on the board.

with marker i will draw a box around myself.
some people know that it is dry erase, and others do not look hard enough to notice.

tonight will be just any night.

and tonight, i will sit. put on pajamas, eat ice cream, and watch great tv. really, this is all i want. for tonight.

three times doesn't make it better.

an unexplainable festering has taken over me the last two weeks. and i laugh. cry. whatever. but it's never really gone. just out of mind... but then something happens and it all comes down, down, down again. and i am lost in my own head of all places, wondering who to talk to, who could possibly understand if not even i can give a word of advice to myself. me. infj. counselor.
yeah right.
i'm just selfish.
and i take it out on people that i trust.
i'm so
so
so
sorry
but something is wrong
and tylenol doesn't help
lost
lost
lost

take that.

die, hope. die.

a day in the life.

hearing her voice, like it was in my basement. i missed her.
sick of headaches, my first migraine.
it can only get better... right?
wanting to throw a lasso around the moon for you and me.
wishing it was easier.
feeling bored.
grappling with issues, and then letting them drop.
phrases that are unconnected
except in my head.

a mismatch of different flavors, colors, people.

Song of the Day: You Belong To Me - Jason Wade.

i probably played it over ten times in a row. why? do not ask me.
anywho.

lately i am too caught up in my head... leaving me forgetful of others and tired from running in circles getting nowhere. time to move on. from what? again. do not ask me.

anyone remember this?

i just remembered the time when i was in grand haven with a few friends, and these young adultish males came up to us. they go: "oh hey... do you ladies have any sun tan oil?" Me, being such a clever flirt, says: "NO. We don't want skin cancer!"
MLIA.

help...

today i am listening to Big Girl (You are Beautiful) by Mika.
because today i feel gross, inside and out.

the call.

everyone fancies themselves "different." unique. not just your day-to-day angsty teenager. i have reasons, okay? but sometimes i am nothing but an annoying girl who wants to feel sorry for herself because her life isn't perfect. although, if i keep perspective, it's pretty close.

how can i describe what i'm feeling? it's a tension. right in the center of my chest that never seems to go away. as if something isn't right... like a pallete of paints. everything is in order, but someone or something took a paintbrush, or maybe their finger, and just swirled all the colors to create some sort of chaos out of the order that once was.

the best part is we all think that we're fine. there's not a whole lot behind the smiles we see and the jokes that we laugh at, and the things we avoid to protect sore spots. but there is. every single person you meet, brush shoulders with, look at... all of them have stories. and people. and sore spots.

i cannot fathom this.

so what am i going to do?

i'm going to study people, and make up for the others who don't care.

to help people reorganize, and find out why.

a question unanswered by science and reason.

which is why i will succeed.

honest. no frills.

this is a no mixed meaning post. i am just going to tell it like it is.

today during sixth hour, another headache graced my stupid brain. it was on the top of my head. it felt like a pencil. i didn't talk to my ex-boyfriend. not because i don't like him, but because i didn't feel like arguing, and pretending that i could be fun. after class, i bent down to get my boots out of my locker and realized that i don't know the inside of 525 very well. part of me wanted to stay in there. not because of the rusty blue metal... but because no one would look for me there.
last night there were all these things i wanted to tell people. like the lights were awesome! or, remember that one time at the dance when everyone was dancing our move? that one's for you kat. but i forgot, because sometimes my mind is like a balloon and it just floats away and i can't get it back.
and then i say stuff. and people probably think i'm stupid. and i don't really care what they think... because they probably don't really like me anyways. and that's fine. and i'm done starting my sentences with and.
one time i was petting this cat while babysitting, and i kept shocking it accidentally.. something to do with the carpet. but it didn't run away... it stayed, because it's purring made up for the dozens of electric shocks. i think this says something about life.
sometimes i do little things that maybe don't mean a lot to someone watching me from far away, but the person that i'm with gets hurt.
hey you. the one that i get along with... but something will always be off. sorry i tune out when i talk to you. i want to say it's not personal... but lets not pretend. remember? i'm being honest right now.
the title of my blog is sing through silence.
1. because i love singing. duh.
2. i love silence. sometimes, it's my favorite sound.
3. like big spaces and high ceilings, i like to fill silence. often with singing.
i like lists
mini things
perfect curls
warm drinks
cuddling in bed... by myself. sorry...?
ingrid michaelson
dang. i would talk about that one thing, except i can't really be honest. never mind.
usually when i resort to that i should stop. or keep going. dang it! i'm being elusive.
time to stop.

trash stash.

i am a skeptic.
i will neither laugh nor cry, question nor envy, scoff nor gossip, hate nor love.
i will stare.
wondering how.
how?

500 days of guessing.

the other night
i swear, it's true
i just "woke up"
and then i knew
so i think
but i'll second guess myself
until the very end
either that
or pretend

lists and lines get you nowhere on a circular planet.

in life, there is not enough love.
but sometimes, there is just too damn much.

too little:
losing friends
hating enemies
hopelessness
suicide
child prostitutes

too much:
watching slumdog millionaire
those little kids and their mom in tiajuana
knowing that god broke his heart
seeing my dad flip out
voice lessons

life gave me lemons and made me a list and line person.
so i'll draw a map and trace a straight line.
right now, my pros and cons list is equal.
because too little love hurts,
and too much hurts.
too many things going through my head,
so i simplify
box
regroup
and i've come to the same conclusion



nothing

the middle.

like two circles
like infinity
holding two hands
across a canyon
knowing very well
which side i want to be on
realizing what is good
realizing what is bad
loving it all
seeing the faults
wanting more
but not too much
up in the morning
down at night
and at noon
i am just right
in the middle
just like Moon
"a happy balance"
yup, me too.

a different kind of poetry.

words like this:
understand
freckles
belong
curves
sleep
"cool"
actually cool
coffee
many
questions
little
different
love?
blanket
dreams
black
skinny


i understand why his freckles lie on the bridge of his strong nose. it's because they belong there. i want someone who loves the way my body curves at inappropriate spots for today's fashion industry. sleep is my companion and my enemy. i fear to be judged by people that are "cool" but really i fear those who are actually cool. coffee is great in the morning, but not when there's too much creamer. or too little for that matter. there are many questions that i have. there are little that i actually ask. he's different than the others. can i really love? it felt right with the blanket over my shoulders, to protect my back from the cold. in my dreams, nothing really makes sense except for the emotions that lie under. everything i'm buying is black lately, and i no longer have an intense desire to be skinny. and this is my life.

they don't understand. sometimes i wish i had freckles. they would not belong on my face... but sometimes i feel like a mole out of place. i don't want a straight road life. i would like bumps and curves and a yellow-line passing zone please. sleep comes at the wrong times if you ask me. sometimes i think that i am a "cool" and then see people who are actually cool and i feel really stupid. in the morning, coffee wakes me up and makes my breath smell like a teacher's. how many friends do i truly have? what's the point in asking these questions? little do they know, we are different. you. me. her. him. other him. do we all know each other? is this love? that i let my friends borrow my blankets? he gave me his. i don't have enough dreams... i love the nothing and everything that they are. black is associated with fright, but i like the mystery in it's no-color color. i would be goth. no. i'm not skinny.