| you make me wanna smoke a cigarette . . . |
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| 11:50pm 28/02/2005 |
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mood:  groggy music: postal service
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flung open the door and it became my exit
my feet fell to the ground as if for the first time
one last glance, one last blink one last stare . . and ran
each flake clinging to my lashes, my brows those little whispies that never seem to get enclosed in my rubber band, my nostrils
obstructing my breating, licking my lips to conceal them from the cold but making them more prone to freeze and chap.
regretting that last cigarette that is beginning to slow my respiration, my heart rate=motivation to continue with this tryst, yet anticipating my next drag.
being content nestled in my blanket of smoke allowing it to seep into the fabric clothing me, my hair, my skin, to dwell there to remind me of its presense as each draft brings it to my attention, not permiting me to forget.
wrapped in clouds, in the toxins that entrap me
i need a light
i turn around
fling open the door and it became my entrance>>
throwing away the doubt but keeping the habit |
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| life as a battered mobile |
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| 01:01pm 01/02/2005 |
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mood: ready and willing music: format
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so i find out that my car is a death trap and has been for the last two years
(anyone want to go on a road trip)
yet i havent experienced a bump in the road in quite sometime
risks just make things more intense ex. driving my battered mobile
so many memories
i want to become a battered mobile no inhibitions, no expectations, no disappointments
throw on the cruise control . . . oh wait its broken
(as was my heart that is quickly filling back up with un expected occurances)
slam the pedal to the floor and live it up |
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| once upon a time |
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| 01:32am 20/01/2005 |
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mood: never in my life been happier music: greenday
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There is no other task but to know your own original face. This is called independence; the spirit is clear and free. If you say there is some particular doctrine or patriarchy, you’ll be totally cheated. Just look into your heart; there is a transcendental clarity. Just have no greed and no dependency and you will immediately attain certainty
proud to say i am officially a massage therapist at lifetime fitness . . . finally on my way
thank you so much the short . .. but sweet celebration, youre a "wonder"
and she lived happily ever after. |
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| Time to bust the 180 |
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| 05:10pm 03/01/2005 |
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mood:  optimistic music: Greenday
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Gemini
(May 21-June 21)
When something gets old, give it a rest. Think only good thoughts about what's to come. Your attitude may seem forced or cheesy, but you mean every positive word you say. It's time to start off on the right foot. |
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| smashing grapes beneath my toes and hating livejournal |
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| 12:55pm 20/10/2004 |
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mood:  disappointed music: i miss you . . . incubus
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typing and deleting
and so on and so forth
incubus on repeat
uncorked the bottle
glass number 3
distracting myself
growing tired
drunken dialing- please God no!
it wasnt like this in the beginning
i think it has finally sunken in and i
absolutely hate the consequences and repercussion
pushing 7 mon. |
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| SIDE EFFECTS: increased heartbeat, breathing; decreased appetite, motivation; fatality |
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| 03:55pm 07/10/2004 |
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mood:  nauseated music: graham colton
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NOT EVEN WITH A TALL GLASS OF WATER COULD I SWALLOW YOU. . .searching the void within me to toss the endless scribbles of black onto the paper in front of me is both challenging and soothing. all the active thought polluting my every function has begun to take its toll. each glance, word, breath, touch, joke, cry for attention, in every encounter, every tryst, every rendevous that we experience on what seems to be the end of every month only shows me how i have not yet moved on. accepting the idea of the distance has evaporated itself into my daily groove, yet its the random moments that always rewind the endless rolls of film ive stored away somewhere deep inside of me, that at the time of hiding, i never wanted to uncover again, but honestly who was i kidding. my ears always hear the same things that within hours of execution i am nauseated with pain for giving in, being overcome with being so naive, and realizing that the simple acts in the past now carry much more baggage of emotion, and psychological strength, that these meetings cannot be as carefree as i once believed they could. like rope to a flame, each strand burning away as my solid composure plumets to the ground melting and transforming into liquid around your feet. are you far away in a new life, somewhere untouchable from where i am, am i far away, in your thoughts sometimes. . . |
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| shed a tear because im missin you . . . |
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| 11:13pm 06/07/2004 |
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mood: grateful music: Guns n Roses Patience
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slight humor always seems to find a way when you appear from that mysterious place you seem to be hiding in for some time; that goes unnoticed from my own eyes . . .until they find yours again.
