it's so weird now. the world is so strange.

I jest and mock and poke and scoff.
I wonder if she hates me yet?

It's hard not having a best friend anymore. Before, things were so simple we were there for the each other. it was the be all and end all. now i find it hard to even make strong connection with any female companion. i have yet to find someone who i feel is worth it for me to care about.

and i like her, really i do. but she's not a best friend. more like a little sister. the little sister you want out of your room when you're alone with a boy. yet the sister you are more than willing to passon wisdom and advice too. it's just hard to be tell the everything nd be comfortable with all the time friends with someone who just isnt on the same wave length as you.

now its getting harder on me. im snapping. gtting irritated too quickly. i dont want to spend free time with her. and somehow i do feel bad, even guilty about this. i just dont know if i can keep going through the motions when the emotions arent there.

maybe there is some sort of shelter for lost friends; people who come from abused friendship or whose hearts were abandoned in a cardboard box on the side of the 416. maybe i could go there and sleep in a little cage with regular intervals of happy-but-alone until some nice friend comes along and wants to adopt this relationship. and they'll feed me and walk me and take me out to play. and we'll be really happy and grow old in friendship.
(wo)man's best friend

Dear life: what the fuck is up with you? -love nadia

Mr. Perfect didn't even hug me when he left. I didn't even get so much as a wave. I'll never understand him, how one minute he cant live witiout me, an dthe next he cant even look at me.

I had my first panic attack in alomost a year tonight. just on the insid though. i hide it from the world physically but ,entall i was losing my shit. i saw HIM for the first time in 2 years. and i didnt know what to do. i loved him. I realy truely loved him. deeper thatn any relationship. deeper than any friendship. we fit and we were perfect. nothing of a sexual nature to dilute the perfectness. and so when we fell apart it was bad and slow and painful. then we didnt speak for 2 years. 2 fucking goddamn shit eating years. im still shocked it even hapened. and 2 years later i made the first move to civility, i said "good to seee you" he vaguely nodded in my direction. if it wasnt for the people i met later i wouldve lost my mind. either way i feel the need to drown in my own pitiful tears, dreaming of th one truth i thought id hold on to forever.

thank god i had that epiphany today, cuz if i didnt i would have sought out anger and general fuck up-ed ness tonight to try and satisfy my own unsatisfaction with myself. someone could have gotten real fucked up tonight.

Havoc (?) k?

Malice! here we are with a hundred angry houswives. ima start writintg my masterpiece. be ready! iut's going to be about the mocies. and maybe love. always love, it infects a mans thought as much as dicks and pussy do. ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh yyyyyyeaaaaaaaaaahh!!! aside from being infantile i spend my dreams dreaming for the most part. i want moon sky gnats and the mythbusters to be with me again. along with being the boyfreind for the night. oh toronty.

four toppings

the only thing carrying me right now is great melody and the abscence of anything worth giving a damn about.

i know we're all sitting in our apartments contemplating the ever impossible "next move" so i'll make it easy for you.

the "next move" is always next. will we ever make it? i doubt it. we'll keep chewing shredded gum pretending it's tabacco playing songs from the 60's and thinking of past lives we never really lived.
how's that for the new era.

being young is good cause we got dreams, its only when we become everybody else, too old for those dreams to mean anything that we sit around happy at any little thing. oh man life.... life... too wrong for this cage.

nicholas cage... nicholas cafe... nick cage cafe, double americanos with a shot of gun pwder while Iris by the goo goo dolls plays while you add in you conair cream... no white rooms, just dance.

baby.... i need your loving... got to have all your loving

Le Sigh... that's french for Sigh.

I miss the JPers. So very very much. Tongiht just solidified it.

Can we all go out and get drunk and be nostalgic even though it was only a few months ago?

I love you all.

