| Fire. |
[27 Jul 2007|07:00pm] |
Doubt is burning my veins, fear of being used is strangling my breaths. He's non-respondant for the um-teenth-million time, and tears are starting to cloud my eyes. There's a bloackage in my chest, and with every minute that passes by it grows larger and bigger... my lungs barely have enough space to fill with air; with each exhaled breath air contricts.
My fingers shake. I jump at every sound. I'm starting to realize the world I've created around myself is defective, but so far my legs are paralyzed and I'm being buried underneath the falling sky.
How trusting, how carefree, how loyal, how understanding, how loving should I be?
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| Nothing & Everything. |
[22 Jul 2007|08:58pm] |
There is nothing to say, and yet everything. How can there be a way to explain and to tell of the events which have formed the better portion of this past year, without first giving myself the moments needed to collect myself from the chaos, to say nothing, so that I may then say everything? I am at once at a loss for words, but also, instantly filled by a flood of memory: laughter, tears, frustration, doubt, fear, bliss, happiness, giddiness, hope... the wave of relief crashing over me by a friendship restored, the excitement and touch and kiss and promise and comfort of a new lover, the pleading desperation for the unconditional understanding and love from family, and the sadness for all the misunderstandings... the anxiety and stress of what lay ahead in the coming months in which I am still yet unsure of where I will be residing and with whom I will be residing with, if I'll even have the money to attend school what with the very real possibility of my father needing back surgery and his business... his business...
I am still a prisoner of time. Still a prisoner of doubt, of fear; prisoner to plagueing thoughts of the past, prisoner to the never-ending surprise and unfolding events of the present, and mostly, prisoner to the duality of hope and fear that lay within the future.
I still have time, even though every mili-second past is time lost. I think on this, on days when I lay in the quiet dark of my room, with only the small, yet monstrously loud, table fan to swish the thick and sweaty air around; my thoughts, too, swish from past, to present, to past, to future. I am what I am what I am, but what about who I was, what about who I will become? I refuse, am repulsed by, the idea of staying my current self. I yearn for change, to grow and continually learn and explore this universe. And yet, I remain who I am, for it is all I've ever been. This is maddening, and yet... comforting. I yearn for comfort, for the day my spirit is at utter ease, and yet I remain restless. Restless, for the dawn when it will all be realized and understood.
Why must I be so impatient?
Time. It's when my head throbs I let my mind wander. It's when my head throbs I am again aware of the time I have wasted, the time I might still have. It's when my head throbs and I retreat back into my prison of solitude I let my grief overtake me. I have lost so much of myself... so much good, so much promise... gone.
Every mistep leads to those moments. I shudder thinking about it. Shudder... most of the time it is entirely my fault... I know what precautions need be taken. I know how to protect myself, and yet, sometimes, and other times in the past when I was foolish, I knowingly made, and still do, make errant and irresponsible choices. Call it rebellion, curiosity, indifference, a burning desire to...
If I were to be truthful, there haven't been quite so many casualties, and on the whole my chest still rises and falls with every humble breath taken. I have moved forward, I have moved backwards, continually learning how to sway to the hum of life, air, being, matter, space, time.
It's interesting how little interest I hold for my recent activities in the past weeks, save for a few which even now easily rise to the surface of my being and linger... begging attention to be called upon them; but how, really, how much interest I have for all that has not unfolded, all that has not been done, all that has yet to occur, all that could not, will not happen this Summer.
I have yet to pick up a paintbrush, have yet to touch past projects in the attempt to spruce them for a portfolio project I am planning for the Fall, let an internship opportunity at a highly respected gallery in Laguna slip past me, have hardly seen friends, haven't run...
The time wasted... all the time...
And all that I have done, have accomplished, the surprises, the let downs, the fleeting moments of laughter, hope, the making of plans, the talk of the future, revealing in the present... letting myself fall into the trap and bed of a lover. But I swear his eyes... the sincerity of his touch...
What if I'm making excuses? My mind refuses to succomb to reality. Reality. Lie upon lie... they do not know. And how can I tell them? I want to, and I should. It's been more than a month since he and I met, since we kissed... since I spent the night in his bed. I want to talk about him, want to tell them, want them to meet him, need their approval... and yet I have made my decisions, and they have expressed their concerns.
