I have learned to fake it.
Smiles are so easy when nobody cares.
I am not good at hiding my feelings,
they come pouring out,
but I've managed to bottle them up.
Did you ever notice
that it does not reach my eyes?
Or were you too busy waiting
for my sad story to be over so you could tell me all about your day?
I don't care.
There.
I said it.
The fact that you're happy
is not making me do jumping jacks
If I had a moment of peace,
I would cry.
But I can't.
So I keep it all inside.
I don't know if I can hold on much longer.
I'm slipping..

changing with the seasons.

leaves dying and a cool breeze
the dead things on the ground
reflect what i feel inside.
this is not a metaphor,
it is an observation.
foolishly wishing for more alone time
but not wanting to be alone.
i hate my thoughts,
i hate my hopes and dreams,
and i tend to focus solely
on only that of my past failures.
i am unhappy.
i don't fucking care.
i'll watch the leaves die,
hopefully by the time
spring comes again,
i'll be able to feel something again.

worshipping the devil.

inside this skin is a temple
and i am devious, as always
sly looks inside the pews
like "what is she up to?"
thick blankets, bringing me down
try to come up for air
and you're pushed deeper.
my love is like a fire iron,
red hot
and nobody wants to touch it.
engage me,
ask me what i want,
show me how it feels,
tell me you're in love,
that in this night, i am yours.

when the leaves die,
they fall,
covering the concrete jungle with their carcasses.
can you hear them screaming in the wind?
i am trapped inside this temple,
begging for the freedom outside the stained glass windows.
hating the walls that hold me
and the tacky decor.

Writer's Block and Growing Up (with capitals).

Writer's block sucks. We all know that. But the first step to becoming a real writer is to write every day. So I'm trying that. I'm going to see where it gets me. Maybe my creativity will start flowing again. At least that's the most desirable outcome. We'll stay on the positive side and not discuss all the others. 

Well, good news, everybody. At least for me. I'm Growing Up. Maturing, if you will. I'm nineteen years old and I'm finally accepting responsibility and getting my life on track. I'm paying bills, trying to find a full time job, focusing on getting back to school, moving out, buying a car, etcetera, etcetera.

They tell you that high school prepares you for the real world, but nothing prepares you for the real world except the real world. And although John Mayer would disagree, there IS such a thing as the "Real World." Not crappy television, but actual reality. 

Shit's more difficult than I could've imagined. I didn't know what aches and pains were in high school. I didn't even try in gym class. Fuck gym class. I thought high school was hard, wow, did I get a nice smack in the face from reality. Life is hard. Everyone says it all the time, but it never really sets in until you understand what they're talking about.