day number 3.

he feels like home to me.

Okay, I have finally figured something out.

first of fucking all P.O.D : Alive.

when my grandparents died I kept playing 525,600 from RENT over and over and crying. When I ulogized them I preached what they taught me; to measure a life filled with love. and then I listened to the song right now... seasons of love. seasons.

this might get me everywhere but might end tonight. who knows? I am finally starting to feel that it doesn't even matter because I am learning. I am learning to love and lose, I am learning to experience new things, and getting a better sense of myself while doing it.

deftones - change

that fucking moment.

turned into little moments. I feel 16 years old like I don't know what to do.

haven't been to bed yet

a ripped piece of pink paper

a journal I never really wrote in

life changing night even if it was just once;

the guy upstairs and his handcuffs. 

Me: That's right, you read!
Chester: M'hm.
Me: and you just read Apathy (Apathy and other small victories by Paul Nielan)!
Chester: yep
Me: We can become a book club!!
Chester: we can become a book club... (Sarcasm)

Me: THATS NOT FUNNY, WE CAN!
Chester: Okay, Okay we can.

Me: After the movie is over we can discuss Apathy.. apathetically...

Chester: There. We just did.

lmao 

"She felt like an actor just reading her lines when she finally said, "yes its really goodbye this time"... and she said, "you are a miracle and that is not all, you are also a stiff drink and I am on call. you are a party, and I am a school night and I'm looking for my door key but you are my porch light and you'll never know dear just how much I loved you". - Ani Difranco.

My heart hurts. Seriously hurts. Babysitting for the coolest family with the nicest children in a beautiful house in a beautiful neighborhood on a nice night getting paid $10/hr didn't cheer me up. friends are starting to reveal their true colors. spending alone time with my mom was like putting a band-aid over a bullet wound. I know this is for the better, I know it is. I am telling myself this everyday. I changed my phone number. I really cut the ties. no matter how badly he hurt me, hit me, mistreated me, made me feel worthless, how much I did for him, sacraficed for him, he never gave back the love I wanted. I'm sincerely grieving.

"I guess this is the price that we pay for the priviledge of living for even a day in a world with so many things worth believing in".

This kind of pain is foreign for me. Nothing numbs it. Maybe it isn't supposed to be numbed. 

Marrow:

"...where did you put all those letters that you wrote to yourself but could not address? One day you'll realize you've memorized my phone number and you'll call it and find it's a disconnected line, 'cause I got tossed out the window of love's El Camino, and I shattered into a shower of sparks on the curb...let's toast to the lists that we hold in our fists of the things that we promise to do differently next time.the answer came like a shot in the back while you were running from your lesson which might explain why years later all you could remember was the terror of the question...I'm not listening to you any more, my head is too sore and my heart's perforrated and I'm myred in the marrow of my well-aint-that-funny-bone, learning how to be alone and devistated".

Memories flood in of Brooklyn. Rainy days and my first love. The idea of standing still and letting things fly past. Movies like Garden State and songs that bring a false sense of solace. Blank, boring walls that make your tears seem like huge drops of rain. (this isn't Wonderland and I'm not Alice) I start to wonder about whether or not I'm a good kisser. The race track, hiding in the upper deck with what I wanted to be a soft kiss that turned rough.

How this love, this completely different love never had a rhythm to it. Sure, I'd adjust to his rhythm during kissing, dancing, fucking.. but it never felt right, never quite sincere. Not like my first love.

This ache is so much deeper. Maybe its because I never really lost my first love, we're even still talking, still best friends when we talk, as if not a moment has passed since we were together in my bedroom, me sixteen him seventeen, living together, not knowing how the fuck to make it work.

Death Cab: Lightness, "your heart is a river that flows through your chest to every organ. your brain is the dam and I am the fish who can't reach the core".

Maybe when people say things with conviction I should accept it and move on. Like the three, seperate speeches he gave me about how I'd "never be his girlfriend"... and looking back, I guess I never really was. I was a prostitute. Or maybe he was. Who can determine it at this point?

"They don't tell you what they know you should want".

I just didn't ever anticipate this; I left him and my heart feels like jagged slices of glass.

Maybe a bad, old, Matthew Perry movie might work?

Good heartache songs? Good comforting movies? Anything would help right now.

Ok, to end the cycle and abuse that has been following me for years I slept with two guys during the course of the 5 days it took for my now ex boyfriend to call me back after I broke up with him. Both of these guys were so overwhelmingly nice to me, I was taken back by their kindness. Each are so beautiful in their own ways.

A week after the first incident had occurred, my ex decided he would tell me to come visit him anyway, that he didn't tell his family we had broken up- that he'd pay for gas... and the cycle could continue. The last time we broke up I slept with two other guys too but didn't tell him. So my number is at a whopping 15. -shrug- Anyway, I knew that if I told him I had slept with another person he'd finally leave me alone, the cycle would break and the abuse could stop. His enitre family has no idea of what he has done do me... he looks like a hero, I look like a psyco in their eyes and I can't care any more.

It hurts more than words can say, but I'll be strong through the rain.

Its over again.
Hopefully for the better.

Slept with a nicer guy last night. That should put the nail in the coffin.

I quit my second job I was tired of getting abused physically by a 10 year old girl and her mom never stepping in.

Spend a night grieving. Thinking about accidents, old age, the spin of life's wheel. Its the toss of the dice, a daily gamble with god or fate or the universe or just whatever.
[I want to know my fate if I keep up this way]

Images like movie stills: the yellow light, her long fingers.
Up the trail of the mountain, the tiny spring trickling down the rocks.
A couch curled up, bruised and broken, with a kitten to comfort me.

Think about how far you've come. How much you've gotten through. What else you will face.
[its hard to want to stay awake when everyone you meet; they all seem to be asleep]