stop for a second.

hmm first i need to construct a to-do list before my memory fails me completely, as is usual.

1. For Wed: essay questions for history final
2. GET PANTS HEMMED for (see #3)
3. Thursday: interview @ Fletcher & Co Literary Agency 78 5th avenue with Sara Wolski. & possibly coffee with Jules afterwards.
4. Friday: 11:30 A.M. academic advisement to register for next semester;
ALSO inquire about transferring to 4-year and credit xfers. MUST LEAVE QCC AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.
5. Get a move on with short story, most definitely do a re-write for beginning.
6. Consider possibly going christmas shopping, although i have no available funds to spend on gifts and I also hate the holiday season in its entirety. Christmas music makes me feel suicidal (overly dramatic, but true).
7. PA this weekend (try to avoid a screaming match with mother).
8. Study for finals, unfortunately. I know I'm going to forget that the Sun is 3 times as massive as the Earth (is it 3?), the quadratic formula, and that the Peloponnesian war was between Athens & Sparta (right?).
9. The Met, possibly, maybe next Tuesday ... though Bialo-Padin was adamant about the fact that I do not need extra credit.
10. GOSSIP GIRL TONIGHT<3

Hopefully I haven't left anything out. hm.

there was only dread.

i am not a fearless person. Nor do I claim to be.
I fear complete failure in my life, as I can define failure to be utter disappointment and the reality of living in it. If I were able to define success in my own terms- I am most certain I would fear it also, of what I would do after I have reached success, where the next turning point may be, if any exist.
I fear vulnerability. My predator sniffing out my weaknesses and using them against me, I would be facing a dead end.
I fear my rash decisions, which I still possess the ability to make them from time to time- forgetting to consider consequences and how much I am willing to sacrifice, or not sacrifice. To choose between right and wrong, convenient and inconvenient.
I fear my own emotions- for they sometimes prove to be the catalyst to my downfall. My emotions are sometimes fleeting, are sometimes stable, and sometimes prevail over logic.
I fear indecisiveness, and also not being given a choice in whatever situation presents itself.

i do not fear loneliness, though at times I do dread it.

I must live in this world, as all others do, and not just as a dead soul.

oh, words.

they mean nothing.

you can't always be a free spirit, you know.

i'm still scared to let people in... perhaps more ashamed than scared.
i... am ... not that good of a person.
virtues, values, goals ... in retrospect, they never meant anything to me.
and now i want them all... i need them.

he didn't let go of me because of where his life had taken him, that moment at that time... he said: "the point of no return has passed already."

empathy.
the capacity to recognize or understand another's state of mind or emotion.
em+pathos.
if i am passionate about life, i should not have an issue with being an empathetic person. To feel what he feels, to think as he thinks, to know & understand.
because knowing is greater than understanding. . . to feel, essentially.

what i know is this: i don't want to hide from him, and this encompasses all aspects of myself- my life, daily activities, aspirations, even the things i know i should not be doing or thinking. i want to be able to express myself to him, fully- as he does with me.

[SPOTLIGHT]

Our hearts set in concrete.
Molded together.
“Do you think we’ll always be this way?”
I peer up at his moonlit face and await his response;
His words tumble out, clumsily at first,
But he catches his breath, starts over.
I drown in his words, holding his gaze.
I’m here, I’m listening, I’m yours.
His fingers interlock in mine through conversation.
“it was hard, we were both upset. But also relieved.”
Relief… release… surrender.
I’m still unsure of how I felt.
My eyes wander off, searching through the darkness for clarity.
An epiphany.
Stability for my emotions.
I come back to him and his hands cradle my face.
Forefinger brushing aside loose strands.
I watch his lips move up & down, but only a whisper escapes:
“I love you.”
Repetitive motions lose substance, meaning.
Those words have not.

fairytales.

