travel light.

everything is as we left it.

i sit on my couch and i look out my window and the sky is bathed in twilight, the moon dripping in ambience. the trees sway in the wind and in my mind's eye i see your sway.

music drifts up the stairs and i allow it to lay its hands on my skin, to envelop me in its warmth. i allow it to melt me.

my senses are dulled by the perfection of this imperfect scene. i care too much to care.

the heat you exude floods over my skin and my heartbeat races, perfectly audible. what is it about your skin? it's like a slow-burning flame that i am constantly fixated upon, all i want is to be submerged in the inferno.

i don't think i'm scared of what you're scared of, mostly, i'm scared of you.

constant knot

par·a·mour
[par-uh-moor]

- noun

1. an illicit lover, esp. of a married person.


2. any lover.

i think that's such a cool word. you're my paramour. will you be my paramour? paramour paramour paramour

today was a good day. a really good day.
im going to go to bed now and sleep for 1000 years because i am exhausted.

fuck you

fuck you for putting that where i would see it.
fuck you for saying that over and over again.
fuck you for annoying me like you do all. the. time.
fuuuuuuuuuck you.
fuck me.

fuck the fuck off. go fuck yourself.
for fucks sake.

mhwirewgo9u9tC P0[QHFIWESDKDJISiweugbaiulvbawiu OH my god.

overwhelmed.
overwhelming.
too much.
always, too much.
enough.
never enough.

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.

cradle me, i'll cradle you

i just got kicked out of maths. again. anyway, it's cool, i've had three off periods in a row. now that's what's good.

my arms don't hurt anymore, only sometimes when i lay funny. last night i had the weirdest dream about the weirdest things, and the french teacher was in it. which is always good, i dream about him often lately, and i like it :)

so, today i was scribbling on a piece of paper, and i have an idea for my tattoo. however gay this is, i want something to remind me of my time here. my highschool career, for some reason, is something i never want to forget. and it wasn't even that cool? anyway. i want to make a list of all the people here who made a difference to me, or made an impact on who i am (is this sounding ridiculous?) and tattoo the number at the back of my neck. like "8" or "eight". i don't know if it should be written out, or just the number. "28" or "twenty-eight". i just don't want to forget, even if i had to tattoo a puny "lar", i'd do it.

is that gay? i think it's gay. but people won't know, they'll just see a cool number at the back of my neck. maybe i should put a barcode there and i can have some random numbers like "62131111125121" at the bottom. or something?

also, while i was still scribbling on the same piece of paper, i tried to write down exactly how i feel. it helps sometimes, to vent, and just feel better about things in general. clear your head. the problem was, though, that i couldn't write anything. it was like there was some valve, and it was firmly shut, and my hand was quivering, but no coherent words were formed. then, something weird happened; i gave up, and i read a friend's magazine. so i read my horoscope, and it said something about love will be hiding from me or something, and that it will be difficult for me to know how i truly feel about anything for about a month. it gave me the creeps, because my reality and my horoscope has never matched up so accurately before. i guess i'll just wing it for a month, will i still be able to know what i want? not that i ever do, really?

ah, shit, why did you have to say that at the end. why did you have to add those five words.
 because it just fucked with my mind, really, and not in a good way. asshat.

euphoria.

i don't have much to say about her.

but you, about you i could write.
i stay up late, thinking about you, until i finally pass out with exhaustion.
then i spend the rest of the night with you in my subconscious.

i wake up, and the day seems to hold definition when you come to mind. one glance in your direction and my mind is drowned in floods of silly romance.

this lucidity. soft and sweet, cautious. this lustful qualm, and promise. these questions. no explaining. your verbiage, your redundancy. these persecutions.

anyway, today is all dreary. the weather insinuates ideas of cuddling, and lovey-dovey things.

bliss and franki and i are officially shunning, renouncing the use of the word 'like'. i say it all the time, i went back and read some posts and whenever i get awkward, or lose my train of thought, i say 'like' or 'you know?' or 'so'. therefore, we've decided to stop, as to sound less illiterate, and become known as astute young ladies :)

when one of us aren't concentrating, and the little word slips out, the punishment is a smack on the hand :)
hopefully we'll say it less.

i think i still say it quite often.

my head is throbbing. well, not my actual head, the little pieces of meat where my temples are. whatever it is that's there, it hurts.

attraction is so weird. it's this sinking feeling, but it doesn't sink at all.

something happens, your heart drops, and it sends you flying.

does that sound gay?

this just takes up space

and i write

until my fingers spasm

about somebody i don't

 want to write about

anymore.