A response to Bev

Love changes.
Maybe something happens to you that makes you lose the trust in the person, as well as a part of yourself.

Rape victims, for example?

Sometimes the person, both people, I guess, change.
And its the kind of change thats just too different.
To the point where you don't know eachother anymore. To the point where nothing is the same as how it was?
I believe in a love that changes,
a love that was once there will always be there in some form. Love is forever,
but it changes.
Because people change.
Nothing can remain the same forever.
Sometimes, you love someone for a long time, but you both change
and you arent changing together
its the little changes that pull you apart,
and its not waking up and realizing you dont love them anymore
its waking up and realizing you dont know them anymore.
its realizing that qualities you used to admire are no longer there, that something between you too is missing now.

For example, I had a dream last night.

I was looking for something, so i went into my school library.
I saw him sitting there at the computer, with a webpage up, and headphones on.
I realize that thats the person im looking for.
I go and take off his headphones
He turns around and i realize who he is.
Im shocked
but we smile at eachother.
He holds me like he used to and i remember everything that was good about him.

I suppose I still love him
but even upon waking, I know this love is different from what it used to be.
It's an, im sorry for everything, i wish you the best, maybe one day things'll be easier, love.
It's an, I can't be with you, but I want every happiness in the world for you because you still have a place in my heart, love.

Not the love that can hold us together, but love. its different. its changed.


There is no rule. There is nothing you can use to pin it down.
It's like, the ghost of a butterfly.
You want to pin it down, collect it and admire it, and keep it with you forever,
but your pin just goes right through it.
It settles on your shoulder for a time,
then flys away.
You reach out to grab at it and your hand goes right through it
but you can feel it in your hand,
and remember what it looked like,
though you aren't holding it, and you never pinned it down.
Does that make sense?


Or sometimes, they hurt you far too much, far too badly for you every to see them the same way again,
that's something too.
and as much as you want to, you can't find it inside to even look them in the eyes or at their hands to try to understand and trust and love again.
Sometimes the best thing for you is to lock it away until you are whole enough to make sense of everything
and by then, it's gone?

Love left untended is like a garden left untended.
Somethings will wither and die,
something will overgrow and take over.

But at the same time,
we are the garden.
and love is our water and sun and air
or our gardener.
It's our self respect and self image and confidence and...
its everything.
It's what makes us whole.


Did I just get disgustingly romantic and cheesy there?
Yuck. Sorry guys

Happy 18th Sister.
It's odd, nothing is really different.
Not really.
But you're an adult.
And I'm next.

You can grow flowers from where dirt used to be.


I'm sure I'm not the only one in the world with family problems.
Tensions and fights and the whatnots.
But, you know how it often feels like you are?
No one really talks about it right?
It's always,
oh yeah, just some stuff going on at home.
yeah. stuff going on at home.

We've all been there.

I guess what I'm trying to say right now is,
I've been there.
And fellow bloggers and stalkers,
if you ever want to talk,
I'm here.


You know, I'm not perfect.
I pick at my nails.
I'm far too loud.
I have a temper.
I don't like what I look like, so I don't accept compliments.
I'm cold and distant when I feel people starting to actually matter.
I'm lazy most days.
I'm afraid to try in case I fail.
I'm a bitch sometimes.

But I like me, in general.
Do you like yourself?


They rain has turned to snow.
Pretty snow.
I danced in it with a guy friend today.
It was cold and unromantic, but rather fun. (:

Nin, one blog in three days. You okay?

Hah. Okay ee. I'm writing, I'm writing.
But what is there to say?
The rain has turned into a snow storm.
My friend is going to NYC in tens days for a week. I'll miss him.
I miss Ee.
I have a lot of homework to do.
I have two tests and a quiz this week.
A book to read for a comparative review due Friday
20 some odd pages to edit and recopy into a notebook and age.

I want to run away with my friend to NY
i won't, of course.

I have nightmares.

I'm cold.

I miss summer.

