Garbage

Garbage

phleabagx

Boldly going nowhere.	[Dec. 1st, 2009\|01:32 pm]
"if you're losing your soul and you know it, then you've still got a soul left to lose."
Link	Poo.

the dying words.	[Sep. 2nd, 2009\|02:48 pm]
a walk. a butterfly. my eyes seeing beauty. drowning in your negativity. isn't is marvelous? the beauty in a single living creature? "no" he says. "it's just a fucking worm with wings" still, i find your kisses so sweet. caught in the world in between.
Link	Poo.

(no subject)

[Sep. 12th, 2007|02:38 am]

[

Mood

thoughtful

]

this is beautiful to me. i only wish i could give off as much emotion in my own art as i got out of watching this...it was completely powerful to me. i loved it.

Link

Poo.

from now on livejournal is my sanctuary. i can't wait.

[May. 21st, 2007|10:39 pm]

[

Mood

i'm good, i should be better.

]

The way i see it. my perspective.

you. you are it for me. you were everything. the hope. the light. you showed me the universe in a whole new way. it can be such an amazing place.

(so why is it only okay?)

and you. i don't know what to think. or what happened. how it's just not there. how i keep remembering different things about us and our past. but it all seems so far away. i just don't know you anymore. i guess i do know alot that happened. it seems, we both just changed so much. =/

you are kind of evil. and it's kind of contagious...seeing as i am kind of evil, too. only...i like to be happy. and i found happiness once. and this wasn't it. there are so many things that i love about you. but i like the way things are now with you. not exacly. but mostly. i try to be a good listener when you do talk. and you help me alot at various times that you probably don't realize. and this is what friendship is, i suppose. we aren't best friends. but things seem okay to me, i like the not analyzing and just being whatever it is. i also understand you in various ways...about some things. from one point of veiw it seems completely weird. but then i completely get it at the same time. at least parts of it.

this isn't the most real thing in the universe. this is good when it could be great.

... i get irratated sometimes because of how you seem to take it for granted. what she wants from you. what you are to her. but then i get it. something just doesn't fit right. there's something not there about the whole thing. when i see her next to you, she doesn't shine. you aren't seeing how amazing she is, because what's amazing to me, isn't the same to you. you are not the black sky that let's her stars shine brighter. it's all dimmed down. all okay, but not fantastic. if you found something magical (to you), i couldn't blame you. i don't blame you. it's rare to find your 'it' in someone. it's a blue moon kind of thing. the average player gets some really good hits. but only a few home runs.

she was my homerun.

(this game is in overtime)

maybe tenth grade was that time after the ball goes out of sight...and you are running. to first. second. third. taking in everything. overjoyed. and then you reach the base. the end of the year.

now what?

call for a time out? keep running?

what an amazing thing it is to forest gump your way through life.

i'm in the mood for baseball, how strange.

i felt like writing all day long. all these ramblings pounding in my head. but there is never a time for it out in the world. i want my special place in someone. i want to sink in. to be consumed. to wake up wanting to continue a conversation about everything. to never stop. but now is not the time for this.

but when is?

xxxxxxx

FUMBLE! =D

Link

Poo.

(no subject)	[Mar. 30th, 2007\|10:46 pm]
i should laugh more.
Link	Poo.

(no subject)	[Feb. 28th, 2007\|10:40 pm]
in a way i am on stage. lights dimmed. foggy night sky, cardboard cut out stars. lots of glitter. lots of glam, i'm standing there looking up instead of at the audience. i'm speaking to myself in low monotone words...these are not the lines i rehearsed. the whole audience are all chattering among themselves, making small talk, making jokes, unaware. and then i start crying. i'm crying out and yelling in a mad fit. and then i drop to the floor. the audience all start clapping. they are laughing at a punch line they didn't get. like it was all part of the show. and they say things to people they call "friends"...they say things like..."yes, the emotion...was real. i really felt something." "i'm moved by her" "her performanced touched me in ways you can not imagine" oblivious. let's fake being real, because that is just what we DO! my safe place is dead. my confident only want the juicy details...that are not here. it doesn't want to know me. no one wants to know me, anymore. including me. i'm turning into that person. the person i'm "supposed" to be. the way i'm supposed to act with whoever i'm there with. and i fucking hate it. i fucking hate the way i am! and i am not expressing the way i feel in some stupid ass poly-syllable bullshit way i like to hide in. this is me. there is nothing real left here. and there is no me. because there is no you. there is just the world. with it's money. there is just fake laughter. there are just questions i hate. questions i don't have answers to. there are just awkward people, doing things, awkwardly. STILL, it doesn't explain much. STILL, i am not myself. STILL. WHAT ARE REAL CONVERSATIONS? what the fuck does DEEP even mean? there are alot of things i'm seeing so much differently. they are bigger. but less than. i want to believe in something. my faith needs to be restored. what do i have faith in?
Link	Poo.

