why do i always feel like i have NOTHING

absolutely nothing.

im know this stems back to my relationship to God, but why create a world just for it to be so unfulfilling?
why create me...?

why?

seriously. WHYYY??

I GOT A JOB

HELL YEAH!

everything has made sense for a given amount of time

My life has always meant to mean something. Why can't I just let go of this stupid idea of meaning? I don't really know anything so I don't see why I have to continue on this false path of knowledge. My ignorance keeps me afloat, keeps me in touch with the world around me.
I watched the life fall from my own eyes. I saw the voice leave from my throat in heavy waves, I saw the soul rise from my chest like ghosts, I felt the breath leave my lips like the lies that cling to my bones when I'm around other human beings. What do these people mean? Nothing. I could watch one of their lives fade before my eyes, and I would feel nothing.
My own apathy and distance only neutralizes me. I no longer become afraid when I realize my life is in danger. Instead, I see a challenge, a meaningless threat, a stupid dare. Whoever thinks they can kill me, whoever thinks they can destroy what I have, has never aimed very high, has never really fought for anything worth dying for.

The last time I looked at myself I noticed extremely simple things, like the unevenness of my complexion or the depth of my eye sockets, or the heaviness of the smoke that continues to linger in my throat long after I've fallen asleep, and I swear that it seeps out of the corners of my mouth before I can catch it or even know it exists. Now I see things that are more complex, like how I wake up to nothing every day. Like how I wake up to white washed walls and thick slats of sunlight that only remind me of how hard it is for me to enjoy a beautiful day. I watch the way it fades off of my wall, the way the white is drenched in yellow and how soft it can feel if only I could allow myself embrace its warmth.
I refuse to go outside. I refuse for the sun to paint me in beauty that I don't deserve, refuse to allow my soul to exist.
If God wanted this life for me, he didn't want me to know why. God doesn't want me to know anything, at least, that's the conclusion I've come to. To be in the dark is to be blind to any bias or goal. Instead, I choose to live because I have no choice. To be given a chance is to be given life, and that I do not deserve. None of us deserve the breath that fills or lungs and passes through our lips. None of us deserve the little nuances of consciousness we hold so dear.
I wish I could forgive everyone. I wish I could tell them, despite everything they've done, that it's okay. I also wish I could go to all the people who destroyed my life and tell them that it's all their fault.
But I can't, because I know it's my fault. That's why I don't blame anybody. That's why, when people tell me that I need to face my demons, I only see myself. And this is the same self that they go to extreme measures to convince me is beautiful. Which only tells me that these stupid doctorate degrees have no idea what the fuck they're talking about or who the fuck they're dealing with.
Why can't these people just tell me to accept my own evil? Why can't they just tell me to move on and away from it? Why are they so convinced that all my problems have stemmed from something else?
What if it's just ME?

okay i changed it again
sometimes change is good, because i'm not doing it again.

As you can see

I changed the template.
Do you like the old or new one better?

I think about your lips, and how they sunk into my mine like ships, and how the beating of these oceans make these rivers of our veins. I can't pretend that my eyes don't shed the same salt you have spilled into me, and my gut has become solid and empty, and I know it's different now. And my life is nothing like how it was before you came, and there's no way this can leave when I feel it everyday.
I know that I am still alive, but I can't feel the pulse that I used to take for granted. I know that the tips of my fingers have no nerve endings anymore, but I used to feel them harden above your throat. And when I lay, I can't pretend that my mind doesn't wander to things I acknowledge only in diaries and therapy sessions and to liquor bottles and people who wish they never knew. I know that I can't throw for shit. I know I can't understand, I know I can't hold my breath for very long, and I know I can't pretend anymore.
This is how I've faced a lot of things lately this is how I deal with it now.

beg (shane and shane)

here i am
one more day of not loving him the way he asks
in fact, my heart is singing praises to the things that make me feel alright

so i’m sinking fast like a stone heart should
and on the way down, i’ve done what i could
to try and try to turn this stone to flesh

i’m haunted by my God
who has the right to ask me
what, by the nature of my rebellion, i cannot give.

so i beg for you to move
i beg for you to move
i beg for you to break through

so here i am
got my deeds for the day
all my cute little words about how i am saved
am i saved?

could i love you with my mouth like a church kid should
at the end of the day, my words get burned as wood
oh
but i was good.

i’m haunted by my God
who has the right to ask me
what, by the nature of my rebellion, i cannot give.


these songs are noise in your ears
a clanging drum
you want my love



yes
this is about
GOD!!!!!!!!1

I see only what you see, face what you face, be who you want to be

The truth is you're the weak, and I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm trying, Ringo. I'm trying real hard to be the shepherd.

The 90's ruled

Two Words: Pastel platforms.

