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    poetry


    dotsJournal: Birthday!dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Yeay!!

    Ah, eighteen at last!

    I shall register to vote

    ...Created 2008-05-01 14:17:47

    dotsJournal: I am so lostdots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Thinking...

    It's four in the morning and I just can't sleep. I haven't been. My mind has been so scattered; I don't know how time is passing or how I'm feeling.

    I feel so disconnected from everything happening around me; I feel this great disappointment that nothing I am doing or saying is making a difference, that everyone I love is trapped in this great vortex we've created for ourselves, and I don't know where I am.

    I feel so lost and alone. I don't know how long I can be this way. I find myself sitting here, writing this journal to no one, desperate for some kind of indication that this is just a phase, that this will pass and someday I can be whole and good.

    I don't want to be bitter and lost anymore. I just want a safe place where I can stay, where I am not afraid. The sanctuary of my mind is slowly slipping away from me; I can feel it. I can't escape inside myself anymore.

    I wish there was someplace I could return to, somewhere where I could find the beginning so I could know where I am now.

    Please, God, help me. I don't know where else to go.

    ...Created 2007-07-12 06:28:33

    dotsJournal: My birthdaydots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Yeay!!

    Ahh, seventeen at last. Usually I don't feel much older, but I think this is a marking point for me. Some of it is new opportunity, and some is disillusionment, but all of it is a step forward. Thank you to all of you who have been there to be part of it

    ...Created 2007-05-01 21:31:35

    dotsJournal: I'm backdots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Mourning for a loved one's recent death

    I'm back here at Elite. My hiatus is over. It's funny, when I left I thought I would be happy the second I got back. But things don't always turn out that way.

    ...Created 2006-09-23 00:46:45

    dotsJournal: Bye, Elite!dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: A little sad...

    Okay, so today is my last day. I am taking a hiatus from Elite for awhile. Bye everybody! And Gun... I'll miss you!

    *door shuts*

    ...Created 2006-08-28 17:50:29

    dotsJournal: Confessionsdots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: I'm a jackass

    Sometimes I think my mother believes that I secretly hate her. And sometimes I do. And I hate myself for that because I can't just love her because I'm so bitter. And she's so nice to me when I visit her because she wants me to like her and I get so upset with myself that she has to do that, and that I can't just move on from the past.

    And every time I forget to call my aunt (the one aunt who really loved me as a child), she gets so hurt, and I feel so bad. She is so alone and has breast cancer, and I don't have the decency to call her every now and then.

    I've cried myself to sleep twice this week. More and more I'm seeing how terrible I am, especially to my family. And even when I try to make it better, it never seems to change. I always hurt them and disappoint myself.

    And I feel so bad because my mother held my hand while I cried at night, and she told me she loved me more than I could ever know. And I thought of all the terrible things I have said about her, things that should stay in the past, things I should not hold on to. And I felt so bad because she really does love me, my mom. But I always treat her so badly, and think that she is always out to manipulate me and others. And sometimes she does. But I can't let my guard down. And she's getting older, and can't walk as well. I don't want to hurt her anymore, or the others.

    I am such a mess.

    My younger brother thinks I hate him sometimes. I only see him every few months. I get frustrated and yell at him, and I know I shouldn't, but I get so easily irritated. I should have more patience with him. He's just a kid. And everyone else yells at him. He doesn't need it from me. And he thinks my mother and sisters love me more than him because they don't yell at me. I try to show him that I love him, but I never know what part of me he's really seeing. He loves me, I know. But I don't know if he thinks I hate him.

    God, what is wrong with me??? I just reject everyone.

    There are things I have to do and time is running out. I can feel age creeping on my mother, my aunt, my uncle. They will die. And that day is not so far away. And my father... I don't even know that he's not dead already. I can't waste time having teenage hangups.

    Sometimes, I have to sleep in the same bed with my mom or my sister when the house is full of people, and I listen to their heartbeats. And I imagine them slowing a little every day and then one day, stopping. I don't know how much time is really left. I don't want to pretend that I have forever to correct my mistakes and say all the things I mean, because I don't.

    My mom made breakfast for me this morning. She has this little pancake cooker, the kind that makes all the pancakes the same size. And I realize that she does what she can. I know that. And I hate myself for judging her when she comes up short. I judge her when there's no food in the house, or when I have to bleach and clean her moldy fridge, or when I have to clean her whole house, or when she's gone all day and night. These are things I cannot change, things I should not be mad about. I have to accept that this is as best as she can do, and do whatever she cannot whenever I have the chance. My mom works two jobs out in the heat with a bad leg, has my brother to take care of, and is operating on 40% brain function. Basically, I should cut her some fucking slack. But I judge her. I compare her against all the things I want her to be instead of accepting what she is and helping with the rest.