She met him in the fall. The leaves were already turning- auburn and crimson, lending their bright shades to the delicate azure skies above. It was almost dark when she received his phone call, half dressed, staring at her reflection in the mirror while relaying directions to her house. He says he'll be arriving shortly. She stumbles around her room, throwing open drawers, rifling through all of her clothes. "What is he wearing? What am I going to wear? Will he care what I'm wearing? It's just a friendly date, right?" Right. She doesn't forget how cold she tends to get in movie theatres. She throws on a sweater and jeans, grabs her navy blue pea coat and purse, and rushes to the door. Shoes, shoes, shoes. No, converses? He calls again and says he's outside. "oh god, he's here." She fumbles with the doorknob, losing her balance as she bends down to tie her laces. "Why do i always feel so uncoordinated?" She calms the tremors in her hands and lifts open the cellar door. The cold breeze rushes at her face, cooling her nerves and refreshing the air in her lungs.

Flashback.
Her whole body is shaking, her face covered in salt water. Vision blurring, she pulls away from him. She's searching for strength, forcing the words out from between her lips, "we shouldn't see each other anymore." She feels him tense, his eyes staring straight ahead, "are you sure that's what you want?" She nods her head, yes. It's time to leave him now, she pulls on the door handle and lets herself out of the car. He follows. She doesn't want him here, outside with her. But he does what he feels. She tries to walk towards her house, she wants to cry alone. He doesn't allow it. His hand closes around her wrist and in the next moment she's breathing against his neck. He pulls back to look at her face, "Why are you doing this?" ... "I have to, we can't be with each other, not this way." She looks up at him one last time, presses her lips against his, and whispers "I love you." She kisses him full and tries to release herself from him. He grips her harder, clenches his teeth, "TAKE IT BACK." Her breath catches in her throat and she's gasping for air, furiously shaking her head, no, trying to get out of his grip. He repeats it again, "take it back." Quieter now, calmer. He's not giving up so easily. She stutters one last plea "I have to go, please, i have to go." He let's go and she feels him watching her as she walks deeper into the shadows.

How could she have prevented herself from falling in love with him? Even through all the warnings and precautions, serious talks about where their relationship was heading. How could she have avoided all of the emotions he makes her feel? Everything happens for a reason.

He was waiting for her to join him, he had already fallen.
Love is eternal, he says. People are not.

He tells me to stop writing. Live life. He's a big supporter of life, experiences, conversation. There's a difference in being introverted, and being a self centered hypocrite. How can you criticize others of their actions when at times you act exactly the same way?
I hope he still believes that I love all of the things he tells me, no matter what they may be and no matter what the tone of his voice is. I know that sometimes my facial expressions give him the wrong idea, as if i don't want to be there with him. I know that sometimes my body language portrays my manner as defiant and arrogant. But the thoughts in my head are the complete opposite. I want to talk to him and tell him and express myself of all the things I am always so afraid to admit out loud. And most of the time, my words come out a jumbled mess and I say things I don't mean. But don't we all, at some point or another.

faith.

i want to write.
it'll come soon.

reflect.

and so it goes...

i've been out of school for over a year. how has this affected me?
both negatively & positively.
i've grown... as a person, experiencing things that i would not have otherwise if i were still in school.
however, i feel stupid(-er). i'm almost certain i've killed off more than enough brain cells.
i know & understand the importance of education, i know & understand that i must stay focused this year.
the constant doubts and fears continue to circulate in and out of my thoughts.
sometimes, i think it's why i can't sleep at night [and he tells me it's because i watch tv before i go to bed... it could be that too].
it's difficult to shut the thoughts out.

it's funny really, i thought after dropping out of school, my life would quiet down a bit. i would spend some time in ... solitary confinement. spend some time getting to know my parents better. spend some time getting to know myself better.
i suppose i've done all of that still, but none of it would have been the same if it weren't for him. he might sit there & deny it, but i know how i feel.

[she's steam, laughing on the window panes].

objective introspection...
not really, no.
judge yourself as you judge others.
harsh criticisms, take it & swallow.

fiction.

i shift through moments, always leaving out details.
whether it's on purpose or not, it seems to happen.
my mind re-creates, picks & chooses for itself.



