Growing apart doesn’t change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I’m glad for that.

I don't feel like I know any of you enough anymore to read your secret thoughts

Do you know what it's like to lose everything? I do.

I swear, the older I get, the least I understand things. I don't understand sickness. I don't understand pain. I don't understand death, and I certainly don't understand life.

2 and a half years.. that's how long it has been since my world turned to shit. One incident after another, and then I realized that everything I thought I knew was a lie. I know I bitch about not being the same person, and I have changed, but deep down i'm still the same person i've always been. I'm just not 18 anymore. I don't see life as this big unexplored territory. Instead, my world is a delicate fabric that can rip and stain very easily. I'm always treading on thin ice in my own head. It takes a nano second for me to explode in anger or tears, and most of the time i'm not certain about which emotion I should be expressing. It just happens and it's impossible to restrain myself from breaking down.

I wish people understood this, and I wish they cared. It's hard for me to want to talk about it anymore, but I feel like my misery is written all over my face when i'm around people that make me feel vulnerable, and that's everyone I used to know. My social contacts consist of a bunch of acquaintances. I have no friends anymore.

I miss you lj.

comment to be added :)

In this game, there are words I cannot say.

Like if I mean Bill Clinton, I can't say President or United States.
Or if snowball, I can't say winter or fight
Or any other word at the top of my mind -

Unless you say it first.

I must hold the tip of my tongue
And find a way around words,
Tell you about pain, for instance,

By recounting the sadness of the stars on moonless nights
When nothing seemed to move, not even time,

Or I could say empty chairs, unread letters, and
presents that remain unopened in one's hands.

I could tell you, It's when you shut your eyes because it's the only thing
that you can do, the only thing that you have strength for, and then you dream
of mangled bodies falling from the sky and crashing into you.

If I mean pain, I could also take your hand,
Press your fingers into all the holes you made,
Say, This or Here, then tell the tale behind each hollow,
When all I really need to say is your name.

Everything is speeding past me. Most of the people I knew have either moved on from here, or started their own families. Here I am, stuck in time somewhere. I don't really mind. Not today anyways. I'm just trying to figure out if life is passing me by too quickly. Or, like that song says "Life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone.."

today, abby took her first steps. as much as I should be excited, it just depresses me. Don't get me wrong, I love my niece. I'd gladly give my life for her at anytime. Seeing her achieve all of these milestones (crawling, walking, saying her first words, standing up, etc) before she is even 1 just reminds me of how helpless Josh is. It's the christmas season, i've been surrounded by distant relatives and plenty of children that are half his age that can do things he probably never will. I just want those things for him. I want to watch his face light up when he realizes that he can get around on his own. I want him to be able to play with toys that are made for his age group. I want the whole world for him and I can't give him a damn thing.

They will detail their pain in some standard refrain- they will recite their sadness like it's some kind of contest. Well, if it is.. I think I am winning it. All beaming with confidence as I make my final lap. The gold medal gleams, still hanging around my beck. I am deserving of it- the champion of idiots.

I'm obstinate.

I want every moment to be as gorgeous as crayons are.
I want to draw pictures on lovely white sheets of paper;
to paint clumsy freedom, to draw an eye that never weeps;
a sky, a feather and a leaf pertaining to the sky-
to paint green night and pale apple sunrise.

I want to paint portraits of the morning
to draw smiles witnessed by the morning dew.
To draw the freshest, most painless love..
to draw the lover of my mind's eye.

I want to paint distant landscapes;
to draw the clear horizon and the surf
to draw many surging streams
to draw mountains coated with pastel fuzz-
let every trepidation of a quiet spring
mark the birth of a tiny flower.

I want to draw windows all over the earth
To let eyes accustomed to the darkness learn the habit of light.
I want to draw the wind, mountain peaks
Paint the dreams of the people of the East,
To colour in the sea.

And last of all on some stray corner of the sheet;
I want to draw myself, koala bear
perched in a dour forest, on a bough, in a daze
with no home, no heart left behind in a far off land
with only an abundance of dreams
like berries and big doe eyes.

I hope, ponder, but do not know why
no one gives me crayons-
not even a moment of color.
I only have me,
my fingers and my paints.
I can only tear off strip after strip
of lovely clean paper;
to flutter off in search of butterflies
to fade far, far from today.

I remember nothing from eight to ten. except a sensation like someone showing old vampire movies on my body.