its that mystery that i get so intrigued by; ive been tripped again and your shoe is the only one i see . . . damn it. . . |
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| this ship has sailed |
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| 03:21pm 20/05/2004 |
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mood: determined music: Yellow Card
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crossing my fingers
in hopes of self discovery
on board massive ocean liner
3-4 months
cant wait |
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| i could kick myself |
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| 02:09pm 07/04/2004 |
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mood: an out of body experience music: our lady peace
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so many things i wanted to do
but never took the initiative to do so.
i suppose thats why we've arrived here,
one last chance to end on a good note,
its all i ask . . . |
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| seeking my unanswered thoughts |
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| 03:22pm 23/07/2003 |
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mood:  curious music: Zepplin
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will i ever end up where id like to be, twisted around my own spindle, apparently trying to disguise itself as my brain. twirling; getting lost in each new notion that seems to knock me on my ass without remorse. i sit here bruised and beated, yet the only object that has flown through the air is my own conscience. a girl's mind can be her greatest fear, with the time i spend crouched within myelf, i could be discovering the artist hiding deep inside me to construct a piece of appreciation that i desperately need for my own sake. fighting back the cess pool of manufactured intellects walking in front of me, to stray from the single file line ive been waiting in for much too long; destination>>>> "the norm", at this point my own worst enemy, only neighbors to the abstraction my mind possesses. desperately awaiting variables to position themselves to make this equation correct. |
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| ive begun to wilt |
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| 01:15am 20/06/2003 |
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pull the sheet over my eyes for ive seen too much. when things seem to be going to good i begin to wonder, and that my friend, leaves me beneath the *stars* alone and restless.
as it invades me from the inside; out
my eyes become wide. |
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| how's it gonna be . . . . |
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| 02:40pm 29/05/2003 |
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mood: definately 1 ive never felt music: anything that seems to distract me from pondering
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with a whole new look on things? |
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| unidentified, to the naked eye |
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| 01:41pm 01/04/2003 |
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mood: mellow music: skynard
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am i enough for you
or am i too much extra baggage
Has?
your temple filled to the top
over flowing with uneeded slack
What?
fills your time spent
upstairs in your head with the window open
exposing you to the air
thats beginning to reach your intentions
that leaves you motionless
trapped within the web you have begun to spin,
in circles and gaining tired |
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| Dreams may never become (Reality) from this point on>>>> |
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| 11:44pm 23/05/2002 |
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ignoring the sunlight
it burns
too much truth
it's awaken me
from my dream
of never coming back
~and who will lye w/ me beneath the sky
tranforming the clouds by day
counting our wishes by night
. . .
~where will we run when the *STARS* turn to BLUE |
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| Book Club Evaluation: by gretchen mann |
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| 11:07pm 23/05/2002 |
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-Title: Prozac nation
-Author: elizabeth wurtzel
-Pages: 317
-Category: memoir
-Date started: Feb 19
-Date finished: Feb 22
-Annotation: A memoir of a girl who faces many hardships in a dark depression. Searching for answers through many various substances, she finds some hope in Prozac.
Author Bio: Family: Born July 31, 1967, in New York, NY; daughter of Donald Elliot Wurtzel (a data analyst) and Lynne Ellen Winters (in high technology public relations).
Education: Harvard University, A.B., 1989. Politics: "Liberal-- very." Religion: Jewish.
Avocational Interests: Rock music, cats, film noir, lipstick, antique jewelry, women's history, professional basketball.
Career: Dallas Morning News, Dallas, TX, reporter, 1987-88;
New York Magazine, New York City, pop music critic, 1989-91;
New Yorker magazine, pop music critic, 1991-93.
Awards: Rolling Stone College Journalism Award, 1986.
Writings by the Author: Prozac Nation: Young and Depressed in America, Houghton Mifflin (Boston), 1994. Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women, Doubleday, 1998.
