Cutest thing on planet earth.

Letter 236
Letter 236
Dear River,
Today, hurts. It hurts like I just stubbed my toe. Like I stubbed it and my toe was cold. That feeling that makes you gag on your spit. The one where you say over and over again in your head ‘Holy shit this hurts!’ but saying it out loud would be offensive to others. Offensive to the old lady next door, to my mother, and my ten year old sister. But as I seem to have said before, it hurt today. And that feeling in my toe, I felt that in my heart. My body was a whole toe if you think about it. It was aching like your big fat toe would. I was cold too, before I stubbed it, my heart that is. Putting it simply, my supporitng organ did feel, and it felt as if I was on my way to someone’s house. As I stroll up to the door I see a note, I miss them, and it is telling me not to come back, not to call, not to waste anymore time, because they won’t be there. I was supposed to be the fighter for my mother, use her heart to be the warrior she was. The patriot, the late night cough syrup savior, my shoulder, last to go to sleep and first to wake up. My mind was required to fall in rhythm with her heart’s beat, to pump with every mighty note that it sang to me.
Atelophobia was what I had. Yeah, google that. I was so extremely afraid of being everything that she wasn’t. And that’s what I was. Some teenage adolesent who wanted to become a figure, a make believe character she saw in her head. A memory. Her dead mother. From three a.m. that morning till now I had sat, in the couch. In the same position, hurting. Wind was visible, did you know? While lounging away drenched in insomnia, I saw the wind blowing life around outside. The trees had sand pushed into their pores, bleeding their sap of life. Minor things that should be visible through a microscope but were made up in my head for now. Bugs, hanging on with every little leg they had. And the ocean, God, the ocean. Fear of being perfect, is that a phobia? The ocean was so incredibly perfect it felt unreal. How every wave collapsed into each other. Taking new sand particles away, a footprint, a laugh, that kiss at sunset. All of it, washed away with the waves to be shared with the crustatians under the sea. At night, that was a different story. The moon made it look glassy. As if in a globe, full of stars and fairy dust. The way it hummed outside, the sound crashing against the stained glass windows put me in a trance. Made the feeling of being numb less satisfying. On a sunday afternoon being numb wasn’t as bad. Sunday morning always hurt. They always seemed to be the worst day of the week. Being in the dark on a sunday was disgusting. All the world was asleep, except for the few who couldn’t shut their eyes. Who could not deam themselves any rest. At that time I wanted someone to admire, and by that early into the night it has seemed to slip to monday morning. And my sunday walked out the back door already. Being in the dark was something I hated, something I could only be upset over. Being ninteen and still having a night light wasn’t embarassing. Darkness was unknown to me. I had no control over what was happening in the dark, the sense of being lost within my self scared me. It frightened me to realize how alone I was. The dark made me realize it.


Last night, I get home late. Something I ate causes me to throw up, and I don’t get to bed till two in the morning. Hah I should probably mention the other morning. Well two days ago I wake up at seven thinking that it’s six and I’m late, so I rush and rush and rush to get ready and I’m running down the street to catch my bus, and no one is at the bus stop.. then I realize that I’m an hour behind. So then I just fall to the ground and wanting to just stab myself in the forehead.
Then today, I didn’t go to sleep till two. And I wake up at seven, when I am supposed to leave. I run to the door and the girl who takes me to school is basically walking away like “Screw you Mariah” I am trying to say sorry, and I mean what am I supposed to say. So her dad is yelling at her in the car, and I feel worthless.
So I break down crying. Because I am feeling lower then dirt and nothing is going right today, or this week, or in my life. I can’t even write parts of my book I’m so stressed out. I have a huge history test today, english paper due, make up work to get done after school, and I think a test in Bio.
Honestly, I hate high school so much.
I can’t wait to leave next year.

I Killed You.
Running, through the house. The portch is wet, I’m slipping down the back steps. Muffling every motion I’m making. Into the grass, It’s in between my toes. Now in the woods, with the animals, with the darkness. It’s here I make my escape, no shoes, and the cold is beginning to sink into my skin. Filling my marrow with a empty feeling. The feeling that I strive for, the one that makes me feel home. It’s here that I’m thinking of you. Where only the moon is judging my relapses. My pitiful efforts to keep coming back. To not cut the thread completely. I close my eyes, and I remember. Almost as if it’s happening here again. How my hands were so freshly red. Stained with our love. The girl who could never kill but wanted to commit the crime so effortlessly. The motionless one, sleepless one. Because I lay in bed in the night, going over every detail of how things could have gone. The pas tense becomes the present tense. And probability becomes reality. I want to run, like the deer in the meadow, alert and constantly on guard. Feeling the summer air in all the hairs on my body, innocent, like the fawn. But I couldn’t possibly for when I killed you, I killed me too.


