i take it all back... I miss everything. I miss waking up not crying. mainly I just miss you. I just don't understand

I wish my life was a romantic comedy. I wish my life was sparkly and special but I suppose that's asking too much you.

Dear life, I missed you. ....you can get excited now :D

I'm crawling(or clawing) out of my skin. I fold. I feel destructive, vindictive, and something softer...something weak... not neglected...just astonished at my life. It's going down tonight in this town Cause they stare and growl They all stare and growl I take a scar every time I cry Cause it ain't my style no it ain't my style Going down to the gravel head to the barrel Take this life and end this struggle Los Angeles come scam me please Emptiness never sleeps at Cliftons 6 am With your bag lady friend and your mind descending Stripped of the right to be a human in control It's warmer in hell so down we go My one heart felt too much from the start I've seen people come and go Living large and living low You can build up your walls sitting on death row Let the curtain fall on your murdered soul You can wash it all down swallow your story Get smacked off your head go down in drumroll glory You won't solve it committing self inflicted crime Go on pull the trigger this will be the last time I cant be this now Its not me anymore I really tried Ive tried Attempted suicide Fucking convulsing and Constantly denied Subcountaing me somewhere Inside Scratching the walls of my glass coffin Scraping raping My nails on the glass on the bottom Is there an end where does this end If i was you id fucking hate me too- The Distillers

And crash.

I can't tell you what I remember of myself anymore. It's all bits and pieces, fragmented shards of beautiful glass and twisted metal. My life is a series of productive car crashes. You pick up the pieces and move on taking out of the situation what you may. It's weird to be stable. It took me forever to figure out why I feel strange and it's because I'm stable. Stability is far more nerve wrecking for me than living moment to moment. I feel like I was just waiting for something to go wrong. On the edge of my seat for no reason. It's weird always knowing what tomorrow will bring. Where you have to stay. What you have to do. I'm used to being haphazard. I think It took Saturday and Sunday to completely embrace this. And strangely enough you taking care of my delirious sick ass on Sunday morning put everything at ease. I love that you take care of me when I can't. I love seeing you everyday. I love making you happy. You make stability seem so damn appealing.

And we've been talking dirty pictures In the land of the pedigrees Smiling pretty Hiding short skirts and dirty knees And what's it going to take for you to give up those dreams

My head is in a fog lately and I can't think straight. Middletown is a stagnant pond...on second thought maybe it's just my house, and really even not the house but the occupants. It's strange. It's an antihome of sorts. My car is my home. My car takes me everywhere I want to go to be happy. It takes me hiking, away, work, adventuring, matt's place, all of the random places where I find a bit of peace. So I default to my car feeling like home. I adore my personality flaws. They truly make me happy. However I've never really felt any attachment to who I see in the mirror, let alone my physical flaws. It could really just be a complete stranger to me sometimes. It's not fun being encouraged to compete for who can eat less, have the best clothes, the best skin. It's the one thing I always truly hated the most about living here. It drives me crazy. It's been months since my last move and I'm still living out of boxes, suitcases, and garbage bags full of my things. I'm not sure if it's my situations or merely who I've become. Am I that person that is so transient in nature that I feel more comfortable living as such or has it just become a habit for me? I would like to hope it's a bit of both. Not too much of one or the other. I need to write more. I wish I could record my thoughts sometimes. I can think so fluidly and cohesively. When I go to write things just clumsily spill out. I'm a poor writer. I jump from one idea to another, poor, poor planning pepper with some a.d.d.. I'm haphazard. It works for most things in life, keeps it exciting, not writing. None of this is what I signed on to write about. This is random spillover, the drunken conversation that just mindlessly slipped to a out to a stranger after one too many late night drinks. I had an agenda god damn it and now I feel like this isn't the time or place for it. I'm excited about my life. I have a great deal of passion for the things I've been doing lately. That's one of the few things of value in life. If you can't find passion for the things you do you are not living! Take passion in everything. Strive to find meaning, value, and love for what you do, accomplish, the people you encounter. Life is beautiful. There's a subtle grace about the world if you take the time to tap into it. There's a rhythm, rhyme, and pattern to life. ...see yet another spillover. My real agenda. I have more to say. I have witticisms, sarcasm, and stupidity yet to unveil. Perhaps later, perhaps never. And I somehow fell into the way the hair falls into your eyes the angle of your neck and sucked into... your fingertips slide down my face All these thoughts I've defined in you.- Chris Martinez <3

I could write pages and pages and pages right now. I could pour my heart out, lay out all my thoughts on life, all the dirty little facts, truths, and opinions. I could go on for hours. I could wow, dazzle, and disgust you just as easily. I'm not sure what to make of life right now. Perhaps this would be more palatable, far easier to follow if I slept on it. My ramblings mean far much more to me than thought out mumbo jumbo, but I'm not sure exactly what I feel like confessing to today. I'm not sure what would burn me at the stake or what would make me a martyr in others eyes. She lost her focus yesterday She lost her focus in the sun She sits and stares at it for hours She says she likes to go outside She gets hung up on the wind She gets lost inside the happy noise Sometimes I dont understand her Sometimes I dont want to understand her She says no no no no She dont want no double life She says I should know why She seems happier at night Her color tv and her chemical smile I dont wanna know the reason I dont wanna know the reason why She says Jesus owes her money She says The angels are her friends What the hell does that mean? Shes got the chemical smile- Everclear

So I've lost over twenty pounds in the past month and think I'll lose maybe ten more before I stop. Not that I needed to but I feel better being smaller. I have my amazing little body back, far better than it ever was in high school actually. Legs that don't touch, perfectly, flat stomach, a tiny waist. I'm so excited for summer!!! I can't wait for bikinis and such lol. Oh it's just a good feeling to be a size 2/4 again. I haven't been this happy in a long time, like two years. I needed out of monotony. I needed a new direction. I'm actually horribly excited about my life right now. I fucking love my life, hardcore, to the bone.

