new years eve

today is my 21st birthday, im in miami, mischief and mayhem are about to abound, more on this later

i'm still alive

i have't posted in awhile and that last post was kinda scary and im sure that some of you may have thought i would have rushed upon some sword at how terribly sad i was. well it got a lot worse before it got better and now its about to get even stranger im sure. today i leave for miami for my birthday... i dont want to go but it will be good to get away probably. im going with my ex boy friend i broke up with a little over a month ago, we havent seen eachother since and only talked briefly about the trip. i dont know how much blogging will come of the trip as i dont know if the condo has internet or anything. and im leaving behind the previous ex who i have recently decided i really do love and all that comes with that, however hes dating someone else so i am leaving him and her to only become closer as i go to some place i dont even want to be. wish me luck, i'll make the best of this opportunity. and thanks for all the encouraging words.

the sound of silence

Sh listen, listen carefully, sh can you hear it? If your quiet enough just quiet enough you can hear the creaking, hear my heart breaking again ripping at the scars that are its seams. Apparently you can see it in my eyes too, sadness, that’s what he tells me, the breaker, said he could see the sorrow in my eyes. I’m doing my best not to chastise him and not to fall into told guilt trip habits that I used to give him as I did have one of those “if you love them let them go” revelations a couple days ago and just as I was warming up to the idea he dropped the bomb. I didn’t see it coming but I’m almost sure it had sought out my heat of comfortability and now I am blown to pieces, left to pull it together and not make a scene in the midst of it all, a scene I will not make for I have learned that guilt and scenes only ruin my on paths. And so I must trust that nothing will change and in the mean time hide that sorrow in my eyes with some kind of substance.

nothing

My stomach turns and I’m not sure if it’s at the thought of you, the thought of drugs or the thought of growing up. These mini anxiety attacks have taken over my day and my night, staying up looking into the glow of the screen trying to find myself, my future. I don’t think it’s hiding there, its like playing hide and go seek alone. An only child, playing multiple player games alone, chess, checkers, cats cradle and house. My thoughts are broken as is my mother’s heart. I didn’t wake up to answer the phone because I knew what she would say, if I was her I wouldn’t really have wanted to talk to anyone on the phone, we all knew that this call was on the horizon. I don’t know what to say. If its affected me its been sub-consciously and its given me stomach aches and nausea, but I don think it did.

“'I’m the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral can’t understand what I mean? Well, you soon will”

My thoughts are all over the place and I came upstairs to write the last paper of the semester an hour ago and I’ve done everything I can to stall, I even wrote a to do list of things I have to do tomorrow before I can go home. I may have gone crazy.

Here to live, here today, here to die.

won't you be my neighbor?

Sometimes if I’m quiet enough I can near him through the wall leaving voicemails. Its very intimate sharing a wall with someone you barely know. I can hear his music, sometimes techno sometimes reggae. My roommate told me that there is a parallel poster of Bob Marley on his side to my poster of Marilyn Monroe. It’s interesting to me to listen to him. There used to be this screeching noise that would come from his room and it took me weeks to figure out what it was until one day I finally realized it was the hangers in his closet screeching as he moved them about. The times I have seen him he seemed nice enough, asking me how my day was going? Inquiring if it was me he had seen earlier in the laundry room. It did seem as if he may have bit of a staring problem but I guess I am the one enthralled by every pencil drop I can overhear on the other side of the wall. I have built up this image of his room, it fairly clean buts that probably from the OCD because I would like things to be clean. I can imagine exactly where everything is, the layout, but I’m sure if I ever actually saw it I would be incredibly wrong, that’s why I never really want to see inside. He kind of looks like this girl from my high school that I greatly disliked for no real reason, guess I did that in high school, but it makes seeing him quite strange cause I probably just stare at his nose and how much it looks exactly like hers. I guess I’m the weird one but strangers are often intriguing.