I hear you laughing
It felt as I was running. On the clouds, dreaming. The only downfall to you was that dreams fall through the clouds and disappear. I was so close to something that I thought was real. Your image was what I sought out to change. In no way am I ashamed of this monster that has set in, it’s actually beautiful in the light. When it smiles. But you were ashamed, sad to keep me. Afraid to bear me to anyone other then yourself. Unable to fight for this thing that you ‘loved’ so much. I’m fighting to find the meaning for the word now. It’s hurting me more then life. Knowing I loved an object so much, committing a sick sense of idolatry in a sense unfathomable. Not once did I want anyone else, ever. Pushing them all away. Giving myself up, expecting things when I shouldn’t have expected anything. I never knew I could hate someone so much, and mean it.
I got a Polaroid camera yesterday, and I want to take a picture of something happy. Then I can put it on my wall and know my life means a little more then nothing.

I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you
We travel through our lives expecting it to be wonderful and amazing, like in the movies. We want all the days that we spend breathing to conclude with a happy ending. Smoke the weed, bang the lover, and forget about all your mistakes. Why is it that we suddenly we have no one to own up to? At the end of the day, whether we are blazed or sober, ‘got some’ or sat alone at home, acted like a stupid reckless teenager or acted like yourself. I understand now who’s going to be happy, all the rules we choose to live by. Whether it is being guarded because all the bruises, or being loose due to lack of feeling, or maybe if it comes down to cursing God or choosing to accept his love. We are all so very different, pushed ans swayed into a lifestyle because of media and society. Looking at the stars and hearing you laughing, I understand. You live with no purpose, and by the time night rolls around I’m not the one hating myself anymore. Wear the mask, live it up, and die knowing that you lived your life posing as happy.

Heaps of Lies
You speak about travles you have never taken, books you have never laid your eyes upon layering lie upon lie for people to love you. If you would only see they loved you all along because you used to speak truth.

Loose Lips
I am a speck of dusk inside a giants eye. Take the road where the eagle flies. Where you see me dance in the wolf’s skin and scream to the stars, my rabbit heart stopped in the head lights. My soul is naked. Staring, I can hear you laughing now. Let me go, you hold my hand but you don’t mean it. Your kissing me but getting high on the thought of her. After you went to bed with her, touching her hip bones and whispering meaning into her ears I was running around the neighborhood, screaming. Screaming into infinity. Into what I thought was myself. I’m in the wolf’s skin, under the moon digging in the dirt. Digging in my skin. The rich earth is my beginning, my end. The flies and maggots eating the hole in my head. Lay still. Don’t breathe, I’ll be back. So I wait, the vines consuming my cornea’s and eventually I’m resurfacing on the right side of my mind where things become sane.

Irritations
You know what really irritates me? More then anything in this world?! When people bring up the past, when they talk about things that should just be left behind because all those things that were said and meant, never ever really were the truth. Kid, I hope one day you read all this shit and realize I don’t care about you. And to be really honest I never actually cared. I had this big ol idea in my head of you and it wasn’t actually you, I just put your face on the thought. I never wanted to date you, I wanted you to care, and that was obviously way to hard. Seriously, I ended things. Yes, it hurt. But at the moment I could care less if you are breathing or not. I don’t think about you. The feeling itself feeds my writing and other thoughts, but not you. I deserve better and I can’t even begin to explain why I put up with your lies and the piece of shit person you are for a year. Get over yourself.
Dumbass.
Had to get that out (: All better.

142 days after
“Since you left, last Wednesday at 15:34, I’ve been thinking. (Here you would have said something along the lines of ‘Does it hurt?’).
You not being around has got me thinking about all the other people who aren’t around, or have been gone and come back. I can’t help but wonder if you are permanently gone, like my grandfather, or only temporarily gone, like my father.
Will you come back to collect your things? I took the liberty of washing and ironing all your dirty washing. Maybe you’ll just leave them here, as a sort of souvenir. Thanks I guess.
My limbs are aching because you aren’t here. Well, that and lying in bed all week. But I’m only lying here because I can’t function without you. I’ve never missed someone before.”
Oh my dear.. I felt this only six months ago.

Everything I am, I was, all that I want to be. Is here in my bones and under the marrow. I’m sucking the root juice and loosing myself within what I believe they call sanity. Tomorrow is a new day and I hope to wake up be refreshed. But I can’t, and I won’t. The sun will embed in my flesh and my toes will regain feeling. As for now - as I think of something sane and good - I’ll lay and rot. Until I am sunken into the ground, becoming matter of the earth. Sons will play football on me, and a man in love will kneel and propose here. The humans will decide this patch has no use they will recycle me and I will end up being the paper you write love notes on, and letters you send in the mail.. to her.

I’m an animal
In the dirt. The tree. Your eye. The sun is on my skin now, lulling me into it’s slumber. Weeping willow won’t you sing for me louder. My skin is beginning to change, into feathers. The feathers of the great eagle. Great eagle who taught me my ways. The willow bleeds from my escape, and I’m free.

