superpowerless - the kills

why do you write?

i write to create, and to destroy. i write to analyze, to exaggerate, to avoid implosion. i write to forget, and i write to remember. i write to feel. i write to escape madness.

her hands are clammy and she can feel the sweat trickling down her spine. can she tell she's terrified? she wipes her hands on her shirt and looks everywhere but at the girl sitting next to her. her gaze is fixed on her and she can feel it, she can feel the way her stare covers inch after inch of her skin.

her scent, her glistening skin, her chapped lips, the finest of elixirs coursing through the pumping veins just beneath her skin. i drink it all in. i can't get enough of her and, oh, how her hands quiver. her terror warms my skin and my mouth is smiling. she won't look at me, and i absent-mindedly wonder if she is scared of what she will see, or of what she will feel. i brush a strand of hair across her cheek, out of her face and tuck it behind her ear. she jumps at my touch and for a fraction of a second, her gaze meets mine. her eyes are like trenches, and i fall into their depths.

she cannot help but to stare as this animal in a girl's image softens right before her eyes. she seems to melt, to lose all control of the situation at hand, and she surrenders to her. she looks up at her and her eyes are swimming in wonder and admiration. her lips dripping in desire, instead of blood.

nervous company.

oh, how wonderful. it feels like all i do lately is lie, and paranoia is setting in. everytime somebody is just a little off with me, i'm scared shitless - scared that they've found out.

i feel like there's nobody who knows everything. individually, there's always something to hide. and fuck, i'm sick of all the secrecy. could life be any more miserable? and could that be any more addictive?

i'm happier than i've ever been, and i know that. but i'm miserably happy. happily miserable. whimsically fucked for life.

in a very optimistic way. spoken with a huge, lopsided, metal-packed grin. fangless grin.

i have just decided that "fangless" is probably the most harsh dig ever.

(most harsh dig? harshest dig? when does this speculation ever end?)

if i asked nicely,
would you
please get out
of my head?

boys aren't pretty.

alchemy.

today was the laziest day ever. i'm still in my pyjamas. all i did was stay in bed all day long, thinking up all kinds of crazy shit. i haven't even eaten yet.

i must be ill.

so, here's the crazy shit:

i dreamt i had sex with cameron diaz, but a much prettier version. she didn't have all the wrong things that the real one does. and then she told her whole crew that we did it, and anja, bliss and i had to leave the island in a boat that looks a chair. those chairs that have rolly-wheels. i'm actually only finding it odd right now that we could all fit on that little chair. then we stayed on the island for another night because it was raining too hard, but becci went to go stand outside in the storm because she said she liked the salt. for some reason, i can't remember when she joined us, she was just there. so anyway, the next night, we all got on a ship that resembled an airplane on the inside, and played with baby rats the whole way back. they were small and cute and black with green eyes, they actually looked more like extra-miniature kittens than baby rats, come to think of it.

it was also a little strange that we had to leave the island to go home, but the incident occurred in my own bedroom at home. my home isn't on an island. so, ??

it's weird how it all makes sense in the dream. i think i'm still a little delirious from all the medication. my english is horrid.

anyway, when i was awake, all i kept thinking of was how i want to be to you what she is to you. i can be that for you, and i don't think you get that. i don't think you realise that it's not all about that to me. it's about you.

i also kept thinking about how everybody was electric and perfect, until you. and how now, i can hardly distinguish between them. they just melt together, and i'm left in perfect clarity.

i also dreamt that you broke down and started telling me things like you owe me everything. and you started sending me lyrics and pictures and things, and i kept doubting you. you told me that i was everything you want, and i didn't believe you.

you told me you knew i'd give you a chance, and i didn't.

i'm not.

these people are writing these songs, and they're just making too much sense.

my legs are going to fall off. and my elbows. and i can't sleep.

this is pointless.

