Diamond Eyes

You don't see anything

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Lord Huron - Time to Run

Can. Not. Wait. for this album.

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Public Transit

You said you would be here but you're not, and I'm starting to get the feeling that this is going to start becoming a regular thing. I said "start becoming" because I'm choosing to ignore the fact that it already has and that I am constantly let down by the two of us. I'm usually let down by a lot of things and you know that, but I'm really just bored now. I'm bored of back and forth mumbled sorry's and don't be's because you're not and you should be...or shouldn't be. That's the problem with me. I never know how to feel about you even when it's supposed to be clear, even when I'm here alone, even when I wish I had a bottle of wine and girlfriends to bitch to about you. I never bitch to anyone but myself about you, not about the stuff that matters at least. I know how easy it is for the people that care about you to get caught up in that one time when you said you hated someone or that one time you cried over hurt feelings and all the things that were said or weren't. The weren't's are the worst because that when you realize you have expectations for someone, that you've allowed yourself to be let down by someone, that there is now a minimum standard that you have built up that most people will never reach and probably won't even try.

You seem to be trying less, and that's what scares me, because I'm not sure if you are trying less or if I'm caring more. I've always told myself I would never care about anything, and yet, I always knew that was only a lie I liked to tell to make me sound more interesting, or more broken, or more deep in the same way they make girls out to be in movies or books. I've always liked to pretend there was something wrong with me that someone would find undeniably appealing. There is always something wrong with everyone and me, but you were the only one to ever make me feel that I was wrong. That I was wrong to be the way I am --wrong to be fake-broken like the movies, but real-fragile like humans--as if you also built your own set of expectations but much higher, and much more out of reach then where I built mine. As if you think I am capable of being these things that I am fairly certain I am not. I want to be that person, and if you would just sit still long enough I'm almost positive you could fit the qualifications I've dug out, but we're always only sorry instead of being what or where we want to be.

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Grounded

Sometimes I just want to be taken care of. I don't know if this makes me bad. Bad at being a girl. Everything I read and hear tells me I'm supposed to be all about girl power, that we are independent women, that I have to support my sisters; but I don't know...you know? I'm supposed to be independent and strong --like a man--while we teach and talk about the negative affects of men holding in their emotions.

There is no medium. There is no real way to be. No perfect arrangement of events. I've been told I'm an emotional person before. I know it's a bad thing, but I don't know how else to be rather than tossing myself back and forth between these extremes because someone else told me to.

Sometimes I just want to be taken care of even though they say we don't need it. They tell us all the tools are at our finger tips, that I am my strongest asset, that we are capable of anything as they feed us lines about reaching for the stars or moon or any obscure part of the solar system.

Most of us will never taste the cheese the moon is made of, and I know that. We all know it. It gets distracting, dreaming, but every once and a while I realize just how hard my feet hit the ground, and I want to be taken care of.

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Waiting for 76

We sat back to back in silence. Our stubbornness seeped into the bench below us and glided past the other passengers waiting for train 76, our pressed lips and furrowed brows drawing them to us. I knew even then that I didn't hate him, but my hands shook as my imagination shaped what the next few hours and days would be like --pressed shoulder to shoulder, holding our backpacks on our laps, and sweat would spring up between our sticky sandwhiched bodies and in the arches of our backs and between our legs and the seats. Every time you shift in your seat your legs will make that angry nose all legs do when they are so abruptly moved after they've already begun to melt into unfamiliar vinyl seats. I wanted to move, to sit further down the bench, to get away from you for a couple seconds before I was trapped with you for forever or however long the train ride would be. I wanted to move, but it seemed so much simpler to stay here sitting back to back in silence with you rather than on my own. My hands continued to shake in my lap, and I pressed my back hard into yours only to realize you were pushing back.

[thebeautymodel]

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Death grip.

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Pup party.

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Mute.

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Laser life.

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Whatchu lookin' at?

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Sweet nothings.

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When I get back to the L I will be picking up some note books for my new years resolution to write everyday. It doesn't have to be profound or even good but it has to be something and it has to be everyday. Fail that I'm starting it 9 days into the new year but what can ya do.

[lyingwithliars-blog]

"Ruby's Room"

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Implosion/Explosion

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Birthday Bear

She stood there grinning, knees pointed inward, arms raised like a limp-wristed bear ready to attack. She was completely naked, and we both fell to the floor when she leaped into my arms, her limbs flailing wildly, fighting their meeting with the ground. She wasn't graceful, but we laughed and kissed, and I think it was one of the best birthday gifts I ever received. 

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Hopeless romantic ;)

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Truth.

I'm gonna get drunk and write some good shit tonight. I'll just turn it off, turn it off, turn it off.

[lyingwithliars-blog]

How am I supposed to forget that you care about me but not enough to do anything?

Today's conversation was excruciating. I pretended it was okay, and you seemed nervous. We both went over the day's schedule, what we had done, but we weren't there. Not one part of the conversation was us. All that was there were words and nervousness, and I hated every second until you stoped answering, when I immediately regretted not saying what I wanted to say. I hate you for ruining everything. Every conversation shouldn't be hard, but this imaginary we're creating is not any easier. This is the hardest it's ever been.