i am from.	[Jan. 22nd, 2007\|02:11 pm]
i am a child of mental abuse and alcoholics annonymous. a child of chaos. i came from that famous drug house on the wrong side of the town. house full of teenagers, of acid trips and of live pornography. i was the little girl in this scenario. running around barefoot with my best friend. sneaking out at three a.m. at age eight. who's barbies ended up in pieces in the bottom of coolers next to empty beer cans and melted ice. who knew too much before my time. who's siblings were destined for jail and prison. who almost forgot the past is even real. of yelling and noise and tired elementary school days. of gun shots and abandonment. of food stamps and welfare christmas'. of long car rides to get away. to see her fall apart day after day. drunken laughter and love devotions. my brother "toughening me up". "you gotta be ruthless to survive". "this is where you hit someone to really hurt them". i was a loved child, people showed me that in the ways they knew how. i was protected. you try hurting someone with a brother like mine. with a grandma with a cane of vengence. she'd hit anyone with that thing. little old lady who wasn't afraid of anything. who'd been through it all. i was very lucky indeed. i will never be a conservative person. i will never look at things the same way i might have. i was shaped in this, in a way. lots of learning experiences. lots of funny stories. lots of strangely good memories. this is what i know. and i love my past for being my own. it seems so far away now...like i am not the same little girl who lived to tell. it's strange how different my life is. i've been thinking about all of these things so much lately. like how i feel more like a child now than i ever did then. except for the mud pies and the jumping in leaves for entertainment. it doesn't feel like that is life anymore. i feel like we will all be a million different places in life. living as a million different people, changing gradually or rapidly. spinning through this cycle of faces and wrinkles and newly slumped backs. but our core child will never move a muscle. childhood will be this major aspect of everything inside us, always. even if we think we are away from it completely, it's connected to us, somehow..in all our decisions, fears and desires. at least it seems that way to me, lately. and i'm finally ok with that. completely.
Link	Poo.

we were once joined at the hip, you and i.	[Jan. 16th, 2007\|07:41 pm]
X i have all these ideas floating around in my head, like alphabet soup only messier. i want to put people in boxes. shove all the things that remind me of them in the boxes and really capture a piece of there character in them. so when i open them, it will just be like nostalgia gallore...with there scents and there signatures, all gathered up and placed neatly away on a shelf. i want to staple together the pages of the things i don't want to forget but don't really want to remember, either. so they'll be there if i ever need them again. i want your creativity to forever stick to me. to remember our reality. and how we own the world, still, in a way. in me. i want our thoughts to be endless and intertwined, never having awkward silences, never doubting the ways of the universe. it's not that we finish each others sentences, it's that we often find ourselves saying the same things at the exact same time. or feeling the same way, even when we are apart. how is that? it's not always the same, but it's never really lost is it? even when we feel so apart...parts of you are always in me, molded to form my character. and sneaking into thoughts, like you said. not even realizing half the time. in all the ways that we created these parts of each other, that i seem so lost sometimes without. X it is not my other half it is my whole. my entirety exists in it all. the core of me. the part that matters, it's always the same, no matter what else changes around me, or about me. where the things i need. where my happiness goes...it's in the way i was then. and still am. and when i write and illustrate. when i create my world, i remember all the things...that hold me to that inner self of mine. the one who's always dying to be set free. X i love mix cds. and how i feel so alive right now. and how my minds been racing all day...in the good way...where you can't write fast enough to keep up with all the things you want to remember. i finished my notebook. =D and i have this urge to finish another one, all in one night. seventy pages is nothing compared to all these thoughts i have right now. X i must go now. before i burst. esplain ze zample of ze pototoe.
Link	Poo.\|Poo.

