15 posts from 2008

You've heard of it, yes?
Hundreds dead.
A reaction to an action.

I'd like to end it all.

Even if it means that I have to be lonely.
Even if it means that I have to surrender my morality.

May I become the worlds enemy?
May I have that power?

Just focus your hate on me and nothing else.
I'll make it easy on ya.

Focus all of your anger on me.
I can take it.
(even if I can't)

Unite to stop me.
Unite.
Unite.

And after the Zero takes my life by sword,
You'll have peace.
It won't be long,

But you'll have peace.

I haven't been too articulate lately, my apologies. I've been a little emo bitch (pity parades and all) ever since returning from the Philippines. I thought "It's this house that's making me this way, I was raped here, that's why I can't keep my thoughts in order."

I keep on blaming the fact that I was abused for everything. This needs to stop.

I don't want to stay cooped up in this room, crying all day, because I'm too afraid to trust people. I want to go out to clubs on Saturday nights, I want to meet a nice guy who'll buy me flowers, I want to conquer, I want to be educated.

These things can't happen if I keep on like this.

I was hurt, but pain is necessary to grow, to obtain beauty.

still unemployed.
still in nyc.
still unhappy.

all i want for Christmas, is to be rid of these damn braces.

i have a fragile ego, and these metal teeth are not helping.

the air feels cleaner.

i think that it's all going to be okay.

the green light says go.

i can only sleep if the door is locked.

i fell asleep in the living room earlier this year. i should have known better. bad things happen when i fall asleep in living rooms alone.

so i was asleep in one sofa but when i woke up, there he was looking at me with his hands in his pants.

i hate him.
i hate him.

why does he do this?

knowing everything, why does he continue to do this?

and it's always when i'm starting to feel better about myself.
      it's always when i'm able to look in the mirror and say "you look good today."

do men just hate me?

am i that useless?
only good for simple urges; please do not respect.

i feel like i've already died.

i'm always alone.
i'm always alone.

i'm apparently useless to society.
i've been reduced to a freeloader.

i'm not even that pretty.

just that weak.

i'm stuck in the past.

and it seems as if i won't be able to rely anyone anymore.

i won't get help. i won't receive help.

i'll just sit here.
and wait for the green light.

i remember seeing ross crying hysterically in the living room. his eyes were blood-red, and he kept mumbling on and on about some uncle in the philippines. he only said one thing loud enough for us to hear:

"what kind of kid gets hemorrhoids at age 10?"

and then he started blubbering again. completely pathetic, looking for sympathy. it seems pretty funny when you take it out of context. and i'd laugh about it with ya, but the whole situation still upsets me.

i won't condone what he did to me, but i'm beginning to understand why. if i keep on writing from his point of view, then maybe i'll be able to make sense of it all.

i will finish this.

i turn twenty-years old in ten days. i'll see you then.

I don't want to get a 9-5 job. I don't want to go back to class. Just thinking about it makes me tense. Clocking in and out, staying in the same building for more than four hours.

no thnxs... DO NOT WANT.

Ah, but I need money, money. I have to buy a new AC adapter for my laptop, my clothes are getting ragged, I have holes in my shoes and I really, really need to move out. You need money for those things. You need money for everything, from love, to sports, to midnight binges on dark chocolate and higher ed.

If it's the right job, then working shouldn't feel like working. Ugh, but everything I do in the name of green feels like work.

I used to think that I should just publish my own writings, and sell them for a little cash. But then I thought about how pathetic the idea was. "Since I can't get published by someone else, I'll just do it myself."

LAME.

Advertising myself is another thing that makes me tense. I feel dirty, like a whore that's doing the "spread eagle" by the highway. Ewwwwwie. Nobody wants to see that. (a.k.a no thnxs... DO NOT WANT). I'm not for sale. I don't want to have a price tag dangling from my earlobe.

But I need money.

I need to sell a little of myself to get by. And little by little more of me is lost everyday. Words, hours, and labor for what?

It doesn't feel like it's worth it.

This thing called "civilization" makes everything come easier. It makes life comfortable.

It makes us stagnant.

(imported from xanga. original site shut down.)

How old are you now?
24? 25? No...
You must be at least 26 by now.
Maybe 27? Ah! Old!

You used the word "intoxicate"
Used it to describe the feeling that my writing gave you.
It seemed so insignificant then,
But now, on nights like this
I can't help but think of it.

I don't write as much anymore.
No one cares about it.
No one wants to read about my thoughts,
There's no time for it.
Not even a quick glance.

I don't mind it.
I'm guilty of the same apathy.

Nothing they write for me is quite the same.
None of the words that they conjure...
It's just not the same,
It's just not as good
As the words you left me,
As the word "intoxicate".

I hope to run into you one day.

You'll remember my face,
and say,
"Hey! You got your teeth fixed!"
You wouldn't know my name right away,
I'd still be recovering from the shock that you recognized me.

Someone like you,
With your dreams and your heart and words,
Remembering a schlep like me.

Some girl who gave up her dreams of a book,
Out of fear of instability.
Out of fear of being... uncomfortable.

They don't want it.

They don't want anything to change.

Things are fine,

Because they are comfortable.

Turning on the t.v. to watch Wowowwee, watching the background dancers shake that thang up-up-down-down. Because they've worked hard for the life that they have now. It's fine.

Besides, even if their government is corrupt and their country is stricken with poverty... what can they do?

So all of the feelings of unrest deep inside their hearts are buried deeper with a "Eh..." and "Tsk, tsk, tsk"

So they don't want it.

Fine.

Then I won't work for it.
I won't give you what you don't want to work for.
I'll forget about you.
I'll stop watching the news.
Because if you don't want it,

What is it worth?

Why should I waste my time on it?

My love,

I won't make you go through anything that you don't want to.

But if you do want to turn the whole thing upside down,

Look me up.

I'm here
Sitting in front of this computer typing
Getting ready for you to say "Go".