can't say it was a one time thing when it's the second time I've done it

and I would do it again.
the fuck is wrong with me.

dese bitches and dicks need to hop off my jock.

I think I'm going to turn this into my bullshit "private"ish blog.

Because it's no longer safe to post ultra personal things on my tumblr.

I hope you don't care.

I really just need a place to spill out the thoughts in which I am drowning. I just need some sort of reprieve from this fog.
Have you ever gotten sucked in so deep into all the shit in your mind that it pulls you into sleep?
I'm serious, this happens to me. I end up pretty much passing out, into a deep sleep, a sleep for the dead.
I need to get these thoughts out. Or I feel I might die.

And where better to put them, than my journal of "interminable brain spew"? Rather fitting, I should think.

So. Stay tuned for my mental nonsense. Or not. I only ask that you don't publicize what I write, or gossip about it, or tell anyone about this blog. I can be pretty open so long as you are straightforward with me. If there is something you want to know or clear up about anything I write here, come to me directly, and I'll see what I can do.

Until then,

M

Think I might clear this entire blog out sometime

and just repost my old scans and pictures

and start over with just art stuff and ideas and poetry.

a clean start

this girl has grown out of herself

this girl is a breath looking for a home on inviting lips

this girl is an ink stain waiting to happen on your paper

this girl is an anonymous nonsensical sticky note on your math book (and your planner, and your composition book, and your folder, and your art class sketchbook, and your chorus folder...)

this girl is bored, and can't remember how to "give a damn about the weather" ("but it never gave a damn about me")

this girl would dye her hair black if it were drastic and would make a difference (HAHAHA.)

this girl has trouble working up the motivation to do her homework until about 10-11 at night, every night

this girl is in love with what she can't have

but sometimes confuses that void for the thick feeling of "want" that fills up the space

this girl is grasping at her final connections, because she's afraid she'll lose herself again

like she did when she was a little girl

this girl has grown out of herself.

Everything about the shell I've shed makes me sick inside.

Everything about the blob of nothing I am now is pale and personality-less and I'm not sure that I like it, but at this point I'm not sure I like or dislike anything anymore.

--

I always said I was born to create.

This soul was not built to do battle with the world

and I am so tired of fighting the ghosts of other people's demons.

I want to let everyone go

Dying Wick

I hope you remember
to not ever forget;
I'm the last-lit candle
at the end of the set.
I'm another postcard
on the bottom of the pile;
I'll travel the world
to make you smile.

If you want to come home,
however long you've been gone,
we will light your way back,
smoldering one by one.
Just follow the faces
of your family and friends;
those you've missed in the front,
those like me at the end.

The music you make
and the pictures you paint
leave stains on our hearts;
though already they fade,
we can still hear your voice
call "I love you"s behind
to no one specific.
Yet we all reply:

"We love you forever!"
I hope you've realized
everyone of our hearts
broke saying goodbye.

I hope you remember
to not ever forget;
I'll whisper to your ghost
like a broken cassette:
I will love you forever
even though we've just met.
I'll be the last candle
at the end of the set.