The Secret of Life: Common Sense of Advice for Uncommon People, Random House, 2001.
-Evaluation: Elizabeth's ability to display her traumatic experiences on 317 emotion filled pages kept my chin dropped each time I opened the book. I found myself compulsive while reading, not wanting to drop the book for even a second. The reality and honesty she shared with her readers, showed that she not only wanted to share her life's saga, but her writing seemed to have craddled the pain that still remains in her soul. The anxiety that piled up in heaps in side of her may never be erased, but Prozac seems to be lending a hand. Starting her story off during a panic attack when she was expecting one hundred people over for a New Year's Eve party, was a genius way of making the readers feel comfortable with someone they're about to spend hours learning about. Instructing her readers is exactly what she did Prozac Nation isn't only reading to relate to, but to learn from society and the problems that touch down everyday. Elizabeth chose to teach through her personal encounters with such depth and feeling I almost felt her on going struggle of internal abnormalities myself. The genuine guidance and counselling as well as the tragic truth gives support and company to those that are going through the darkness of depression.
~HIGHLY RECOMMENDED~ |
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| FOR SALE . . AnXiety. with purchase of Panic, Depression and PMS (limited time ONLY) |
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| 07:05pm 13/05/2002 |
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mood: sad music: the doors
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im not ready ., . YET
thank god everyday, that we met
though still i hold no regret
back of the head is what i get
no hand to hold
faced it ALONE
no one there to console
i transform ;to "empty soul"
pushed down further in this hole
swept away from the world thats whole
how i wish i could smoke a bowl
eat some food and get real full
seclude myself from all this bull
come sit with me on a grassy null
cuz
in my head i wish i'd die
no one seems to hear my cries
So . .i peer into your eyes,
to forget your lies
is the goal in mind.
now youve got me intertwined
how the hell'd you get so fine
macaroni grille and drink some wine
late night pool style . . I knew you were mine.
took a test and saw a sign
this is where i draw the line
price to pay is not too cheap
the sky is dark, where's the jeep
those nights i never thought to weep
tears dried up and there we'd creep
sun comes up and still on "E"
all the thoughts you shared with me
placed out in the air for the world to see
how i loved that XTC
BUT, now the demon starts to seep
penetrating my soul way too deep
the past is all i want to keep,
days so high id laugh and leap,
way too stoned to make a peep,
LYE me down; lets go to sleep
one by one we'll count the sheep
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~PEACE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ |
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| TIRED |
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| 03:50am 22/03/2002 |
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mood: lonely
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SICK and tired |
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| Did they ever even notice me before? |
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| 05:50pm 15/03/2002 |
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mood: no words can describe it music: fighting back the moisture thats swelling up in my eyes
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youd think i have something terminal
or something
theyre making feel like more shit
maybe it is?
one day . . .
its pretty FUCKING sad that people get more attention when theyre . . .
well like this.
I cant stop them,
theyre streamming down my face.
What will make them go away,
drenching the keys as each one falls,
further and further,
i wish i could go with them. |
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| words endlessly flow through the tip of my pen, yet my lips remain sealed |
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| 10:12pm 14/03/2002 |
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mood: tired music: FUCK . . . my ears seem to only listen to my thoughts
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Writing:
~the only adoquite mode of personal expression i seem to possess.
~IF only life could be made up of words and music, IF only every thing else could just slip away
My feet cemented to the floor,
a muzzle lodged so far into my mouth
im barely breathing.
what became of the endless conversations til 3AM.
it seems WE have disappeared,
i came so CLOSE from so FAR
yet now im perched gazing through the glass
trapped in an ever lasting memory,
i can never seem to SWALLOW.
i hide behind this window
and look at myself
look at a life
I'd rather NOT see.
like fog
it seems to hover over my head,
like an open wound that refuses,to scar over,
a window that no amount of muscle could EVER open.
LOCKED deep down inside of me
where everything seems to hurt,
where you no longer occupy my vacancy.
What ever happened to "GOODBYE"?
you promised youd NEVER FORGET ME,
as you said "please remember me" |
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loneskies's journal
lazy