It rained today.
At times, it poured.
I went for a walk, in a shirt and jeans,
and a pair of rubbers.
I walked down the tracks.
A train came.
I moved for it. It wouldnt move for me.
I sat on the grass and watched it go on by.
The rain was biting me
it dripped of my hair deliciously.
I watched as the rain swept all the streets clean,
forcing the dirt into the gutter
where it will stay.
I'm going to be fine.
You're going to be fine.
And spring is here.

I might have caught a cold :)

A mess of short poems

Yo. Hey. Baby, bunny, sweetie, honey, sweetcakes,

let me touch that fine fine skin of yours
it won't take a minute

it won't hurt a bit.

Reaching out, I come up short.
"Do you like tomatos?" I find myself asking
"Do you?" you reply.
"Only in some foods."
34 hours of silence.

You tell me I mask myself
that I hide and I'm cold and I'm distant.
Baby, here I am,

the Masked Avenger,

too scared to avenge herself.
Baby, you touch my mask,
and I'll scatter.

And I know, it's because I let you in.
Which is because you let me in
Which is because, you needed somebody to-

To what?
So now, my whole world is wrapped up in because's

and it's because I let him go,

Let him try,

and let you in.

Dear Ee.
Come home.
We have to paint the world, now that it's melting.
We'll start by finishing your jeans,

then we'll move onto our faces,

and then to the trees.
I can't help but miss you this time of year.
Everytime of year, it seems.
My mouth is burning and my foot

is blue.
But all I know is that the top of the totem pole

hasn't shifted one little bit.
That's all I know for certain today,

that and every flash of orange on blue makes me smile

the complimentary opposites that we are.

A daydream; Spring Fever; Signs

I lift up my head. It's morning, I can tell. I glance over at you. You're sleeping still, smiling softly in your sleep, sighing a little on occasion. I smile back, even though you obviously can't tell.
I grab the sheet that is bunched up at the end of the bed. We both don't like a made bed as much as we like a lived in one. I wrap it around me. Clothing seems to much of a hassle, but the air outside the bed is cold. The sheet does well. Crisp and clean and cool, but warming on my skin. I pad over to the tiniest kitchen in all of Manhattan, and put on the coffee maker. I remember when I first moved here, and how awful my coffee always was, and how you would drink it anyways, always.
I get a mug from the cupboard and fill it with water while I wait for the coffee to work it's way through the machine. I move from the kitchen to the fire escape. I slip through the window quietly, trying not to shift the curtains too much more than necessary. I stand on the escape. I'm high above the street. It must be close to 10oclock. The avenue below is in motion- all the little people moving into their little days and routines. I take a chug of my water, than splash the rest onto the street.

I feel an arm wrap around my waist as I move back, snickering to myself. I feel gentle pressure of a chest against my back, and smell fresh coffee.
I turn around and press my cheek onto your chest. I stand on my tip toes, kiss you, and steal your coffee.
You laugh and we watch New York move for a bit. Smoking and drinking acidic but much improved coffee.

Spring fever!
It's never affected me before, but lately, I'm starting to understand it.
Nothing I can describe. Just a feeling deep inside my bones.

FIND SIGNS WHERE THEY EXIST;
THEY HAPPEN MORE THAN YOU WOULD THINK.
KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN

Bar Song Four

If I had one wish, my one wish would be,
I was out on a rock, in the middle of the sea.


Good day all.
Stress has me by the throat.
In a death grip.
Lovely, no?
Today I had two XL cups of Tim Horton's french vanilla cappuccino.
And no, I won nothing. Disappointing, no?

Bar song

When George awoke the following morning, his mind did not immediatly drift to her.
No, not immediatly. First he thought about how cold his toes were, how he needed to go to the bathroom.
In the bathroom he noted that he needed to pick up some toliet paper on his way home from work, and that his left ear itched.
Such mundane thoughts continued in such a mundane fashion throughout his morning routine.
Continued, until he was at the breakfast table, eating a bowl of cherrios with his daughter.
As they chatter of mundane things, or more, she chatted while George nodded. Mundanly.
George's eyes lazily drifted around the kitchen, and happened upon the flowers he brought home last night. His ears turned a most brilliant shade of crimson, rivaling the flowers themselves.
It was then his thoughts turned to her.

