and time stands still for us.
my hand in your hair and yours on my chest,
moments with you are my life's best.
we crossed paths for a reason,
the planets aligned in that particular season.
it's clear to me that we'll eventually be
inseperable.i love your existance,
i can't get enough.
i thought i'd let you know that i no longer feel obliged to type with proper capitalization; no one reads this anyways. my head itches; probably a clear sign that i should clean it. already done it, don't feel like spending another hour and a half on it again. i'm wearing the only article of clothing i've ever purchased from forever 21; it's gorgeous. i want to wear it tomorrow, though i know the sick minds of sick people, and their sick desire to untie the back of the shirt and i'm not quite sure if the shirt is really worth that much. plus, i'd have to wear a jacket. who the fuck likes wearing jackets, anyways?
two days ago or so, i started singing to myself on the bridge, smoking my lucky cigarette. i liked it. i texted it to myself, word for word as i remembered what came out of my mouth. it sounded better than it looked on the cellular screen, but what can you do? i would put it in here, but it needs revision. i don't think it can see the light of a website just yet, or ever. hayden saw it. hayden liked it. hayden's... just a nice person. what a hateful song. well, poem, there's no definite rhythm. well there was, while i was singing it to myself. but fuck, i just need to shut up.
anyhoo. tell me why i'm so effing ecstatic and flared with the way life is going right now? today in history, i felt the need to hit someone. i felt and heard the blood being pumped from my heart, and i felt it jump like a cinder block just smashed it or something. i felt what it's like to hate, once more, a feeling that comes and goes whenever it fucking pleases. a little spark of conceit that has manifested itself somewhere in my heart, the notion of hate. and the kind of love i'm experiencing, is a commodity of nostalgia. the kind that still waits around for that phone call, the kind that knows it's coming, when it's not. the one that wants to kiss you and hit you and cry in your arms and run away from you. the kind that always misleads me, the kind that induces the hate. but it makes me so fucking happy inside.
you make me so happy inside.
why do you make me cry everytime i talk to you?
my pen could only write your name, you were filling every page so fast, then we fell and died away.
it's not supposed to be this way, i'm so far from okay.
if it's all the same, then it's just you that's okay.
i had the shittiest halloween of my life, but it's alright. i spent it with mary, dan and bryan, and everyone should know that i couldn't complain about those three. we're the shit. the good kind of shit. the kind you wish you were. i sound lame.
boyfriend!
i'm happy. absolutely happy. absolutely off the fucking wall, i want to brag to him about himself kind of happy. the kind where i want to be with him all the time, something i haven't experienced, no matter how hard i tried, in a while. the type in this respect that makes me want to tell him i love him whenever he makes me smile, and the kind that lets me know ahead of time that i'm getting to wrapped up in this already. he doesn't mind yet. but he will.
and with that being said, here's... more that i just want to get off my chest.
i hate liars. i hate everything about them.
i hate the boy who took my virginity. i want it back. i'll never get it back. the purest part of me, could have never been touched. but it's just so easy to be ripped away. you never know what you want, so you'd just give it away so easily. then you realize you'd give anything to have it back.
i hate his girlfriend. i want her to die. and if she died right now, it wouldn't even matter to me that i wasn't the one to get my vengeance. she fucking had it coming, and obviously something or someone else must think so too. (no death threats here, fairfax county police. go find some drug traffickers. no, don't do that.)
i hate that whenever i get slightly uncomfortable or nervous, i throw up.
i hate that it always happens when i want it to the LEAST. i.e. with boyfriend, people i just met, people i've previously tried to impress.. and there goes my stomach, right in fucking front of me.
again with the vomit, i hate when people try to hold my hair back when i puke. i just want people to leave me alone. wouldn't you?
i always want someone i care about to just hold me until they feel like they'll break me when i start punching and kicking, even if it's at nothing. make me cry, and then pick me back up again.
i hate when people tell me to calm down.
i hate when people tell other people to calm down when they don't have a fucking clue about anything that's going on or why they're upset in the first place. like virginity. like rape.
especially rape.
i hate the way alcohol makes me act, only sometimes.
i hate the way men take advantage of girls. who like them. who know they're fucking annoying because they just want their attention. the girls who don't just let you by, the one who NEEDS you.
i hate people who talk shit about green day just because of their recent music. come fucking see me, i'll show you.
i hate people who fuck with my friends.
i hate people who expect me not to get in their face and scream and curse and hit when they fuck with my friends.
i hate people who act SURPRISED when i get in their face and scream and curse and hit when they fuck with my friends.
needless to say, you don't fuck with my friends.
you don't talk about what you don't know about.
again, you don't fuck with my friends.
i need a punching bag.
someone kill him. kill them.
please.
i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.
there goes the blood pumping again.
