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Sunday, March 30th, 2008
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9:43 am
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| Tuesday, March 11th, 2008
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3:08 am
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| Saturday, February 16th, 2008
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3:34 am
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You fucking scare me.
After all this I'm thinking.. he loved you... he still fucking loves you and look at what you're doing after all that time... all those claims to love him in return and that he was 'the one' for you.
You fucking scare me, and as much as I want to love again it is people like you that keep me at a distance.
You should not be trusted.
It makes me think past everything, in reality, no one can be trusted.
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|Truth Is Impaired.|
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| Sunday, November 4th, 2007
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2:43 am - He'll dance with me if he's not feeling shy, and I'll kiss him too if he starts to get lonely.
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Mrs. Ringwald:
You make me feel a way that I haven't felt in so long.
I'll pour you vodka; I'll pour myself wine.
We'll talk all night about what I mean.
but to be honest I couldn't ever tell you the truth because I find that with each passing day I don't know who I am. What I thought I was- I no longer am, and what I am- I no longer want to be. and the longer I sit here and wait the more I realize I want to be what I thought I was, but never will be.
Mrs. Ringwald - am I being what I think people want me to be? Are you holding me back? Are they? I'll tell you this: I think people assume I am something I am not. but, how can they be wrong if i don't even know what's right? I've slipped away and through my own fingers and I'm lost.
shit.
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|Truth Is Impaired.|
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| Tuesday, October 9th, 2007
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11:33 pm
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Does anyone know where I can get Serj Tankian tickets for a reasonable price, Oct 17th, @ the filmore in NY?
If you know somewhere/someone - comment.
If you have tickets that you want to sell- comment.
If you don't know me and have tickets and want to sell- I want to know you so comment.
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|2 Cannot Moderate _ Truth Is Impaired.|
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| Thursday, September 27th, 2007
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3:10 am
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| Monday, August 6th, 2007
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1:19 am
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No, that isn't what you want you fucking idiot.
Stop living in denial, you can't even fucking handle what you say you need.
Ugh, you make me sick.
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|1 Cannot Moderate _ Truth Is Impaired.|
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| Monday, July 9th, 2007
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1:10 am - just another reminder that it's still there.
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| Saturday, July 7th, 2007
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2:17 am - he does it to me
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I built a wall in December.
When all of you were shopping for gifts, for precious keepsakes, for cheap rings that mean nothing 4 months later...
When you all went to tree lightings and sat in front of warm fires watching your favorite holiday movies...
When you all spent time with family or friends with that dinner that only comes once a year...
when all of you were doing that, i was slaving away with mortar and brick.
and you know, i thought i'd done a good job.
i took a few steps back and really admired my own craftsmanship.
it was a really beautiful wall, strong, perfect. no gaps.
well, at least i thought there were no gaps.
but i've been noticing these small holes in it lately every time i look.
it's as though something, or someone has been poking their fingers through.
just for a peek.
a little peek at what's beyond.
and i'm not exactly sure...see.. my thoughts are these:
first, i'm a little pissed off that i'm allowing others this damage to continue
but then i think, shouldn't i be flattered by the curiosity?
---
sometimes i feel a welling inside. a welling on par with digging through miles of earth and, finally, striking oil. that sort of welling.
something like a heart...
like i have a heart again.
like i have a heart again for something personal. something in my own life. not stories. not movies or books. not fiction for a change.
but.
it's fleeting.
and i'm left ruminating about what this could possibly mean for me.
i'm left questioning this...feeling. I've grown accustomed to not feeling. To... question everything and expect nothing of people. to take it all with a grain of salt. To... not let anyone in that far again.
and now i get this fleeting.. feeling. like a warmth again.
and let me tell you. it's like walking a desert at night for years on end, barren and cold, and then... you feel the first rays of a sunrise.
and as quickly as it rises, it sets.
as quickly as it comes, it goes.
i don't know how i feel about this.
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|2 Cannot Moderate _ Truth Is Impaired.|
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| Wednesday, June 20th, 2007
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6:14 pm - Fuck, I need to get me one of these.