Turned so fast it was like whiplash of the mind.
Ouch.
And he stared so intensely into his morning cup of tea that an observant person would have seen that George's thoughts were not where they ought to have been.
Thankfully, his daughter Beth was not an observant person.
Beth prattles on about how Mr.Roberski was organizing a football team, and anyone who's anyone knows that the cheerleaders will be the best part of it, and how she wants to be a cheerleaders more than ANYTHING, but Mrs.Mulson is head of that, and she has it out for her, so she'll never get to join and her social life is going to be ruined.
And George drank his tea.

maybe I'd love it
if you spoke to me in french, italian, spanish

maybe i want you to romance me.
maybe i need you more than i'm willing to admit.

maybe this whole thing is a lie.
maybe i don't want you trying to open me up again

maybe i don't want you

maybe i want to mean everything to you

maybe i want to mean nothing to you

maybe i can't stand this indesicion

maybe i'm not loving this tension

maybe i want to be alone.
maybe being happy with you doesn't appeal to me one little bit

And once again, reprise our roles? Not if I can help it.

I really do miss camp today.
I was talking about it to a friend, trying to describe Creative Writing Week, and my brain was just flashing with images.
+Megan and me and some others under the flagpoles. The clouds are moving really fast, so it's alternating from sunny to cloudy in a matter of minutes.

+Leaving camp at the end of my third week, and the rain was just POURING down on us. People lost shoes to the rain, and had to chase after them as the water swept them away. Dustin and I got caught outside when it started, and had to bolt for the closest dorm - his all male dorm I shouldn't have been allowed it. And then we tried to wait it out, but had to grab a blanket and just make a run for the theater we were performing in, because we were scared of being late.


+I remember on the sunday after creative writing, when so few people were left in camp. The sun was really strong, and I lay down in the middle of the grass, tanning and reading and writing, and chatting with the very small amount of people who came by. There must have been less than 20 campers that day, and the rest of the population of camp was made up of the volunteers and the deans and the instructors.

If your words

were really all it took,

than I wouldn't be here

and you wouldn't be there.
We wouldn't be standing across from eachother.
If all it took for me to forget

was your apologizes;
If that's all it took

for my nightmares to stop;
If all I needed was that,

than I wouldn't have been lying on the hardwood floor last night,
wondering how I was ever

ever

going to put myself back together again.
Had I been able to just lay back

and close my eyes during the whole thing
I would not have had to wander

I wouldnt not have had to find what comfort I could

In people who've taken me far away from you.
In people who helped bring out

what I never knew was inside me.
And now I stand here

and you stand there,

your hands out and palms upturned.
Asking me to do what I know I can't.
Asking to me to forgive,

to forget and to put away

all I've achieved since I was able

to pull myself off the ground.
I'm a 90's child. And I can't stand how you're looking at me.
Like a piece of meat,
like a pretty ring to own and wear around your middle finger.

I'm a flower child, and I can't look your hands in the eye,

never mind put mine in yours

and just trust in you blindly again.
No matter what pretty words

fall from your lips

I was just so glad to be out of my shell again

I'm listening to I believe.
It's a beautiful song. So simple.

I believe, I believe, I believe, Oh I believe -
All will be forgiven

I-
All will be forgiven

I-

There is love in heaven
I-
There is love in heaven
I-
All will be forgiven
I-
there is love in heaven. all will be forgiven. there is love in heaven. all will be forgiven.X12
(Ibelieve-----)
(Peace and joy be with them, harmony and wisdom.----)

Peace and joy be with them, harmony and wisdom.
I believe, I believe, I believe, oh I believe.

This song is beautiful, as I said.
But the context is not.
As this song is being sung, a young couple kiss for the first time. And then they try a little more. And then the girl gets raped.

Life isn't beautiful sometimes. Sometimes it is, but sometimes, it's crawling with demons under everything. Sometimes all the hope in the world is - all the hope in the world. It's what gets us through the day.

I'm more than a little crazy tonight.

