Empty.

That's how I always feel, huh? I cried myself to sleep last night. It's been a while since I've done that. Today I woke up feeling miserable. As miserable and emotionally exhausted as I did the night before, if not worse. So I got myself up after more pitiful crying and took a long walk in the rain. It started pouring and I felt so liberated and sad and tired and miserable. But all in all I felt better. Walking, sprinting, breathing hard, crying out there in the pouring rain. It was beautiful and I guess I just wanted to express that before I lost my train of thought. I'm okay, I can pick myself up.

Never depend on anyone but yourself.
This is where I always fail.

I need to get away to feel again.

I just lost it. Over a guitar string and a tuner. I flipped into this crazy emotional breakdown. And it all went downhill from there. And it certainly doesn't help that I'm in Roseville. With blind people who are oblivious to feelings. Especially my feelings. I cried myself senseless outside til I was still unsatisfied. And here I am. Talking to no one, to make myself feel a little better. It's funny how whenever these little things go wrong, they bring me to facing all the problems I find myself trying to forget, trying so desperately to run from. All this loneliness and emptiness that doesn't seem to go away, no matter what I do. I feel absolutely tiny. And this will be it, I will have my sadness and aching tonight, til I push all of it back down tomorrow. I will wrap my mind around all of my pathetic issues until I can't think and I will lock all of those thoughts and feelings away again. Why deal with them? Yeah, but they end up making me do this. Making me feel like this. My whole life feels like such a waste sometimes. No, I feel like a waste. All the time. I hide how I feel about myself, about other people, about every fucking thing because I don't know what else to do. I obviously can't face or handle what I should but what can I do? I can't fix everything. And these feelings won't subside, until I do something. But I doubt I ever will, because quite frankly I don't think I can. I'll just go on suppressing all these troubles with drugs and Andrew. I feel like I'm disintergrating here. Melting. Everywhere. I don't belong anywhere. Everywhere I go, I am just not a part. I'm tired. I'm exhausted of living. Day to day just drowns me out. It rips me a part. I don't know where I'm ever gonna feel like I belong and stay there.    

I miss everything that once was.

*take pictures with andrew in photobooth.

No title

So here I am on a Friday, stuck alone at my mom's place. I feel so out of place everywhere. No stability at home, since I don't have one. Shit, at least I'm not sleeping on the streets. I'm feeling a bit nostalgic at the moment. My english teacher cried today because it was the last day we'd all be in her class. I cried too. I keep forgetting that I'm-we're-all graudating. Once again, where has the time gone? Four years just flew by. And I want to go back. I find myself looking at old pictures and revisiting old memories. And look at where I am now. A lot has changed, I've grown as a person, I've lost some, I've gained some. I wonder where life will take me from here. Dear god I'm scared. Terrified. People are all going off in different directions and I have no clue where I'm even gonna start that direction. I'm excited but scared to leave my childhood behind.

Bad Thursday Morning.

So, why the fuck am I so difficult? I have serious issues with how I deal with my emotions. What is it because of my monthly disorder? Sure, whatever. Nonetheless I feel like shit, and I achieved in making the person I love feel like shit too. I just need to vent about it I guess. I get so angry sometimes. And I can't even control it, it's just especially when things don't work out . I've got a lot to learn and sooo much room for growth. I'm glad that I recognize what I'm doing, but it still doesn't make it right. Why is it that the people closest to you, you hurt the most? Maybe that's just me, I don't know. Ahhhhh, today did not start out good. And there it is.

Baby,

I start to write the words and always take them back because there are secret things happening between us and I don’t have the means to describe them. There are feelings— innate, secret, important, perfect and lovely— that I cannot even begin to explain. I want to write you novels on the palms of my hands and between my fingers, on the backs of my knees, and behind my ears, and I could use every last word in the dictionary and foreign languages and pictures and colors and none of it would, for one single moment, fully explain the way I feel when I wake up in the morning and remember that you exist. You are worth volumes of written word, and yes, it is simply miraculous that you exist.