February 2011
Perfection
Perfection is a myth. There is no such thing as perfect. I repeat these pithy, little mantras over and over yet I can’t seem to actually live accordingly. Everyone thinks that I am so perfect. That I am so together. So with it. So organized. I’m always so polite. So sweet. On time. Kids love me. I volunteer. I get along with everyone. And my outfits, my outfits are so cute. I’m always to put...
i love worship music so much. its glorifying god and so calming and so good to listen to. today i laid down in my bed for half an hour or so and just thought about things. i buried myself in my sweatshirt and curled up, closed my eyes, and just lay there not quite dozing off but crawled into a little corner of my mind. its the most peaceful i’ve felt in a very long time. then i went upstairs,...
January 2011
i think i have attatchment issues. i’m not able to throw things away, because they lead to memories, and i’m terrifed to lose memories, to lose the happy moments and sad moments and everything that make up who i am. i get too attatched to something, or someone, and i lose them. i’m scared of losing people more than anything. more specifically, i’m scared of losing the people that mean the most to...
would anyone be interested in joining a forum or...
1 tag
a personal definition.
meaningless sex (n.) : when you febreeze the cum smell out of your sheets instead of washing or changing or cherishing them.
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i want to cry until my eyes are salty and red and burning, put on fur and walk around saying fuck you peta, fuck you peta, talk in a ridiculous british accent, throw a tantrum, scream at the walls, maybe a lady will come out of it, yet i want to sleep, say nothing, do nothing, sit here and wallow. i like to wallow, mallow, dallow, oh i could do this forever and ever. this is quite exciting! so...
Running, running from the unknown, the fear spreading into every vein, the overwhelming fear pushing me off the floor and into the air…….He asked me what I was doing. My eyes dilated, round disks of porcelain, “Get out, get out, this isn’t safe for you”. He caught me around the waist, turned my chin up to look at him, the plates broke into a thousand little pieces, such a warm gesture in the midst...
you’re holding my past in the fist of your hand, holding it over my hand, just waiting for the moment to let the water flow over me, drowning me, killing me. alas it won’t kill me, i float up to the top, every time you try, the water instead drips from my eyes. they have become raw salt lakes, people scoop up the salt, and leave, never asking why, never brushing the salt away. instead they fume...
1 tag
storm
i’ve been lying in this same spot since wednesday morning (that’s about five days ago now), after i stalked home from school in the biggest blizzard yet this winter seething from my belly out into the frigid air. it’s not your fault that’s she’s become so overprotextive lately, i would have to have an ice-cold heart to blame her for wanting to keep her remaining family alive. you are her world...
why do i have to be so mean
2 tags
I hate it all.
I hate you so much when you’re drunk. And I hate you, for just going along with him when he’s drunk. You’re so obnoxious, you think you’re so right about everything. Then, when we have arguments you sigh at me and you’re condescending and you never listen. I actually remember to the letter what you’ve said half an hour ago because I need to remember the details about things, for it to make any...
the 10 minute thing
I am doing the 10 minute thing and this is not my first attempt at it but earlier when i tried to do it i kept noticing typos and then i’d try do decide whether or not i should go back and edit them and it was just no good so i decided to try again later so here i am. the last time i did something like this was in english class i think. i don’t remember if it was 10 minutes or...
I can see a man biking down the street, and a woman walking to her car. I can hear the radio in this coffee house and friends laughing and talking. There is the clack of my fingers hitting the keyboard and the noise of the door swinging open. People walk up the stairs. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. The noise of espresso being made. Whisshhhhh. Its sunday afternoon and I’m supposed to be doing...
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I can see a man biking down the street, and a woman walking to her car. I can hear the radio in this coffee house and friends laughing and talking. There is the clack of my fingers hitting the keyboard and the noise of the door swinging open. People walk up the stairs. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. The noise of espresso being made. Whisshhhhh. Its sunday afternoon and I’m supposed to be doing...
1 tag
Alice
I feel like an idiot that I’m kind of worried that you’re not sexual enough with me, is that just because you’re not like my ex who was incredibly crude and sexual and persistently so even when I told him I really didn’t want to and even though I told him that him doing that made me even less likely to want to and even though I told him all this stuff about reverse psychology and me being really...
2 tags
I think about a lot of things. Especially when I’m all alone. I think about things like clocks and how the hand ticks away so slowly and carefully, to make sure to stay with the time. I think about how time is a man-made thing and how it has eternally bound us. I think about the patterns of rain as it falls and hits my windows. I think about lyrics to songs and how those are all really meaningful...
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oh my god no editing? that’s so DIFFICULT. okay. i’m just going to typ e (FUCK) very carefully so I don’t make any typos. because I’m slightly OCD and can’t deal with typos.
slowly and carefully. s l o w l y a n d c a r e f u l l y.
sometimes I wish I had the self-control to have an eating disorder. it’s true. and since this is anonymous and I can’t delete anything after I write it I...