: why can't you be normal?
[normals boring and the days are long]
: speak from your heart, tell me what you're thinking.
[breathe, think, breathe, blank, breathe, nothing]
sometimes my mind is completely empty. i cannot offer much else.
: don't turn away from me.
[you said you know what it feels like to be kept waiting.
you said it was unfair.
this is unfair]

i never really learned patience with people, until i met him.
until i realized that my faults are not as minute as i had made them out to be.
he never hesitated to point them out, to try and make me see what he sees.
there are constant thoughts about us always circulating in my mind, regurgitating themselves and they sound different each time, but they always come back to the same conclusion, the same questions.
perhaps i have not asked them aloud because i am weary of the answers.

oh, sigh.

22222


** ilanas tomorrow @ bohemian hall & beer garden <3
[1] pay tuition
[2] pay & defer loans (AES) august 14th
- fill out form & bring to admin building
[3] school supplies?
- notebooks, looseleaf, PENS ! ... crayons, highliters, markers .. all of the obvious things.
[4] pennsylvania on tuesday?
[5] the faint on the 18th
[6] classes start on the 27th; oh & eotc with tab @ irving plaza !
[7] daddys bday on the 21st
[8] lake ariel aug 29-sep 1 with young <3


and life goes on ...

miss. miss.

i used to be creative, you know?
always churning ideas in my head, seeing colors and images and concepts laid out.
i don't have shit now.
i feel like a hollowed out .... what?
i should just uninstall photoshop and smash my camera.
i am not worthy of creative instruments.

then again, i'm just fuckin' delirious today.
incoherent thoughts and gray static suffocating my head.

lyrics of martyrs and saints, steeples and prayers.
confess.
confess, confess yourself to me.

like surgery, correcting me.

will it always be this way?
reaching for your hand, burying my face into the crook of your neck,
exposed flesh longing for your kisses.
we sit facing each other. i steal glances at the glowing numbers, hoping
that time will stop moving, if only for tonight.
i listen to the steady stream of words, watch the shadows dance across your face,
smile at the way your eyes close every time you relay some sort of realization,
about us, about me, about yourself.
will it always be this way?
it has to be.
i won't want to live without it. . .
without you.
sometimes it's still too much to handle.
how we came to be this way.
how our lives collided with one another.


..............................................................................

him. [past]
a predator amongst insignificant prey.
moving through the darkness, "you're as slick as your words,"
he bends and twists and manipulates.
to his own bidding.
he keeps the world locked up in a glass box,
safely stowed away.
it's his world.
shady deals in slum villages,
beretta tucked in his waistband, as his right hand roams across
the sleek black handle,
he coaxes his next victim.
it was all a game to him.

her. [past+present]
she takes notice of the world, the mindless drones surrounding her.
suffocating boredom, as she searches for inspiration.
lurking in and out of corners, hoping to never be seen.
she wants to remain hidden in her own world.
she clutches at her thin black book, pages tattered and torn.
pages filled with memories, and fantasies, stories and hymns.
she stumbles through her days blindly.
hoping, waiting to be found.
black ink pen knotted in her thick black hair, as her right hand
reaches up to release it from the tangles,
coaxing her next words out from within her darkened soul.
it's never been a game to her.


he sees her for who she is.
and she still can't find the right words to describe him.
when he asks her do you love me?
and she nods.
and he asks her how much do you love me?
she wants to reply, "more than anything in the world."
but the words always get stuck.
she doesn't want to hide from him anymore,
she wants him to discover all of her.
mystery is no longer important in this relationship.
this relationship.
built on strength, love, vulnerability, hope, faith,
dedication,
everything she had ever dreamed of.
he is everything she had ever longed for.

temper, temper

'and so i bottled it up and kept the words to myself'

................................................................