"after all the time
after you

had you seen me with someone new

hanging so high for your return

but the stillness is a burn

had I seen it in your eyes

there'd have been no try after try

your leaving had no goodbye

had I just seen one in your eyes

I can't give it up

to someone elses touch

because I care too much

could you tell

I was left lost and lonely

could you tell

things ain't worked out my way

wish the best for you

wish the best for me

wished for infinity

if that ain't me

give it up

I can't give it up

I can't give it up

to someone elses touch

because I care too much

give it up

I can't give it up"

and

"please don't say we're done

when I'm not finished

I could give so much more

make you feel, like never before

welcome, they said welcome to the floor

it's been a while

and you've found someone better

but I've been waiting too long to give this up

the more I see, I understand

but sometimes, I still need you

sometimes, I still need you

and I was struggling to get in

left waiting outside your door

I was sure

you'd give me more

no need to come to me

when I can make it all the way to you

you made it clear

you weren't near

near enough for me

heart skipped a beat

and when I caught it you were out of reach

but I'm sure, I'm sure

you've heard it before"

it's scarily accurate.

my head feels thick, and a little dizzy. i think i've got a cold.

or something.

i'm glad it's weekend, i have a 21st tonight, i have to dress up as marilyn monroe. dress, wig, mole and all.

i also have to sing happy birthday like she did for jf kennedy.

i don't know how to be sultry and sexy, i'm awkward. it's going to be a mess.

hopefully i'll be drunk by then, because then it'll be a ridiculously hilarious mess.

on saturday it's steph's thing for her birthday.

slumber party, whoo :)

i'm hoping things will work out like i want them to, because then i'll have no problem.

i'll be good.

i don't want to take a chance anyway.

my only weakness is knowing your secret.

it's really really quiet in here, i just got kicked out of class.

again.

i think i'm a jealous person, and i can't help it. not with like friends or anything, but like.. yeah, i don't know, with friends too. and like, dude, i hate facebook. like, a lot. i say the word 'like' quite often.

what am i supposed to do with myself.

why don't you ever say anything back.

it's not like i'm going to ask you.

idiot.

and i want to know, i want to know everything. because not knowing gets to me, a little. i don't think i can come up with anything suitable right now, i'm feeling pretty lifeless. and numb. and lame. but i'm feeling a little out of breath, and i'm feeling the things i haven't said, and the things you wish you didn't.

i'm feeling those days when all i wanted was your absence. now the moments with you just slip by, and the clock keeps ticking, and i know i may be making it worse than it is, but i wish i could take back everything, start over, and do it the right way.

i wish i could just go back to grade two. or something. start over.

because as i sit here, stuck in the middle of all these people i won't ever have enough of, all i can think of is going back, and doing it over.

this regret, my regret; it's too potent and it stings too much.

it tastes bad when i swallow, and it burns me when i'm smiling.

it's acid in my eyes, and it's blurring everything i see.

oh, shit.

major melodramatisization.

i hope that's even a word, or i'll have to come back and change it later. or like, i just won't, and i'll just leave it, and be cool like shakespeare, make some words up.

improvising.

today is nice, again.
it's boring and really piss-fucking-cold, but it's nice.

he's so sweet, and he's melodramatic, he's everything i want in someone like that. he plays guitar like a god, and sings like a little boy. he's good with words, and he has amazing taste in music.

so why don't i like him? i should, i really really should. he's just so boring. well, compared to this, he's a fucking circus, but overall, he's exactly what i expected. so predictable.

he's bland.

it's so uncomfortable in this chair right now, and my head hurts so much on this table. i wish i was somewhere else.

i'm feeling a little deep now, i'll just go draw some pretty hearts on my page before i start all over again.

please don't say we're done, when i'm not finished.

please don't do this anymore, because it makes my head spin a little.

which isn't very nice. well, at least not all the time.

like, it's going nowhere. it's never going to be able to go anywhere.

so boring.

give me something i can hold onto. something concrete, that's not going to fall away from beneath me when i least expect it.

or don't give me anything at all, because, i guess i could talk myself out of it. or whatever, you know.

woah, i'm still shaking.

iiiiii doooooon't waaaaaant to beeee like this anymooooore.

ugh, i feel like screaming into my pillow. 

or something.