I've Come to the Realization...

When I'm alone, I've noticed that I'm a much more likeable person. I like me when I am aimless and dreaming and just plain talking to myself so I can figure shit out without it getting all jumbled up in my brain. For some reason, with people around I just don't like who I am. I'm far too over the top crazy to deal with the real world. I stutter. And I get so vehemently passionate that I lose myself in words that I don't want coming out of me. And I'm fake. So goddamn bloody fake. Just to avoid confrontation. I never thought I'd be like that- I cannot imagine myself admitting this a year ago. But we're all fake in front of those who watch us. And maybe it's better that way- but maybe it's only going to kill me in the long run.

Her Name is Leanan

My muse, she knows the amount of pores on my body. 

She reflects every thought and feeds on my brain. 

She sees but cannot play. She knows but cannot sing. 

Her image is perfect in my eyes alone. 

Perfect face. Perfect tits. 

I wish she were me. 

She only wants my fingers to write and my throat to sing. 

She wishes so much that it is killing me.

I will never love as I love my muse. 

But I know I’ll get to die soon. 

Oh, but how my lonely muse will die too.

We do not love for the benefit of others,
But for our own sake
We cannot see in a world of others
We keep to our own sake
And in all the angsty words of tongue and pen
I need for me
I need for me
I need for me.
The saddest are it might have been.

Lexicon

There so many words to put into context-
But I can't seem to find the right ones.
While these are simply arbitrary symbols representing arbitrary sounds,

My feelings are anything but.
I've filled pages upon pages with thought and no meaning
Unable to define this emotion.
There are no words or symbols or sounds that can truly hold a place here.
But you have filled it completely,
Closing a void in which nothing is lost.
I shall never feel empty so long as you want me.
I shall never need words again.
Alas- there is nothing left to be said.

(I)

Last night I was layin' in your bed, 
I cried myself to sleep and got the pillow wet. 
And I'm sorry, I apologize, (I'm) so sorry.
But life's been hard, yeah it's been rough,
I'm giving my all but it's ever never enough
And I'm sorry, I apologize, (I'm) so sorry.
Cigs and coffee are cheaper than therapy
I only need them to keep me company
And I'm sorry, I apologize, (I'm) so sorry.

I Was Thinkin of Sleeping Outside- A song

I literally exhausted my artistic abilities when I fell asleep sprawled out on the floor on top of my shitty crayon drawings. Eventually I moved my ass to the bed, not two feet away, where I slept for another good two hours until my Nigerian neighbors across the street started arguing loudly. I tried to sleep through it for a good ten minutes and failed miserably. So I stumbled into the living room and practically fell onto the couch.

I don't quite remember dreaming at all during this nap, although I've been having some strange dreams these days. I'd like to go back to when I didn't dream because all my dreams are about estranged acquaintances and ex boyfriends. I'm not getting along with these people in the dreams, and I hardly think of them while I'm awake. It upsets me that. My conscience chooses to dwell on my anger at these people. I'm trying really hard to let it all go but my bloody dreams won't let me.

Last night I couldn't sleep to save my life. I so badly wanted to jump out of Anthony's bedroom window. But I kept having thoughts. Just racing. I didn't know how to stop. I kept writing lyrics and music. And the words were all getting... I couldn't figure out what I was thinking of exactly. I was estranged from myself. Then I decided to have three ibuprofen after  carton of cigarettes, and half an hour of chasing sleeps, I was gone. I didn't think at all. 

You see, I was Thinking.

Without Facebook. I have lost something to complain to.

Instead of annoying the one or two friends I have to talk to about all of my dissatisfactions, I used Facebook to vent, and so if anyone felt like listening they could. And those who didn't want to bother, weren't forced to. However I became dissatisfied by the comments of those who chose to listen. Generally because those who chose to listen would do so stupidly.
But now, of the three people I talk to regularly, two are dealing with stress and I don't want to bother them.
And I've been bothering the one left over to a capacity that I believe is remarkably annoying. He hasn't told me so, but I don't know...I'd hate to seem too clingy.