This is how I feel lately. How I feel about moving back. How I feel about starting over. How I feel about not being a full time college student. I feel like i'm making a lifetime decision, and it scares the hell out of me. I'm fickle. I feel like everyone wants me to go back to the simplicity of here. I'm not simple. I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I have the but the highest of aspirations, they don't lie in middletown, but then again they didn't lie in Newark. I'm not quite sure if they lie in Delaware. In fact i'm sure they don't. I'm overwhelmed. I'm underwhelmed. I'm scared. I'm confident. Yet I will never doubt myself. I don't want to come down. Gonna get back to basics Guess Ill start it up again Im falling from the ceiling Youre falling from the sky now and then Maybe you were shot down in pieces Maybe I slipped in between But we were gonna be the wildest people they ever hoped to see Just you and me So whyd you come home to this sleepless town Its a lifetime commitment Recovering the satellites All anybody really wants to know is... When you gonna come down Your mother recognizes all youre desperate displays And she watches as her babies drift violently away til they see themselves in telescopes Do you see yourself in me? Were such crazy babies, little monkey Were so fucked up, you and me So whyd you come home to this faithless town Where we make a lifetime commitment To recovering the satellites And all anybody really wants to know is... When are you gonna come down She sees shooting stars and comet tails Shes got heaven in her eyes She says I dont need to be an angel But Im nothing if Im not this high But we only stay in orbit For a moment of time And then youre everybodys satellite I wish that you were mine So whyd you come home to this angels town Its a lifetime decision Recovering the satellites Everybody really knows for sure... That youre gonna come down That youre gonna come down- Counting Crows

So I'm back where it all started. Back where I fought tooth and nail to get out of. Back where I was crashing on couches sleeping in my car to get away. And I'm back with no more than I left with. With no much more desire to be here. Ugh lol. You can't take life too seriously, you just can't or you would go utterly crazy. Stress is a cruel mistress but great for losing weight. 10 pounds in a week is a new record for me. Always look on the bright side lol. "When it's my turn to march up to glory, I'm going to have one hell of a story."

Breaking up is kind of like waking up with tiny shards of a broken martini glass in your lower body. You are mildly aware of how they got there, dumb or drunk enough to sit where you just shattered a martini glass, and it hurts like hell with no concept of how good or bad the drink acually tasted. In lighter news they stopped selling fruitopia in the U.S. in 2001. I love answers. A walk like a burned out porn star With aching feet for a car My buddy had a baby with a girl named star Makes me appreciate how the little things are But crossing a road isn't easily told To a young has-been centerfold Labelled a winner's episode Yeah, I'm really clean if you know what I mean Except for this recurring dream Of losing total feeling While the windmill's squealing The windmill's squealing I paint to kill the dead saints I paint to make it clear My colors run in blue and gray But they give hope to someone dear Yeah, yeah, yeah, 2AM lovesick With a walking pneumonia drumkick And this candle doesn't have a wick But I'm really not that scared No, I'm not that scared A walk like a burned out porn star With aching feet for a car My buddy had a baby with a girl named star Makes me appreciate how the little things are-Blue Ocotber

To begin, sitdiary is an old friend. This is merely a fresh coat of paint on an old room, the latest book in a series. You won't stumble upon any of my previous editions, they've been boxed up and put in storage years ago. I'd like to begin with the past, a year ago to the day, written on these same walls: "It's been a 50 hour workweek and i'm burnt out. I like to start my days with water and a panic attack, Lucky Charms optional. I like to go to work early so i have time to wake up the manager who is still home while the buildings alarm is going off and the cops are buzzing about. I like to profile people by what they buy. I feel wayward. Its not a preapproved mood-option.It's something that sneaks up behind you and jumps on your back just when you think you might have gotten eveything under some sort of control. I want to take a vacation in a hippieriffic 60's style musical movie. I think it would do me some good." And here I am a full year later. Everything is completely topsy-turvy and yet still exactly the same. It was a rough 2008. If you know me well you know of it, I refuse to get into specifics, as it has nothing to do with me. I love to write. Rarely about things directly, but about everything and nothing all at once. Rip it apart, never take anything at face value, get to know me. Do I stress you out My sweater is on backwards and inside out And you say how appropriate I dont want to dissect everything today I dont mean to pick you apart you see But I cant help it There I go jumping before the gunshot has gone off Slap me with a splintered ruler And it would knock me to the floor if I wasnt there already If only I could hunt the hunter And all I really want is some patience A way to calm the angry voice And all I really want is deliverance Do I wear you out You must wonder why Im relentless and all strung out Im consumed by the chill of solitary Im like estella I like to reel it in and spit it out Im frustrated by your apathy And I am frightened by the corrupted ways of this land If only I could meet the maker And Im fascinated by the spiritual man I am humbled by his humble nature And all I need now is intellectual intercourse A sould to dig the hole much deeper All I really want is some peace man A place to find a common ground And all I really want is a wavelength All I really want is some comfort A way to get my hands untied And all I really want is some justice- Alanis Morissette