eyes open.
no sun today.
the minutes pass. sluggish.
mouth dry.
nicotine beckoning lips to orange filter.
muscle spasms, pressing footsteps to my ears.
eyeliner smearing, creating deeper black and blue pouches of skin.
skin kneaded like dough, pinching and pulling.
i want it off.
orange filter to chapped lips, swift strong pulls.
exhale, smoke stagnant in the air.
hard, fast, cold streaming water.
chattering teeth.
throat clenches, chains tightening around my stomach,
convulsions, why can't i breathe?
i force it out.
desperate need for air.
my head rolls back, straighten up.
tears in the mirror, red veins in a sea of white.
let the morning come.


i order breakfast, exchange pleasantries with joyce, it's the same as every morning.
i make my sugar with coffee, and sit at the table closest to the window.
pretty delicate phalaenopsis suffering and dead, root rot of course.
he walks in, he's been wearing the same outfit since i was 15.
he chooses the table next to me, the legs are uneven, he takes notice.
and commences with his obsessive compulsiveness,
turn, shift, turn, shift, seasaw, turn, shift, seasaw.
it won't stick old man, it won't.
"son of a bitch"
he mutters under his breath, i hear him.
turn, shift, seasaw.
keep going, the table will thank you later.
he settles for the moment, rummages through his goodie bag.
five plastic bottles, one by one placed on the table.
size order, please.
i only see the name of one bottle from where i'm sitting.
OSTEO-FLEX, the biggest of the five.
he makes me nervous, so i stand and walk to another table,
the door jingles open, and my parents walk in.
"hello darling," my mother says aloud.
it's family breakfast time.
i feel comfortable.
the day drags on.
and it's still dragging.
11.25 AM envy on the coast; lapse.
mozilla firefox, zune, adobe photoshop CS.
I WANT MY BED.

black&white.

the tears stayed back for as long as i could keep them.
i hate talking.
i hate talking, because it makes my insides shake.
no one's ever pleaded with me to speak, like you did.
it always ended in frustration,
meaningless words escaping my tongue with a hiss.
i hate talking.
i hate talking, it's so difficult to look you in your bright eyes,
and tell you what i'm thinking at that exact moment.
i didn't start crying until you wanted me to start talking.
hearing my own thoughts come from within me, hearing them floating
in midair; i can't even describe the feeling.
it's like glass shattering, something fragile and delicate,
destruction.
and you stepped out of the car.
and the torrent came rushing out.
a flood cascading down into my lap.
chest heaving. vocal chords tightening.
heart racing. i couldn't hear anything.
except for the quick short gasps clawing at my throat.

oh, how i hate and love emotion.

you break me each time.
but you're there to catch me.

when it's you & i, i see nothing else.
our faces but 3 inches from each other,
your breath tickling my neck.
side by side, the waves came crashing.
'if we go any closer, we'll be in the water.'
and the words, and words, and words.
i'd never seen you so vulnerable.
everything laid out before me.
and you gave me your words.
sweet, precious, honest-to-god words.
we were meant to have each day we have ever shared together.

oh, heart.

PRIMITIVE ART
JUST IMAGINE
PICASSO
RAISED BY WOLVES.

oh, i love it.
it makes my nerves shake.
<3

she's got an army of saints ...

i've been thinking.
and thinking.
i don't feel pain. i don't feel devastation.
i did not cry.
the tears will come though. sooner, than later.
for the most part, i know myself.
i don't know her.
her, being the woman i am capable of becoming.
am steps away of turning into.
i don't want to be her.
i loathe her and tremble when i think of her.
i cannot be her.
i will not be her.

love cannot be split in two. love must remain as a whole.
i know what it is to be in love with two men at once.
maybe then, they weren't men, but they have turned into men.
one proving to be more significant than the other in my life,
playing the part assigned to him.
the other, part of my past, memories created, lost and forgotten,
memories stowed away to be pulled out one by one when called upon.

i cannot do this to myself.
it is me, not you.
it is you, not me.
the argument will never waiver.
but my emotions will, they always have.
i cannot spend countless nights tossing and turning because
of the raging battle within my ...
heart vs. mind, right?
and you tell me to always listen to my heart.
i have not learned how.
perhaps i never will.
perhaps it is neither my heart nor my mind,
my emotions dominate both.
i am rash, and irrational, blinded
by the fury of my emotions.

