| My Favorite Color is Still Red |
[24 Jan 2005|07:37pm] |
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music |
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Bush - "Alien" |
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I Died tonight. carbonmonoxide poisoning. lying in my car. "Alien" by Bush was the last song I ever heard. (I never saw it coming, or else I might've played "The quiet things that no one ever knows.") The last thing that made me smile was how the person parked accross from me did just as shitty a job of it as I had, and, like me, didn't give a damn enough to straighten-out and fix it to match the others. The last memory I visited was one that none (but the one who shared it with me) even knows that I have, because I never breathed a word of it to anyone else, and my last revalation was that you've never known me-- and that it's all my fault.
"Je vous souhaile d'etre follement aimé"
"My wish is that you be loved madly."
I wonder if I've ever been. I've had love. I know this. But if anyone's ever been kept awake nights because they can't sleep over the thought of me, I've never known. Ever shed tears at the thought of being cut-off from me; ever been willing to give up everything... really. I mean more than words. I mean more than selfish ulterior motives. I mean loving me so much that whatever I do, wherever I go, and whoever I'm with (even if it's not you)- you've only the best of intentions for me. And my happiness and well-being is all that matters to you, with no thought of personal gain. If there exists such a person, with that driving sense of need to Know and protect me, and everything I've been , am, and ever will be; who see's me as something I will never be able to see myself as, and spends every waking moment wanting to reflect it back to me so that I could know... that I am loved... If there is a person who sees me as more
More than empty sentiment
More than the cover of a magazine, destined for the trash
More than a cunt
More than a place to hang your hat
More than a rest area on your highway of life
More than recycled lyrics to every song you wish you wrote, regurgitated in a bile of "Strawberry Kiwi", splattered violently across the execution ground that doubles as the moving canvas of my lips (I'm biting)
MORE THAN WORDS
...that you'll never be able to find, which is why there is music.
If ever. Then I'm here. In all of my catabolic glory. Where are you? And why haven't you spoken to me?
-There are people making-out in the car next to me. That boy is going to get laid. Twenty bucks says he doesn't deserve it, and the girl is less comfortable than she lets on. But I hope he knows her. I hope he's laid awake nights trying to piece her together, and wondering how he'll ever be able to penetrate all of the places his dick can't reach.
I Hope.
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| I Need A Hero! |
[23 Jan 2005|06:26pm] |
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music |
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Mest - "Long Days Long Nights" |
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Does it seem wrong to anyone else that the only human traits the media wants to flaunt are our shortcomings and failures, painting a vivid mental template of mistrust and insecurity for all of us to hold as the standard? : Betrayal, dishonesty, jealousy, infidelity- combine with a warm and accepting environment where everything bad is justified with fear-filled acrylic smiles, every one a politician worried that a single controversy (and by controversy I mean, a controversy against the controversy) might lose them valuable constituents, so they pay lip service to the god of self-service, in a world where saints have become evil incarnate for so much as suggesting the notion of a thing called "wrong."
To what end?
They're peddling fear, and we're not only subscribing to it as though it were an almanac laid out for the rest of our lives, but we're trying it on like cheap perfume and peddling it right back to each other. If I could eliminate one human emotion it would be fear. Maybe not doubt, because we wouldn't want to be TOO gullible now, would we? But God damn! ... where Have all the good men (and women for that matter) gone? I know they're out there. So where's their spotlight? Why do we love negative affirmation so much? .... I can't even watch t.v. anymore. It just makes me want to stab myself in the eye with a garden tool. hah, not really, but some vague resemblance to it. Comedy Central and The History Channel ALL THE WAY BABY! OORAH!!! -MTV can kiss my kumquat <---(Seriously though... that poor fruit!)
~Pineapple Jacuzzi Ninja-Stomp
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| And we wage perpetual war for perpetual peace.... |
[22 Jan 2005|08:40pm] |
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music |
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The Used - "I'm A Fake" |
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So useless. Such a game. Everything comes full-circle 'til you're right back where you began. Running away always seemed the solution to any problem, but they follow you. And why? Because you ARE the problem.
When I was little, one of the many (here the word many can be nominated for "biggest understatement of the year") bizarre fantasies I came to believe was that the world around me, and everyone in it, was nothing but a simulation: a game to see how I would react to the elements. Sometimes I still feel like that, and who knows? Maybe I'm not so far off the mark. But running to anywhere remains the biggest joke, because at the basest of levels it's all the same. There's nothing to get away from but yourself, and when you think of it like that, the world seems pretty damn small. Even though there are billions of places I will never visit, I can't escape the thought that... it's all so finite. So limited. There really IS only so far away you can travel before you're headed back home. It kills me. (Get me outta this place....)
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| Countdown 'Til The Rest Of My Life |
[01 Jan 2005|09:12pm] |
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music |
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Static-X - "I'm With Stupid" |
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"Love is not like anything- Especially a F*cking knife!" - The Used
Words can't describe how I feel right now, so fuckit. ... -DIGRESS- That really should be one word. Maybe it could mean some small animal, native to indonesia. -DIGRESS- I can only tell you (a.k.a. me) what happened, and most likely when I read it again at a later date the same feelings will resurface anyway- so why bother with description?
