so i find myself wondering if you are entirely faithful. if those times you are unreachable by me, you are reaching out to someone else. i can imagine who. oh yeah. i have her number. i know what she is like. attention seeking, greedy, self-centered. only a few in a line of many. i dont know why you would turn from me, i just hope im wrong, because i dont give second chances. i just walk away and never come back. but not before i stomp on your heart and spit in the gooey remains.

mood: confused

eep!!!!!!
xmas was most glorious. things are much better for me nowadays... billy is spoiling me rotten. and things that were iffy before are clear now. the games we used to play with eachother are over, and now its just us. finally.

so, im tired. im pulling in roughly 50 hrs a week right now. i have family obligations and things i have promised to do for my friends. i feel so stretched and blah. what i need is an entire day where i can lay in my bed, in the dark, under the covers, with bed hair. i just want to sleep more then 3 hrs a nite. its starting to hurt.

ya know, sometimes i just wish he would be spontaneous and take me out somewhere as a surprise. im tired of doing the same thing over and over again. im getting bored with the repition.

mood: sad

i love him so i care not. ill say that to myself over and over again, and yet....i cant make myself stop caring. i wish this would go somewhere. i wish for more commitment. i'm done playing games. i have found who i want. i wish he would figure out what and who he wants. i wont wait around here forever. i don't care how much i love him. i wont waste my time if i don't mean anything to him.

mood: angsty

not too long ago, i met someone who i had thought to be a really nice guy. i have been wrong before. i just wish i knew what is wrong with me that makes people disappear without a decent goodbye.

Freshman Composition 1180
Wednesday, 6pm-10pm
Professor Brooks


My Beautiful Self Mutilation

I push the cold metal through my flesh, wincing, not from pain but from the expectation for pain. I don’t know why the pain hasn’t kissed my nerves or blessed my eyes with refreshing tears, but honestly, I don’t care. Actually I am rather grateful for its absence. I can’t go back now. I’m too far into this, only 3 layers of skin deep, 2mm long, but I can’t go back. I pause to think, easing the pressure from the end of the un-safety pin, and just breathe. Questions form in my mind and clog my brain. Why am I doing this? Why can’t I stop? And why does this feel so damned good?

I can remember the day that my heart first grew metal, but I cannot recall the main reasons as to why I felt compelled to scar my blank flesh. I only know that when I do it now, my reasons can range from petty little fights to full out hatred.

September 17 is not only the anniversary of my birthday; it is also the anniversary of my first self-piercing. For the past three years I have always awoken on my birthday to follow a certain protocol that I have set for myself. As soon as I wake up, I go into the bathroom, lock the door, and completely undress myself. Looking in the mirror, I examine all of my scars, counting the new ones and adding up my “score”. Then, from a little Maleficent jewelry box, I pull out safety pins of numerous sizes and clean them all in a bowl of alcohol. After I am satisfied with their cleanliness, I insert them one by one into my old scars. After they are all in I look at myself once more, stepping back to admire the beautiful destruction that I have fallen victim to. I remove them all and clean them again. After drying them, I place them back into the box, and slowly dress myself. Last year, my count was up to 102.

My first piercing was to me, a right of passage. I had just turned fourteen and was in my first year of the hell they call high school. I had no friends and my family left much for me to desire. I was somewhat an outcast in my school, mainly by my own hand. When you shroud yourself in black and nearly paint your eyes shut with black make-up people tend to give you a lot of space. My days before that one had all been filled with anger and desperation. I had gotten tired of going home and crying myself to sleep after another fight with my family. I don’t even remember what made me think about inserting metal into my flesh, all I do know is that it seemed like a good idea at the time.


After I had pierced myself, I was amazed to find that my pain and anger was gone, or hiding as I came to realize later. I decided that since I wasn’t cutting myself or really doing any real harm, it must be okay. After all, people got piercings everyday, why should it be any more dangerous to me? I know now that what I do to myself is another form of self-mutilation. I might as well grab a knife and drag it through my flesh, because the effect is the same. My pain and anger hibernate for a short while, and I die a little inside.

When I pierce myself, it’s not only one at a time. Sometimes, I find that my sadness and anger cannot be quelled by one safety pin. It can take up to 9 safety pins just to satisfy my hunger for pain. The most I have ever done at one time was 22, and that was an indirect result of my real mother. I had gotten into a discussion with some friends about drugs and pointed out that I wouldn’t be the psycho I am today if she hadn’t traded my heart for her addiction. Let’s just say that I began to ponder what my life would have been like, had she not been a crackwhore. I quickly became angry and depressed, and when I got home, the safety pins attacked me. When I was finished, I came to the realization that I was no better than my mother. We were both inflicting harm on ourselves in one way or another, the only difference that I could see is that my addiction hadn’t caused me to give up my family or friends.