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So, what you're saying is: "Exercise caution when driving around me because I've an infant in the vehicle"
but here's what I hear: "My kid's life is way more important than all you other fuckers. Also, I've an excuse to drive like an asshole with this posted in my rear view window. I also expect to have right-of-way, always. I don't fucking care if you were there while I was 1/4 mi. down the road. In addition, I can wail on my horn and blame all other drivers for my faulty driving skills"
But, for serious, it disgusts me that this sign makes any difference. Shouldn't we all be careful when we're on the road at-all-times? Isn't every human life supposed to be considered equal; just as sacred? What the fuck makes your baby more important than the 14 year old boy in the next car, or the 90 year old 2 cars up? Can I post a sign saying "Elderly on board!"? It's like we're vindicating our bad driving habits via being good drivers around babies when frankly, I don't give a shit.
There should always be caution.
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|9 Cannot Moderate _ Truth Is Impaired.|
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| Sunday, June 10th, 2007
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2:44 am - Hole in the Earth
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Shuffle is a dangerous thing.
Everything can be alright, you can be thinking of aspirations, you can be thinking of the future and all all the beautiful wonderful things it has in store for you... and then suddenly you are dragged, kicking and screaming, back to the past.
One song can do this, a song you haven't heard in 6 months.
Six. Months.
You're dragged back to the last time you heard it, where you were, how you felt.
Truly, a Hole in the Earth.
It feels like I'm watching myself that night, as a different person, but still, as a person who knows the pain and the hopelessness of it all... because I can still remember how it felt.
A Hole in the Earth - That's exactly how it felt.
I felt like I was standing on the edge, being pushed into it by the person I thought once would lend me their hand.
But instead, I was alone in that crowded room... full of strangers.
I really did wish the snakes all around me were your arms.
and I was screaming.
I was screaming every word.
I thought the words would fill the empty yet capacious void I felt inside, or maybe I thought he would hear me 1500 miles away. Just maybe if I screamed loud enough...
I was holding on to every note and every word as it emanated from the stage because it's all I had that night. I closed my eyes to feel it close to me - to pretend it was my lost lover.
and I see this now, as an observer. I see myself screaming and throwing myself against strangers without apology. I see how lonely and heartbroken I was when it came to an end, walking out of the building, thrown out into the cold all over again. I thought: how much can one person bear in such a short time? How many times can you be cast out?
I see the thick smoke flow out of my lungs, like I was exhaling the sickness that was plaguing me. I see myself inhaling so quickly so I couldn't think straight anymore. I see myself finish and lay on a cold cement bench because I couldn't hold myself up anymore, with no one to hold on to, no one to touch my hand and let me know I was alive when it felt like I was dying. I see how badly I wanted to cry tears I didn't have.
You almost feel sorry for her.
Part of me can't stand this.
Part of me wants to go kneel beside her, push the hair from her face, and keep her company.
Part of me wants to lie and tell her everything will be alright even though the truth is that the coldest and loneliest winter she will ever experience is fast approaching.
...
and then the song is over.
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|3 Cannot Moderate _ Truth Is Impaired.|
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| Saturday, June 9th, 2007
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11:18 pm
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One phrase can kick you.
i am NOT putting my life on hold for this.
for you, or for anyone.
ever again.
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|Truth Is Impaired.|
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| Tuesday, May 15th, 2007
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7:09 pm - Impolite musings from a not-so-timid observer.
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Dear Narcissistic Idiot,
I know you'll never read this. You don't know me. I don't know you.
You are a complete stranger.
Truth be told... I don't care who you are.
Though, I must concede that your pretty little face caught my eye, but then again so did your puerile little blurbs.
You write how you'd like to meet someone with as much ambition as you. Well, what use is your ambition when you have the most useless fucking goals? Of all the possibilities: You want to be the face on a mainstream magazine. Yet, I'm supposed to take a five-foot two-inch wannabe-model as a serious Marine? I find myself thinking that the only reason you're doing the latter is because you feel as though you have something to prove to the world. Maybe you do. Maybe you'll succeed, too.