I grab for you, and fall short

I can't seem to bring myself to hold on

on to what you need and I long for.
I can't seem to smile for you without thinking

that I'm on the boat again,

and I'm prone to seasickness.
So I grab for you, but take the railing instead
I steady myself as best I can

I spit out a sarcastic comment, just for you love.
just for you, I pull myself back.
Just for you, I hide my heart deeper inside my body.
Just for you, I turn cold.
Just for you, I won't care.

SECRETS:

Sometimes saying I miss you is so hard

Sometimes I listen to the music you had sent me and want to fly or vanish.

Sometimes, late at night, i write you text messages, and don't send them.
Sometimes, when I'm lying in bed alone, I imagine what it would be like to wake up and see you smiling at me.
Sometimes, I play dress up with my clothing for no good reason.
Sometimes, I consider smoking.
Somtimes, I wait up all night for a phone call from you, and I pretend that I was up doing something much more cool.
Somtimes I count the days that we haven't spoken (144)

Sometimes I think about what it would be like to still be with you.
Sometimes I like cleaning my room
Sometimes I hate you.
Sometimes I tell myself I love you, and it feels right.
Sometimes I just cry.

Sometimes I wonder how I deserve any of the good people in my life.
Sometimes, I don't eat.
Sometimes, I do.
Sometimes, I close my eyes and fall down, because I want to.
Sometimes I close my eyes and fall down because I can't help it.
Sometimes I miss my parents.
Sometimes I love being up early.

Sometimes I need to drink a cup of coffee, and sometimes I just need the smell of it to make me feel better.

IT'S ALMOST FUNNY
HOW WELL I WAS DECIEVED
BY MYSELF AND YOU
INTO THINKING YOU CARED
AND THAT THIS ACTUALLY MATTERED

Bar Song Three

Using your blanket as a thermos,
what a way to keep your blood warm.
Fresh for the picking.
I am DARK today.
It's what I wear well this evening.
I don't claim to love the colour.
Using my glass of water
as a sort of rebirth,
drinking as if I intend to drown myself;
which is likely, the path I am heading down.
Is it possibly for a body to reject perfectly clean water?
It might be.
What you do if I told you today,
that I have the beginnning of what could
eventually being to be
a feeling of love for you? What would you do?
Would you come to me,
rip off my dark?
Would we sit in silence,
and gather it around us
and cook?
Joke's on you,
you have me.


Bar song

Thus was his astonishment to find himself facing not burly Jack behind a counter, but the women in pink, arranging flowers.
Upon the action of snapping his phone closed, she looked up from her yellow and red tulips and smiled.
"Hi there."
George stares, very much still lost.
Silence follows.
"Can I help you sir?"
In a desperate attempt to say something, anything, right now, George opened his mouth and loudly stated,
"You're not Jack."
The young brunette looked at him for a beat, then laughed, a good full laugh of one who enjoys the practise.
This jerked George awake. He gave a lopsided grin, and declared
"I would like to purchase some flowers"
Again the women laughed, which disconcerted George. He saw nothing funny in his statement. Frantically, he scanned the store and grabbed a bouquet at random.
Minutes later, he was on his way home, Jack's Bar forgotten, clutching his prize.
Upon arriving home, handing his wife the flowers, kissing her duitifully on the cheekm abd dropping himself into his chair in his den, he had his first coherent thought.
"She must be 25."

Park the car, drop the phone, sleep on the floor, dream of me.

Good morning, and happy time change everyone!

What is it about Sunday Morning's that just make you want to sing? It's a grey grey damp day outside. No more than -9 outside, and yet I want to hug the sky as I look out my kitchen window, with a mug of coffee in my hand.
Sometimes TheCityILiveIn drives me insane, but today, I don't know. I'm very at peace with it.
I don't want to to change a single thing.
I don't want you to change a single thing.

When I look into your eyes, I can see a love restrained. And darling, when I hold you, don't you know I feel the same?

I think I'll paint my toenail's purple today. Or maybe red.
This morning was not very productive for me. I had some coffee. Some water. I watched my sister play video games. I played them with her. I texted Ee, who seems to be having the same sort of thoughts as I am today.