Like my mother, I have an addiction. Not to a narcotic, but to pain. As soon as I feel that little imp of anger rearing its hideous head in my nerves, my first thought is where the next scar should lie. I understand the dangers that I am putting myself into, but I still cant seem to stop. My family doesn’t know of my self-destruction, but I have friends that I trust who do. All of them have begged me to stop, and I have tried. I couldn’t seem to bring myself to do it before, but I am trying to now, honestly trying. You can’t give something up until you want to. Oh God, do I want to stop. I can’t even look in the eyes of that girl in the mirror anymore, because I know she is judging, I know that she hates what I have become, what I can’t seem to stop being.

I resume the pressure on the end of the safety pin and slowly push the tip up, readying it for the surface. I hold my breath and stab it through the outer layer of my skin and revel in the popping sound my breaking flesh makes. I close the pin and hide my new metal with a band aid, attempting to hide what I see as my release of anger, but what is actually a symbol of my breaking soul.

A perfect Heart and a Golden Star

a perfect heart and a golden star
sat on a shelf inside a glass jar.
the shelf held up by a piece of rope,
the rope laced with a billion strands of hope.

Going through life with nothing to fear
a few mean words were heard by her ear.
all was kind to her, except for one,
who thought teasing her was lots of fun.

A semi-perfect heart and a golden star,
sat on a shelf inside a cracked jar.
the shelf held up by a piece of rope,
the rope laced with shrunken strands of hope.

That one mean girl had broken her dreams,
prefect to the world she made herself seem.
but the one became two, the two became three,
the truth of life she had begun to see.

An imperfect heart and a silver star
sat on a shelf outside a glass jar,
the shelf held up by a piece of rope,
the rope laced with shrunken strands of hope.

The child grew with a heart full of hate,
but hate shrank when asked on a date.
she baught a dress and curled her hair,
her heart began to mend, where once was a tear.

An imperfect heart and a silver star
sat on a shelf inside a glass jar
the shelf held up by a piece of rope,
the rope laced with increasing hope.

She waited for hours, right by the door,
her late date she was waiting for.
she gave up when the clock struck ten,
a joke she thought, was all it had been.

A broken heart and a black star
sat on a shelf outside a broken jar,
the shelf held up by a piece of rope
the rope stripped of all it's hope.

She grabbed a knife, her heart it went though
Her eyes rolled back as her lips turned blue.
the blood poured from her heart onto the floor,
thats when her late date arrived at the door.

A deceased heart and a black star
fell off a shelf without the glass jar.
The shelf once held up by a piece of rope,
scissors of hate had cut threw the rope.

Days go by as they often do,
old people replaced by the new.
the cycle restarts, the hate begins
as does the pain that begins within.

serveral perfect hearts and beautiful stars,
wait to be placed outside the glass jars
waiting for the shelf, held up by the rope,
to be stripped of all potential hope.

half my heart is yours
and it hurts to be alone
i want to hold your hand
and share my soul with you
i feel lost without you here
i want to see your face
to see those eyes i love so much
to feel your lips on mine
never felt this way before
i feel lost inside my mind
contemplating things i cannot grasp
already i've fallen for you
and i cant seem to find the ground
so shortly i have known you
and already i am lost
lost inside your heart
lost inside your eyes
your murky green eyes.

restraint and denial

these tears
waiting to fall
stuck in eternity
cant release
the pain inside
wont go away
im sorry
for what i have done
for what i will do
what i havent done yet.

this is me
who i am
why cant you see me
why wont you try?
too many years
i have suffered
too many tears
i have cried
i am done with it now.
i am done with you.

a blot in my skull
this imprint you leave
i will never forget you
nor what youve done
never forgiven
i cant just let go
i hold it inside
with anger
i foam and seethe
waiting to release.

but i wont.
i'll hold it all in
wait to explode
the happy padded walls
they beckon me
as do the needles
but both ignored
i can see happiness
waiting for me
neither are there.

eternity in a box

Yesterday I lost my lip ring.
I took it out.
My grandpa had fallen,
And really racked his shoulder
(Twice it's normal size)
And refused to go to the hospital
I made a deal with him.
I feel naked without my metal.
I’ve lost myself.
Traded me for his well-being.
Every day, sacrifice me for you.
Yesterday I cried,
Not for my grandpa, but for me.
I don't know who I am anymore.
Pulled in 30 directions.
I don't know what I want.
I’m so confused.
I want pain, but deny myself.
I need help.
Please help me.
Just stay by my side.
Don’t take,
Don’t give,
Please just be there and understand.
Try to understand.
I need to find me.
I’m lost.
I need directions,
But I cant' remember.
I need a map,
But I can't read the words.
Help me.
Be yourself and understand,
Try to understand,
That I’m lost and can't find me.
Open my eyes.
Help me to see who, what, I am.
What I am meant for.
I am lost.
I see no purpose for my existence.
Sacrifice me for you.
It’s in his hands.
My happiness is in his hands.
I gave him my soul.
Now, I’m lost.
Eternity in a box...

have you ever just suddenly realizized that your "friends" are really just make believe?

it doesnt matter what you say, never gave a fuck at all....

im tired of things that i cannot control. its exasperating.

seeing as my last lj was plagued by people that i am not so comfortable with, i have my new one. i have yet to decide on the people i wish to invite to it.