And here I was worried that you'd ruin The Hold Steady

I cannot listen to The Format without thinking of you. There is not a single song that I hear that doesn't make me remember exactly how I felt when i fisrst heard it with you. and the first time we saw them live. and every time we speak of them.

the taste of smoke on your lips, sinking in to my skin, making my lungs explode. you were the reason why i loved losing sleep. and stealing song quotes.

my heart begins to break when i remember that they broke up. i miss them greatly. and you too. but then again, we were always like them. we all ended so that our friendships wouldnt fall apart, but acknowlege the amazing music we had all made,together. and though we all had our dog problems, theres always still that spark that our hearts yearn , crave, to have again.

"let's tune out by turning on the radio"

Mistakes are just decisions yourefuse to Accept

Sweat off your forehead, nails in your back, teeth in my neck, tangled fingers in my hair, high fives, questions that always answer yes: all just patterns that we fall into.

And for the life of me I'll never know why we fall into them, why you pick me time and time again.

I am so inadequate next to mr.Perfect.

She can't afford to live like this, she can't be dumb enough to dream so big

Met a man tonite who used to work at glendon. His life isnt any better.

I'm not sure what I should say now. I could let my heart all out on the line but that would leave me defenceless. And I love my gated-heart-community. Sometimes I feel as if I've let too much out, then I remember there's so much more that I keep locked away. I often think of myself as an open person but really im much more secretive. i love my secrets, i live ijn my secrets, i feed on my secrets.

i miss CW. one of the few men who could get any secret out of me if he wanted, only because he is one of the secrets. i miss SC. one of the few people i could completely let go with and not worry what he'd think of me. i miss BL. the only person who knew me inside and out. im afraid ill never get that again with anyone, woman or man.

i wish i remembeered what life was like before sex. the sweet innocence i felt before man. the past taht i dealt with solely without all the troubl;es love ensued.

kiss the curb all over and over again

you ride home and i'll try not to vomit out of a cab like the guy i passed on my bike on the way home.
i don't know you
that well
i don't me much better.

i dance alone when the drinks are strong enough, no one can stop me till the night closes in... till the night closes in.

summer no love

If i was a Wrestler my name would be The Cuddler,
and my signature would be holding you while you tried to slap me off because it was summer and much too hot for that kinda thing.

i can pretend what the constellations are.

whaaaaoh here i am heroes and pharoes. i'm officially out and looking for some good money, cash. they changed the locks those fuckers, never back again for me. shoulda ssiped more vip card, but hell. found myself in the shit pit and the only way is up, don't wory bout me, i Am the liquor. the bowling ball left and all iahve are the good jokes, your pretty feet on the pavement be3fore ifucked off.

ten things i hate about she's all that breakfest club bringing it on

there's really only two things you can do at the end of a night when there's only two combatants walking out of bar stumbling.

one's gonna want you to walk them home, the other is going to want to go home.
sometimes you're the one wanted to be walked home and it feels shitty, now granted i'm a gentleman. i'll walk you home at the end of the night if you don't feel secure in that walk. it's no sweat. but if you wanna ramble on about your feelings i'd rather be at home making patterns out of the stuco on my ceiling as i lie in bed imagining a life that doesn't remotely involve any of your issues.

now, i love, will love, have loved everyone who wants to take the chance to get closer to me.
but, i'm not a plaything, i will hit you back if you hit me.
i'm not gonna chase you down at an airport begging you to not get on that plane, i won't show up at prom at butt in to ask for a dance, i won't crash your wedding. don't rely on me for any dramatic gestures. i'm just the guy telling you about the weather, djing the dance, playing the organ. good for you, i mean good FOR you.

still i feel pulled in different directions, i must save face and that means holding my punches and that's just too much effort.
the city keeps getting brighter, people complain more and more, and i just like being able to wear my sunglasses at night.

well kids, wether you're stalled at an alter of false hope or lost in the fields grasping at every new flower you see and christening them "love" you're still eventually gonna have to dust off the dirt stains on your knees and realize you gotta call bullshit more often.

they fell from heaven and carried me away

I don't have much to say. Honestly. But I have the urge to write, and since nothing that I write will be useful or productive, i have found myself here.

