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| 11:11 the whole year, the same wish—the same lie
it’s—hard to change it now// i imagine a meaningless hope…
but my mind still cries that one from habit alone.
and even together, even together I would say
‘you make me want to die.’
{"this could change our lives forever."
no. no. only mine.} I will never be the same again//We can never go back//I will never be the same again//You can never take this back. I told you I bleed for you//but nothing I do can be something that takes your heart or steals you back, or makes you love, or hurts you too//I bleed for you//I bleed for you... | | |
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{why did you sing with me at all?}
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| we all did.
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| Dust, dust—it was your dust
Everyone was smiling for the parade with its sirens,
But your dust was slipping through my fingers and my tears turned it to mud before it fell to the floor.
I was screaming; these tortured minds aren’t worth their time.
Mother says ‘you can’t take it all away by turning around’
But still I try, and I try, and I try.
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| I've not entirely left the blogging community, I just tend to not keep up with it all much anymore. I am determined to not simply write when I'm depressed, because that's, well, depressing.
People keep walking by the cafeteria, staring at the crazy blonde girl who randomly grins and looks around with wide eyes, while her legs twitch (yes, twitch) to the sounds of "Ok Go" blasting through her headset. Why am I so very cheerful, you ask? Have I just had a good day? Won the lottery? Mayhap my fragile psyche has finally ruptured indeed. No, my friends, we can attribute all the optimistic benefits of my current personality to that heaven-sent cup of caffeine known as "The Grande Caramel Macchiatto". (Spell check asks if I would like to change "Macchiatto" to "Psychiatric".)
As of late, I'm lacking for any truly interesting stories, so I will venture into the archives of my brain. This may be a dangerous quest, as currently we (my brain and I) are entirely clouded over with words such as "synoptic", "gap junctions", "connective tissue" and all kinds of other exciting AP terms that usually follow a 55-question AP test. You know. It happens. So I'll write about small town life--something I have plenty of generic material on already.
Now, a select few may know of a little thing that happens at times in my life that my brother so fondly refers to as "Pregnant-Woman-Cravings." I suppose they are a bit extreme. These include things such as a sudden thought in my head like, "Wow. I could really go for some vanilla ice cream right now. BUT--not just vanilla ice cream. A BOWL of vanilla ice cream with a green olive resting atop, eaten with a black plastic spoon." I digress. One late night, I had just such a craving for some type of drink or something. The details have become lost.
We interrupt this broadcast to... : This is very awkward. I was not yet finished with the above post but in my haste, I saved it as "public" instead of private. Now I have no heart to finish the story...maybe for the better. 
-Karee
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