Better to have loved and let go

So I left him behind for this big world.
will it swallow me whole?
I really don't know what to expect. starting fresh-you see I've done that before, and the devils of yourself never stick to the past.
 My motivation is my loss-my loss pushes me to gain,-gain all a broken heart must
 Now is the time to find the truth about my lies.
 take my mask off and look at myself straight in the eyes.
I hope in the end it's a 360, and he will still be with me,
 next time round      

                                       I won't let go.

dream on

Dreams are not real they're made up. Made up of pieces of twisted perceptions, spilled on to unprocessed feelings, churned by an ever dormant subconsciousness and spat out in REM. I've always been a dreamer. When I was a litlle girl I dreamed of flying so much, that the one day I woke up, climbed on my roof, and jumped off.
 I was plagued by this one nightmare for months on end; Captain hook swoops in and kidnapps my father. I watch helplessly as the train gets smaller and smaller untill he's completely gone. I wake up crying. I remember my dreams. I wake up in the mornings still lost in my world. Some days I can't shake it off and I confuse the people around me because I'm not myself. Or not the person I should be. Writing about it helps...

Everything is blue. Except the moon.

The sun might shine but the moon glows

 It takes the earth and illuminates;
not to wake-up.

 ... to make it beautiful.
_______

 I look at my hands.they are blue too. I wish twilight never to end.

But the birds know before we do
 A chorus of chaos warning the nocturnal ones

 reminding them of the sun
 I look behind me and see the creeping dawn.

Soon this achromatic haven will be gone.

 Perhaps if I just run away from the sun. Follow the divide. So I start to humm.

No melody or sweet tune. I humm from the pit of my throat.

It reminds me what music actually is. A vibration.

 I start to run up the hill fast as I can, it gets steeper and steeper
so I crawl like an animal it feels natural

My hands in the dirt /my eyes on the ground. 

without warning the earth ends my hands are empty I'm falling.
fast with no resistance

______

I land in your boat like I always do.
I can breath again

"I cup of tea?" ......"Ay ay captain."

I follow you into the kitchen. 

Kettles boiling all over steaming steam into every corner

you pour me a cup from a kettle hanging from the cieling

"have you always preferred steam boats?"

you don't answer.

you never answer my questions (But I still hover.)

We sit on the deck and watch as the dawn dwindles

"time for my nap" you slap your thighs and leave me be
 eyes spilling over the sea
my mind races to the horizon.
my tea is cold
                               

A cranium filled with Bullshit

Relationships  are tricky cunts. Beautiful tricky cunts.

But that’s not the point. The other part of life I struggle with is decisions. I make them because I have to. I never feel like they are the right ones. And of course; hindsight is the best foresight. So what pray tell should a godless girl like me, look to for some sense of fucking direction?? I know what Daddy wants, what society expects, what my mother hopes for, and that most people don’t care what the fuck I do with my life. Me? I have ideas, I have fantasies, and I make little plans…but not in the least do I know what to make of myself. As of yet I am a 23 year old college graduate with little less than a clue how i will make my way in this capitalistic world. It just sucks so hard that I have to think about money...another decision of a more moral nature, but that also affects my bigger choice_how important is being wealthy to me? How much is enough? How to make this money? Another little rut I'm stuck in. Everything is either too boring, too risky, out of my reach, can't afford it, won’t stomach it, don’t know about it, or it’s too late (they say it’s never too late but I grossly disagree with that optimistic gimmick)….I have also come to realize that I am an escapist. Every situation I find myself in, I inevitably seem to try and get out of… the idea being that the next place is the right place.(where I will miraculously just start being more awesome) Bullshit Susan. BULLSHIT

I’m starting to notice it’s the small things that count. Dream big. But don’t forget the detail….and most of all enjoy the ride.But hey, this seems to be the motion of my ocean today, but tomorrow I might realize, once again—that everything I figured out is all BULLSHIT .

So actually fuck this whole post. I just really don’t want to watch TV or go to bed and my boyfriend, my beautiful boyfriend, is busy. Sigh…

Ce La VIE right?

Bullshit=        Danish  →lort→Estonian→ lollus→Finnish→Paskapuhe French→connerie→Turkish→Sacmalik

Meshwork,You and I

My sunflower wilts behind a glass pane     Do you remember how we used to sit?                     

pitcher in hand , I can't reach you             your legs wrapped around me

please understand                                    nothing between us                  

I don't want to watch you die                  Where did you go?

these hands are cut off                             lingering memory 

my thoughts they trail off                          I know your heart is mine darling                  

A man so consumed....                            But not your body, not your mind

I love you                                                 Not anymore

The simple truth is hard to swallow.

 we are at the end.

O gats

just found out I am the biggest tit faced asshole humanity has yet faced. So selfish i did not even realize what I was. what I was doing. Who I had become.


Change is so pivotal, it is the only possibility. I have no idea how yet, but God knows it, it has to happen.

Its past 2 AM in the morning and I am really high

ever wonder what to wonder about?


thats why the internet is so addictive. you sit, and you absorb. We are all little Spongebobs-and boobs soaking up that pooool of awsome that is the internet. My boyfriend goes on browse binges. Like as in he doesn't get up unless he has to shit/pee or eat. the Latter only if the food is readily available, or a.k.a when I make him a sandwich. the Look on his face is the most relaxed, but concentrated paradox of an expression actually. The two face contortions clash and their inertias cancel each other out or something. you all know the look, and you all have your very own blankbrowser face. I do this really strange pout thing with my lips, definatley not a sexy pout-more like your 80 year old  toohless granpa pout. I got that from my mother by the way. Don't you just hate that you turn into your parents.


If you are all out of  ideas...here is an image that might get you wondering. This piture inspired my whole post. Thanks Brad you sexy little fag.

happy browsin' y'all.

What?

what makes me happy?
Why?
Does what I think makes me happy--really make me happy?
What would ME  proud of ME?
Was I ever proud of anything I've ever done?
Why take pride in what I do?
What do I do? why?
My existence is temporary. like clean sheets.
Can we really change our own mood? Who is in control of my body, of my mind? Do I run the show? what about those pesky hormones? what about those ADD pills? What about that joint? ...what about it?
will I ever bask in the glory of I dream realized? Or will the moment pass me by?
 Do dreams ever become reality? Or does the appeal lie in their nonexistence?

I need my fellow man to recognize me.
...to fuck off and leave me be.
...to pave my way in this world.
...to stop standing in my way.

Why do I feel the need to write down all this crap.

Indifference. boredom.