Blah.
So.
Yeah.
This is like, the record of the stuff I write.
Because my notebook is all random and I have to rephrase everything.
So I'm still going to post some of the stuff I put at Creative Writing (which, admittedly, is not much.)
Okay then.



She sings bittersweet melodies.
There's a clandestine sparkle to her polished eyes.
She says, "I see you in my dreams."
Well, she's dead in his nightmares...
She tarnishes chastity.
She's sadistically divine.
She's got silk for skin and diamonds for eyes.
What she lacks in purity, she makes up for in popularity.
Nothing's enough, it's never enough.

He says life is like water in his hands, and it's slipping through his fingers.
He knows the difference between royalty and reality.
He's got a smile on his face and a sword up his sleeve.
He's used to playing the victim; he knows a killer when he sees one.
And her fingerprints are all over his glass heart.
They don't really go together, but then again, nothing does these days.

Well, Romance has pulled the trigger.
Love overdosed on anesthetic.
Empathy took a knife in the heart.

She says she's feeling eternal bliss, but crimson blood's running down her wrists.
She's armed with well-worded weapons.
She's got a decorated apology for every whispered promise she makes.
She looks like an angel, but she's no savior.
There's too much blood under her fingernails to be completely innocent.

He's hoping she'll render him hopeless.
He wants to forget to think, to feel, to breathe.
He wants to know what it's like to believe.
She's not living up to expectations, but he loves her anyway.
He's got faith in her, but she's faithless.
She drags down the standards to meet them.
He doesn't know any better; he's losing knowledge as he goes along.
The clock strikes midnight, and she's all he has left.

Apathy's modeling for magazine covers.
Envy writes all the hits.
And no one can resist Hate's charm.

One day, he finds her sitting on a cliff.
To her, bright white light and never-ending darkness are just a foot away.
Heaven-sent shine is forming on those diamond eyes.
This thing they call life, well, she's tired of it.
He's dousing his words in morphine, but she's muttering, "Just a little further..."
His hand's on her shoulder, but then she's gone forever.
With the hiss of the wind and rush of the water to keep him company, he's never been more alone.

The hourglass is running out, and he can't remember his lines.
Everything is all so wrong, Death almost feels just right.

Everyone's falling at your feet.
Honeyed words drip from poisoned lips.
Smoldering glances, fluttering eyelashes, painted lips, they're all for you.
You, King of Fake Smiles.
You, Prince of Velvet Lies.
Naive girls smirk at your presence.
You've got everyone wrapped around your porcelain fingers.
"Whore" isn't the right word, but it's the first word that comes to mind.

Knowledge flows like oxygen in this room, and I can't breathe.

With eyes adorned with admiration, they shoot star-crossed smiles at you.
With naivety etched into every face, there's a simper to every word out of their mouths.
Oh, this is too sweet.
Oh, this is just lovely.
Oh, this is sickening to watch.

I weave my words around you.
Hoping to breathe a litle shame into your murderous heart.
Hoping to run a drop of sincerity through your volatile veins.
Hoping to engrave your delicate façade with sensitivity.
Symptoms of a hopeless romantic.

What I need is to get outside; you're choking me.
What I need is to disentangle myself from the web of lies you so eloquently spun.
What I need is an antidote to you.

You're just another bad habit that no one can get enough of.

I step outside, out of the place where deperation and obsession so freely breed.
Here, there's nothing but cold clarity.
Lately I've been biting my lip so hard I'm drawing blood.
Lately I've been erasing so many thoughts of you that my mind's blank.
Lately I've tried washing your taste from my mouth so much that everything's sour.
Consequences of commitment.
Oh, I love you, but I know so much better.

It's times like these that I wish I was as deceitful as you.

Let's see.
What's happening.
My brother is shouting about football teams (again.)
My dog is trying to eat that game I used to play in second grade called "hot potato." You know, the annoying little singing potato that you threw around. Yes.
My mother is sorting through mail from September and telling me about going to Europe in the summer with, let's see, the "People to People" ambassador programs.
And I should be practicing the guitar right now.
And I will.
In a minute.
I'm just having too much fun rambling.

Killer Queen is like.
My new best friend.
I just wish there was a clearer version with Panic! singing.
Either way, it's lovely.
And I wish I was in Fairfax now watching them.
But NOO.
Sigh.

Tomorrow I have a soccer game that's about an hour and a half away.
Oh, I just can't wait.
Sarcasm.
Thank God it's the last one.
I've been having them every Sunday for the past ten weeks.

I'll probably post another entry tonight, just 'cause I have nothing better to do with my life.

Cover up all those flaws and imperfections you're sure don't exist.
Change to meet people's standards. To make people love you.
As if you haven't ruined enough lives already.
As if you haven't broken enough hearts.
As if you don't attract enough attention.
Subtlety was never your strongest point.
Hide, just hide behind that gorgeous façade where no one can touch you; nothing can hurt you.
After all, it's what you do best.

Dress yourself in agony.
Line your eyes with sincerity.
Wrap your wrists in sympathy.
Oh, if only looks could kill.

Just remember.
Everyone's liable to lie.

Maybe everyone's really faking those looks of envy you seem to get so much of.
Maybe everyone's really feigning the sultry lust in their eyes that gleams when they see you.
Maybe you should consider the possibility that deep down, everyone fucking hates you.

It would be a nice change.
And babe, don't look at me when your fabricated little world comes crashing down.
You never wanted my sympathy any other time.

Simple sins.
Faux feelings.
Lovable lies.
All that you are.
It might seem forgiven.
But I promise you, it's definitely not forgotten.

So, please, go ahead.
Sacrifice your empathy for apathy.
Sacrifice your honesty for integrity.
Sacrifice your sincerity for solidity.
Be my guest.

Just for the record, the "new you" got old a long fucking time ago.

Fake fronts.
Misleading masquerades.
Synthetic shows.
Just read between the lies.


Here's a chaste kiss to burn your bittersweet lips.

My eyes are swollen shut, blackened with lust-laced lies and forbidden truths.
My lips are sere and cracked from whispering your name.
My heart is scarred and unforgiving and still longing for you.

Don't ask me, "Are you okay?"
Don't whisper, "Let's be friends."

Because I'm not okay. I'm not fine.
And I sure as hell don't want to be your friend.

Oh, honey, don't kid yourself.
You're not peroxide.
This isn't going to get worse before it gets better.

I want to stitch my contempt into your porcelain skin.
I want to draw crimson blood with my disdain.
I want to scratch my malice across your heart.
Maybe then I'll stop loving you.

Because I need this poison out of my veins.
Because I need your venom to vanish from the heart you turned to black.

I hope you're proud of your work.

YAY FOR BIRTHDAYS.



...Move on with your life.

Welll.
I have no life.
And nothing to do.
So.
Here you go.

Spent three hours on a science project.
I wish I could've spent it reading Fight Club over.
It was pretty fucking amazing.
If you haven't read it... run along.
Chuck Palahniuk is brilliant.
Definitely.
I don't know how he comes up with the plots.
They're insane.
And amazing.
I think Fight Club is my favorite so far.
But I say that about a lot of books I just finish reading.

I have to burn... seven CDs for Jess, tomorrow.
So I can have them by Thursday.
I've been procrastinating for days.
It's been happening a lot lately.
Can't help it.
Friday's her birthday and we don't have school then.
Thursday it is.
And then...
Saturday...
:D


Nothing's what it fucking seems anymore.

I'm actually considering writing in this.
Excited?
Didn't think so.

wow. this poor journal is very used. i only use it to join communities. sigh. i should give it a new background sometime. this one is very pathetic. wellll then that was pointless. have a good day.