There is no need to talk anymore.

Communication is for birds and rabbits.

I am tired of speaking.

The act of opening my mouth and preparing sentences has become redundant.

I await for intelligence to speak.

That is my inspiration.

Nothing more.

I confuse myself. Part of me leans towards a certain direction, but when it seems as though that directions has come to pass, the other part of me is suddenly hurt. Is that fair to the pieces of me? For awhile now I have been thinking about the relationship that me and Jon have, and what we are both getting out of it- if there is anything at all ( Read more... )

He pushed his hand across to mine, crossing the red and white checkered tablecloth. I suddenly felt clammy. A lump formed in my throat and I couldn’t swallow. I felt beads of sweat form along my hairline as I tried to remain calm. I wiggled my fingers beneath the weight of his hand, smoothing themselves over the tablecloth in desperation. ( Read more... )

I hide myself for the shame of hypocrisy...

Last night I decided to write an articulate post addressing all the ramifications and backwardness that one dear George has caused or decided to state in order to rampantly insult my friends with. I did not speak in harsh tones, nor did I berate him in any way. I just addressed the issue of immaturity ( Read more... )

I don't belong in the matters of the heart...it's too sentimental.

I played the conversation over and over again in my head. I knew what I was going to say. I had it all worked out. I thought about it all day. Through every class, I muttered the words under my breath. As I was walking home from school, I whispered the words to myself. As I ( Read more... )

I am not longer here...not today...not in this dismal environment. I have chosen to sleep.

Why am I not writing in my other journal, even though I don't have anything important to say really? Well, sometimes, I just like to know that my whole life isn't being aired to the world and I can come to a place where I can rant and tell my thoughts ( Read more... )

Sometimes I watch her. That's a bit of an understatement. Let me rephrase. I watch her all the time. It's a necessity being where I am. Chained without the threads. Linked without the metal. Free will? No. I have no choice. But, I have so many. The thought of it hurts my head...I drive my fingers into my pallid temples, pushing aside the ( Read more... )

She's pathetic tonight. All those tears. Frivolous crying. Do you know how hard it is to sit in here and listen to that down-pour? It is excruciating. It is menacing. I can't take it. I want to suffocate myself in the pillow of my own destruction. Oh gods. Why is her babbling incessant. She should be stronger than this. Fucking pussy.

( Read more... )

Throb. Throb. Throb.

I am not drunk. I just had one Electric Lemonade with my mother tonight after we went and saw Million Dollar Baby which was a great fucking movie. But, that isn't the point. The throbbing is not due to alcohol. This fucking throbbing is because someone has provoked me to a point where I feel as though I am backed into ( Read more... )

With cold, fragile hands, I slowly unwind the stitches that hold my lips together, concealing my words from ever appearing in this tempestuous world. My small fists punch through the silken spider-webs that coat my throat, having been left in the wreckage and unused for so long. I hear whispers. I hear tears. The screams from inside myself that ( Read more... )