Sometimes I try to express something meaningful. I think about it a lot, it's just when my mouth opens, it doesn't come out right. Sometimes, not at all. Hell, it's even worse when it comes down to trying to fingers to keys. Sometimes it comes out right and the wrong time, or vise versa. Sometimes, I think I should keep my damn fingers shut.

[I've used the word sometimes too many times in that last paragraph. It's 7:3o am, and I've been up since yesterday. So sue me for this, and any other errors you're gonna come across.]

The other day, I ripped off all of my acrylics because I got bored on a call. I found I'd grown finger nails under them. I did want that, but they came out all flimsy and annoying, which I did not want. THe acrylics had made them gross looking it was had to clean under them. There's line where the tip of the nail and the fake nail met, and most of it looked like ink or something left over from lunch. I'm glad they're gone now. However, my nervous habit of biting them did not leave. I'm back to square one as far as finger nails go. I may never have actual fingernails that grow past a few centimeters.

I've also got a job interview today at 4, but I didn't sleep. I couldn't think to sleep. I could think over everything else, but not sleep. My mom went to work at about 4am, and asked me to move my car. Then cook some hamburger meat. It tastes bland, because we're out of seasoned salt. I tried garlic powder... there wasn't an affect. As I opened the garage and started the Mustang, I contemplated telling her that I was still going to that interview, regardless of what she thought about it. It's my decision-- I'll get screwed over when that time comes. Until then, I'll get paid for my services, which I want.

My mind is astray with floating words and thoughts. This happens when my bleeding heart and heavy head are perfectly aligned. When lonely nights creep over in a shore of shadows, qutely lapping at my toes, reminding me to keep walking-- there's nothing here except abandoned campfires and empty shells. Not to mention the occasional beer bottle sticking out of the sand. You drunks, pick up your damn trash.

I have a friend who I've madly fallen for over a year ago. We'll never be together, and watching girls take him for granted probably hurts me more than it does him. Probably. I could never really know for sure. The man gets over it an moves on. As do I... after all, who am I to ponder on about a silly little girl that didn't take her golden opportunity. But I can't watch it in the making.

I was listening to music a moment ago... Alexis' Freakshow has really grown on me, and I like it. One day, when we're older, and she's forgotten my name and who I am, I can point to her and tell my friends, "I know her!" And they can call me a liar and just laugh. But I'll know it's true inside, and that's all that counts.

I had to stop the music because it goes against the current of thought I'm trying to produce in this here bulletin. The one that no one will read because it's too long, and doesn't make any sense of any kind. After all, my myspace friends are just that sometimes-- my myspace friends. I guess it's a little fun wondering or not if I have an audience. I don't really want one. I want to get it all out so I can sleep. I find it again on the Shuffle somewhere.

A sudden memory occurred when looking up birthdays just now. On my 18th birthday, I almost invited him to the party that was held at my house. I didn't, for several reasons. 1. I didn't know him that well, 2. I didn't know how he'd react to my family, 3. It was a house party, on my 18th birthday. There's a small part of me that tries not to hate the face that I share my birthday on some years. Three days later we got together. I really should've asked him to come.

Now, we fight. A lot. Sometimes over smallest things, sometimes over things that are about nothing. Hell, even being in the same car sometimes, and we're making jabs at each other, all in good fun. I try to keep up, to save face and not ruin the mood. Deep down, I'm not used to THAT brand of sarcasm. A lot of the time, I don't know if it is sarcasm, or masked despise. He can tell me it's not, but I'm still insulted, still frightened... I feel like I just got out of High School. Out of school, of out my mind, and a few days later, thrown violently back into the world I'd been rescued from.

Alone again, thrashing against dark tides, starting to sink.

A few months down the road and I had something monstrously hideous overshadow what I was, and it did some devilish things in my stead. A wolf in sheep's clothing. He lost every bit of trust in me because of what I did. The lies I told to get under his skin. To this day I wonder if that's what it really was... or did he really manage to escape from something really horrible, something that awoke from deep within me. Maybe I'm a 'beauty' (as Rachel says) with a beast within. I still don't know why I did it, and every rational reason I could think of always comes up as 'incorrect.' 'Horrid bitch' doesn't work, 'spiteful wench' doesn't work. A lot of things don't work, and to be honest... I don't know what I was thinking. I was angry, hurt woman, scornful and shotr-tempered. I wanted to hurt at that time. Being called a fling and a mistake may or may not have cut deep.

I'd take it all back if I could. I'd give up a few organs and memories if it meant a time machine, and to know then what I know now. To keep what influenced me away... I'm not like that. Am I? Perhaps this is why I'm here now. Just a little lost, I supposed.

I don't need a lover for worldly things-- I've been over this. I don't need him to take me out on nights on the town-- I have friends for that. I don't need him to pay for things-- I can do that on my own. I don't need someone to buy me gifts-- they embarrass the hell out of me, and if I want it, I'm capable of getting things I want on my own. But you want to know what I can't do on my own?

Comfort myself when I'm scared. Kiss me goodnight before I sleep. Remind me that I'm important to someone and that no matter how bad things get, there's a person I can run to and hide under a blanket next to. Those girly things? Like getting my hair stroked, quick kisses, long talks, and all the other things that girls manage to look over a lot nowadays? I want that. I want that so much... from someone capable of doing that. Just one to steer me away from doing other stupid things. I need one that won't run when things get bad.

How many times have I tried in the last year? Three times? I think that's about it. Whats' wrong with you men?

Or is it something about me, that drives them all away. Something that attracts, but something twice in horror that causes them to slip from my grasp. The beast within? Is it awake?

Am I horrible inside? A lot of the time, I believe so.

Sometimes, I wonder if he really got over it. He says so. So the chance of a reunion should be vaguely present. It isn't, though. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if we did? I know I would enjoy it so much, and feel like the largest weight was lifted off of my lungs and I could breathe in sweet, sweet air again. But it would epic fail again... just as before.

A repeating circle that is never broken. An endless wall to drive up. I watch him get used. I watch a piece of me die off. However it is a private funeral-- no one is to know. Why did I have to fall in love with you? I can't imagine what I did to deserve having this start in the first place.

But whatever. The best thing that ever happened to me was the day I started living. The day I met you.



It's not poetic. It's not psychological or philosophical. It's not meant to bash or be some sort of emotional message of passive aggressiveness. I'm not asking you to read this, and I'm not asking him to act on this. This is really what's going on in my mind, a lot of the time. Is melancholy the right mood for me? Is this why I'm not popular with the kids, because there never seems to be a smile on my face? I'm always told to smile, and most of the time, my reaction would be to ask them to give me something to smile about. Either way, I was able to get a good portion out, which makes me relieved... and exhausted.

I can get some sleep after I decide I've done enough on the internet for one morning.