And if you want to love me, than darling don't refrain

Every weekend I assign myself a project.
As I purchased a new binder, and two new notebooks on friday, I am almost done copying all my bio notes into one notebook, so they are all in one place. And there are a lot of notes to copy. I've done 12 pages, and still have another unit to go. Sheesh.

There is something about LipSmackers. The taste of them, the smell of them, the feel of them, that makes me feel very sentimental. I put them on and feel so young again. Especially the Wild Raspberry one. I used to use that one all the time. One friday, on a whim, I purchased eight LipSmackers. I haven't worn them since I was... 12? I bought Vanilla, Mango, Cotton Candy, Kiwi, Tropical Punch, Wild Raspberry, Watermelon, and Strawberry. I like the watermelon one the best :)

(happy birthday tomasz! i'm glad we exist!)

What makes you feel young?

You're sad because you're sad.

It's psychic. It's the age. It's chemical.

Go see a shrink or take a pill,

or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll

you need to sleep.

Well, all children are sad

but some get over it.

Count your blessings. Better than that,

buy a hat. Buy a coat or pet.

Take up dancing to forget.

Forget what?

Your sadness, your shadow,

whatever it was that was done to you

the day of the lawn party

when you came inside flushed with the sun,

your mouth sulky with sugar,

in your new dress with the ribbon

and the ice-cream smear,

and said to yourself in the bathroom,

I am not the favorite child.

My darling, when it comes

right down to it

and the light fails and the fog rolls in

and you're trapped in your overturned body

under a blanket or burning car,

and the red flame is seeping out of you

and igniting the tarmac beside you head

or else the floor, or else the pillow,

none of us is;

or else we all are.

Margaret Atwood

Friend came and visited me during my spare yesterday.
that made me happy. :)


Writing is just not really happening for me lately.


I feel better. Not so sick anymore. Just coughing a little still.


I'll write more later.

All I want is a glass of water...

Sick!
truely, there is nothing at all like lying in bed, too weak to go get a glass of water. Really.
I'm sure you guys don't want to hear about how disgusting and awful i am right now. But here's the run down.

1. Coughing, which makes my throat feel like its about to rupture and bleed, and then I taste salt. ODD.
2. Can't really breath. Very stuffy but nose is not running. Ah, life.
3. Fever. I was so delirious the other night, barely coherent
4. WEAK. At 2am I tried to walk to my kitchen to get water, and fell. And just sat there for 10 minutes til I could get up again. AHA
5. Sleepy. But that comes as a side effect I suppose. Not really a symptom, but I've fallen asleep in the middle of doing so many things, including eatting.



Not sure if I have mentioned this, but three weeks ago I hurt my foot.
It's still swollen.
Uhoh.
So i went to the walk in for the second time today. And the doctor looked at my foot and said "huh. its maybe not broken" -for the second time
lovely.
So i got a "boot" - a walking cast. evil giant, and (thankfully) removable thing.
And got booked for a bone scan. Wow. Not looking forward to it. At all.
But let's just NOT get into me and my giant issue with Hospitals and Clinics and whatver
(aint it funny me mum's a nurse eh?)


What are some things that really make you angry?
Personally, for me?
Abusive partners, rapists, and petos.
They're just an awful breed of people...
I'm sorry. But I can't stand them. I have massive problems with them.
They're disgusting. Just... horrible

Oh, it's wonderful
to get out of bed
drink too much coffee
smoke too many cigerettes
and love you so damn much.

→It's important to understand what I mean when I post these. They're simply beautiful. It's important that you believe me when I promise that love isn't something I'm ready for, not something I'd be willing it accept quite yet. It's important to understand that when your heart gets broken, it stay bruised long after it get put back together. It's important to understand that while it's not fair, it's so hard to trust someone after anyone has ruined it for you. You need to understand how important you are to me, and how I couldn't stand it if that went away or was ruined. It's important that I feel safe with you, because I do. It's important to understand that I can imagine myself smiling for you, just for you. It's important to understand how much that scares me, with is important.