Devon Sawa and Macaulay Culkin

gave birth to Kristen Stewart

My dreams

Losing teeth.
Outdoor getaways near Vermont, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Santa Cruz, Manhattan, San Francisco.
Picturesque hills, rolling and green and dotted with white chapels and houses.
Kissing Jesse.
Huge salt crested waves crashing on rocky shores.
Sick as a dog, late for work.
Underlying themes of separation and fighting for our love.
Being in boarding school also suggested the idea of being trapped like rats, surrounded by a bunch of idiots whose asses I'd have to kick on a regular basis just to get a little respect around here.

out of my element

No life updates, no one cares about that shit, let's move on, shall we?

It's natural for me to view society with the perspective of an outsider. I watch all their interactions, and I can't relate. I don't know how to act in relationships. I am only close to my family and those who have become family over the years. Friendships seem odd and hard to manage.
It's like, I see everybody else, but I am still so separate. I don't think we've experienced the same rites of passage. I definitely don't understand relationships of any kind and can't seem to get satisfaction from them (not just romantic, obviously, but all relationships). I wonder if this feeling of being alone in the world is just the quintessential young adult experience. I mean, I AM 21, and it's true that I don't know who I am at this point, but does this really just go away with coming of age?
I guess I used to be okay before a couple of years ago. I mean, I used to be pretty sure about things like who I was and what I stood for.
For some reason, now, I find myself wanting to lose my understanding or even empathy for other people and just choose to hate them. It's like what I used to say when I was 17, about how when you lose empathy for others, you start to "grow up", and, in turn, lose touch with humanity, lose the ability to love, lose your soul, etc. etc. I used to believe our relationship with the rest of humanity was crucial to our own personal identities. I used to be able to see both sides. And I was always the defense attorney among friends, standing up for those who weren't there to defend themselves, trying to keep the shit talking to a minimum.
But I don't know now. Things change.


PS Did you know Billy Bob Thorton wrote and directed Sling Blade? I didn't, but it just further confirms my original theory that Billy Bob is fucking RETARDED.

10/15/09

My mom thinks it's sick that I watch Forensic Files and enjoy it. She says it allows darkness into my heart, and it really does. I find myself wanting to know these murderers, wife killers, and child rapists, so I can try to understand them, just the smallest bit. Try to see them as human beings, even if just for a second, so I can ask, What's the deal here?
I can't imagine ever understanding or relating to people. Jesse is an exception. He was just kissing my thigh, and it still gives me butterflies. He will never stop being sexy to me, and I want him almost all of the time.

what do i know

what do i know about love
and what it takes to understand a person's heart
what do i know about compassion
and what it takes to understand a person's situation

what do i know about individuality
when every person i've met is exactly like me
what do i know about sacrifice
when everything i've given up has been to benefit myself
what do i know about strife
when i cry because the jeans i bought two months ago don't fit me anymore
what do i know about desperation
when the only things i've lacked are things i've refused to fight for

what do i know about death
and the way i fear the aftermath
what do i know about famine and drought
when i pour gallons water over my body just to wet my hair
what do i know about pain
and the blood that clumps in children's hair
what do i know about truth
if i deny it in public and refuse it alone.

So, today is the big day

Last day in Florida. Trying to get organized and say good-bye to those who have been my friends. It's nerve-wracking, all of this. I just hope everything turns out as planned.

with every day i know more than i did only a day before

when i fall asleep, your body questions mine
and feels the pressure while our limbs entwine
it won't mean anything if you don't let it
though we've worked our whole lives to get closer to it
and i was made with an open mind
they said, do your best and you'll be just fine
but with every year, i find another crutch
with faith comes fury, and i know that much.
when i die, it will be from a damaged heart
whose poisoned blood has pulled my veins apart
when does he choose to finish what he starts?
they said faith is death, i guess i missed that part.
i won't learn a thing holding hands of thieves
in a place for made for death but no one grieves
i hope they don't attack without a decent cause
or while i'm still without a steady job.
i'll feel you when the air hangs thick in my lungs
or when the taste of smoke is heavy on our tongues
or in the way my lips will feel bare and unsure
or when the words i say make me feel immature
i'll think of you every night when the sun disappears
and our salt streaked cheeks and our unabashed tears
and the softness and strength that i felt in your hands
and how, with miles between us, i'm still making plans.
such small drops make such big whores
and such small people make great big wars
and such small feet have walked such large shores
and such small things bind my life to yours.

Rodarte Fall 2009

The future never ends

but you're seriously missing out on life if you've never seen this video. It's one of my personal favorites.

I think this is a boy, but it's funnier for me to think it's a girl.




Okay, me and Sarah tried to decipher the lyrics a while ago, and this is all we've got.

"A new future lies ahead
the battle has begun
the land of Hone brings a brand new plan
and I'll be number one.