This was the worst New Years of my life, bar none. Allow me to set the scene for you: Jake is back on leave, although now- all of a sudden- I'm equally as sick as the sickest I've ever been in my life, stranded at his house, where I find myself helpless and all alone on the evening of December 31st. My fever's got me so fuct up that I'm shivering convulsively, straining muscles I wasn't even aware I could use. I'm the one who told him to leave when his friends came and asked if we wanted to go out. I didn't want him stuck here with me, especially when he's going back to hell in a couple of days, but now Jackie's gone to work, Jadelynn's next door, Jaron's at his dad's, and Jestil's at a friends. This dessertion part was unexpected, and now the suck level just multiplied by ten or so. (I wanna go home)
He came back to check on me 5 or 6 hours later. I was feeling a bit better on account of the painkillers, but not enough to leave the house, and he wanted to go to his Dad's. So I told him to go again, that I was fine- which I was. 11:30 creeps around and I start to wonder if he's even planning on coming back before midnight. (I contemplate calling Tiny and asking him to come and bring me home) 11:45 rolls up at the same time as the cavalier. ...Something was strange, but I didn't know what. He seemed guarded, and absent. We sat on the couch and watched the ball drop. (Anticlimactic, as usual) kissed briefly, watched half an episode of South Park <--best part of the night really-- he went to the cupboard and took out both my tylenol AND the nyquil (both acetaminophins) but I only let him take one (F*ckin' dumbass.) We went to bed after that. He was asleep before I could even fully undress. (........Why?........)
I know why now.
His dad was drunk when he showed up that night, and apparently "pressured" him into having a few drinks as well- because my boyfriend, who claims he doesn't like alcohol, despite repeated accounts of drinking to excess just since we've been back together, can't say no to a drunk man. Whatever. I never asked him not to drink, but the fucking denial kills me. The fact is, he DROVE HOME to see me (aww, how assininely sweet) and then almost OD'd on painkillers, -which aren't even supposed to be mixed with alcohol in the first place, so he shouldn't have taken ANY. *deep breaths* .... Immature... irresponsible, fucking dumbass.
I'm done. I'm so toast, it's not even funny. I'm gonna end up with a user, alcoholic, childish husband despite all the years of desperately avoiding anyone with a substance abuse problem, and now I'm gonna cash out even worse-off than my mother. Probably by far. Why don't I leave, you ask? Why should I? ....they're f*cking all the same. I hate .... too many things to name. I just hate. But when he finally backslides, let the record show that I saw all the signs of future failure:
And Stayed Anyway.
Fuck.
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| About the Author |
[17 Dec 2004|09:15pm] |
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music |
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Autopilot Off - "Wide Awake" |
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That was actually the title of a fiction novel I wanted to write once about a compulsive liar, written in an autobiographical type way. Who knows though. Maybe if I can keep a steady journal I might attempt to turn out a book or two one of these days, just to say I've been there, done that, and added it to the check-list of life. But for starters I think I'll just write about my life right now...
I'm 19. I quit school back at the end of September. I was training to be a massage therapist- an impulsive decision, like most of the choices in my life- and yet I would do it all over again. Both joining and dropping out. Because the beginning parts were worth it, but the ending just wasn't, and I stand firmly by that. The rest of my classmates will be graduating this Saturday, and I guess it's too much to ask of anyone to not play the, "Hey! that could've been you!" card at every opportunity, so I'm learning to ignore them. It obviously means more to them then it ever did to me anyways, so they can keep their proverbial sentiments about the right way to do things. At least I've got the balls to about-face IN everyone's face when I learn exactly what it is that I don't want out of life. ...Even if my boyfriend doesn't see it like that. (I guess that's the part that sucks the most). "And all we have is time..."
I basically paid $10,000 to learn not to rush into anything that costs $10,000 for reasons like, "I'm bored," <--always a good one, and, "everybody expects me to do something so it might as well be this." But on a serious note, I really did learn a few things that made it worth the money. Like how to dissect medical terminoligy so that it makes sense, and a crapload (yeah, that's a metric thing) of stuff about muscles. I learned that I am infatuated with muscles, and sculpting them to make bodies beautiful, because that's really all I was day-dreaming about through all of the other classes. But most importantly, I met a teacher who never stops teaching, because he understands that the whole world is a lesson, has been everywhere, done everything, and can't wait to teach anybody {who's willing} how to do it. And I would've paid well over $10,000 for that alone, because I live for such people.
In Other News
My boyfriend [Jake] of 10 months now is a PFC in the Marine Corps, fresh out of boot camp, and awaiting training down in North Carolina. And while he's busy saving the world, I wait here patiently, at home with my parents and four brothers. Every other wednesday I go out with Jake's mom to house clean, and the rest of my time is spent transporting various family members to all of the important activities in their lives. I should have a job soon working at Movie Gallery. I'm pretty excited about the free rentals as a benefit (as if there isn't enough gaming going on in this house already). I have friends, I just never see them. The ones I like most are relatively far, and I don't own a vehicle- nor do I want to at present.
So that's me right now. It makes a good enough spring-board, but it really is like an intro in the middle of the song. Oh well. There'll be plenty of time for back-tracking later. So, ~later
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| Put the Intro in the Middle of the Theme Song |
[17 Dec 2004|08:36pm] |
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music |
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Biffy Clyro - "57" |
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I've decided to start keeping a journal. Partially because I'd like to remember more things (Lord knows I don't do that so well), partially because I'd like to see if I can identify behavioral and emotional patterns about myself, and partially because it's just a healthy thing to do. Why on earth you would want to read this decoupage of listless ramblings, I couldn't imagine. But here are my stories; real, imagined, or hybrids of time-tempered senility, I will put them here. And we'll just see what all the hype is about.
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mystiquify's journal