27.9.10
18.9.10
librarys of the world. please let me live within your walls and let the words flow through my veins as time passes.
i will roam your halls and pretend as if I were on an adventure for the truth.
the answers will never step towards me and I will always follow them.
libraries of the world, let me buy a night within your rooms. give me long lessons of intelligence and mockery.
what would it hurt?
libraries of the world, i thank you for giving me the chance.
1:49
I'm calling out all of my senses tonight.
My heart beats faster than I could ever imagine it beating when using my imagination.
My mind makes up silly stories but my soul feels the tugging between the two worlds.
spiritual and secular.
wars caused over the very ideas that reside in my head.
i can't be sure that i'm safe in my bed.
the things that walk the surfaces of the three dimensional planes haunt my thoughts.
they don't just visit me in dreams but they visit me while i am conscious.
tears flood down my face at the thought of opening myself up to faith.
faith can only hurt me more than i do without a single belief in my heart.
i question who i am and why humanity is brought here.
where did the institution of government come from and why was it given to us?
are we the only ones who live here? or are we the only physical ones?
can we just see us or is there more than meets the eye?
if i let myself go, i'm falling down an abyss full of new worlds and new creatures.
what do you think?
can i ever be at peace with my mind?
i cry from the thoughts of the spiritual adventures that others take.
i cry from the thoughts of the spiritual adventures that others take.
so vulnerable to the openness of religion.
does it need to be religious? or can it be spiritual all on its own?
these beings that walk around in our dreams.
these beings that follow their sense when we are not in ourselves.
sleep.
awake.
does the closing of our eyes really save us?
does the opening of our eyes help us at all?
tell me more and i'll shut my eyes and close my ears and pretend that I am ignorant.
i am a naive child with the wonders of a 3 year old.
i don't want to know the whole truth.
keepmesustained.
16.9.10
Lauryn Hill, you have been the queen of my life these past couple of weeks.
You remind me of the days when I lived in the streets of Los Angeles with the a mind full of imagination.
I was a young girl and I never had a worry in the world. My parents would be blasting your songs like they didn't have a care in the world. It was amazing.
You remind me of the days when I lived in the streets of Los Angeles with the a mind full of imagination.
I was a young girl and I never had a worry in the world. My parents would be blasting your songs like they didn't have a care in the world. It was amazing.
13.9.10
a year and almost 4 months later...
I'm laughing because I know you don't expect this from me right now. There are certain times when you beg me to recognize the love I have for you and sometimes I just can't give it to you because I don't feel that it has the essence that it deserves. So this is for you.
I'm listening to dashboard confessional just like I did when I wrote the last entry about you. I hope you enjoy it....
I see myself sitting in a classroom next to a guy who has had my heart for as long as I can remember. The past seems like a movie, fake and predictable. This is all I've known and it feels exactly this way when I'm with you and when I'm just making small talk with you over the computer. I watch you in class sometimes when you're writing down your notes and you look like the world is at your finger tips, education is key to your happiness and you're willing to unlock the door. Sometimes I find myself forgetting that you're by my side but the moment I feel a tap on my shoulder, I can see you whisper the words "I love you."
With all the troubles we've had from the long nights of tired arguments that stick to us like lint from a dry coat, I never forget what we have. They never want to leave even though we pick at the small pieces to get rid of them as quickly as the blink of an eye. You tirelessly try to prove me wrong and I try to prove myself right. We are contradictory in our personalities at times and at others we are puzzle pieces that fit so perfectly that it scares us back into submission.
"Honestly, you are the most special girl I have ever met."
You find ways to pull me back into your arms when all I want to do is walk away. As I take a step towards the door my insides are pleading that you run after me. My hands want to feel yours grasp them for security and my waist wants to feel your arms, warm and tight, to feel at home. We lay in bed for hours and talk of past stories and listen to music that brings back the young teenage love in us. We plan and plan and never for a moment do we think that there is anything possible that can break us apart. We are funny like that. We can never be negative about each other, we use 'if's' but we never doubt.
I still remember the day that I first came to visit you at your house and you gave me the look of suspicion. You wanted to know who I was inside and out, even if you knew it already. You were looking to study me for your own eyes, instead of others and numerical code. We kissed and once they had come to pick me up, you didn't want to let me go. Some times I forget about that moment, the moment you pulled me back down to give you one more kiss, the moment you knew you wanted me in your life. But you never cease to remind me.
I look at the ring on my finger and the way I am so serious about it's special placement on my hand. It all means so much without a single word and I like it that way.
You are everything I could ever ask for. Some day I may wish I had been more careful with my words but I know what I am saying now. I know the risks and the toils of a couple more years that this relationship can hold.
