please sir, may I have some more?
I can't say no
even in the waves of pleasure
the pain trickles in
through the leaky roof where the truth pools
after each storm; they grow bigger in size
and diminish in meaning
but I cling to tear-stained sheets
or press myself against your skin
trying to pretend this will metamorphasize,
grow wings to become the thing
the meaning
the hope
that sets me free at last

I miss the past too much. I spent too long dreaming of what we could've been, letting all my dreams and hopes of exactly what real love would be, pool into my image of who he was... instead he's just 31 with two kids he doesn't support, no GED, no car, just cares about running around Haunted houses. I kill myself over these things sometimes; "don't hang your head, love should feel good"

I want to download this entire album and just make some art. I feel too heartbroken for the art.

we get there on bus lines
we laugh indoors
we walk in the ever brutal
Arizona sunshine
building up sweat
socks that dip below our ankles
and as we walk it rubs against skin
blisters of days I tried to make perfect
I love you to the depths of myself
I can focus on creating my own future
but I do protest, my love
without you in it, there is a lack of hope
I want to grow old in your arms
but its becoming clear how hard that shell is
unbreakable, but sometimes I see through the cracks
I ache for more, a starving child
your thoughts the only food that could suffice
your heart the only shelter I need to be safe
underneath a popcorn white ceiling you slept
as I stared into the darkness,
your arms sliding around me
and I know I don't want to find artifacts of what we were
someday down the line, a junk drawer of regrets
I want to polish this love
let it shine just a little, even inside
and I don't think you know how much I missed you
standing in the pouring rain
the hills of North Carolina couldn't embrace me
I lived in the lyrics of songs that tried to hold me
help me hold on until I could reach you
and so many miles, so many years
I never knew exactly what to expect
so I tried not expecting anything at all
but now my soul is hungry
silent moments I look into your eyes or at your face
smooth features of my statuesque God
you may not be going anywhere
but I want you to go everywhere-
with me.

Don't kill the messenger. Understand the difference. I will do what I need to do, but fuck. FUCK. I spent too many years doing that without you and I'm tired of it. Tired. I just want you by my side.

Here I am, ten years later and I'm at it again
sixteen and I am smelling your sweat-stained t-shirt
sitting on the floor, folding clothes
thinking about the ways I've fucked up this time
and your lips consume me as I daydream
something about the way I touch your skin
and how all the sharp lines of the world fade
with the smooth curves of your arms, legs
eyes that hold countless secrets I'd die to hear
I sit there desperately in my own heartache
I wonder when the end will really be the end
and here I am again, 26 and lost in chaos
the boy who makes my heart race
who holds my heart back with one hand
that never grows up to really be a man
that hides in dark corners
just to surprise from the shadows
the one that has his own heartache
his daddy left behind
the one that buries himself in the trivia
to ignore the current weight on his chest
the one that is mired in the mud
mud of yesterday's mistakes, impulses
here I stand between the beginning and the end
they seem one in the same, first and last
and I try to hold back, but I love to my pores
and my bones ache with knowing
that he never really loved me
and you can't either, not the way I love you
and I'll sit and smell your sweat-stained t-shirt
and know I can't find a way to leave
before this ride crashes and burns

fresh from a dream
I've never been a princess
I've just been wandering around down this rabbit hole
and one day you took my hand
and I found my way between this and that
my eyes opened to the bursting beauty of the world
even if we're just building a house of cards
we're in this together
hearts intertwined by fate or just happenstance
your green eyes more vivid than a meadow
dew dropped with the morning light
I fall into you and wish I never had to go
I run my fingers through your hair
and know I never have to change who I am
and neither do you; which is a foreign land alone
In her letters Zelda asked him to wear her like a button
proudly on Fitzgerald's winter coat
I never knew I wanted to be loved that way again
Proudly display us for all to see
no matter how windy the days may get, our castle is reaching the sun
my fear is of becoming Icarus; your love like the rays of light
that just might melt these fragile wings
but then we are together, tangled up in thoughts
and words and tongues
Like the deeply rooted water oaks of Louisiana
as if we have been growing together for a hundred years
all at once this is scary and comforting
I haven't slept this well in a decade
fresh from a dream I know its true
I can let go of the hurt, the pain from the past
to see the light you cast on my dark world
the corners bright again
the future filled with hope
like a jar of lightning bugs on a summer night
perhaps the rolling hills of Carolina were waiting for me.

