they're mean or evil or cruel doesn't stop them from being so, so what's the point in making distinctions? Excuses? Please. I don't really care. You hurt me and that's the fact, and that's what I have to somehow deal with, not the fact that you were having a nervous breakdown at the time. The pain you caused is the fact for me; I can only move on from there.
I asked a good friend of mine a question the other day. He still hasn't given me an answer yet. I know I fucked up there. I know I fucked up big time, and I think even when I was asking I knew that I was fucking up. When I first thought about asking I knew that it was a dumb thing to do, and the only reason I did it is because sometimes things seem one way and actually are another. Like I said, motive, thought, anything that really comes before action, before witness...irrelevant. You don't know until you've been.
And maybe I didn't fuck up. Maybe he just doesn't care. Maybe nobody cares and I'm just here in this dark little room writing this to myself for no other reason than to try to remember who I am. It just all feels so empty right now. That's not the reason I did it. I asked him because it's something I want to do, something I want to happen, something I think I'm ready to have happen. It wasn't just on a whim or because I had a bad day or something, although probably he thinks it was. Probably I'll never see him again. And that hurts. That hurts a lot.
But because I live here I can't say that. You can't walk around cracked all the time if you really are because people really do like to pick at scabs. You know? The pain, it's lovely. It reminds us that we're alive enough to cause it, stop it, and start it again. It reminds us of who's in charge, top dog, bottom dog, and all the songs, the self-help books, the ginkgo-whatever in the world isn't going to change that. Ever
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| hmmm... |
[09 Jun 2005|10:56am] |
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Nifty.
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| GIP |
[13 May 2005|08:57pm] |
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ani |
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*snicker* Host made me do it.
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[04 May 2005|02:44am] |
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postal service - nothing better |
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Bob?
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[28 Mar 2005|06:39pm] |
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quiet |
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We're fading away like lighted ghosts on the water. Or mist. Or maybe I'm just being melodramatic, but I thought I felt the ground shift and give way in a dream, although it wouldn't have had to in order to defend its own decision.
We were never here. We were never flesh and blood and bone. We were never real.
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| THAT'S ME!!! |
[22 Mar 2005|08:07pm] |
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 energetic |
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avril lavigne - unwanted |
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*pointing at icon* THAT'S ME, THAT'S ME!!!!!!!
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| [Writer Filter/Private] |
[21 Mar 2005|05:33pm] |
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mood |
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crappy |
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yellowcard - view from heaven |
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My host is listening to Yellowcard and thinking it means something. Yellowcard.
At any rate, you wanna know what I’m thinking, here it goes. I’m thinking that trust is something you should never take for granted, and maybe I did. Maybe I did take Nico for granted, maybe I didn’t give enough, although I’d like to think I tried. I can’t see what she’s seeing, and I don’t know what she remembers or doesn’t, but I’d like to think I was there for her when I could be, and when I wasn’t….well, I wish she’d have SAID something. Instead of just blowing up like that.
I don’t know. Since Taran I’ve sort of been…it’s like some days I wake up and I can’t breathe because I’m so afraid the world is just passing me by, hour by hour. Soon a year. I think that at some level I can’t attach to people, because when I do, I latch on and I don’t let go. I don’t let people go easily, and you’d think I’d have learned how to do that by now. You’d think that I’d be able to tell who was my friend and who wasn’t and what people’s intentions are for me after 19 years, but apparently, I’ve spent all the time I’ve been here learning absolutely nothing because I am so confused right now.
Because, honestly, what the FUCK did she want me to do? Ignore Kala? Isn’t that the exact same bullshit that was pushed her way for all those months last year? Maybe she doesn’t understand, maybe I didn’t let her know. But I was told at least a million times that Nico was not worth it, that I should drop her as a friend, fuck, as a sister; that if I were a real friend to Kala, I’d do it because of all the shit Kala went through on her account. And each time, I said no. I said no, she was my sister; I said no, I love her; I said no, she’s human, she makes mistakes but she doesn’t hurt people on purpose the way you’re saying she does. I said no, she fell in love, is that so much a crime?