Let's give this a try
I’m not sure why I’m doing this or what I’m going to write or say but I figured since I have a lot of time on my hands, why not. It’s hard to keep typing and typing without much of a plan as to what I’m going to write. I thought it would be a lot like free-lance journaling which I do a lot of in my free time, but it’s not the same. I’m just writing what comes to my head without really thinking,...
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Maybe you forgot
Or maybe it wasn’t good enough. You didn’t post my first ocean. I know because I skimmed each page. All 31. Then I searched for Stephen colbert. I know Mentioned him. It’s fine though. In my skimmings, I found a pattern. These posts are either about love, or depression or complaining about all the posts about love and depression. Here we are, telling our stories to you. You’ve got a lot on your...
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I’m attracted to older men. It’s funny, because I have often been quite “open” about that sentence above without directly stating those five words. In fact, that sentence was hard for me to type.
Isn’t that a silly thing to admit? I have much deeper, darker issues. About how I wish I could go on a rampage through my house and throw out the food, the pills, the knives. But what bothers me most is...
2 tags
July
Your indifference towards me is scrupulous, and it hurts. Same thing every time, transitory calls of hello as you rush to join people so much more significant. So often as I am forced to confront it, I should be used to your fleeting demeanor.
It’s just that sometimes, you say my name. I feel sick with happiness for days because of the way your mouth curves around those two syllables, injected...
when i think of you, i think of all the nights we spent in your car, down the highway, music on, you whispering softly along, you’d miss my house on purpose so we had to double back and every time you pressed on the brake it bought us another second in each other’s company, when that ended i knew that i would spend the rest of my life looking for someone like you, but now i simply can’t remember...
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i don’t even know what to write. not for 10 minutes straight.. i’m no writer, really. and every time i want to express myself to this site, it’s always about you. i just can’t let it go. i want to let it go i know everything could be better if i just let it go. but having you in my class, everyday, having to see your face everyday.. that’s just too hard. it’s like having withdrawls. i just want to...
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i hate myself. i’m so young, just fourteen, but i hate myself so much and i hate myself even more for not being able to be myself, and love myself.
i act different around everyone: with some people i’m never serious, always joking - or at least they think i am; some people i’m just a bitch to; some people i’m distant with, wanting to talk to them and tell them everything, but so afraid they won’t...
i don’t know if you want secrets too, but whatever.
i’ve had this letter, that i have been writing since last… may? almost a year. i wrote her on her birthday and on the first day of school and on my sisters wedding. i’ve written her a (almost) a letter a day for almost a year. i even got her a book and a t-shirt and i’m sending her photos that she requested. i haven’t sent it yet because she’s...
She never found a friend in mirrors. It makes both of us sick. Her emptiness gnaws at me. I stay awake when she passes out. Her emptiness makes her dizzy but it makes me worthless. She was always more attractive than me. I have delusions that I can force feed her love. Like maybe if I shower her with ‘you’re beautiful’s and ‘I love you’s it would sit right, it would...
(write a letter to yourself in this moment of time)
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i always liked the way you reminded me of water. the way you had that same calming effect - you know, that ‘everything is going to be okay, shhh’ feeling. the way that just as the waves brush over when the breeze hits it, so too does your hand graze mine. and so too does your hand grasp mine, fingers intertwined as the breeze turns into a gust that sends the waves crashing down. the way our lips...
(LOTS of things going on queue tonight)
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everyone on here needs to stop trying to be a good writer. shut up.
try to feel more alive. listen to music you loved in ninth grade and try to remember why you loved it. seize the moments when songs you heard four years ago turn up in a commercial or the climactic scene of a crime drama and see if that same chord still makes your spine stiffen in that same way. look for old journals and documents and accounts and read them until it’s three am and freezing...
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i feel… disconnected. i want to love you and i love kissing you but i feel like its all we really do- we sit in the car and drive and you hold my hand and we pull over on a dark road and kiss and keep driving, but i can’t help but think, occasionally, after making another sarcastic remark after the 280th day of rain in a row, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO TALK TO PEOPLE ABOUT...
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so we all watch these films where
the girl in the sweater meets the guy in the loafers
and somehow
it all works out.
and we sit sit sit
and wonder if the universe is talking to us,
when it spells out their name in
neon
lett
ers.
but it probably isn’t.
so instead with think of the love we have to give and
the skin we wish to share
and we think about the fact that it will never happen,
no matter how...
1 tag
If Only.
My goal in life is to have a beautiful romance, and whether it lasts or not, have it be the inspiration for a song. I just want to fall in love with a musician and have a chaotically beautiful relationship, I want to be the influence of a chapter in someone’s autobiography. I wanna be the Jennifer Bruce and Ione Skye of Anthony Kiedis’ Scar Tissue. I want to be the muse, the inspiration. If I...
