Crippling insecurity.

Why won't you leave me?

The boy I'm in love with loves me for me but I don't want him to see me.

He's more beautiful than I could ever hope to be.

Entertaining notions. I smoke a lot. It's a problem now. I like the feeling too much. I didn't know you could feel like that.

I feel so beautiful.

I've never felt beautiful before.

Also this obsession with smoke is becoming a nuisance. I keep burning myself on purpose. Just to see what will happen. Skin blisters in the most appealing way.

Time to go re-watch Red Dragon and hope one day I meet a blind boy to fall in love with.

All my life I wanted to be self-destructive. And here we are.

I don't want

I don't think I want to be touched. For a very long time.

The craving though...hilarious. How do you know what you want when you've never even had it, he said.

I now have 6 journals, 3 Jacobs, 2 Toms, and a very expensive taste for certain herbs.

Remember when the only problem I had was getting my poetry published or finishing Heart of Darkness?

I write too slow to keep up with my brain. I need someone creative enough to keep up with me.

I. I. I. I. I.

There are bracelets to be made, promises to be kept, and people to see. I would much rather vanish.

THRILLS, CHILLS, AND CHEAP PILLS FOR ILL WILL

I want to have purple hair and wear flannel shirts in ugly colors with black jeans and bowler hats, gold jewelry, pocketwatches, bonfire parties, boys who drink cheap beer and smoke good weed, talk about science fiction, dance to bad music, feel my teeth chatter from that good kind of nervous, feel warm at all the right times, never feel anxious about wanting a hug from the boys, listening to Stars while looking at the stars, lying on the roofs of people's cars, running in the streets with sparklers and eating stale candy.

No pumpkin smells, no splintering leaves, no winds that make you want to run inside with your head in your hands.

Purple hair and a gold-studded black leather bag is all I can do, I'm afraid.

While thoughts about touching and telling teachers about toking teem about my mind, I'll tell you this now, Kitty- There are more pills in our future.

Wonderdrugs. 

In Pete Doherty we trust.

Living on short-term solutions.

Jumping on buses, getting off buses, stumbling into streets, occasionally finding the right alley, getting lost, and sitting at the wrong train station.

Littlethingslittlethingslittlethings.

There aren't any ears to listen, no hands to grasp, no arms to fall into.

People who don't deserve anything sure do ask for a lot.

I could listen to Joy Division, stop showing up to class, hang myself from the ceiling, drink protein shakes, and "fight the good fight".

Or I could listen to The Smiths, put on my rings, finish all my work, drink like a fish and tell my mother I love her.

Stereotypical music is going to fuel all your little stereotypical problems.

There's so much Spanglish, vice, and thinking about touching. More than there ever was before. It's no longer detachment but I'm scared of what I gained. My nervous tic, my withdrawal, my anxiety has turned into a P-R-O-B-L-E-M. I need a beige sofa and a nice off-white room to talk to.

I wish I could see people as people and not images of people. But then those are my standards that I'm holding them up to. No one can get over those. Get over those and I can't handle you anymore.

I wish my imaginary friends would come back. They took such good care of me.

How Do You Get Along Sir?

I promised myself this wouldn't happen.

You're like the boys I'd imagine.

The magicians in the movies.

I'm torn between eradicating every trace of you from my life and wanting you to be a part of it.

This isn't even real.

That's how I keep it under control.

I promise myself it isn't real.

I like it best when I'm out of my mind then I can tell you everything.

Olive green dresses, shiny pinned hair, red lips, and pearly white shoulders.

Gold chains.

You're rough. All of the above meeting a jarring black denim and straight jawline.

This is all wrong. Entertaining notions...since when do I entertain notions? I can't even entertain myself.

I hope I can enjoy you for as long as possible. I don't want you to disintegrate, I don't want you to be like the leaves....I want to trust you and I don't want you to change.

But mainly...I just wish I could meet another magician that's so bohemian like you.

THIS HEART'S ON FIRE

-----AN OPEN LETTER TO THE GREAT ONE IN THE SKY-----------

WHY WAS I BORN WITH THESE EXTRASENSORY POWERS, GOD?