"I want to marry you."
This is us and it is who we are despite the fights and perils of life. We never cease to wake up the next morning and grant each other a greeting of love and admiration. You will always be the first thought and the last. The funny things you do and the silliest things you say are what I keep with me when I miss you the most.
"does he ever get the girl?"
"i did, because I have you."
does he ever get the girl......
I'm listening to dashboard confessional just like I did when I wrote the last entry about you. I hope you enjoy it....
I see myself sitting in a classroom next to a guy who has had my heart for as long as I can remember. The past seems like a movie, fake and predictable. This is all I've known and it feels exactly this way when I'm with you and when I'm just making small talk with you over the computer. I watch you in class sometimes when you're writing down your notes and you look like the world is at your finger tips, education is key to your happiness and you're willing to unlock the door. Sometimes I find myself forgetting that you're by my side but the moment I feel a tap on my shoulder, I can see you whisper the words "I love you."
With all the troubles we've had from the long nights of tired arguments that stick to us like lint from a dry coat, I never forget what we have. They never want to leave even though we pick at the small pieces to get rid of them as quickly as the blink of an eye. You tirelessly try to prove me wrong and I try to prove myself right. We are contradictory in our personalities at times and at others we are puzzle pieces that fit so perfectly that it scares us back into submission.
"Honestly, you are the most special girl I have ever met."
You find ways to pull me back into your arms when all I want to do is walk away. As I take a step towards the door my insides are pleading that you run after me. My hands want to feel yours grasp them for security and my waist wants to feel your arms, warm and tight, to feel at home. We lay in bed for hours and talk of past stories and listen to music that brings back the young teenage love in us. We plan and plan and never for a moment do we think that there is anything possible that can break us apart. We are funny like that. We can never be negative about each other, we use 'if's' but we never doubt.
I still remember the day that I first came to visit you at your house and you gave me the look of suspicion. You wanted to know who I was inside and out, even if you knew it already. You were looking to study me for your own eyes, instead of others and numerical code. We kissed and once they had come to pick me up, you didn't want to let me go. Some times I forget about that moment, the moment you pulled me back down to give you one more kiss, the moment you knew you wanted me in your life. But you never cease to remind me.
I look at the ring on my finger and the way I am so serious about it's special placement on my hand. It all means so much without a single word and I like it that way.
You are everything I could ever ask for. Some day I may wish I had been more careful with my words but I know what I am saying now. I know the risks and the toils of a couple more years that this relationship can hold.
"I want to marry you."
This is us and it is who we are despite the fights and perils of life. We never cease to wake up the next morning and grant each other a greeting of love and admiration. You will always be the first thought and the last. The funny things you do and the silliest things you say are what I keep with me when I miss you the most.
"does he ever get the girl?"
"i did, because I have you."
does he ever get the girl......
12.9.10
11.9.10
9.9.10
I'm sitting here trying to pick a font that would easily depict my feelings towards this entry on my blog. But then I realize how inconvenient it really is. None of this would matter when people would really read these words and paint out the picture of the person I am trying to describe.
"For the sun to rot. For the tree to drop."
You may not remember the words to this song very well, or you may not know the words at all, but how they play out of your speakers from your record player or your computer or your stereo, makes you want to remember them. The words that come out of her mouth make you wish that you knew what they meant and that in any time or place, you can easily feel the vibrations that she played against the notes while she sang it.
My dreams have so subtly painted pictures of her, but they can never fully comprehend the soulful look she has when she sings. She is this magnificent being that only the lucky have seen with their own two eyes. Her notes so carefully planned and played out that the musicians fall out of place when listening to her sing and play at the same time. It never gets old. It never gets tiring. She puts a play on. She tells a story of the hurt, the loved, the happy, the sad.
As a child I would hear her voice over my grandmother's record player and I would lay on the carpeted floor wishing I knew who it was. She would constantly drive me to listen to more and more and to beg my grandmother for her record player so that I can listen to it on my own time. How could such a young child live for the raspy flowing voice of a woman who was long gone from a tragedy only known to that time? I was lost and have since then been lost in the field of dreams that she creates when her music plays. People have claimed to have felt this feeling but no one truly understands, very few do.
Her image painted by the media as a horrific drug addict and a sad story to tell. But who takes the time to recognize the fact that she had such talent, no one does. I am writing this as if I had a million readers over my shoulders waiting for me to tell a story of interest but as of this moment I have no story, I only have dreams and my imagination to base my opinion entry on.
"without your love i am like a song without words"
I can only invite you to communicate the feelings you obtain when listening to this woman. She was more than a woman, she was a lady.
"For the sun to rot. For the tree to drop."