X shrine of laughter X	[Jan. 5th, 2007\|04:36 pm]
i feel strangely better today. it's amazing what writing a buttload and chilli cheese fries and dresden dolls can do for the spirit. =D maybe this will help things? instead of hurting them further? maybe by not being hateful, i've somehow altered the course of history repeating itself. and maybe now that feelings are expressed, maybe they can get better? who knows? only time will tell. X i want to take a tape recorder around and record everytime i hear someone laughing until the whole casette is full of different people's laughter. and then i'll listen to it everytime i get in a bad mood. and just feel everyone's laughter, unexpectedly caught in the moment and just laugh along with them. kinda of like singing along to your favorite cd...only more contagious. X i want a hat rack to put all my silly hats and crazy wigs on X i want to go to hobby lobby and get good stickers with pretty words and quotes X i want to get a giant puzzle. put it together and paint it white. then put a part of myself and life in ever peice of it. it shall be the puzzle of who i am and how i got here. (it's insane how often puzzles are used to describe different parts of life, but it's one of those things i never get tired of) X i want a collection of familiar phrases and lyrics and pictures to stick in a binder so whenever i want to feel something, anything, i can just look through it and have it be simplified. X i wish i could write to you forever until you knew everything about me again. i can't decide if i'm talking to you or to myself. i think it's both. i think writing, even the worst junk in the world, is so much a part of me that i lose myself when i don't make time to write. and i think i can't let anyone know me, the way they could unless i give them my writings, rants and emotions and let them try to figure them out the way i have to.
Link	Poo.

(no subject)	[Jan. 5th, 2007\|12:41 am]
my head hurts like, whoa. from crying for three hours and trying to type through the tears. it feels like driving in a hurricane. trying to keep calm and think straight...and see through the window...but you have a feeling you are going to crash, anyway.
Link	Poo.\|Poo.

(no subject)	[Jan. 3rd, 2007\|01:40 pm]
gah. moodswings are the best of friends with my emotions. partners in crime, where ever one goes, the other must follow. i'm getting sick of this siamese twin routine, but you can't outrun something that's a major part of you. you can try to cut it out...but i suppose it will grow back. possibly even more damaged than before? i am a happy person, but happiness and sadness, they intertwine, alot. i constantly find them making out in the backseat, like magnets, the opposites really do attract. they are permanently attached to one another. the love and the hate, are at a stand still, they balance each other out most of the time and leave me with this overall conflict to choose sides. i am the third person in this ongoing argument of my brain heart and soul. i choose love. i believe that your mind is a combination of all three of those things. that when you make up your mind...if you make it right...all of the three's arguments will be considered. the brain, it tries to be logical about things, but my logic is sometimes a bit twisted and insane. and the heart, the hearts unstable, it's constantly reaching out to grab ahold of everything around it, because it feels like it can't exist on it's own. and the soul, the soul's just sitting there, meditating, saying "chill out what's all this fuss about? just let it be, soothe yourselves and you will be at peace" and the heart and brain, they don't really understand this, but it helps them calm down a little bit anyways. and somehow this is a jumble of emotions. it doesn't make sense when you put it together, because they are fragments of the way i feel, shoved together to contridict each other. at least that's how it plays out in my head. and the inside and outside worlds of me don't fit together. they don't combine. if i tried to mix them, i might just have a chemical reaction or spontaneously combust or something equally dangerous and painful. i would burn to ashes, but my teeth would be sitting in the pile, untarnished, still biting the words down, they wont allow me to speak.
Link	Poo.

(no subject)	[Jan. 1st, 2007\|02:04 pm]
living to me is discovering things you love and doing them, finding people you really connect with, and not being afraid to feel... it's creating and best friends and laughing and crying. it's finding beauty behind the black clouds. and in the unknown. it's appreciating the small things and the big things alike. it's being confident in who you are and not comprimising that. it's making the world a better place one smile at a time. having all this hate around us and inside of us and still finding room to love and accept and comfort one another. encouraging people to follow there wildest dreams and taking your own advice. being passionate about life. or maybe it's just the crack in the sidewalk, i remember. or maybe it's still in that trip i never took. but whatever it is...i think it's the seconds we are "in it" and those seconds that add up to these amazingly real moments, the ones we'll take with us. and knowing that there are endless possibilities of failure ahead of us, and not letting that stop us. because without the possibility of failure there wouldn't be the ectasy of getting something you really worked for. there wouldn't be the need to believe in yourself. it's knowing...without the bad around us...no one could ever learn to love the good. and that's what makes it all worth it in the end, somehow. and if it doesn't...at least we gave it our best. you have to keep that optimism...it's what keeps us going. the hope, the faith, the belief in greater things.
Link	Poo.\|Poo.

i wish...	[Dec. 31st, 2006\|01:34 am]
i could just paint and create and write and laugh and LIVE and love and sing and dance and have those amazing conversations where you actually feel a mutual understanding and a connection all the time. that is all. =D accuna matotta (however you spell that) and goodnight.
Link	Poo.

