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Friday, January 1, 2010
I decided to sit down and think of what I want to get accomplished this year.Exercise and/or eat less. Spend no more than two hours on the internet during the school week. Get on a sleeping schedule. Forgive, and forget. Love and be loved in return. Practice piano. Text less. Be more outgoing. Pull my science grade up. Perfect Mozart. Be less anal about grammar. Practice my clarinet/be first chair again. Give to someone instead of take. Make a new best friend. Have over 2,000 songs on my iPod that I actually like. Blush less/get embarrassed less easily. Kiss a girl. Be less obsessed over how I look. Shave more often. Get hurt and move on. Don't cry over petty things. Tell my mum I love her first. Find the wrong guy, get heartbroken, and learn from him. Walk my dogs. Learn a new instrument. No regrets. Lose a friend and get them back. Travel. Accept things for what they are. Draw a masterpiece. Be on the tele. I tried not to put things that would change who I am as a person (for example, I put 'be less sexual' and then erased it. That's my nature. I'm a sexual being). There's no guarantee I'll do one thing up there, but hell. It's nice to have things to look forward to. Friday, February 6, 2009
I wake up. I brush my teeth and pull the rats out of my hair. I throw something on to wear. I'm not sure what day it is. I just know it's 7 AM. Too early to be functional and too late to say I'm sorry. The phone rings, but I don't pick it up. It's not you, so it doesn't matter. Nothing else does. I go to my room, say goodmorning to the sheets, and I write about how they're too light to be the color of your skin, and they don't smell nearly as nice as I remember. They're a tad bit cold, but so are you. Then, I read to the bed. Rilke because he’s my favorite. Then your own work, back from high school when you didn’t know how to express yourself and stole everyone’s style. But you never got rid of those poems, so it’s your own fault. The sheets are practically crawling by the time I finish that one about the woodpecker, and how he won’t get off your windowsill. I can’t be sure if it’s a metaphor, or if there was an actual woodpecker. One can never tell with you.When my reading is done, I crawl back into bed and curl up next to your shape. It’s still not warm, but I suspect you haven't changed much either, so the blanket is sufficient enough. I sleep a little, squirm and toss about when the dreams come, but not once do I roll over the wrinkled sheet next to me. And by the time I wake up, it’s you, and we’re tangled in that sheet, held there, tied together as it’s wrapped around us. Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Let's back up. Let me take a step so far back that I'm teetering on the edge of this cliff. Teetering, like the way you have me dangling by a fucking string. I'm like a fucking puppet. Goddamn. I'm not coming out of this box 'til everyone's forgotten me. My thoughts will be secluded elation's. Opportunity after opportunity, on and on and on, and who is here, and who is gone? You make me nervous. Night sweats and cold water. Running makeup and disheveled bedsheets. Fuck you. I'll take ignorance over being SO SCARED. I'm stuck on you. That's all. I pick up this shit and keep walking, like to think I'm strong. I'm not strong. Heartbreak, to the tenth degree, and; what doesn't kill you, simply keeps nagging you until it does. Slowly ebbing at you until your a pathetic pile of shit.This ought to be a welcome vacation. - Ay, Ryden lovers. Fast forward to, like, 1:11. Brendon slurs "than any boy you'll ever meet" to any "girl you'll ever meet". Monday, January 19, 2009
NRGHHHHH SO MUCH CRYING.I hate how all of the cast acted like they were so happy to let it go. I guess it could get really hard and tiring, but sers. You'd think they grew up a lot because of QAF. BUT RANDY! Omfg, you can tell he's sad. Interviewer: "How does it feel to say goodbye?" Randy: "It'll be fine for me... eventually." Thursday, January 8, 2009
 pain as much from the stars and black cats as from childhood. big star states spit big stars. chew 36 times exactly before you swallow your pride. you know how it goes? i want to chase the midnight glow in my veins. how do i get as big as that star on your state so youll pay attention to me. smash that glass bowl on the floor and get our keys. lets drive to another state or to mexico and watch the old men drunk on watered down beer- laugh about the way we used to be even though were still exactly the same. where do we begin? lonely spiders under our skin, regail us with tales of young love in the bottom of bottles defended by crocodile scales. this place can spin boring. slow and steady. it can storm and scare you. wars and famine. but everyonce in awhile the planets align and it can charm you. make you not wish you were other people, but hope you get the chance to know them so they can know you too. make you not hate the delay at the airport but get to know that your friend on the phone is gonna be able to finish the whole 3am story he was skipping through for you. Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Being a girl is so unfortunate. Mother nature is a bitch.I'm seriously considering home-schooling or something. I am so over the teenie drama and being called ugly every day. The fucking jokes and being made fun of and the bullshit curriculum. I shouldn't have ever left SBEC last year. Fucking me and my "grass is always greener" thinking. I walked in Bio today to a new teacher. She's 34 and is married to a 26 year old. She got knocked up at 18 and the baby daddy went to prison, and this guy she's married to is his parole officer. Her kid, Marayna Fayette Clark Oliver (I kinda love that name), is second chair flute in the Virginia Symphony. How fucking awesome is that? I love having ~loose teachers. Not like... vagina loose. But easy-going loose. I need to lay off the QAF. I've been taking art lessons at school, and I was to draw to characters from my favorite movie/TV show. So I drew Brian and Justin at the prom. The picture turned out really well though. I might scan it and put it on here. Bleurgh. Friday, January 2, 2009
 Sometimes I wonder if a birthday is one step closer to death or another year of life. I would say life but to be honest, I couldn't feel more dead if I tried. Numb. Like there's nothing in the world that can get to me because you've taught me to be carved out of stone. I hate you for that, I do. I hate you for a lot of things. I forgive you, really I do, but I just can't forget. I wasn't easy to forgive, but it's a hell of a lot harder to forget. I can't forget when all I want is you. That was my birthday wish, you know. To be yours. If I do recall, that one time I threw 30 pennies into the fountain at the mall, I said your named every time it hit the water. Oh, and that time I saw a shooting star? Your name flashed across the sky in a trail of star dust. I'm gonna go ahead and tell the whole goddamn internet because I know it won't come true anyway. You never do. And this was not how I wanted to spend my birthday. I shouldn't have lay down last night at 6 AM and immediately start to cry. I shouldn't have had the playlist on my iTunes entitled "sad" blasting in my ears. I shouldn't have been getting up every 10 minutes for a tissue because I couldn't stop crying. I shouldn't have had you on my mind. I should've been excited about what presents I was going to get. I should've been thankful this is a fresh start for me. I should've been happy about the birthday decorations adorning the house. I should've. But somehow, these days, you have come before everything else. I want to forget. I love you, now I want to forget you. |
forever young;
my name is lauren. just a kid. not unique, just unusual. bandom fangirl. hypochondriac. afraid of moths. southern you'd like to fuck (;. fall out boy. can piss in under 20 seconds. d.o.b.; january 2nd. html whiz.
caffeine addict. single, uninterested. livejournaler, facebooker, myspacer, tumblr'r, blogger, neopeter. plays piano and clarinet like a motherbitch. noel fielding, simon amstell, russell brand<3. animal rights
activist. borderline vegetarian. (un)cool kid.famous friends;
jeaniebeaniewow, can't you tell i'm popular? maybe my friends are the uncool ones for being addicted to myspace. earn what you get;
design: pure:HS daily blogbasecodes: detonatedlove image: photobucket your links here. best times of our lives;
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