"?????????? by my side
????????????????
I'm gonna be a Pokemon master
of Ruby and Sapphire!

"I'm hungry, too
the force is still Pikachu.
The future never ends
in a world we must defend.

"Aqua and Magma better get back
Me and my Shroomish sure to attack
and then I'll be at the top of the pack of

"Pokemon!"

My pets

My cat, Cud, is 12, and she is slowly going crazy from the madness, sleeping all day and coming out only when she hears you pour a bowl of cereal or open a container of yogurt.
My dog, Jonah, is a sicko, and he steals our shoes when we aren't home just because he really likes it when we scold him upon finding one laying around the house somewhere.
My kitten, Zeke (or Ezekiel, if you will), is crazy, and he isn't afraid of anything, not Jonah's massive paws or Cud's hard hits, not water, vacuum cleaners, my step-dad's loud voice, not the great outdoors, or even me kicking him. However, Zeke will become paralyzed with fear (the "Halloween cat" stance) if someone near him stands up too fast??

I can't help but feel I am to blame for all of this.

tender loving caltrate

say it like you mean it

I think the scariest part about the human mind is not its tendency for violence or perversion, or the content of its innermost thoughts, but its ability to be completely rewritten by any person, place, or circumstance strong and repetitive enough to take hold. I don't think we've realized as a species how impressionable our minds really are.
Everyday I've been slowly recognizing that we are being influenced, not necessarily because it is the intent, but because it's unavoidable for our minds to adhere to the minds around us. I don't know if even I realize how nothing we believe is really our own. People work on us. We are surrounded by others who influence us without our consent. It takes time, but we will slowly start to disengage ourselves from past convictions when placed in the midst of those who don't have them, or even make a mockery of them.
Maybe that doesn't sound too scary. But really, where does society end and an individual begin? Are we really just products of our environment?
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest has never made more sense. I feel rage as my sense of self is being systematically stripped away from me by mass media, culture, and society, but I do little to stop it. I can see what happens to the people who break away and how insane you can become by seeing the world for what it is while trying to separate yourself from it. The more objectively you view the world, the more you hate everything and the harder it is to want to have anything to do with it.
Only God provides the fire, the spark, the ability to hold strong to our convictions and still meet the world with never ending compassion. We can be separate but satisfied, different but unashamed, honest and brave. Otherwise, I will always find my mind weak and my courage frail.
I can see how people are being influenced. It's by their parents, their books, their girlfriends, their job, the weather, their pet, their music, the town, commercials, propaganda, Wikipedia, porn, their friends, everything. How impossible it can be to stick to our guns when we are bombarded every day with opinions on what to believe, what to think is cool, what is socially acceptable, what makes you attractive, what's funny, what's right, what you should eat, wear, and talk about, what's important. How are we supposed to know what's true when everything everywhere is telling us something different?
I don't have this fire or spark. It's hard for me at this point in my life to stop being a negative, angry person. I have killed in my heart with the hate I feel, have destroyed buildings and burned bridges, all in the name of my hate. It's making me mad, and it's also making me fat, and I'm getting tired of this shit.

Boston

When I moved to Boston at 17, I was given the opportunity to make a lot of choices, and I chose wrong every time. God allowed me to live exactly how I wanted to at that time in my life without getting punished.
Well, that's not true. It was only six months, but I'm still being punished for it. I can take any given event while I lived in Massachusetts and guarantee that it will make me feel guilt, regret, embarrassment, disbelief, torment, or all of the above.
I hate that part of my life. I wish I go back in time everyday, I wish I could just highlight and delete that whole portion of my existence without creating an endless black hole of wtf? physics. But more than anything, I hate that part of myself, which is still in me somewhere, just kept under wraps (if Freud means anything to you, you'd believe that everybody suffers from this hidden id that we try to stifle until it finally comes out when we are vulnerable or losing control). I am humiliated that a person like that could have EVER been me. It creates this huge cycle of self-hate and regret every time I think about it. I can't feel okay about myself and can't find the self-esteem to motivate myself to live a better life. And now, four years later, I really just want it to be over. I want to move on, but nothing will bring me peace, I will never feel better about it, and I won't ever stop thinking about it.
My consequences didn't come right away, and those kind of consequences are the hardest. Maybe one day it won't bother me anymore, but the fact is I will never forget, and the memories won't ever go away, no matter how hard I've tried.
I don't know what spawned this, but everybody, let's just do the right thing. We know in our hearts what's right and what's wrong, but if we don't start caring about making good decisions for ourselves, we will create our own misery that will follow us for the rest of our lives, whether we realize it or not. I myself need to take my own advice. Make the RIGHT choices, do the RIGHT things, have integrity, it will give us peace of mind, security, and openness to God's will.
It's unwise to believe that we can live our lives however we want with no consequences. Don't be fooled--there are ALWAYS consequences, they just might come in an unexpected form at an unexpected time in an unexpected way, and they might not even affect us directly. But everything we do affects everyone around us, and that alone should make us want to be more conscientious about the choices we make.
Like I said, I need to take my own advice. It's something to think about, but hard to do. It's almost impossible to have the forethought, to think months or even years down the road, or to even care about ourselves and our bodies, souls, and minds. I'm not saying I can even do it, but I think I want to try.