I've been listening to the playlist I made for my best friend. She's having trouble getting over an awful boy. Yes, I said boy and not man for a reason. A maturity reason. I titled the playlist: "Music+Science=Sexy: A 27-step, guaranteed, get over him, playlist" It's not helping her the way I thought it would.
Now I am listening to it on a loop. Beginning to end. Straight through with no shuffle. And it's not helping the way I thought it would.
I miss being desired, I miss being loved, and I didn't realize how much I missed it until now.

My body and mind are caught in a conflict right now: am i searching for some kind of meaning ful relationship, or do I just really want to get laid? My jhope is that both thoughts can coincide happily.... but things like that are never so simple in my world. Both items are a dragged out process which usually leaves me battered and bruised in the end,. it doesn't stop me from wanting them though. im a little bit of a masochist if you didnt realize. an emotional masochist but still a masochist. am i even spelling that right? who give a fuck im, drunk and i will spellhorribly if i want! I just hope the grammar nazi never sees this. i dopnt want to have to satrt writing secret anne frank-esque blogs.

i was talking to a friend tonight that i am sad i don't spend more time with and he made me realize a few thing about my life. mostly that if he had never come into the picture i would not be in a good place, and i would still be clinging on to the only thing i thought i had left wihich is a faulty friendship where i have been guilted into owing my very soul to someone has abusued me in more ways that i wish were reakl. my life has been a series of far overdramatic events thus far, and im done with that. ive been done with that before i even met the wonderful people i know now.
And I don't know how i can deal with out them now. i feel pathetic saying it, but they are everything to me. and i feel compleytely and utterly alone when im not with them, or when they dont call, or when the shy away from all those social messaging sites.

So this is me. No fancy analogies. No spell check. Heart on the line. Ready and willing. Cliches a blazin.
And I can't apologize for it, because, for once in my life, I want everyone to see me as I am and love me for it.

Still Here

You're still here. you brought me perogies and orange juice. But you're still here
why is that? Why did I let you back into my home. just remember I'm letting you nowher near my heart. But yes, you can have some rum. ive tried very hard to keep this friendship alive because i feel like i owe you something. Maybe it's my life, maybe it's my sanity, but I owe you for saving iot. And because of that we are still here. but I don't know if I can keep doing this. It's a onesided friendship,
well that is until you factor in the abuse.
wether verbal or mental or physical, I know what you are capable of and what you do. So really it's hgard to let you in on a more permenant basis. the first time you yelled at me i remember i was so shocked I laid face down in my pillow-cum-tissue and cried for 3 hours straight. one of the hardest cries in my life. The first time I figured out you were manipulating me I cried and cursed you on and off for a whole day. the first time you hit me I shut down almost completely, locking myself away from the world for several days. Not eating, or sleeping, or socializing, or going to class. Least of all talking to you.
And now you are on my couch., watching a wrestling dvd. I'm watching wrestling too, ya know. I'm watching my thoughts wrestle it out before me; fingers vs keys, thoughts vs screen.
you vs me.

Amazing Stories

No, I don't rea;;y have any for you, its the name of my box. not that name perv. i have a box that i keep my mementos in, from my girlfriends, or the ones that matter, all two of you. not surew if that will change, if ever. it's got a picture of a sea beast ripping apart a boat. ha, make of that what you will. i keep all your things you left me with in there, all two of you. an old patch i never was able to put on, too much. your drawings, always make me smile. a newspaper clipping from long before everything went to hell. love you both in so different and difficult ways. got to keep that nostalgia close, a new years that i'll never forget and that one drunken time i told you i loved you the first time. for you my first my dear i burned the pages of my first diary but kept the ones that pertained to you, ah love you matter so much. this blog should not only be written drunk but read that way aswell, you'll like it better. 4 pints 2 shots later and i type and am too coherent. why does everything happen at once? sex, moulting, new avenues, you can all go to hell. i get pictures in m yhead of blowing way too many and hating the next morning. not any more. everything has been put to rest now so tell me why i cant sleep. who doesn't hate being satisfied and then dis. satisfied. over and over and over..............amazing stories. i haaaaaaad a stroke. ah christ, gotta love how booze kills the short term and then way later everything else. don't have that kind of time. atleast, not outside the box.
frisch wert der wind
der heimat zu
mein deutch kind
wo weilest du?