WHY DID YOU MAKE ME THIS WAY?

I WISH TO FEEL NO LONGER. I WISH TO BE FREE OF YOUR AMAZING GIFT.

THIS EMPATHY THAT KILLS ME AND MAKES ME CRY.

I TRIED BLOCKING IT OUT.

I DREAM OF NOTHING BUT MY FILTHY SUBCONSCIOUS DESIRES.

THEY TOLD ME I WAS GOING TO BE A GREAT WRITER, BUT I WAS ALWAYS VERBOSE.

GOD, YOU PUT TOO MUCH EMOTION IN ME FOR ME TO NOT BE VERBOSE.

SO I THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME HYPERBOLE.

THANK YOU FOR THE SHUDDERING SIGHS AND THE VULGAR GESTICULATING HANDS YOU GAVE ME.

I would just like some company that I can feel. I would just like to feel some warmth against my skin. Something to distract me. I understand that it's not time yet. But I would like to meet him soon, if possible.

Thank you.

-----------END LETTER--------------

“To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget.”

—	Arundhati Roy

Would you like to save now and play again later?

This happens a lot. But I finally took the time to type it

Those fabulous twenty-somethings that moved to the city to make it big

dancing down dark alleyways,

covered in glitter and grime and godknowswhatelse.

They collect antiques and burn soy candles that

drip

drip

drip

on to stainless steel tables next to their laptops.

Always choosing the old to make it new,

keeping it classic to keep it cool.

PhotographyModelingActingWritingDesignMusicArtPublishing

The press will say

So much joie de vivre, so much energy and passion,

The headlines will read

NEXTBIGTHING: This year's ingenues and parvenues

You find them all over,

all always alive,

all always alight

burning up the city with

the parties, the noise, the music, the smeared lipstick, and sterling pound coins.

East, West, South

London will follow them wherever they go.

I love my job

they will tell and talk and turn 'round and 'round

till

time

forgets

and those who follow

will remember why they came to London.

I read poetry and do not write it. I am good at nothing- little more.

Ignorance is love and I need that shit

It's really at night when I feel alive. So spacey.

I can feel my thoughts instead of simply having them pass to and fro between my ears.

And now I realize how detached I am from everyone, how removed...watching myself.

When you're addicted to sleeping pills, you realize how weak you really are inside.

It was like that day in 8th grade when I failed my first test on purpose.

All my life they told me I was going to be SOMETHING, do SOMETHING...something AMAZING. I had so much POTENTIAL.

That one little F made me realize how stupid everyone was.

I wasn't anything special and nobody else was either. We just had different ways of whoring ourselves out to the right people until we ended up succesful in one way or another.

I've been taking these little fuckers for almost four years now. Powder blue Lunestas, snow white Ambiens, the lovely little twinkly Xanaxes- no thinking was involved, just sleep.

Have you ever been scared to sleep in your own $2,000 bed?

How when your parents get mad at you, you pretend to be asleep so you don't get in trouble?

Or when you get in trouble for cutting yourself to deal with your problems, so you try to just sleep through it all but can't?

Then I found a solution.

I'm 19 and it's 6AM. I'm drained, physically exhausted- but if I tried to sleep right now I would hyperventilate, cry, and eventually faint and wake up every few hours until my body can't take it anymore.

I have had seizures, spasms in my face muscles, anxiety attacks, nausea, and occasional eye twitches. I don't regret any of it of course, I like blackout sleep. My right eye is twitching right now and I can feel a muscle spasm coming on.

But I feel weak. I have let myself become dependent on something.

I don't want to be dependent on anything more than I have to.

Not on medication, not on drugs, not on my friends, not on a boy, not on anyone.

I'm explaining this on the phone to one of my closest friends who is 17 and idolizes me. She's disgusted (masked with worry, of course), I can hear it in her voice. I don't blame her and I don't really care.

I'm not sad or unhappy. My point is that I don't like being weak. They filled me up with bravado when I was younger- I took care of that. I know I'm not going to get anywhere in life- I'm not stupid. I'm fulfilling my potential best I can.

But now I have this problem (now that I have FINALLY come to terms with it) and I need to get rid of it.