To Daniel Cobian

To Daniel Cobian, wherever you are
I will never forget you and how, in our sixth grade yearbook, they asked us what our future goals were, and you had valiantly wrote:
To graduate high school and because a Pokemon master!!!
I can only hope you've achieved your dreams and have caught them all.

America

But you do ... sort of ... I mean - don’t you think you’ve got a bit of a - a - saving-people thing?


In other news:


Who knew that Obama actually looks GOOD with a HITLER mustache? That's the thing with Obama! He always looks sharp.

I think I should make myself very clear

IF YOU DO PILLS, I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU.
So please, don't talk to me. EVER.

I ordered my halloween costume.

I'm going to be a cowgirl, okay, and this is my dress:



I also bought a vest:



Now I just need boots, hat, belt, and I'll be set.
I'm very excited, it will be SO cute.

Hookers for Jesus

I found my dream job and will probably end up in shitty Las Vegas because of this place:

www.hookersforjesus.net

this part of the earth has separated itself
its expanse is falling into the sea
i stepped its ground when the hate was born
and it brought me to him just to take him from me

i'll sleep for hours and hours on his wedding night
as my new future towers over all in sight
it's my fault

i still want his name to become my name
i still want to blame every last inch of this
swamp water quicksand that pulls us in
and every new thought and old dream that will pull us out
and every false hope and bright light where it's said to begin
and every last lie and distraction that cements my doubt
i blame you.

i know i'm naive and spiteful now
i want to believe, but when it comes to pain
i'm selfish and now my fear of you is becoming
something more frightening than what I had first learned
cause I'm getting worse.

i fell in love and i won't take it back
i want to be loved only by this man
i'm afraid of the pain but i know what it's worth
and still I believe that you do have a plan
or something set aside for me
and the peace you can give me helps me fall asleep
this is love.

The only thing I try to understand are the things that aren't happening.
I think about them constantly, and I know it's what ruins me. The last thing I ever wanted was to become something I'm not. The last thing I wanted was to force myself to pray, to force myself to think a little deeper.
But now I just do what is present and constant and always here, I do only what preoccupies my mind and my thoughts. I think only of things that no longer exist. It's in my mind whenever I close my eyes. My thoughts drift to things I wish never happened, to things I know were my fault.
The things that happened to me were always my fault, and I can't forgive myself.
I don't care if my parents have forgiven me, if my friends are over it, or even if Jesus died for these things.
I will never feel okay with the way I have lived.
I will never feel justified for the things I have seen or the choices I've made or the words that I said and the people I said them to.
Or the way that I looked at everyone.
The way I begged for them
and the way my body tightened around them for them and how I would have done anything just to feel like I was a part of them, to feel like they understood, to feel like I knew something others did not.
I feel like these thoughts will be constant and that nothing will stop them
that I will never sleep soundly
that I will never have a moment where I am not reminded
something doesn't come to mind.
Whether it's woods on a rainy day in Massachusetts, and the woods were mossy and green, and the sky was hanging with steam, and the branches were heavy with strings, and the only thing I could see is how it would be almost impossible to escape this place
how good the air felt heavy in my lungs and how I could taste it, and the rain was like mist that soaked my hair and my cheeks, and is this really how my life was going to be?
Or the time there were fists and feet clutching ribs, and I fell to the ground, and I screamed out some words that didn't make any sense, and I grabbed for hair and for flesh and for hips, and I felt the asphalt kiss my skull and dig into my spine and my back carried scars for a long enough time.
Or the way that no face saw the depths of my eyes, and no voice was the way I fell asleep every night, and no hair was soft to the palm of my hand, and how I made no mistakes because I see it for what it is
and the way that my callouses formed beneath skin.
Now I melt underneath something soft, and it's so hard to move at all, and sometimes I don't even wish that I could.
I know don't what I'm doing cause I haven't done it before
and I know that when it ends, I won't be able to understand how everything can still be the same for everyone else, and how I could have ever allowed myself to be the way that I am now.
I think the truth of it all, even though I don't know what it is or have I ever known what it is, is I can feel it deep and strong unlike anything else. Even if I'm at an age where I think maybe I've had to have learned something. But I'm exactly where I was and not at all who I thought I would be. I really thought maybe one day I'd make to school and have a good job and this money and be on some beach or in some sunny city.
And yet here I am in this hurricane land, and the cold only comes to make me feel warmer than I had before.