grr...	[Dec. 29th, 2006\|12:24 pm]
i'm so angry at my notebook. i can't write in them anymore after a certain point. it's like...my mind just stops and says "NAW, PUNK ASS BITCH!" and it erks me. verily verily. why do i always crave this constant "newness" to everything. i want a new place, a new relationship, a new notebook, a new passion, all the time! i can't be good at anything, because i want to do everything. all these variations. and now that i ran out of new things to want...it's like ROADBLOCK! now i'm left with...[fill in the blank]. new years resolutions and change...is what i need. this year has drained me, but i'll be back again and ready for some action! obviously, i can change i with the blink of an eye! you wont even notice like BLAM! harhar. i don't know what the hell i'm talking about, i thought if i wrote about nothing at all it would take me somewhere i need to be, like my notebooks usually do...but i've never been a typer. hmmph. i should go now, because i'm running my head into a brick wall here and the only thing it's doing is giving me a headache...i need a bomb to destroy this stupid blockage that is between me, my real self, and the rest of the world. where's the fine line? INVISIBLE, i say, invisible. damnit.
Link	Poo.

(no subject)	[Dec. 28th, 2006\|01:17 am]
old friends...new memories. life is not always so bad.
Link	Poo.\|Poo.

To do List for Tonight	[Dec. 26th, 2006\|11:40 pm]
XXx WRite! lovely character descriptions//other random things... XXX Take Pretty Pictures of random crap and call it art! Xxx Find ARt i've done//put it in art BOOK!//Work on art for art book! xxX Write manduh back, possibly, if the mood arises XXX Make New Year's Resolutions Xxx Plan Par-Tay! XXX sit on the internet while doing these things and running around like a chicken with it's head off and dragging stuff from the bedroom and scanning it and Talk on AIM! Xxx Do Scales? xxx other things i could do...organize, decorate, muzik, the whole shabang. i have this creative vibe i do not wish to lose. pssh.
Link	Poo.\|Poo.

pooped...	[Dec. 19th, 2006\|01:30 am]
i feel like there is alot cramming in my head. sometimes it feels like dreams aren't worth living alone. what is life if not to share yourself? what do people have if not connection with one another? i feel like i can't do it by myself. i was ok and then you came back and made me want more. what i can not have. the past. and a dream made by two girls who thought they owned the world. thought they knew everything about friendship. what i mosted looked forward to, is the most dreaded thing to me now. i know i shouldn't feel this way. i'm not going to let it ruin things anymore. it's just being with you is like freedom, to me. and then i come back to who i had forgotten about. and reality, the bitch, slaps my face hard with it's sarcastic tone. the handprint on my cheek reminds me, that i'm still living a dead dream when it comes to you. i have to find something to call my own. but i am lost....and don't know where to look? and i am confused about what to do with myself. babble babble, bitch bitch, babble, bitch, babble, bitch. nothing gets solved like this.
Link	Poo.\|Poo.

secret clubs and crazy child antics.

[Nov. 26th, 2006|12:08 am]

[

Mood

sleepy

]

today i built a cardboard mansion that was more like a shack. it was an old friend and a new memory. it was nostalgia from childhood and knowing that, that part is always in me. no matter who i am or where i go my past and the people in it will always be there in some form or another. in a kiss you can still taste. in a photograph of a certain day. in a vision of a smile shared. hearing the voice in your head...of someone singing, just because they're happy. in a touch you still feel, a moment that you wrote out in detail and the emotion that surrounds you when you go back and read it...like you are there living it over and over again. in your dreams, in your nightmares, the past is alive. i'm not living in it, but it's alive in me. it all fades, but it never really goes away. things change, but there always somewhat the same in a memory. in a smell, that when you smell it, it takes you somewhere else...for the second you feel like you never left.

today equals: cardboard boxes, a process of rebuilding things that should have never broken, lots and lots of laughter...the kind you feel like dying of, talking, memories, hope, feeling adrenaline of stealing...even though the people didn't want it anyway,
trash is treasure.

Phleabagx

Link

Poo.|Poo.

hmmph.

[Nov. 19th, 2006|03:27 am]

[	Mood	\|	curious	]
[	Muzik	\|	prettier than me - the muffs	]

How many people can honestly say "i am who i've always wanted to be. i wouldn't change a single thing about my life or who i am right now?"

Link

Poo.

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