The zine will be starting as soon as school starts.

EMERALD CITY :3

My baby, my breath, all my glittery tears and salty saturated blood will be put into that.

Besides grades and work.

I'm not feeling my major anymore. Art History and Writing or English would be better for me I think.

But it's something I promised myself I would do, and I need to be in control of that.

I'm feeling a little dizzy now. I almost want to wait for Tom to get online.

I hope one day I can meet a boy like him.

Someone who genuinely appreciates all the little things in life, all the beauty.

These boys are little children. They need someone to complete them and feel needed. They need someone else in order to validate their own existence.

Constantly seeking for someone to "love them". Honestly, GET A LIFE. Do something. You'll have something to show for. Develop tastes, fulfill (or at least attempt to fulfill) your potential, go make something of yourself.

YOU are the most important thing YOU have. Not someone else.

It's great if you find someone, many people don't. They even get married and still don't find their true love.

I love everyone. I'm needed by many. I'm blessed with more friends than I can handle and family from three continents.

I have a great sense of self.

I am content but always reaching for more. As it should be.

You know who was cool though? F. Scott Fitzgerald's wife.

Bitch died in a goddamn hospital fire. She died still creating things. Works of art.

I mean how fucking amazing can you get?

I could kick it with Lily Allen

AS FAR AS MY WRITING STYLE GOES,

I'LL LET MY BRO E.E. CUMMINGS SUM IT UP FOR YOU WITH SOME UNRHYMED VERSE:

if feeling is first,

then who pays any attention,

to the syntax of things

...

for life's not a paragraph.

Oh there are so many things coming that no one will see but that I will remember forever.

Here's to you Emerald City, may you live long and prosper.

If for only a year, I will love you as if you had been born in 1973.

Now all I need to do is make a name for myself.

And by that I mean I need to come up with a name for myself.

One not heard in the common cabaret.

something that melts in your mouth and not in your hand

that slides off your tongue but can't be worn out

with some glitter in it that makes you inhale when you think of it

"A well dressed woman is always in love- with herself"

I kept answering questions with "I used to" and "I was into that"

I fell into the little freshman trap that I promised myself I would not fall into.

You know the one where you meet a whole bunch of new friends and get so busy getting acquainted with everyone that you forget about yourself?

As much as I enjoy bro-ing around....

My sister wrote a poem for me when she was 4.

I hung it up in my room and read it everyday.

The last line is

'I just love myself'.

Everything hurts

And it feels so good.

Fuck you, P90x

I went out and did all those stupid ditzy glamorous annoying things I used to do in high school with my family and their friends.

Yeah I felt awkward and didn't fit in with any people. But it was nice just being entertained and being with people who have known me for a while.

Oh and walking around in 4 inch platform heels was also pretty fun ;D

I haven't done that in a while

There's absolutely nothing wrong with who I am. I keep forgetting that.

That's the thing I like best about me. That there's no one like me.

I'm the only me in the entire universe.

Sure there are better, sure I'm not the most unique, most creative, whatever.

But I'm me.

And I think I might have almost achieved what I've wanted since I was 12

I think I am the best me I can possibly be...just by...being...me.

Anyways.

The zine I'm starting...I'm really worked up about it.

I'm trying to compile all my ideas while I'm on this trip so I can act accordingly once I get back.

It's funny because now I have this blog ( I used to hate blogging so much), my Tumblr (I hated tumblr even more- still kind of do), my journal, my commonplace book, and the little notepad I keep in my bag.

But whatever. I'm just so excited that I'm finally actually doing it.

As for why my life has sucked from January to June:

I realize now that I broke some of my biggest rules-

Never talk to people you feel you have to justify yourself for.

Also, never feel you have to do something because everyone else is.

Don't bother with those who can't keep up

and

STAY PARANOID.

I've been listening to so much Kid Cudi lately. I have no idea why I am so impressed with him.

I asked for other opinions, tried to NOT like his music- I just can't.

I guess it's how Rumsha is with Drake. Hmm.

Anyways....

I'm just looking everywhere for inspiration. I'm back to how I always was, looking for new things, soaking up stories.....

