I guess I thought you were different

I guess I thought you were different and you would break my heart. I thought you were my best friend and understood that i'm pretty fragile dealing with boys. I was wrong, I was so so so wrong. But I still miss the hell out of you as my best friend.

Oh the boy named Martin

Theres a boy obviously, as there is always. He is cute, tall, super sweet, an amazing dancers, and he likes me. It was so exciting and Im in college, isn't this how its supposed to go? Oh but wait, he found the word hate I carved into myself and he doesn't understand why I freak out when he touches my stomach. Im wrapped in a blanket of my own trust issues.
The issue is that most the time if I really, really like someone, I want to tell them these things. Its like word vomit I can't hold back. But this boy, something makes me not trust him. Maybe its the way he different around people than when we are just alone or possible its because after I tell him no he keeps trying anyway.
Bottom line? I miss kody. I miss how he holds me, the way he smells, how weird we are together, but most of all I miss how I was allowed to tell him how much I love him (and how much I still do).

Colton.

I want to help you lovely, I really do. But how can I help you when being your support is making me lose my ground. When being your 2 am makes me need a 3 am. I’m sorry you hurt, I’m sorry your sad, and I’m sorry I can’t ever seem to help you. But I want you to live as much as I want me to live. And if I’m dead how can I help you? I want you to want to live. I wish I could show you how amazing life gets after you stop the depression and the cutting and the drugs and the suicide wishes. But you can’t really want to survive unless it’s you who decides you need to survive. Do you realize death is the end? Its not a pause button in life, its not a chance to see who loves you enough to show up to your funeral and it sure as hell isn’t a chance to start over. Death isn’t even peace. Death is nothingness, its black, empty, cold, and just the end. But no matter how much you hurt right now lovely, you won’t hurt less with death. I’ve been there, believe me, I’ve been to the point of curling up on the floor, crying, shaking, and just wanting to end it so bad that you pick up those pills. But lovely, those pills taste like shit, and wont make you feel any better. I’ve been to the point of being so empty feeling; you just want to bleed out your tears. But lovely, those razors only help until after the cuts close, and then you’re just left with huge scars that will always raise questions. I want to help you so bad that I’ve stayed up late talking to you and cried while texting you to stop you from overdosing. Lovely, I wish you every happiness you could ever possibly achieve, all the love in the world, and the best life possible. But lovely, don’t be sad so others will try to cheer you up and don’t be someone so others will like you, because trying to be sad will only make things worse, and being someone else will only make you lose yourself

Art in the Dark

So for majority of my life I had fantasized about being an artist or photographer or just anything with super bright colours. I never went after it though, my dad had always taught me that the worst thing in the world was to embarress yourself in front of others. So quiet little me hid behind books and shyness, until a few years ago. Im a saver, so Ive built up quite the bank acount and last year I figured, hey what the hell Im gonna buy a super nice camera. My mom put in 200 dollars from my bribe to go to a therapist and I paid the other 400. I was the proud owner of a Nikon D300. Woot! This year, my final year of high school I signed up for both an Into to Art class and a Photography class, best thing I ever did. Im currently making a sculputure for Art Clubs Art in the Dark show. The shits gonna rock. And photography?, well lets just saw if i could wake up every day and take pictures for ever Id be perfectly content. But wait, I can do that, and get paid for it. Artist isn't in my future, Im much too impatient for such things. Art is just a hobby for now but photography, its gonna be so much more.

The illegal plant

I know how to stop my self from being depressed ever again... weed. oh if only it weren't so completely illegal. Maybe if some of my friends weren't against it, and maybe if it wasn't so expensive. Oh darn. On the slightly less dim side Im having a halloween party. But then to make it a tish more dim, my boyfriend won't come. Something about... National Guard Weekend? Psssh yeah right, like he actually NEEDS to go to that (just in case you are offended that was my attempt at sarcasm). Also I feel the need to share this blog with more than the... one? person who is a follower. Dear one person, THANK YOU! However somedays I like to pretend I have friends so we shall see how things turn out. But for now the illegal plant has made me sleepy. Goodnight Lovelies.

The Horrible Things that Get Us Money

I need a job, need is used lightly. Truth is I'd be okay with out a job for quite a couple months but i figure its easier than being board at home all day long, right? I applied at Barns and Noble last week but they havn't called me yet. Plus, the more I thought about it the more I really didn't want to work standing up for endless hours. And hey, if they wanted to hire me they would have called. So I send in an online application to Spicy Pickle just 2 minutes ago. But my dad told me about this pharmacy intership thing where you actually get paid to hand out perscriptions and get a degree sort of thing to be a pharamcy tech... interesting.

Four letters.

Hate. Carved into skin
Hate. Bled from my leg
Hate. Feeling poured out of me
Hate. Written four times
Hate. Pencils are razors
Hate. Its killing me
                            Hate... Four Times On My Leg

Are you Strong Enough?

Life is lost everyday. Feelings are pushed behind a smile. The pain bleeds from a wrist. And these little lips wished they were left unkissed. For innocence was long ago lost. And those times were happy. Our cries for help are lost among the noise. But soon the cries will rise above all other noise. And all that will be heard are two single words... "Help me."

The Beginning, I suppose...

I am now officially a blogger. Maybe this is my attempt at a public diary... I'm much too impatient to actually write a diary with a pen. Who writes when you can type at least twice as fast? Oddly I find handwritten notes/letters/poem/anything extremely... personal. Well about me, Im a person, photographer, artist, poet, daughter, sister, cousin, and so many other words. So I guess we will just have to get to know eachother through this internet site... Maybe I'll spill a secret or two, just to keep you guessing.