Reality. Which world have I deluded myself more in? Which house am I more myself... the boundries are blurred and though so much lay upon this matter... and though my entire being burns with anxiety, with excitement... my actions prove how little I care... or rather, how careless I have been.
So many questions. So many reasons. So many little things to think about. To hate. To love. To fear, to let go of, to head face on.
So much. And then: nothing. Nothing. But everything. Everything everywhere, something, nothing... everything. Gobblygook in the mind. The spirit clogged. Strands of hair down a drain. Pancakes for dinner. The flutter and light jump of the heart when the phone rings and its that special person. The piercing drum of a migraine. The world spinning, sputtering, dancing, smoothly revolving and suspended by the universe. The majesty of classical music...
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| XP |
[28 Sep 2006|08:05pm] |
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I'm dying.
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| &:// |
[17 Sep 2006|02:23am] |
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This once was a haven. I'm revisiting and hopefully I'll stay. This time around I won't be so liberal with who will be allowed into the depths of my soul. If you are on this friends list and don't reply to this entry, I'm deleting you. I might have already deleted you. I'm not adding anyone unless I know them and trust them ten fold. I need a place for myself, and I need to be able to say whatever I want without worrying who is reading and whatnot. I need a place to cry and laugh and complain and celebrate and be embraced for that. I've been gone too long in a dimension of nothingness, and now it's time to wake up. And dream some more.
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[15 Dec 2004|01:13pm] |
New journal. Moved. Bye. I might still use this journal but we'll see.
STATICMIX
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[27 Oct 2004|12:48pm] |
My muscles are sore from sleeping. My eyes droop from dreaming. I saw you Toots at Thanksgiving time, and pushed you into a pool, only your name was Ride. Or Ryde. Or it could have been Dave. Something. And then you were mad at me, and I stayed in the rented holiday house we were renting with a million other girls. And then I decided to leave, and so I wrote on a X-mas card to tell you... I love you. Even if you wanted a threesome.
Dreams. Craaaaaaaaaazy.
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[26 Oct 2004|04:27pm] |
A quick breath inhaled. A sigh. A smile. A yes-I'll-be-your-girlfriend. All but nine months ago.
Nine months seems awkward. If nine months ago he had kissed me and dined me and seduced me and impregnated me, I'd be a mother. Like I said, awkward.
But I'm not. And he's all but impregnated me, which isn't to conclude we haven't been close. I wonder if close is the right word. Words. Words have been floating in my head today. I could dance with words; but first only if they kiss me and dine with me and seduce me. Seduced. My soul has been seduced. Like a rabbit is seduced with a carrot, I am seduced with words.
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[25 Oct 2004|12:40am] |
I need a view. A breathtaking oh-my-candle-sticks-and-ice-cream view. A relaxing hide-away. A me-zone. A place where I don't have to explain all the misfortunes and how they make me feel. Because they make me feel like a piece of month-old-chewed-gum stuck to the oil-stained-100-year-old-carpet. And all I want to do is sob. And fly. And get away. And hide. And cry. And be held. And be depressed. And eat lemon-lime pie that isn't so sour. And doesn't make me feel regretful after eating it.
(In case you missed it, that would be your cue to tell me how much I'm loved to pieces.)
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[19 Oct 2004|01:01pm] |
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I need a rescue mission.
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[14 Sep 2004|05:10pm] |
I woke up and saw a mummy.
(Migraine blues)
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[09 Sep 2004|10:09pm] |
Stop dicking the dog... and come talk to me <3
;)
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[08 Sep 2004|05:10pm] |
School. Was actually... okay. But I was walking with a limp (humungous blister on my left heel) and because of that, my shirt kept rising up. Annnoooyying.
Classes were... ok. New teachers are rad. I only have two guy teachers this year, now that I think about it.
Right. I'm very excited. 1970's themed birhday party for me, YAY!
(Sept. 23th is my bdayyyy)
Meh. Art is going to be my main focus this year. I'm sorry, but that's what I need to focus on, that and doing something... worth while. I might take a year off and senior year, but not completely off. I'd want to attend night school at Art Center or something. We'll see. I just... don't want to pack off to some college far away right away, and the only decent Art school around here... I can't afford. -Sigh-
Long loved my painting. Made my day. Only finished it yesterday, but he never needs to know that... hehe.
