(no subject)
he just left, but forgot to take his scent with him;
excellent.
this uneasy feeling is so excrutiatingly familiar to me.
my happiness is faultering,
our society is faultering.
up in flames, see both me & california.
everyday, something horribly new:
fire, termanator, elliot smith, strikes.
tragic, isn't it?
tragedy is a shitty, shitty thing.
a sort of perpetual dwindling state.
just like me, really.
you see, me & california have a lot in common,
except for the fact that i'm a little sixteen year old girl.
a little sixteen year old girl that has yet to figure out how to wash her own god damn hands.
i wish you'd like her markered hands.
i guess that's part of being well, SIXTEEN.
or, maybe it isn't?
cos she's not only sixteen, sixteen & confused & esoteric.
esoteric, a brilliant word that i'm sure most of you don't know the meaning of.
there i go, condescending as always.
what a terrific quality!
many people think she's happy cos hey, she drives an IS.
& hey, "you have a nice house, let's get married."
many people think she's a bitch cos hey, "casey always gives me dirty looks."
or hey, "she's a winchell heir."
& the truth is: well, there is no truth, cos truth doesn't exist.
it just doesn't, cos if it did, everything would be constant & clear.
so, i don't have any truth to tell you.
i'd be blatantly lying to you, & i wouldn't want to do that.
& freedom, that's another sensitive subject that i won't get into very depthy,
just that, it is u n n a t t a i n a b l e.
unnattainable, & everyone is in fear of admitting it.
i don't know why i write all this stuff down.
i don't think you should be reading this.
to anyone who hasn't really come to know me, hypocrisy is my middle name.
i guess that's obvious considering i don't believe in truth.
i think that's shitty.
in totallity, my personal bank account holds a mere $18.
$19 if i'm lucky.
&, well, i like it.
i don't think money is everything,
but my parents do.
thus, i don't like them, i don't like them one bit.
i think they care about what their elite friends think of me & my little life rather than, how i feel about me & my little life.
i probably care about people more than any of you can understand.
i wish i was able to show that.
i'm a mass romantic, which is, shitty;
right now, that is.
it's shitty cos well, i have no one to be romantic with,
to really, seriously, be ridiculously romantic with.
i can try & sure, you can too, but it's not perfection.
i don't think it will ever be perfection cos it's not good & constant & real.
it's anything but real.
i lied.
it's passion, & that's real, we've got one part down & a billion more to go.
it's that kind of passion that i'm sure i'll never be able to share with anyone else.
basically, i'd like equallity.
me in boy form, i'd like that, a lot.
again, this draws back to point a: I'M A LITTLE GIRL.
but, what's more, is that i came second.
second, therefore doomed for an eternal shitty fate.
excellent.
excellent, excellent, excellent.
another thing, i'm can be very sarcastic.
a sarcastic, condescending, romantic.
is that possible?
things wouldn't be so shitty if i had someone to love.
i want to write a story about beauty & love.
you once said that i am too independent, what?
like beyonce knowles & drew barrymore?
how incredibly false.
i'm famous for flashing dirty looks,
you'd think i soujourn that brutality.
i'm really sorry to everyone who thinks that i despise them.
josie thinks that i hate her, but i don't.
i don't hate her, cos i don't know her.
i hope she reads that.
incredibly sensitive & undeniably insecure, that's for sure.
i can't help but worry the way i do.
i think everything is shitty.
making fallable decisions, commiting emotional suicide is a given.
but, back to being so sixteen.
so sixteen that it's sort of embarrassing.
no, not sort embarrassing, more like a constant humiliation.
let me reiterate: i don't like my parents, at all, really.
if i say i'm sad & they know i'm clearly unhappy, they are disapointed in me, no, fucking angry with me.
sort of ironic, i suppose.
my room is constantly shook by their condescending voices.
ah, that's where i get that lovey attribute from!
the atmosphere is sheltered with a dark, blakening cloud & surrounded with ashes.
ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
so far down & so far gone.
eventually, california will break away from the united states,
& it will be a beautiful little island.
sort of like me, eventually i will become so cold & withdrawn, i'll be my own little recluse of an island.
except not so beautiful, cos by then, i'll be wrinkly, old, and desolate.
that's of course, if my mapped out future doesn't work out.
apt 127, union sqaure, that's what i dream of, except with the addition of commitment.
commitment would be nice.
i say that now, but two weeks ago, i wanted anything but commitment.
i wanted everything to be casual & i enjoyed being indifferent.
indifferent, something i thought was key.
key for fucking unhappiness.
i used to think october would bring me nothing but glory,
glorifying happiness.
how shitty of me to be so blind.
cjwinchell.
comment annonymously with something, anything you'd like to say. a story, feeling, predicament. personal & what not, i don't ip address my comments & i think this will be interesting.