preface.

she left a note on the kitchen counter.

i didn't mean to be this way. i never wanted to hurt you. i never wanted to hurt me, either. but maybe life means more this way... both of us hurting.

she was always so damn melodramatic. like she thought she was the heroine of some tragic love story... or really just your run of the mill teenie bopper romantic comedy. either way, she really milked every opportunity to be pensive and broken with some emo-punk-bubble gum bullshit music playing in the background.

and i guess that is a fitting way to begin this story.

like day old coffee.

thought i'd plug the girls and the recently re-vamped bitter club. unlike my site, we are actually producing new content over there... so help us out with some feedback.

we are even looking for free-lance contributors to help add to the bitterness. i'd really like to have some of you people share your woes... especially since my bitterness seems to have gone down a lot in these last couple of weeks. ahem. i have no idea why, though.

ahem.

i have been putting off a lot of things.

here's a list:

writing.
singing.
the black and white.
kinya.
melissa.
fixing my computer.
making dan his mixed CD.
getting my hair cut.
visiting my grandmother.
getting ready to move back home.
getting a job back home.

and when i look at this list... most of the items on it would fall into the "most important things in the world to me" category. there is something really wrong with this picture and, quite frankly, i don't like it.

lookin up

the only clouds in the sky
trail from the tips of the airplanes that fly by
and they all are silver-lined
with the tears cried by all the people inside

they gaze out of their windows down at the world
and are met only by the eyes of one little girl

empty hearts leave empty eyes
but in hers you can see
the storm brewing inside

and empty souls breed empty love
but with her it never seemed-
it never seemed to be enough

and while everybody knows
that her life has been tough
everywhere she goes
she's still always lookin up

FUCKED up!!

thank you for this, mike.

i will never be able to play scrabble ever again.

ladies pull up their skirts in an effort to make the dance easier...

but the sudden exposure of skin only makes it harder for the gentlemen to concentrate on the steps.

talk about your wake-up call.

the good news is that i'll have more intimate time with my blog again come this december. yep... i'm moving back home with my mom and brother right after thanksgiving.

and before any of you decide to bring up questions and advice about my decision... just take my word for it: i've thought about it forwards, backwards, upside down and inside out. i'm not happy with my decision, but i believe it's the right one.

it's a risk i have to take.

my boys from back in the day explain it much better than i ever could. they make my drama sound so much more poetic... while still maintaining that punk-emo jaded edge. buy their latest album if you haven't yet. green day. american idiot.

Here comes the rain again,
Falling from the stars,
Drenched in my pain again,
Becoming who we are,
As my memory rests,
But never forgets what I lost

Wake me up when September ends

Summer has come and past,
The innocent can never last,
Wake me up when September ends

Like my father's come to pass,
Twenty years has gone so fast

Wake me up when September ends

my world has turned upside down again.
and in a sad way... it's kinda nice to have things back to normal.

Reluctant, I am.

Constantly searching and yearning for something to go wrong. For a reason not to care. For a reason not to believe. To find something concretely unacceptable about him.

Why? Why can’t I just sit back and finally enjoy the butterflies I have been chasing after what seems to be my whole life?

The music, the magic, the quiet, calming, unspoken comfort between us… it’s all there.

Why am I trying so hard to ruin this for myself?

Maybe it’s fear. An emotion I have not really addressed yet.

Have I fallen in love with the lifestyle I used to cry over? The role of the bitter, single woman with eyes wider, older and warmer than one would expect- THAT is me. Do I lose who I am if I find a man who warms my heart and challenges my spirit? I don’t know how to be me without the fear of being alone but being okay with that.

What will I write about?

Do I want a life that produces poetry or a life that inspires it?

aural sex:

giving new meaning to wet willies everywhere

Sometimes when I lock eyes with you I forget how to breathe.

When life peels away to be nothing more than waiting for the next visitor to show up, I wonder if I will miss the way things used to be. I wonder if I will understand what has happened to me even when everyone around me tries hard to hide it.

Do we live our lives only to forget what it was all about? Do we die alone and cold only to be reborn in the eyes of new children destined for the same fate?

Regurgitated souls: do they lose their sparkle with time or is love everlasting?