Lana Del Rey, "Born to Die"

Don't make this about him or her.. make it about you.

So I am trying to focus on myself, my feelings, my actions... I have never hated and loved two people this much at the same time in my life. I am frothing at the mouth with resentment and only nagging reminders stop my tongue before I speak what I am thinking. "Sometimes life is not enough and the road gets tough, I don't know why,"

I could walk around the block ten times and still be equally angry. Life becomes a chess game; each move has to seem innocent, dumb, nieve-- that way when my Queen strikes no one will expect it. A disappearing act was never my thing; long goodbyes seemed reasonable. Expected. Leaving was painful, sharp like razor blades. I get the urge to pour the vodka in the crappy iced tea I'm sipping on like I did as a teenager. 7am innocence lost, aggravating circumstances. Life imitates art. 

Sometimes I think about that moment in the movie Sylvia where she explains how she feels like a negative of a person. The desire for blackness and silence, something I think about all the time. I never really get upset about the way my father died (or for that matter, how his father died) simply because I am almost jealous. Dying of an opiate overdose seems like one of the most quiet, pleasurable ways to die. Falling asleep and never waking up, never feeling pain, hunger, grief again. 

I miss the ocean. Sometimes I think I never want to see it again or that I need desperately to live near it. Days get more jagged, long winded, tedious, empty. Biting my own lip, I remind myself just to smile. Fake it until I make it. I just wonder how long someone can fake it before they snap... before they can hear their own nerve endings breaking like twigs. What does it take to really reach the end, to decide to pen one's own ending in one's own blood... Here I sit now, calmer.. almost indifferent. Breathing seems like a chore. Loving; being in love, loving friends and family, these all seem like pretty little pleasures that dissolved in time. They seem like charming notions, almost a false start to a life that is the mathematical result of regrets.

Bon Iver, "Skinny Love".... Kimya Dawson, "The Beer" + Louisa Luna's novel, Crooked.

Move through the motions of life sober and little things become magnified. All of the things you have spent years and dollars and blood to keep out, come washing over you in crashing waves. You used to walk from 14th street down the West Side Highway, past Canal Street, out a half a mile to look at New Jersey in the hazy distance... now a 15 minute walk up one hill becomes daunting. Days become monotonus, even the arguments with the same people just repeat again and again. These are the moments where you are trapped inside your own head; its a movie montage of memories where you had the chance to escape, the chance to start again... instead you just dropped that torch and let the fire spread across bridge after bridge. There is no one left to confide in, there is no one left that you have interest in. You put on a mask, a face, day to day. "You can be a teenager for your whole fucking life, just find some pretty sucker and make that bitch your wife...I guess by now you all know my friend Danny broke his neck, he was driving home from Sirens when he got into a wreck; first I cried for him, then I cried for me.. haunted by the ghost of the girl I used to be,"

girl? woman? washed out. up. I don't know that I ever understood it until this moment--- why people just settled for crappy jobs in little towns, having children and staying still. Life is exhausting and as you get older those exciting, blood pumping moments just dissolve into creature comforts. I don't even have a favorite thing, favorite show...

"something real.. make it timeless, an act of god and nothing less will be accepted.. so if you're calling me out, count me out," - Taking Back Sunday, "Divine Intervention.

Clinically dead.

I guess since I am in therapy and sober, I should use this as a sort of journal for my frustrations.