You say you'd like to meet someone who can outsmart you. But, in my opinion, your self-stated delusions of grandeur only prove your ignorance. You can learn something new from anyone and I think you a fool to not see that.
Maybe I just don't like confidence in the form of arrogance, or maybe I just don't like you.
You are not a fucking goddess.
All in all I hope your tiny little frame collapses under the weight of your gear while hiking the ten mile stretch of the crucible.
Unapologetically Yours
-Suzanna
Do you ever think like this? Some days people just rub me the wrong way.
Does it make you uncomfortable that I can say these things about someone I don't know? Ever wonder what I'm really thinking about you?
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|3 Cannot Moderate _ Truth Is Impaired.|
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| Monday, May 14th, 2007
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2:08 am
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It's times like these that feel amazing to be liberated from the shit that is you.
the absolute.foul.shit. that is you
so thank you.
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|Truth Is Impaired.|
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| Sunday, May 6th, 2007
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9:21 pm
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I can do this.
I look around me and I think: I can do this.
I can sit here and watch the flames dance against the chaos.
Even with the static of radio waves, I can still sit and listen. I live in this. I love this. I look forward to it each day.
Lately I've been observing.
Lately I've been noting the beauty around me. Watching touch sends chills up my spine. Listening to people speak elicits paralysis... to the point where I cannot even grip my pen to write my name. Sometimes I can't move at all. The sound.
I want to swim in the blue of his eyes and drown so to feel it in my lungs. The color.
The sweet ambrosial smell of a passerby can bring me to my knees.
I want to roll in the black of her hair, I want to run my fingers through it always. The feel.
I find I want to build cities in the warmth of her smile, so to feel it always shining down. Maybe then we wouldn't be so cold.
I want to get lost in the soft folds of her dress, but I never want to be found. The way the moon hangs just right in the sky. The dark behind the trees. The mystery.
I find I want to kiss the hands of complete strangers. I want to run my lips against every contour of their fingers. The way she touches things...the way his hands move...the ineffable beauty of it. The hands. His hands. Her hands.
I could stare forever at the glow of the radio against his face. I watched it change every time his lips moved, I watched the shadows. I didn't notice the sounds then, just the glow.
I can make love forever to the way the candlelight pushes up against his body, the way I push up against it.
Why do i thrive in thought?
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|2 Cannot Moderate _ Truth Is Impaired.|
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| Tuesday, April 17th, 2007
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11:17 pm
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Sometimes I truly cannot fathom how fucking clueless people can be.
Sometimes I wish the world was nothing but a sphere of steel. Cold and hard and lifeless. There would be no emotion, no passions, no desires. Simply the truth would exist. Just the facts.
I would not make myself sick.
None of this shit would make me sick.
You all fucking disgust me, especially the one in the mirror.
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|Truth Is Impaired.|
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7:51 pm - What goes around comes around.
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And now you want somebody to cure the lonely nights. You wish you had somebody that could come and make it right, but I am not somebody with a lot of sympathy.
That beauty deserves better than you.
You deserved everything you had comming to you.
It's called Karma.
Doesn't feel too good, does it... having your heart ripped from your chest? Apologies are useless.
I know, because I was there once.
Too bad.
Shut the fuck up and deal with it.
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|Truth Is Impaired.|
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| Friday, April 13th, 2007
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1:55 am
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sometimes you can't stand the thought.
the thought of another woman's hands touching his body
the thought of another woman's lips against his skin, his lips. no matter how long ago it was.
even if she means nothing to him now.
the thoughts still come racing through, unexpected, like a shot in the dark.
it still comes no matter how fatuous it may be even when you think of everything
every possible instance of this life as you know it
and you think in circles and retrace your steps and remain in the same spot all while still moving forward
forward and forward until you are left backtracking
this is how i feel today,now, forever and always
yesterday
this is my question:
How can I feel all this while at the same time feel nothing at all?
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|Truth Is Impaired.|
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| Thursday, April 12th, 2007
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4:01 am - sometimes things are so very very sweet. Oh, Karma. My one True Love.
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| Saturday, April 7th, 2007
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9:28 pm - Such a day should be banned... a day that I can't stand.
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