my hand in your hair and yours on my chest,
moments with you are my life's best.
we crossed paths for a reason,
the planets aligned in that particular season.
it's clear to me that we'll eventually be
inseperable.i love your existance,
i can't get enough.
i thought i'd let you know that i no longer feel obliged to type with proper capitalization; no one reads this anyways. my head itches; probably a clear sign that i should clean it. already done it, don't feel like spending another hour and a half on it again. i'm wearing the only article of clothing i've ever purchased from forever 21; it's gorgeous. i want to wear it tomorrow, though i know the sick minds of sick people, and their sick desire to untie the back of the shirt and i'm not quite sure if the shirt is really worth that much. plus, i'd have to wear a jacket. who the fuck likes wearing jackets, anyways?
two days ago or so, i started singing to myself on the bridge, smoking my lucky cigarette. i liked it. i texted it to myself, word for word as i remembered what came out of my mouth. it sounded better than it looked on the cellular screen, but what can you do? i would put it in here, but it needs revision. i don't think it can see the light of a website just yet, or ever. hayden saw it. hayden liked it. hayden's... just a nice person. what a hateful song. well, poem, there's no definite rhythm. well there was, while i was singing it to myself. but fuck, i just need to shut up.
anyhoo. tell me why i'm so effing ecstatic and flared with the way life is going right now? today in history, i felt the need to hit someone. i felt and heard the blood being pumped from my heart, and i felt it jump like a cinder block just smashed it or something. i felt what it's like to hate, once more, a feeling that comes and goes whenever it fucking pleases. a little spark of conceit that has manifested itself somewhere in my heart, the notion of hate. and the kind of love i'm experiencing, is a commodity of nostalgia. the kind that still waits around for that phone call, the kind that knows it's coming, when it's not. the one that wants to kiss you and hit you and cry in your arms and run away from you. the kind that always misleads me, the kind that induces the hate. but it makes me so fucking happy inside.
you make me so happy inside.
why do you make me cry everytime i talk to you?
my pen could only write your name, you were filling every page so fast, then we fell and died away.
it's not supposed to be this way, i'm so far from okay.
if it's all the same, then it's just you that's okay.
i had the shittiest halloween of my life, but it's alright. i spent it with mary, dan and bryan, and everyone should know that i couldn't complain about those three. we're the shit. the good kind of shit. the kind you wish you were. i sound lame.
boyfriend!
i'm happy. absolutely happy. absolutely off the fucking wall, i want to brag to him about himself kind of happy. the kind where i want to be with him all the time, something i haven't experienced, no matter how hard i tried, in a while. the type in this respect that makes me want to tell him i love him whenever he makes me smile, and the kind that lets me know ahead of time that i'm getting to wrapped up in this already. he doesn't mind yet. but he will.
and with that being said, here's... more that i just want to get off my chest.
i hate liars. i hate everything about them.
i hate the boy who took my virginity. i want it back. i'll never get it back. the purest part of me, could have never been touched. but it's just so easy to be ripped away. you never know what you want, so you'd just give it away so easily. then you realize you'd give anything to have it back.
i hate his girlfriend. i want her to die. and if she died right now, it wouldn't even matter to me that i wasn't the one to get my vengeance. she fucking had it coming, and obviously something or someone else must think so too. (no death threats here, fairfax county police. go find some drug traffickers. no, don't do that.)
i hate that whenever i get slightly uncomfortable or nervous, i throw up.
i hate that it always happens when i want it to the LEAST. i.e. with boyfriend, people i just met, people i've previously tried to impress.. and there goes my stomach, right in fucking front of me.
again with the vomit, i hate when people try to hold my hair back when i puke. i just want people to leave me alone. wouldn't you?
i always want someone i care about to just hold me until they feel like they'll break me when i start punching and kicking, even if it's at nothing. make me cry, and then pick me back up again.
i hate when people tell me to calm down.
i hate when people tell other people to calm down when they don't have a fucking clue about anything that's going on or why they're upset in the first place. like virginity. like rape.
especially rape.
i hate the way alcohol makes me act, only sometimes.
i hate the way men take advantage of girls. who like them. who know they're fucking annoying because they just want their attention. the girls who don't just let you by, the one who NEEDS you.
i hate people who talk shit about green day just because of their recent music. come fucking see me, i'll show you.
i hate people who fuck with my friends.
i hate people who expect me not to get in their face and scream and curse and hit when they fuck with my friends.
i hate people who act SURPRISED when i get in their face and scream and curse and hit when they fuck with my friends.
needless to say, you don't fuck with my friends.
you don't talk about what you don't know about.
again, you don't fuck with my friends.
i need a punching bag.
someone kill him. kill them.
please.
i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.
there goes the blood pumping again.
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