this is kind of deserted. if the internet could do this my blog would totally have been taken over by nature by now.

i enjoy the fact that i don't talk to this thing anymore. it wasn't healthy at all, i just called people out and acted like they gave a fuck about what i wrote about them. it's all fucking petty bullshit that i never want to return to.

my life is so fucking different, it changed so fucking much and i'm so happy to be where i am right now. i thank whoever to be alive and well right now getting kisses and getting fucked damn near every day. it's fucking amazing and i couldn't ask for anything more.

this is who i am and this is my life and this is what's going to shape me.

this thing is beyond old and stuck in high school.

so is my life.

My journal is lacking the words I can't get out of my head onto the paper.


Answer: Burn it.

I really like this feeling. I can't really explain what it is but it feels like a tickle in my stomach. It actually sometimes really hurts 'cause it feels so good. Whatever it is though, I never want it to go away.

Stuck

I'm stuck in the mud all by myself with nobody to help me out

because I don't want to be stuck with the same people and the same problems.

Can somebody ELSE OTHER THAN YOU help me out? I want to see and talk to new people.

I'm sick of the every day routine of being in a slump because of the way we act around each other. College is only 2 months away and we need to change. Why don't you get stuck in the mud and have someone else get you out? I know you want another hand to touch you and so do I so why don't you just do it? You can't feel anyone but me and it's pathetic. I'm not always going to be there to say "it's okay" or "there, there" I'm not gonna be there and neither are you.

So cut the ties and the strings that we're hanging by, leave me in the mud

and call someone else to come and get me, because I'm not putting my hand out anymore.

Believe me when I say, I still love you.

you have stars in your eyes

that follow me when i walk

down the hall

when i open my locker

you follow me into

this twisting winding tunnel

of sorrow.

the tunnel is filled with lies and

tears and all the changes that happened

over the years, and everything that

we said we've ever wanted

except floating cars and the ghosts

that haunted,

with people that talk to you every day

the ones that talk in circles to trick you

so you don't know what to say.

sometimes when we're here i can't believe

we're even alive in here, floating like we don't care

the tunnel contracting every which way

the locker is shut, it's locked, we're here to stay.