You may not remember the words to this song very well, or you may not know the words at all, but how they play out of your speakers from your record player or your computer or your stereo, makes you want to remember them. The words that come out of her mouth make you wish that you knew what they meant and that in any time or place, you can easily feel the vibrations that she played against the notes while she sang it.
My dreams have so subtly painted pictures of her, but they can never fully comprehend the soulful look she has when she sings. She is this magnificent being that only the lucky have seen with their own two eyes. Her notes so carefully planned and played out that the musicians fall out of place when listening to her sing and play at the same time. It never gets old. It never gets tiring. She puts a play on. She tells a story of the hurt, the loved, the happy, the sad.
As a child I would hear her voice over my grandmother's record player and I would lay on the carpeted floor wishing I knew who it was. She would constantly drive me to listen to more and more and to beg my grandmother for her record player so that I can listen to it on my own time. How could such a young child live for the raspy flowing voice of a woman who was long gone from a tragedy only known to that time? I was lost and have since then been lost in the field of dreams that she creates when her music plays. People have claimed to have felt this feeling but no one truly understands, very few do.
Her image painted by the media as a horrific drug addict and a sad story to tell. But who takes the time to recognize the fact that she had such talent, no one does. I am writing this as if I had a million readers over my shoulders waiting for me to tell a story of interest but as of this moment I have no story, I only have dreams and my imagination to base my opinion entry on.
"without your love i am like a song without words"
I can only invite you to communicate the feelings you obtain when listening to this woman. She was more than a woman, she was a lady.
There will always be the people that get you. They will sit there and smile at the things that you say to them and they will be able to converse and argue with your opinions, but only because they know what you are talking about.
I know nothing.
What do I have to do ? I smile so that you can understand my lack of knowledge on your interests.
I know nothing.
What do I have to do ? I smile so that you can understand my lack of knowledge on your interests.
8.9.10
I think I'm becoming this person that I had never thought of becoming. I was so young and thoughts about the future only had to do with past loves and secret lives of hidden fantasies. It's so rare that I think about what I have thought about myself before. i do think about the past quite often but there are certain things that I leave out because of the way I think about them. It never turns out great.
I don't have a problem with who I've become. I'm well rounded and I find myself rather intriguing at times. It's weird. I have never had so much confidence in myself before. Where did it come from? you? the lady across the street? the guy at the grocery store who couldn't keep his eyes away? I'm not sure but I'm glad it's here.
I don't find myself writing about the same things anymore.
I would write about fantasies that I had, not ones that would have to do with anything sexual and such, but fantasies of different lives that I would live under the same name and face. Nothing would be different except for my experiences and I would obtain the same knowledge. But if i had different experiences wouldn't that raise the question "how could you have the same knowledge with new things to learn from?" touche. But this is not the case anymore. Time has transformed me into this person that likes to elaborate on the way she views things. My mind never shuts off. I can't sleep yesterday, I can't sleep last month. I know I am talking wrong but this is due to the fact that I am trying to observe the natural tendencies due to lack of sleep. My mind never shuts off. He says its cool because that means I'm never boring. But when will I ever become natural. Am I natural in my busy state? Or am I just the same as everyone else. You find yourself having the same thoughts and manners as the one next to you even if you could never see yourself having anything in common with them.
It's all coming out of me like the color from a full blossoming flower. Why haven't I observed and taken notes like I once used to? I used to roam around the streets, halls, buildings, statues, and write what I saw and made them into challenging poems with little advertisements to make you keep on reading what I had to say.
I'm going on.
I don't have a problem with who I've become. I'm well rounded and I find myself rather intriguing at times. It's weird. I have never had so much confidence in myself before. Where did it come from? you? the lady across the street? the guy at the grocery store who couldn't keep his eyes away? I'm not sure but I'm glad it's here.
I don't find myself writing about the same things anymore.
I would write about fantasies that I had, not ones that would have to do with anything sexual and such, but fantasies of different lives that I would live under the same name and face. Nothing would be different except for my experiences and I would obtain the same knowledge. But if i had different experiences wouldn't that raise the question "how could you have the same knowledge with new things to learn from?" touche. But this is not the case anymore. Time has transformed me into this person that likes to elaborate on the way she views things. My mind never shuts off. I can't sleep yesterday, I can't sleep last month. I know I am talking wrong but this is due to the fact that I am trying to observe the natural tendencies due to lack of sleep. My mind never shuts off. He says its cool because that means I'm never boring. But when will I ever become natural. Am I natural in my busy state? Or am I just the same as everyone else. You find yourself having the same thoughts and manners as the one next to you even if you could never see yourself having anything in common with them.