Colors magazine is pretty impressive. I'm going to see if I can find more issues before adding it to my favorites list.

These magazines take up a lot of room but I collect and have kept them for a reason.

I like going back through them. I want people to go back through them.

I'll be in England soon. Back where I feel like I fit in the most.

I'll have my flower rings back from last summer. And I can go to Troll and buy more...which I don't need.

I've decided that I'm not going to buy any more necklaces but I want to start dressing like a drag-ed out gypsy again. I thought I looked beautiful. I'm changing my hair too- as soon as school starts so my mom doesn't flip a shit.

I'm just glad that I believe in myself again, love all my quirks again, realized what good things and friends I have.

I am not my parents, I am not my former religion, I am not my culture, I am not my private school education.

I'll be fine once I get in

Four more days, five more days, five more days, a month, ten more days.

My life right now is nothing more than a countdown.

Ugly numbers.

But they look real nice from here.

It's back to relishing every moment, looking for new things, wanting things and slowly obtaining them.

THIS IS A POST ABOUT ROGER

8)

“Unless you love someone, nothing else makes any sense.”

I take everything too seriously.

I am overdramatic.

I care too much about what other people think.

I am incredibly condescending to people because it makes me feel better about myself.

I am a good person.

I care.

I am controlling.

I don't take care of myself.

I am spineless.

I have no self respect.

I am dependent.

I am never content.

"voices to voices,lip to lip

i swear(to noone everyone)constitutes

undying;or whatever this and that petal confutes...

to exist being a peculiar form of sleep

what's beyond logic happens beneath will;

nor can these moments be translated:i say

that even after April

by God there is no excuse for May

-bring forth your flowers and machinery:sculpture and prose

flowers guess and miss

machinery is the more accurate, yes

it delivers the goods,Heaven knows

(yet are we mindful,though not as yet awake,

of ourselves which shout and cling,being

for a little while and which easily break

in spite of the best overseeing)

i mean that the blond abscence of any program

except last and always and first to live

makes unimportant what i and you believe;

not for philosophy does this rose give a damn...

bring on your fireworks,which are a mixed

splendor of piston and of pistil;very well

provided an instant may be fixed

so that it will not rub,like any other pastel.

(While you and i have lips and voices which

are for kissing and to sing with

who cares if some oneyed son for a bitch

invents an instrument to measure Spring with?

each dream nascitur,is not made...)

why then to Hell with that:the other;this,

since the thing perhaps is

to eat flower and not to be afraid."

-E.E. Cummings

Everything is all in place now. The realizations. They have all occurred.

"You're planning something aren't you, you're planning something aren't you? You stupid little girl"

I will need to talk to someone paid enough money to tell me that nothing is my fault and that it will be taken care of. They will hand me a bottle of pretty colors to ingest and ensure nary a bad thought enters my head.

"You haven't met anyone that loves you yet"

I don't know if I love me yet. I'm trying to love me. But I don't think I want to for some reason.

"I sat down.." "And then I realized..." "It was then I figured out..."

Working out, smoking, working on school, being around positive people, being away from negative people.

"You look like a tranny, like a drag queen, why are you everyone's gay best friend?"

Wear what I want to wear and act how I want to act instead of picking out 'Shoulds'

"you're addicted to sleeping pills"

Yes. Yes I am. Sleep is a punishment that I do not deserve.

I WANT TO STOP THROWING UP EVERYTIME I EAT SOMETHING.

"This is what I mean! You should fast all day and then before bed have some soup. That's all you need"

“To be nobody but yourself in a world that's doing its best to make you somebody else, is to fight the hardest battle you are ever going to fight. Never stop fighting.”

“We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.”

You don't know a thing about my sins

The good things are supposed to outweigh the bad things right?

Why can't I think of anything good to say when people ask about you?

I don't know what you are looking for. I don't think you do either.

I'm a scared little girl. I always was and I think I always will be. I want someone to take care of me. I try to grow up and it's the most frightening thing on earth.

This is a terrible thing to say. I should be able to take care of myself, but...

Gah I can hear you in my head "everything you say after the word 'but' is how you really feel".

I have so many excuses, so many reasons, so many stupid emotions that stop me from doing things.

The thing that upsets me the most- the biggest thing for me has always been that I wasn't good enough for my family. So I push myself to be good enough for everyone else.

I have yet to find someone who'll accept me exactly as I am.

I'm not saying I refuse to change and keep my mind open, but I would love to meet one person who thinks I'm just fine the way I am. So I could be enough for one person.

So yes, I do care about what people think about me.

That's what my whole life was about. What other people thought.

I get told I'm pretty, get told I'm smart, get told I'm responsible.

I feel like a monster when I'm around people, I'm just barely booksmart thanks to 13 years of college preparatory school, and the only responsibilities I can handle are the smallest most noncomittal things that I can get away with missing.

Why do I even put up with myself? Because I like that I'm me. I like my personality. I like laughing, smiling at people, making things, seeing things- being a complete shallow girl basically some could say.

I like that I was different, that I wanted different things.

I guess I'd have to agree with them.

I wanted to be single for a really long time with no relationship or hint of a relationship. Until I was in my mid20's truly. I wanted to know that I could be completely alone and do what I could to get by independently, I wanted someone to fall in love with me instead of me fawning all over them all of the time.

I make a fool of myself continuously by opening up to people. I don't trust people at all, I let them see little things so they think they know me but they don't.

Monse is the only person who knows me as well as I do.

People say to be open with everyone and honesty is the best policy? No it isn't. People exist to let you down and judge you as they see fit.

I try to love everyone and be as kind and as positive as I can with them but that doesn't mean I trust them.

I don't really know where I'm going with this to be honest. I don't even talk to you that much kitty. You know how we roll, aphorisms and images- maybe some quotes. Now that no one is reading this I can spill my guts to you.

I am tired of everything currently. There was so much I had planned for myself, but everything was squashed because I kept rebelling. Why did I do that? It was the only way I could retain my dignity I suppose.

I gave up on school, stopped caring about my health, everything just to stick it to my parents.

I grew up wanting to go to Columbia University in New York, to work for magazines, to eventually run my own magazine so I could reach out to those girls who were weird like me and needed to know that there would always be someone who thought being a freak was absolutely wonderful and perfectly acceptable (like how Missbehave and Blender made me feel), I wanted to be more religious, I wanted to show my parents that I could be really independent and still be able to be a perfect daughter.

I guess I messed up by falling in love with Aziz. Why did I do that?

We had so much in common, and he was so sweet. We still talk so much.

He's going to find a really great girl soon and be with her for a while and it's going to absolutely shatter me inside.

But again- that's why you shouldn't trust people or be dependent on them.

I can't write anymore.

Why did I think I could write?

Fiction and poetry? Jacob says they're bullshit, basically. Everything should be real and rational and have a fixed meaning.

Art History and Magazine journalism? More useless frippery.

That I love...so much. So much. With all my heart.

I would rather marry a maga- I would rather BE a magazine....I wrote a poem about it.

They're really beautiful things, no one understands.

I suppose I should put that poem up soon.

Well I know my death will not come
'Til I breathe all the air out my lungs
'Til my final tune is sung
That all is fleeting
Yeah, but all is good
And my love is my whole being
And I've shared what I could
But if you give a little love, you can get a little love of your own
Don't break his heart
Yeah if you give a little love, you can get a little love of your own
Don't break his heart

Well my heart is bigger than the earth
And though life is what gave it love first
Life is not all that it's worth
'Cause life is fleeting
Yeah, but I love you
And my love surrounds you like an ether
In everything that you do
But if you give a little love, you can get a little love of your own
Don't break his heart
Yeah if you give a little love, you can get a little love of your own
Don't break his heart
Yeah if you give a little love, you can get a little love of your own
Don't break his heart
Yeah if you give a little love, you can get a little love of your own
Don't break his heart

Well if you are (what you love)
And you do (what you love)
I will always be the sun and moon to you
And if you share (with your heart)
Yeah, you give (with your heart)
What you share with the world is what it keeps of you

I don't want to be in love with anyone ever again. I never want to do it ever again.

Someone can fall in love with me.

I don't want to be in love with anyone. Ever again.