I Wrote A Song About You Today
I wrote a song about you today
About how you left us all with nothing else to grab on to.
About how you abandoned all of your morals as much as we who all loved you so much begged for you to stay true.
I prayed for you to second guess yourself & think back to when we first become close so that way you’d only have us.
I guess everything happens for a reason… but half of everthing doesn’t end like the story book that mom used to read us…
Oh my god. This is fantastic.

Why are we still awake?
About the post that I just posted. You do stop thinking about it I promise. Some days you’ll sit and think about all the lies they told you, and all the things you thought that you meant. At least you felt something and someone meant a little bit to you. All these people who post sad things about never forgetting and never forgiving. About how people hurt you and how you don’t want to let them go. Let them go. Forgive yourself. Forgive them. It’s over now and the pain is gone. I wasted a lot of my time worrying about if they were worrying, and one day I came to the realization that in the end, everyone is alone and we only really have ourselves. Don’t be afraid to be happy and content with just yourselves. He doesn’t think about you, he doesn’t think about what your doing or where you are at. He doesn’t think about what he would do if he ever saw your face again or what he would say to you. Because his life moved on the day after it happened. And inside you did to. Don’t waste your time being upset. Keep the memories, don’t regret them. Your whole life all you will do is think about what could have been said and what could have been done. Replaying the lies over and over, but really.. the past has happened and you are free.

"Now you’re here and everything we touch explodes, bursts into bloom or burns to ash. History atomizes and negates itself with our every shared breath. I need you like life needs life. I want you bad like a natural disaster. You are all I see. You are the only one I want to know."
- Henry Rollins

Well I thought I might let you know how much I love you kiddo and you are seriously my best friend. I am making you your own post, so you should feel special. I will never lie to you, and I will always tell you the truth to your face. I’m gonna be here for as long as you want me to be, and I won’t ever back out on you girl. You are my sister and I couldn’t ever ask for a better person. You help me when I’m weak and need my ass kicked. You listen to me banter on and on about stupid things. You put up with my weirdness and you are just as equally weird. We laugh at jet stream peeing and even if were just sitting on myspace we always have fun (: I really love you a lot and I couldn’t ask for a better friend then you.
Cheeseball moment. True Story.

I just needed to see you one last time.
“Shortly after shutting my eyes, my mind leapt deep into my memories. Searching out the details of your face. Sniffing the ground, on all fours, laying where you stood. Sinking into the dirt and rocks. So far into earth’s skin that I was yoked into the satisfaction of the thoughts. Here in my mind I made up things. You ask me why I’m here, spitting in my face. I tell you “I just needed to see you.. one last time. To make sure that you were real” You laugh and tell me nothing is real. And I wake up alone. And barely awake. But I can’t wait to see the look on your face when I fuck you up.”

236 Days of Forgetting
I sit sometimes and count the days. I sat so many days with words filling my head and no form of expression. No release from real life. My bones ache everyday and my head hurts. There’s a bruise on my brain you see. And I’m screwed up. There are these dreams I have where I try and forget. When I reach 236 I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay. But I go to sleep early and wake up late because I want the day to be done and over. For it to be tomorrow and then it’s just another day added. Yesterday, I went exploring. I found an old television and I took a hammer to it. It popped and groaned. Once, maybe a long time ago, it probably worked. Now though, the rain had changed it’s course of working and entertaining. Spiders lived in the sockets and wires. People are a lot like that.. there is a point in our lives when we just want to stop working and putting on a show. It’s been 167 days. And it seems the forgetting part has turned into a forgotten.
This is probably the shittiest writing I have ever done. Whatever.

I see into you.
It’s midnight, which isn’t late. The insomnia is just beginning and I feel as if I have nothing to write. It seems like all the raw emotion has been drained out of me. I have said all I need to say and yet I don’t feel satisfied. I need another tragedy to happen. Please. This god awful pain of being at a loss for words right now is making me sick. Bring me all of your love. I am a selfish being, and I want it all. The hole inside of me has yet begun to grow once again. And I need something to fill it. Anything at this point. No attachments, just someone, here. Some days I wish a boy would write me poems again and appreciate my brain.
That’s a lot to ask though.


I feel like crying.
Today is just.. one of those days. It’s slow and cold and rainy. And I’m laying in the floor listening to the same song over and over again. I want to make music, and play the piano and play it for someone. I just don’t know how. No one is willing to listen. I really hate it when people stick their heads in my life and my feelings, they lurk my tumblr or my flickr. And they make awkward random comments at school, I don’t mind so much sharing it with people I don’t know, but I feel like it’s some big secret.. people see how I feel and look at me like I’m some freak >.< I don’t know anymore. I wish I had a home to go to. With all the yelling and screaming it doesn’t feel like anything good and honest here. I haven’t been able to write anything decent for days. Spring Break has been good. I can’t wait to leave to Seattle tomorrow.

http://tillthemorninglight.tumblr.com/page/82