Annnyway. I'VE BEEN WORKING ON HTPP://LOVETHESTATIC.ORG!!! Check it out now. It's going to be RAD. Yes... so much artistic babble...
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[06 Sep 2004|10:42pm] |
Shopping was a bust today. Not a total bust, but I went looking for white pumps with a kitten heel, and though I found several pairs, none of the stores had my size. Figures. I also went looking for a specific style of a belt, also white. I found the style at Windsor... but only in pink and blue. Bust Bust Bust. I hate bad shopping trips.
But as I said, it wasn't all a bust. I've sort of been redecorating my bedroom, and recently got a black nightstand with gold accents, the table top is rectabgular... the nightstand on the other side of my bed, however, has been the cardboard box my tv came in. I've been looking for a round pedistole table, that was either white or a light wood stain, but I haven't found one. There's a store called Anthology in the Santa Anita Mall... and in the very back of the store behind a huge 300 dollar chair (which I secretly want... badly) I found it. Perfect. And only 99 bucks. And the style and height are perfect and go with my black nightstand.
Funny story/Highlight of my day: I get home from shopping. My phone rings. Whoever it was stops calling. I get inside and start getting the table all set up... and my phone rings again. It's a guy's voice. Someone who I don't know. And he says, "Hi Melody! It's Coco! I've got an illness... which accounts for why my voice is so low! ... What have you been doing? You got a table? Cool..."
Then I get a call on another line. This time it's a different guy, who goes, "Hi Melody! It's Brittney!!!..."
Anyway... turns out it was Blake and Joe, guys from Saint Fracis... and friends of Patrick Spear (went on a date with him about 8 months ago. Worst date EVER!!!) ... and it also turns out Britt and Coco were with them. Anyway, got to talk to the real Britt and Coco, and it made me feel so happy. No one but Joe ever calls me, and it was so nice to have my babes call me. They really did cheer me up. !!! Thanks huns!!!
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[05 Sep 2004|09:18pm] |
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If only I could paint myself a happy mind to go with my semi-happy heart.
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[05 Sep 2004|12:29am] |
and it's true:
men live on mars.
and women on venus.
oh but it get's lonely...
when the one you love
doesn't want to come
over to play with you
on your planet.
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[29 Jun 2004|02:31am] |
I'm in whirlwind of emotions.
And like desert storms, these
whirlwinds have no barriers to
stop the dust from infecting my
heart.
And I won't tell you how many
of those white pills I took. And
I won't tell you why. But maybe
it wasn't such a good idea. And
maybe I just wanted to scare you.
Or maybe I just wanted to scare
myself.
My poster project scares me.
Abortion. And pictures of carcuses.
Of the innocent, dead babies.
Murderers. It's what we are.
A mother kills her child, and I
kill my hope of true love.
But that isn't true. And maybe in
the future you won't listen to my
rambles. And I'll make perfect sense.
In a perfect world.
I'll scream before I puke. And I'll
puke only after I swear in my vows
to be as honest of a goddamn person
I can be.
It's too late to please you. I'm who
I am. PMS, migraine, & fucked up
emotions and all.
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[28 Jun 2004|06:43pm] |
I need a change.
I need to write.
And I can't.
Not here.
I need. A change.
Suggestions?
On any new lj
names?
Love you <33333
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[24 Jun 2004|08:57am] |
The freeway calls me
And I'll be gone, gone...
Wishing I was in your arms ♥
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[23 Jun 2004|10:01pm] |
So I'm out on the couch sleeping. All of a sudden I jerk awake, convinced it's tomorrow morning, and I look at the clock and it's 7:25, and I'm thinking, SHIT! I have to be there in 5 MINUTES! SHIT SHIT!
And I hear my mom leaving, so I run out screaming at her. How dare she let me sleep in like that. Look at me, I'm a mess. I have to leave. Right now. Shit. Shit.
That's when I stumbled back into the house, and she came in laughing after me. Mel... it's 7:25 PM, today is still Wednesday.
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