It's all coming out of me like the color from a full blossoming flower. Why haven't I observed and taken notes like I once used to? I used to roam around the streets, halls, buildings, statues, and write what I saw and made them into challenging poems with little advertisements to make you keep on reading what I had to say.
I'm going on.
6.9.10
5.9.10
4.9.10
I'm wide awake. I couldn't be more awake than I am now. I'm lying. I could be more awake. My eyes are pulsating. I need more sleep. My body screams and my mind wants to turn off. I fall asleep for a quick few minutes.
What am I supposed to do now?
Regina is singing to me. "its all right..... no one's got it all"
Please let me sleep.
What am I supposed to do now?
Regina is singing to me. "its all right..... no one's got it all"
Please let me sleep.
3.9.10
I like remembering us.i like remembering the way i'd feel when you would come around. I was painfully subdued. your calming features held me close. I've grown up so much. I look in the mirror and see nothing but an almost 18 year old girl with the mind of a 40 year old. when did i ever become this aware of my surroundings? was it that summer that i took a walk through the tree tunnel? no. I'm wrong. it was the day we became friends. your eyes made me smile. your smile made me blink. your words made my stomach tingle. i was a mess. i look in the mirror and see an almost 18 year old girl. i look back down at my legs and feet and see a body of a 12 year old kid. Why am I so young in my eyes? I am young but brilliant. i give myself too much credit. where have you been? I can't think clearly anymore.
Hi good friend.
I've missed you. I'm almost giving you a smile. I'm home alone.
Do you remember those nights? where i'd sit here with you and tell you my life?
i remember.
i've missed it so i've come back to you.
i'm listening to dashboard confessional. i feel like a kid again. i feel so young.
i texted mikey because all of these songs never fail to remind me of him. he's doing great, i'm so glad to hear it.
i've been craving a walk all night. i feel like i wanna walk into a dark alley and just laugh really loud.
i want to laugh so loud that it scares me. i wanna scream.
i want to smile in the end.
i feel like that's what a walk would have done to me tonight.
i can't stop feeling young. i can't stop feeling giddy. what's wrong with me?
i wish i had more friends to tell this to. you're out. you're having fun. i'm here. i'm alone. i'm trusting you.
as i listen to these songs over, i feel the need to whisper-sing.
its a beautiful thing.
i've missed you so much. i don't think any emotional girl has ever felt this way towards writing, unless you love words as much as i do. you usually write about boys and how you can't eat or sleep. i write about how happy i am to write at all. i thought that after all that i've written today, i'd never wanna write again but it felt good. it feels good to write right now. you'll never understand. he'll never understand. he's off with friends. he isn't writing. i'm gentle with every key. i don't wanna make too much noise. but i wanna tap them enough to hear the little clicky sounds. it feels good. the pencil makes me feel the same way. do you remember when i played american football all night and waited in the smoldering cold writing a story about innocent non-existent people and made them beautiful? i think we both remember how beautiful and cinematic the whole situation was. it was really a scene only i could describe. im remembering it. i was so lost.
i want to write more but all i can do is listen to dw.
I've missed you. I'm almost giving you a smile. I'm home alone.
Do you remember those nights? where i'd sit here with you and tell you my life?
i remember.
i've missed it so i've come back to you.
i'm listening to dashboard confessional. i feel like a kid again. i feel so young.
i texted mikey because all of these songs never fail to remind me of him. he's doing great, i'm so glad to hear it.
i've been craving a walk all night. i feel like i wanna walk into a dark alley and just laugh really loud.
i want to laugh so loud that it scares me. i wanna scream.
i want to smile in the end.
i feel like that's what a walk would have done to me tonight.
i can't stop feeling young. i can't stop feeling giddy. what's wrong with me?
i wish i had more friends to tell this to. you're out. you're having fun. i'm here. i'm alone. i'm trusting you.
as i listen to these songs over, i feel the need to whisper-sing.
its a beautiful thing.
i've missed you so much. i don't think any emotional girl has ever felt this way towards writing, unless you love words as much as i do. you usually write about boys and how you can't eat or sleep. i write about how happy i am to write at all. i thought that after all that i've written today, i'd never wanna write again but it felt good. it feels good to write right now. you'll never understand. he'll never understand. he's off with friends. he isn't writing. i'm gentle with every key. i don't wanna make too much noise. but i wanna tap them enough to hear the little clicky sounds. it feels good. the pencil makes me feel the same way. do you remember when i played american football all night and waited in the smoldering cold writing a story about innocent non-existent people and made them beautiful? i think we both remember how beautiful and cinematic the whole situation was. it was really a scene only i could describe. im remembering it. i was so lost.
i want to write more but all i can do is listen to dw.
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