i know i am largely responsible for the way i am currently feeling. i have undoubtedly let myself go, moreso than i would have liked to... past the point of no return (or so it feels). with tremendous difficulty, i got through the seemingly impossible. but not without consequence. i have bore the burdens of sacrificing self for our well-being. and now i bear the burden of piecing us back together. because i know i've caused some damage. to a certain degree, i feel i've lost control of so many aspects of my life. being a control freak, that does not sit well with me. we (supposedly) knew what we were getting into. but i dont think either of us understood how bad it could get. we knew that we had to get passed this phase in order to be where we want to be. but somewhere along the path, i have lost myself. and i desperately want to be found. it has not been an easy journey, but for what its worth, i acknowledge that this is my fault. i accept responsibility and understand that i am the one who has to repair it. i am trying to be the best person i can be at all times. i just hope that's good enough.

I have never had an addictive personality. Trust me, I've experimented and the results were negative. I've picked up the cigarettes, the beer bottle, and the bong, and could never quite see what it was in these substances that people craved. Was it the horrible smell, the awful taste, or the odd way the GHB makes your nerves fire like crazy, leaving you a half conscious, giggling, twitching mess pile on a couch filled with people you could do without ever speaking to. These methods of escaping reality always made me feel more alone. More like I was one among the walking dead of humanity... Recently, it has been confirmed that a newfound addiction has taken hold of me with a firm grip... Yes, I have an addiction. I am addicted to him... Guilty as charged. I am addicted to the quaint little life we have created for ourselves. I am addicted to happiness in its purest and most honest form...I am addicted to the way he violently pulls me closer to him in the middle of the night... the way he drapes his legs over mine... the way he leaves me little notes written in bold colors (because he loves colors) and leaves them around the room... the faces he makes when he is teaching me chords on the guitar... the little laughs he lets out when we're watching south park reruns and eating sushi... His smile is my vessel for escaping reality. And although it may melt my insides, it does no damage to my nerves. Hi, My name is Desiree, and I'm addicted to Josh. (It appears I am also a loser, if you weren't able to figure that out...) -Desiree

I sit here in front of this computer screen accompanied by your words and the music you frequently post. You aren't aware that I like to read your thoughts when you make them somewhat tangible. Sometimes I feel like you do it for me... A selfish thought. The song plays on one tab, the lyrics are discovered on another, as I sit here reading and listening, in awe of the thoughts birthed by a strangers mind: reflections on a portion of a life experience that is seemingly able to mirror this to a tee. How is it that these words have come from someone else? They seem to parallel "us" so well... Uncomfortable and sick in the tumultuous clutter of this room, these words make me feel at ease. It is almost as if you have made them your own, and I can feel you singing to me through this thick plastic film , transcending all laws of science. Everything that surrounds me has dissipated. My senses are embraced by your essence. All I can feel is your kiss, all I can see is your perfect face. And all I can think of is how lucky I have been to experience what I have. It will never be taken for granted. I let my fear envelop me and control my actions. Sometimes I feel like the real me is kept prisoner inside an exterior shell made of steel. I want to let you in, but I feel like the better decision would be to break free. This is not an easy decision. Time has never been a a friend of mine, hardly an aquaintence. All it has done is robbed me of the things i value the most. But I have never hated it as much as I do now. The hour hands mock me as I sit frozen and helpless, awaiting the impending reality of your departure...for the second time. I am a lot of things I don't want to be. I am a coward, a foolish mess, and at the moment, an unabiding audience for your lyrical farewells.

I have this theory that I do not share with anyone for fear that I will be excommunicated from the inner circle of sanity that ive formed in order to better connect with people that i dont really want to connect with. I have never felt more scared and alone in all of my twenty one years ive graced this earth. i used to be able to coast through life with a numbness that encompassed my every waking moments. The numbness made it easier to deal with the complexities that come with being human. It was a sort of blissful ignorance that engulfed my existence, as if i was floating through life on a cloud, so serene and unaware. Awareness is a curse. Knowledge is a blanket of burdens, thick and impenetrable, that wraps me up so tight...it chokes me. At times its so overwhelming I find it difficult to cope with and i am left a sobbing pile of wretched flesh being eaten from the inside by my own awareness. Is it me, or are we all just robots? Do any of you question anything? Why have I been cursed with the brain capacity to understand how fucked we are... I wish it's something that can be passed along but it has attached itself to me and replicated my cells, copied my DNA and has made itself a home inside my brain, feeding off of my misery and fear. Like a virus, unrelenting and merciless. A virus is non living. but what does it mean to be alive, if there are not much behavioral differences between humans and viruses. My brain sends the signal to scream but my lungs are rebellious, they do not obey.

To finish that statement, it's times like these I wish I was still an ignorant teenager whose consumption of alcohol surpassed that of any tired old bum's. Maybe then I'd find it easier to deal with myself and my surroundings. The show tonight was good, don't get me wrong, but it would've been a lot better had I not been so enveloped with what everyone else was wearing and how they carried themselves. I'm so fucking judgmental it's not normal. For some reason, people just bother me, I can't help it. I seriously can not stand in a room without scoping and sneering. Especially when it's a room filled with pierced, tattooed girls wearing stilettos. They OBVIOUSLY came for the band...yeah, the band's penises. can you imagine? STILETTOS! There they are perched on their 6 inch pumps, mini skirts, and hair looking like a bad incident with a bottle of bleach standing in a fucking room the size of my closet. what are you hoping to accomplish wearing shoes that constrict you from moving. you make me want to projectile vomit all over the place. I sometimes wonder what these people will be like when they're older...probably just as fucking dumb. I have to apologize, although I'm sure no one will read this, but I am filled with quite a bit of anger tonight. And the ass-kicker is I'm finding it hard to put words to my thoughts. Maybe when I calm down I'll be better able to formulate coherent sentences that can sufficiently describe the chaotic thoughts that are scrambled within my brain... Maybe. We'll see. Good Effing Night. -Dez

It would be an understatement if I explained my current emotional state as simply being "pissed." I think I've broken the "pissed" barrier and headed into raging bitch oblivion. My diary was erased from this site (most likely due to my extreme lack of updating) and now I shall wreak havoc on all... or I'll just bitch about it for a few minutes and then actually start posting some new entrees for you effers. Actually, it would really be more for my benefit because the whole "Not Venting At All" trend that I had grown accustomed to for some time just really isn't cutting it anymore. Get used to hearing a lot of melodramatic, overthought, exaggerated complaining and ranting. Because it's coming. And it's not pretty. -SIGNING OFF- Desiree.