Ma jolie Bear vs. shark I sit here, and I wonder what exactly happened to make me think that I have to be depressed to fit in, and I have to spend thousands on clothing to be even just be considered for being a friend to the coolest kids in school. What makes these kids cool? The fact that they believe they are first, and they are so cruel to everyone else in such a perfect way that we all forget? Or is it just something out of everyone’s control? For sure I’m getting tired of this. So what do I do? I cut myself in an intricate pattern, and I pour over the expensive ink I got at the art store downtown, and I wait for it to heal with the ink still in, and I keep trying to get it right, but it’s so hard to know how to deep to cut, and how much ink to use, and when to blot. So I end up with half eaten scars with blackness soaking away the life from the rest of the part, and it only looks ill. those handshake drugs I bought downtown The arcade fire neighborhood #1 (tunnels) I look through thousand of online diaries a day, of kids just like me, who are all complaining about a minute problem they make out to be the worst thing they are ever going to have to face. And it’s just depressing because you know somewhere in your heart that these kids are only writing these things to get the sympathy, because that makes you cool. Society has fucked us all, and we are all just going to keep writing about our traumas, and hoping someone will think we are pretty enough, and depressing enough to get a hit on the comment bar. I’m not saying I’m not one of these kids, I probably am, but I’m really trying not to be. I only write when I am upset because when I am happy I am with my friends, and it’s only when I’m alone do I start to get the horrific images that haunt me crawling through my head, and when I get depressed. It’s only when I’m alone. When I am with my friends I am happy, and I am fine, this makes me dependent, and I guess I am. I most likely am because it took me to meet Cathy for me to really start to understand myself, and the problems that I have, and what I just fake for the attention. Honestly, I knew some of it before, but a lot of it I just thought was normal, and now that I find it is normal, it horrifies me more than my dreams I claim not to have. And I want to thank her for helping me understand all this more clearly, and to help me understand that society fucks us. Scene kids are nothing but yuppies that the cool kids before them made fun of until they caught on when they changed their look. Face it, you know the scene kids are rich, because they tell you, and they have the attitude. The arcade fire neighborhood #2 (lailca) When I met you, I thought I liked you because everyone told me I wanted to kiss you, and I wanted to kiss you, but I wanted to kiss your friend, but she wasn’t part of the game, and so we kissed instead, and we had our time by the park, and we had a few days around the year that made us special, but mostly we weren’t happy, and you know that we weren’t. And I try to make up for that now, but I’m just not interested the way that I was. I’m sorry that I am such a horrible person, but I’m not that horrible person anymore, honestly. I’m someone else, and you just aren’t romantically involved with the new person that I am, and have been. I’m sorry. Things used to be good, and then that thing happened in November, which led to December, and then May. It was just a chain, obvious, and yet still we seemed to be obvious until it happened. Gravy Train Double Decker supreme I’m a whore, I honestly am. Probably more of a slut, but whore sounds more classy. It’s not like I’m having sex for money, but I’ll kiss anyone, single or not, and I don’t have a problem with it, it’s fun, and it’s time consuming when it’s enjoyable. It’s just that there isn’t a lot else to do in those awkward situations, so I go ahead with it. I just don’t care, and to a lot of people this makes me a whore, and I don’t mind what they think, even if it probably is wrong. I could just say I’m a swinger, but that would admit to giving my life to sexual relations, and I don’t want to say I do that. I don’t believe I do. Joy electric holly jolly I sort of have a friend Libby. It’s not that we weren’t close, it’s just that I was going through this bad drug habit when I was talking to her, and a lot of the time I was high, or fucked up, and I pretty much died twice while I was talking to her, and I disappeared a lot with her. I would just vanish without a good bye for months at a time, and come back without warning, expecting things to be fine, and I would be sober for a few weeks, and then I’d pick up again, and now that I’m finally just a normal person again, she doesn’t want to waste her time on me. And I don’t blame her. I hate holidays. I do, I always wind up upset, and I normally cry. I’m not sure why, but something normally goes wrong, or I think of something by accident to make it seem worse than it is. I cried all day on my birthday this year. It’s not a holiday, but still, I cried all day, and it’s supposed to be a very happy day. Mashlin The shore I was going through my friend’s online diary, her second to new one, and I found something that was just horrific. I don’t know why exactly she would even think someone could lie about that, but I was horrified, and I couldn’t even bring myself to talk to her for a few days, and I was just in awe of it. I was just completely ruined by that. And I got really depressed, and I thought about killing myself again, and I smoked like a fiend, and I drank more than my weight in liquor. And I kept wondering how someone so fucking fake could accuse someone of something like that, but then I decided that if someone is as fake as she is, it’s probably nothing