I find myself slowly losing bits of me that I thought were the most important. My writing, lost when my computer crashed. Those were the last vestiges of any drop of feeling, months old. My moleskine, I don’t even open it anymore. I didn’t bring it back to school with me. I’ve forgotten how to sing. I can’t get past the opening lines of lyrics. All my creativity is slipping away from me and I...
I know I kind of see you a lot, but I miss you. You don’t talk to me the same. You’re so busy talking to her. She doesn’t even talk to me as much. I love you guys more than anything. I never expected you to love me as much, but it still hurts when I’m reminded that you don’t. You guys are my best friends. You’re part of the reason why I didn’t kill myself all those times. But now you’re just part...
i’m so stupid. i need to stop doing this to myself. we’ve been friends for 5 years now and you’ve never once noticed that i don’t eat. i’ve never eaten a meal, or even a snack or a soda around you. you know i abuse pills, you never say anything. you know i drink too much, you never say anything. you knew when i dabbled with dangerous drugs, you never said...
tonight I stuck a needle in my arm and pushed down on the plunger until my eyes closed at the wheel of my mother’s car my boy held me while my pupils narrowed and my stomach spun and he put the needle in again and now my life is over.
No, I will not apologize to you to “save our friendship”. I cannot save a ship that has already sank.
I am done with your complaints and constant need for attention and misery. I can’t waste my life away like this. You are the rusty anchor pulling this little wooden rowboat down.
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I really like you, but you’re too far away. I need to be fulfilled. I’d look like a slut if anyone were to find out but screw it, he’s hot, and I’m young.
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i hate skinny people.
why? jealousy, of course. jealousy jealousy jealousy.
and the fact that you bitch and moan about how ‘fat’ you are. while i’m standing right in front of you, clearly over 30 pounds heavier than you. i know why you all say it. you want that fucking attention. but you will not find it from me, because i’ve dished it out enough.
oh my god noooo no! you are not fat! i am!
...
I’m stuck, neither happy nor sad. Most people I meet, I meet and say hi to then talk for a bit. By the next week I don’t even acknowledge them while passing by them on my way to class. There are only a few people in school who actually catch my attention. The rest are all sort of dull and amused by the simplest things. No, I’m not talking about those simple things that most...
I know that this is how it is supposed to be. People move on. People scatter across states and countries and continents and learn to be content with phone calls and facebook instead of hands on shoulders and lazy TV nights on the couch together. Still, it hurts to know that we’ve already been as close as we’ll ever be. The most I can hope for now is that we don’t fall apart too...
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Christian liked crescent moons best. They represented chance and a shifting of tides [both figuratively and literally]. He liked change of all kinds. Except when his father hung himself one afternoon in July. That was one change he never really got used to.
Lee was a painter, but only sometimes. It always took her quite a long time to actually paint things, mainly because of her fascination with...
Remember when you dissected a frog or a worm in Middle School Science class? Practically everyone does. Everything smells like formaldehyde, and by the time you’re done the frog’s little organs are sitting next to its lifeless body. It’s like your putting it all on display…here’s a nice set of lungs, here’s a heart. Ooo a fresh liver!
That’s what it’s like now. Everything that is me is not here....
airports.
Departure terminals are about leaving, about endings and goodbyes. They have this sense of finality about them, with the rows bright lights and the swiftly moving hoards of men and women, their foot steps muffled against the neutral carpets. But the arrivals are completely different.
His face was the only one I saw in the crowd of anxious people, all waiting impatiently for a loved one. The...
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last night, two of my best friends brought their daughter into the world. i couldn’t be there. but tonight i went, and i hugged them tightly, and then i held her. she was exactly one day old, twenty-four hours on the dot, and she was tiny and perfect. all the things i had wanted to say stuck in my throat, and i just rocked her gently and smiled, smiled, smiled.
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I don’t even care about having a “partner” or a “girlfriend/boyfriend”. I just want someone who I can talk to about anything. Someone who will never be awkward around me, but who also knows when to shut the fuck up. I don’t know, I feel like one of those idiotic people who feel the need to martyr themselves, but I want a friend. A friend, who, along with all the things listed above, will want to...
what are we doing? around this time every night i start thinking about it. what are we doing? what are we trying to save? remember when i held on too tight and you slipped through my fingers? i’m terrified that that’s what’s happening now too. it’s so hard to think about but it’s all i can think about. sometimes i feel like everything is perfect and everything will be okay, and sometimes i feel...
I'm a pyromaniac.
I’m a pyromaniac. I love how out of control fire is. I love lighting things on fire in my room. Nothing major, just old love notes, break-up letters, school-work from years ago. I love the way fire can turn perfect white paper into a black charred mess in a matter of seconds. I love how out of control fire is, how the heat is so intense on the tips of my fingers when I hold the paper, before...