In therapy today we agreed I have issues regulating relationships--- I go from hello to I love you, then when it becomes suffocating I go as far away as possible. I knew it already, but Bruce (my therapist) said I need to be okay alone. I have to enjoy my own company first. The next few days should be really difficult to resist the running back to the bad problems because I feel lonely or unloved.. I used to (and I guess still sorta do) have a stash of guys from my past that still ached for me, one text and they would spill how gorgeous I was to them and smart, etc. The sweet talk is my thing. I know I have to stop that-- this whole idea of instant gratification... when I was using I remember I went through a week of WDs and watched the movie Sucker Punch. I love(d) the opening and ending quotes, the music, not so much the fighting stuff but whatever. I felt stronger. And the day I got money to pay back to my dealer who fronted me my mother (who had taken care of me the whole week) had to come with me (she also knew most of my dealers) and she warned me not to have her slip something in the car for me. I was actually one step smarter and put a hundred bucks in the envelope from the bank plus 20 to come and put pills in my window since it faced the stairs. Then that was it- I got my money and felt invincible, but again I couldn't be alone, I flew one of my ex's in, instead of studying I bought and read the entire walking dead comic series-- which was later stolen from me by one of the guys that was my fuck buddy. So I bring up Sucker Punch because there is a song on the soundtrack that is a mash up of a rapper and queen... "You got what I want and I need it right now give it to me baby I don't care how," was how I felt. I felt like a baller, yeah lame word but hey its true. to the point that I paid for stupid shit-- it was all instant gratification, I slept with who I wanted to when I wanted to, I splurged on clothes and an obnoxious amount of shoes, not thinking gee I have to haul all this shit across the country. I just spent wads of money over and over again until I got here... Yeah I spent about $50k on my mom/the move, $15k given to my aunt/grandmother who didn't deserve it... and some other reasonable things but its true... when my mom was here finding a place and the ex I flew in didn't like me getting high that way, he legit walked out on me even though I paid for his airfare for three days later.. we haven't spoke since which is fine with me, he was the last ex I ever thought of spending time with... 

Anyway, back to the present. I need to stop searching for instant gratification whether it is shopping, using, sleeping around (even with my latest ex) and spend some time fixing me. Its been a long time coming. When I told my therapist how I was so disappointed that a year ago I--- he stopped me dead in my tracks, didn't let me finish and said, "You Are Here." Maybe I should write a book called that. 

"I want to believe in more than you and me, all I can do is keep breathing,"- Ingrid Michaelson. She also does the "Be Ok" song (thats the title of the album too I think) which really is what I am doing.

I have been holding it together a lot more than I was Sunday, even better than Monday, and had a really productive Tuesday. Sometimes I think about it and judge myself harshly, not falling apart shouldn't be a great accomplishment in comparison to other things I have earned, but I guess right now that is all I can hope for.

Anyway, going over to Branden's to get my laptop and some other stuff he kept making moves on me and I just looked at him like he asked me if I wanted to eat a shit sandwich. (hahaha) He started talking about job hunting and sorta warned me he is looking for jobs in Charlotte too... then told me he knew what I was going to say to that.. immediately my inner monologue said, "Why should I care??" 

I showed up a really hot pharmisist today too which was funny. But no, I need to focus on me. (Insert M83, "Midnight City") 

My body feels better since I cut out eating all that crap with Branden. And of course, the bleach. No comment.

I have to really accept the stupid things about my mom that bug me and realize she is doing me a huge favor. Though it turns me into being her bitch-- literally. I am ok. I have control, for the most part, of me and my life. I like having my cats around even though the end of the week will wind up bringing the fun part of having cats with a hamster, whenever I bring Mr. Charlie home. 

I know I got up early but I am pretty tired. I am going to try to start small with the exercising, at least getting it going so I also feel better so I'm going to do that when I am done here.

I'm the queen of tangents, but its nice having a place to vent, or discuss my random thoughts/frustrations, etc. 

Over and Out I suppose.
- Katie

I let him go and it opened the entire world up to me, like cracking an egg and suddenly its bursting through the fault lines. Life is simpler, calmer. Sitting across from you drinking a bitter beer simply because you suggested it, it was hard not to smile. It was even harder to stop smiling as we hit each other like little kids on a playground. 

A long night walk, witty one liners and some how I wound up sitting in my panties and one of your big shirts without even managing to muster up the courage for a kiss. Nervously I sat there thinking, "what am I doing?"

But for some reason it was you and it was different. Holding my hand. Really soft kisses. 

British comedy, iced tea and the cat with the thumbs. My head on your lap and your fingers running through my hair.

Not one single regret.

put this song on before reading this post http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J8P1l2bGYQI

I step back from the picture and its falling into place. A job interview for something I can do (and do well), getting asked to join the art mob in Hendersonville... a guy who treats me right.. being sober. I'm not really happy about that, I miss sleeping.. but when I hear Bed Gibbard's voice I remember the way I used to feel.. the way I felt the frist time I heard The Postal Service, "Sleeping In" at the Virgin Mega Store in Union Square Park. 

maybe this is life's journey. Believe it or not I wish I had a guitar. I'd like to play the song I posted. 

I guess Carolina was waiting for me... 

current reading includes Sylvia Plath, Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams.