the life aquatic.

it's funny how much you learn, from sources you'd never figure to learn out of. you'd never think you'd learn out of.

I have words spilling out of my ears and for some reason, I can't redirect the traffic flow, to make them come out of my fingers. but I guess life has it's own way of directing traffic.
..life has it's own way of directing traffic. now isn't that funny?
for once, there was life before there was such thing as traffic. but I guess we all adapt to the environment we're placed in. positively? possibly. negatively? I guess.

I don't exactly know what point I'm trying to make by this. at all. in the slightest. nothing is holding me into this little window, this little bright shining screen, how much of life comes at me through this screen I don't really know, I really don't, but I guess that's how it is, because this is some traffic being directed straight through my eyeballs and right out of my fingers, or maybe up my fingers and out of my eyeballs.

I think a lot of me learning in places I'd never expect to has a lot of meaning that maybe I should let go and let shit happen, or something, or maybe not just instigate. but maybe this is just growing up and realizing that we have absolutely no control over what others do.



'I wonder if it remembers me.'
-the life aquatic

can I just say what I mean?

how can I say this without sounding like a complete and total asshole?
I will never intend to hurt you with my words or my thoughts or my heart.
but my heart is too hurt, to hurt anyone else.

because my heart is always in my throat nowadays, and it always, always hurts in some way.
'would you give all your love for a run at the past with me?'

I feel like I'd be stronger if each sign wasn't always contradicted, so I could know what was going on in some way, and not have the whole entire truth turn around the next day.

the truth is, I know the truth. and I can't bear to break your heart with the truth even if you already broke mine with your truth.

I'd rather be the one caught in the crossfire.
but maybe this is just a taste of my selflessness..

you don't know how lovely you are

I'm happy with you. and I'm at ease with you. I put on no acts for you. no fake laughs for you. I'm.. me.. with you.
more than with anyone else.



it's just that simple.

this could be a brand new start

I really quite enjoy those days when soft smiles are always on your face
not too big but not too small. perfectly proportional
those days when you realize how much of your life is actually rather great,
good, superb..

I like rap music
like music in general
like eyelid freckles
like my camera
like my brother, his girlfriend
like my brother's drunk and high stories, always great to entertain
like playing nurse to those who need it
like being creative,
like happy music
like my school
like intricate music videos that have a whole lot of love put into them
like sitting on couches all day
like feeling like the world is your music video
like feeling vindicated
like blue Christmas lights
tiny waists easy for tickling
white vnecks on beautiful people
how big and blue the sky is
knowing where each one of her scars are
not having to waste my time with words
feeding people
the way hearts really look as opposed to their commercial appearance
the way I win at spelling but fail at most things grammatical..
just like that.
my ability to spew out words and thoughts without editing them
and their ability to not sound completely retarded
my voice being naturally higher pitched
the fact that I have a roof over my head and two dogs who are annoying yet awesome
the fact that I have a laptop
and I have beer on my sweatshirt, it smells disgusting
finding my heart that should be still
car rides in comfortable silence
Radiohead filling the gaps of conversation
being chill in general
sleeping in her arms
smelling her when she's away
dimples
tolerance is the passageway to being a knowledgeable,
soft cheeks (the face kind)
everything

everything in life has the potential to be alright
waking up in her arms, even if you're falling to the floor
huge sweatshirts
driving in the dark
Lack of Color

warped tour



everything has the potential to be alright.

I won't burn long

tears are cold.
I don't like sniffly noses that belong to me
or red-rimmed eyes
hate tension headaches
crying for no reason
self loathing
complacence of ignorance
lack of general intelligence
intolerance is ignorance no matter what way you spin it
don't like things happening when you slam your keyboard with your fists
I don't like self-absorbed people who think that everyone likes them
or people who have with an extremely large ego
even though we all have one- don't deny it

dislike self-centered people
dislike being surrounded by loud people when I just want to be alone
dislike being called girly
dislike the smell of cigarette smoke
dislike the wrong music at the wrong moment
dislike having to pull up the car seat four feet after my dad drives the car

dislike self loathing
dislike my basic lack of knowledge of music theory
dislike my lack of individuality-but you aren't individual either, we are a mass of people, teenagers
dislike the basic ignorant human
dislike the fact that I will only use 5 percent of my brain capacity no matter how hard I try to push the limit
dislike what my face looks like when I lay down
dislike awkward temptations or awkward situations

dislike self loathing.
dislike selfishness, selfish people, I am one.


dislike self loathing.

My Beautiful Girl

Chapter 3.

This is how I spend every weekend.
Here, on someones couch, laying upside down with my body sprawled against three or four different people. Making fart jokes. Making 'your mom' jokes. Making cock jokes. Making immature jokes in general. Jamming, playing music, being deep, being shallow, going on a fucking childs website, texting people.
This is how I spend every weekend.
I have the best friends you could ever ask for. Sure, everyone says that. Everyone says they have better friends than you ever will. This is a lie. Everyone has friends who fit their needs.

I have these people who I wouldn't even want to start explaining, because you'd get so many ass stories, so many crying stories, so many comfort stories, so many cuddling stories, so many love-making stories. So many delirious four-in-the-mornings, two hours watching people play video games, killing ants with axe, eating pizza every Friday downtown. Because in the end, it's the people you trust who are around the longest. And these people I have found myself in. I have found people who care, and I have found these people who love me.

And to think, I almost ended it all.

I'm turning fifteen tomorrow. A lot happened.
But mostly, I want to thank everyone. For being there when I need them. For listening. For taking me up to their room during THEIR birthday party so I can cry. For loving me, even if it was for a little while. For punching me in the face everytime I see them, for seeing every retarded move I make. For smelling perfect, for letting me mess with their hair. For letting me make fun of them. For that 1,000 messages Facebook thread, and counting. For farting in my mouth, twice. For having the best couch possible, for holding intellectual conversations. For kissing my neck. For stealing my shirts, for letting me steal their shirts. For playing me songs, for jamming, for giving logical reasons on every single side of every emotional situation. For sharing the benefits of their big houses. For not being dead. For still being here. For screaming along to music, to sleeping to that same music, to cuddling and touching eachothers parts and laughing about it, because it's not awkward at all. For wrestling and admitting defeat, for foam plates. For letting me steal their heart. For my beautiful girl. For stealing shoes. For knowing that poop is, in fact, a conversation starter. For having the same taste in books, music, and movies. For keeping eachother going.

You're the reason I'm here.
This is how I spend every weekend.


I'm turning fifteen tomorrow.

And I Want Her, Need Her

Chapter 2.


He had brown hair, I think, maybe it was blonde at that time. and I'm pretty sure it was curly (at that time.) He had golden brown eyes and I chased him around the playground like a starfish. I thought I loved him. Once, during clean up time, I drew a picture of us as stick figures, on opposite sides of the paper, with a line connecting our lips touching.
I was four.
He's basically my brother now.

As for the next boy I had a crush on, he was tall. And, he had a bowl cut. His hair was sandy blonde and one time we were having a class party and he was telling me a story about a kid who could only say no. A man told the kid, "If you don't stop saying no, I will kill you!" And the kid said, "No! No! No!" I laughed and moved my desk around and loved his name.
I was seven.

I came to a new school. In that school I met a boy. He was around my height, and had brown, shaggy hair, and one day during Orchestra he came in late. He wore Mavs jerseys and sock hats and I thought he was beautiful. He played the bass. One time, on the bus ride home, I told him that I thought his Gameboy DS was ugly, and he retorted, "Your face is ugly!" I hid my tears by turning back into my seat. I cried about it a few week later.
I was nine.

And this angel visited me in the fifth grade. He was tall, he had blonde, curly, wavy hair, and he had baby blue eyes. He loved the Beatles, I think, and just about every single girl in my grade wanted his dick. He ended up going out with both of my best friends, and he almost went out with me. Almost. One time, I sent him a note in science. It said, "Do you still like me?" He never replied, and he actually left it on the desk. My science teacher, who happened to be a total bitch, took the note and showed it to my parents.
I was ten.

On the last day of school in fifth grade, me and the boy I liked in the fourth grade shared a headphone. We watched Spiderman. I liked him all through that summer, and we talked all summer. He then asked me out. We went out for two or three months, and then he broke up with me. A month later, he asked me out again. We were together for a year. He was my first kiss. It happened on my birthday. The next summer, I broke up with him.
I was twelve.

The two boys I broke up with him for are two completely different stories. The one I liked more, with the blonde, shaggy hair, and the blue eyes, and his height and converse and taste in music, did NOT like me back, but liked my best friend. The other became the love of my life. He lived in Georgia, so we had this whole, oh-my-god-I-love-you-but-can't-go-out-with-you thing going on. I loved him more than I thought I'd ever love anyone. He was half-Mexican, he had ADHD and ADD, and played the guitar. He was a jackass to everyone but me. And then he moved back to Dallas. In that time, I went out with him for four months. And then, he broke up with me.
I was thirteen.

The blonde, shaggy haired boy with the blue eyes stopped being my best friend. Georgia boy broke up with me. And my other best friend stopped talking to me, and my grandpa died.
But I don't like to talk about that.

The next boyfriend I had was younger than me. He had glasses and blue eyes and brown curly hair and he played hockey. He listened to the best music and we only went out for three days, but I got to make out with him twice. To this day we are still awesome friends. We went out in the last few days of my eighth grade year.

Then I finally let everyone know I liked girls.

And she came along. I can't say much, except for the fact that I really liked her. She was perfect and she had brown eyes and long brown hair that I'm pretty sure was just styled to stay in her eyes. She was my height. And she talked real quiet, like you had to really listen to hear what she had to say. So you could care. And it didn't happen. And I was hung up over it for a while. I made fun of her a lot because I liked everything about her so much. And it didn't happen.
I was fourteen.

And I'm still fourteen.
And I met this girl, who's really too tall for her own good. And smells amazing. And can play pretty much every instrument on the planet, and she has a beautiful voice. And she's in a band. And she has these awkward long skinny fingers and when I don't pay attention to her it's because I'm thinking about how I want to kiss every one of them. And for sure, she's one of the only people I've ever wanted to make the happiest girl in the world. And I write her songs and make her gifts. And we're together because that's what awesome people do. She's jamaican. And I could honestly list off every fact I could, except I don't think you'd care.

The truth is, I care.

I care.