special to her anyway. She knows that I think she is fake, because I tell her all the time, but sometimes she isn’t. That is why I even hang out with her at all anymore, because she can be how she used to be sometimes, and I love that, and I love her when she is like that, but mostly she is this different person who I don’t know, and I don’t like, because she is fake, and she is just trying to be someone else, and she acts completely different then. This is when I get upset and I start to whine about it. I think I do this too often. I’m not going to forget this person though, the one I used to know that still peeks out of a crevice now and again. I loved that person, and I won’t forget her. And I won’t forget him. Mini-pops Since yesterday Spenser broke up with me. I was honestly relieved. It’s not that I wasn’t happy with him, I just didn’t know him. We met once, and we hung out at a party, and we barely talked, and we kissed, and he told me we didn’t have to, and I thought that was sweet, except I always kiss someone at a party, and everyone knows, so I thought it was strange, but still cute. And when he told some kids that we were going out I got a little shaky because I barely knew him, and I have a problem with dating people I don’t know. It’s a big deal to me, like getting married is to a lot of people. I don’t want to date anyone, I want to date people I honestly think I might be in love with, and he wasn’t one of them yet. I still don’t know him very well, and he was treating me like I was crazy. So I’m glad, but I’m sort of depressed, because I would of liked to get to know him. The pink spiders Modern swinger When I heard about this band I was supposed to tell all my friends, and I told a few, to be faithful. I’m not sure why I didn’t tell the world, because I wore down my battery twice just listening to this song, and it was stuck in my head for ages, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell the world, who knows why. So why Ally asked my what my scene friends said about this amazing band, I told her most of them had heard of them, and a few said they would check them out. It wasn’t a lie, but I felt bad for only telling around ten people. I told my sister, and she said she knew them, and gave me a look, I don’t know what that was about. Gretchen smokes, and so we used to go for walks in the night together and we would smoke, and this one time I had drank a lot, and she wasn’t aware, because I don’t really act drunk when I am, and when I smoked, I felt like I was about to die, I guess it was a bad combination, and we spent around twenty minutes just sitting in the road and we were both crying I think, and I felt like I was her baby, and I felt safe. And now that we don’t really hang out anymore, I feel lost sometimes, and I feel scared, and I wish I could be her baby again, and that I could be safe around her. Like the time we kissed while watching Amele. Son, ambulance A book laid on its binding The reason I liked this song so much, was because it admitted songs won’t save anyone unless they are looking to be saved to begin with, and the more I listened to it, the more it meant to me, and the more it made me want to cry. And countless times I’ve written pages of my soul to this song, and then deleted them because I thought they weren’t good enough. If I didn’t already write poetry for people, this song would of made me start. Even though it told me that people won’t be saved by pages, it would of. It makes me feel like I need to write to people, and to let them know they care. I want to be a book laid on its binding, and have my pages ruffle in the wind, and to be read and understood, and mean something to someone. I suppose I do mean something to a few people, but if I laid down on my back, and I was read cover to cover, I think I would be a lot happier. I am happy, but only at times. Cathy makes me smile. The Juliana theory Do you believe me? I get really mad when people tell me things about myself that are wrong, and when they assume something about me, and it’s way off. And how people tell me how I should be with them, and what our relationship would be like. I hate that. However, it seems like these people that do that to me, become my friend, and I talk to them, and they do it again, and I get mad at them, so I pick a fight so they can think I’m mad at them about that, and it’s stupid. But they don’t let me breathe, and I hate them for it. I don’t have friends like that anymore, I’ve started to be more careful with my friends (thanks to my hero). I just realized I’ve mentioned Cathy like five times or something, and it made me think of Joey’s grandma. The thing about her is that to Joey, the world revolves around her. Not in some obsessive way, or anything, but he’s always saying “He lives five minutes from my grandma!” or something about something relative to his grandma, and it’s really funny, it’s hilarious even, it makes me laugh. You have to believe I loved you, and I don’t care if you loved me, but I loved you, and I knew somewhere in my heart we were never going to work out, and when trash night came and went, and when June fifth meant nothing anymore, I still thought we would have something, and then we didn’t, and even though I knew deep down we wouldn’t, I cried for days. Secretly, and without people knowing. ------------- these are randomly played songs from my iPod, and the paragraphs below them are the thoughts that came to mind as they were playing, and the song stopped, I would finish my sentence, and I would move to the next song. It worked out a lot better than I thought, because I finished my ideas as the songs finished. I just thought it would be a good way to get a lot out. And I hope someone cares enough to read all of this. love.