i cannot do this to myself.
again.
i will only continue to build walls,
around my heart, around my mind,
no one will ever see me.
for who i once was-
loving, caring, open, carefree.
i will turn into more of her-
cold, bitter, cynical, expressionless.
i feel it in my bones.
i lose more and more of myself each time
i love and i let go. forced to let go.
you tell me that i always do what i want,
and when i don't get what i want i become angry,
and say hurtful things.
tell me, does that apply to this situation?

stories. stories. stories. give me your words.

i have to write and write and write.
everyday.

desensitized emotions.
colors dull and faded.

'this is mine'
grabs my face.
'these are mine'
grabs my tits.
'and that's mine'
grabs my ass.
'you'll never belong to anyone else except me, don't forget that.
no one will ever keep your blackened heart in a wrought iron cage like i do.
don't forget that.'

i don't want to be locked up anymore.

we laid under the covers with the lights off.
it was his last night with me.
all i could hear were the crickets outside of his window.
our bodies stayed apart from each other, i was shivering underneath the blankets.
my mind drifted off to a place where physical contact was accepted.
my eyes opened when i felt him change position.
i shifted my head slightly to get a better view of him.
curved muscles, long arms, soft skin.
i could see the line running from his neck to his shoulder blades, in between and around and back up again.
i wanted to touch that line, trace it with the tip of my index finger, feel his muscles twitch under the pressure.
i wanted to see his lips quiver and his eyelids flutter, body tensing.
i left my hand where it was, resting on top of my stomach.
i chased the tears away, i didn't want my eyes to be bloody mary red in the morning.


and this is why, no matter who i fall in love with or become involved with, there will be an underlying suspicion. i trust too easily, but i will never trust fully.
i'm always disappointed by the ones i keep the closest.
they think i won't find out, i always have my ways.
i always find out in the end.
and i guess it's not really lying if you don't tell me at all.
i can only blame myself for being treated this way.
maybe when he apologizes to me with that sincere tone of his, he's apologizing for everything he's done- past present and future.
i cannot absolve you, i cannot save you, i cannot be your refuge.
seek it elsewhere.
in a place with beautiful stained glass windows, 80 feet arches, crimson oak pews, bibles in the pockets, devoted women in hooded gowns.
seek it there.
i am not your savior.


you feed me sweet gentle words, twist my locks of hair around your fingers, caress my made up face, watch my eyes close at the touch of your hand.
how did i ever think i could go through with all of this?
it's not worth it.
not again.


you meant every word you ever gave to me.
you love me, you love me, you love me.
are you sure that you love me?
are you thinking about me when you've got her sprawled out on top of plush covers, as you wrench her legs open and force your way inside of her, and she's there waiting for you to make her scream and moan your name, let her desperate pleas fill your ears. or do you turn her over on her stomach so you don't have to see her face, you close your eyes shut and repeat the same thrusting motion, clutching her hip with one hand, the other pushing into the small of her back. do you reach up and grab a fistful of her hair, pull her head back, push in further, and just as you're about to come, whose name are you saying?
you're all the same.
i've learned deception and lies and unanswered phone calls, i know avoidance and shame and guilt. i've learned it from the best of them. but it's turned me into something horrible and ugly, something i never imagined i would become. it breaks me into pieces, delicate brittle pieces. i don't want to put them back together, and you won't be the one to do it either. no matter how you think you're trying to save me, rescue me, be my refuge.
you're not my savior.


i've been swallowing my anger, sadness, and frustration all day.
maybe that's why as soon as any sort of food comes near my mouth,
i just want to vomit.
i used to avoid writing about these things, because i never wanted those images in my head.
the one i loved sharing intimacies with another i didn't know.
my insides feel as if they're rotting, burning, dying to escape from my body.
but i'd rather create a scene and write about it,
than continue to follow a path of naivety.

every moment is just another scene.
you play a different role in each one, baby.