I SAID NO, does that mean ANYTHING to her?
Kala has not been there for me always in the way that Nico has, no, but she wants to be now. Or at least I think she does. I hope she does, I hope that this is not some sort of power-play, that I’m some stupid prize to be won. I have paint stains on nearly everything I own, I haven’t seen a movie in ages, I haven’t had any sort of real significant other in over a year, my stupid hair isn’t even one normal color anymore, and I can’t paint my nails to hide the paint under them because I bite them too much. I mean, Jesus…I don’t think too hard about my life anymore.
But I want to go to Ireland with her. And I want Nico to be ok with it.
I always thought I had Nico, and maybe that’s where I made a mistake. I took her for granted, I take everything for granted, don’t I? It’s stupid. But I can’t believe…I can’t believe she just asked me to take a side like that, didn’t even ask, just ranted about me in the third person. She’s my sister and I love her, but…..goddamn it, I have been stuck between this rock and this hard place for the better part of nearly a year and a half and I am sick of it. Sick of it.
I am sick of having to think about what I can say and not say, and I am sick of seeing distrust in everybody’s eyes. I am sick of this fucking universal justice scale, and I am sick of being told who I can and cannot be friends with in accordance to someone else’s laws. Nobody is the devil here. Nobody is evil incarnate, nobody is trying to ruin anybody else’s life between the two of them. She called me sister and I thought she meant it, but if this is all that it takes to break that fucking right in half then she never should have even called me that in the first place.
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[16 Mar 2005|08:34am] |
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ani difranco - the firedoor |
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( On Walls )
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| SOTD |
[06 Mar 2005|10:28pm] |
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Weeping Tile - Dogs and thunder |
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a rifle sits behind her sleeping ear
an echo on the cold wall closest neighbor couldn't hear
we dug a hole in the fall
so now its a frozen burial
and she's gone
just before the new year
well i'm gonna build a cross for the spot between the trees
and stick it in firm so it won't sway in their breeze
well you and i have trouble making up our half-assed minds
but she'd seen 16 years of our kind
and what's it like when your memories start to freeze
oh and i wonder what it is about dogs and thunder
what they hear coming over the fields
backhouse shelter warm nights in the summer
shaking the ground that you lie under
well i know you're not here but at least you don't feel it anymore
and i came to see you on the day that it happened
you said hey sorry sar but i gotta go
and i was trying to read some sorta reaction
it's something you just can't show
so i guess it's time i go
across the snowy barnyard just past the driving shed
a shadow of me in the moon well i was in a movie in my head
this pile of dirt on the ground
will sink when nobody is around
and winter covers everything but everything's not dead
oh and i wonder what it is about dogs and thunder
what they hear coming over the fields
backhouse shelter warm nights in the summer
shaking the ground that you lie under
well i know you're not here but at least you don't feel it anymore
well i know you're not here but at least you don't feel it anymore
well i know you're not here but at least you don't feel it anymore
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| Put that in your pipe and smoke it |
[03 Mar 2005|07:22pm] |
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If you want to be respected by others the great thing is to respect yourself. Only by that, only by self-respect will you compel others to respect you.
-Fyodor Dostoevsky
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[19 Feb 2005|04:06pm] |
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vast- here |
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...what the fuck did I think I was doing?
And who the hell did I think I was?
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| bleh |
[08 Feb 2005|11:28pm] |
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cold |
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ani difranco - perameters |
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( Thoughts )
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[20 Jan 2005|11:33pm] |
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 blah |
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ani |
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( Thoughts )
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| And I shall call him... |
[20 Jan 2005|11:24pm] |
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Razumikhin. And...
...I'm not doing that fucking Disney bullshit. So get that out of your head right now.
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| Happy Birthday me! |
[20 Jan 2005|01:29pm] |
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mood |
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chipper |
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music |
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breaking benjamin |
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I GOT A PONY!!! I GOT A PONY!!!
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