    Who am I, standing on my fucking pedestal and judging people who try as hard as they can? I'm just as fucked up as I make them out to be!

    ...Created 2006-07-30 01:26:11

    dotsJournal: My fatherdots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Straightening things out...

    I've been thinking about my father lately. I don't really know him, and normally I don't think of him. I've accepted that my life is simpler without him, and that I can't handle seeing him at this point in my life.

    But every few years he tries to find me. He goes looking for me, asking anyone who knows my family where I am.

    Normally I hide. I tell people not to tell him where I am. And I let it fall from my mind.

    But now whenever I do think of him, I think about him dying. Never knowing me, and me never knowing him. I wonder what i'm losing, how long I can wait. Every day that door to my past is closing more and more.

    I have no idea where he is, or if I even want to see him. I will never understand why he only comes looking for me every few years, or why he left me when I was two. Or who he is, or if he thinks of me, or how I feel about any of that.

    Everyone tells me I look like him. But how could I ever know something like that? How can I ever understand what that means?

    My family tells me that he is a good man. But that inside he is a child, that he doesn't understand the responsibility of being a parent. I can't be mad at him for that. I used to be. But I'm not now. I understand that.

    And I never felt like I was missing anything because he was never there. How could you miss something you never had? But still I wonder. Everyone says I'm like him. And he is part of me. How can I know who I am so much like or know myself if I never know him?

    Does he think of me when he travels from place to place? Does he still see me as the two-year-old girl he left behind fourteen years ago? Does he regret not knowing me? Does it matter now when so much time has passed?

    I wish I knew how I felt about it, about him. I wish I knew why I'm even thinking about it. I don't even know him.

    ...Created 2006-06-23 01:33:17

    dotsJournal: YAY!dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Yeay!!

    MY birthday was yesterday!!!! I am now offically 16. Just a few more years before I am taken seriously.

    ...Created 2006-05-01 17:35:40

    dotsJournal: Where is it????dots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Crazy

    I don't know what's wrong with me. Sometimes I feel like I'm outside of my body, watching myself and rather than being entertained, I put my head down and wait for something else to happen.

    Sometimes I feel the violent urge to do something crazy so that I know that I'm alive, that I still matter, that I mattered to begin with.

    I used to enjoy being alone. And now it drives me mad. I have a constant ringing tone in my ears and I can't drown it out because the second I stop making noise, the ringing is there again. The silence brings it out.

    I find myself consumed in staring at a rotisserie chicken I have in my fridge because the texture absorbs me totally. Who the hell stares at chicken?

    I think about the one person who has lived beneath my skin, who has made lights glow through it like a flashlight through a very thin slice of cake. I have not seen him in two years, but I still see the lights. I still see them burning and dying in some strange pattern I have yet to understand.

    Those lights keep me awake at night. There is no logic to the flashing and shifting they do. They just go, as if it were all they could do, as if they had no other choice but to remind me what I miss so much.

    I feel as though if I just saw him, just once, maybe the lights would stop. Maybe then I would know what the pattern is, what all the reasoning is to the pattering rain on the roof. I don't know. Maybe seeing him wouldn't change anything.

    But my head feels like jar of milk cream that sloshes around inside when I move it. Do you know what the worst part of that is? I keep on waiting for something heavy to thunk against the side of my skull when I'm sloshing the cream but nothing happens. Where is the damn marble I know is in there? WHY CAN'T I HEAR IT WHEN THE SILENCE STARTS THE RINGING IN MY EARS??????

    ...Created 2006-03-26 21:13:59

    dotsJournal: Politicsdots
    -------------------------------------------
    Mood: Thinking...

    I think the only time I see clearly is when I'm miserable. Elation tends to be a dizzying and entirely physical experience. I always imagine some gland in my brain being stimulated by increased heart rate.

    Similarly, anger seems to make my mind foggy; it's impossibe to think with all that heat in my head.

    Even being just normal and tempered makes it hard to think. I get caught up in what I'm doing and planning; I successfully avoid living by living ten minutes in the future. No real thinking involved.

    But when I am miserable, the whole world stops. Things I had thought were so important fall away, the future doesn't matter, and I am forced to deal with the bitterness of the present. It is then when I have no choice but to see myself. And that is my golden moment when writing becomes my everything, when I see it only for a second.

    I crave those moments, that misery that makes me stop and see myself. Feeling miserable is not difficult. But understanding why is.

    What I know of the world is little. I am young; life has not happened yet. But of my world, I know much. There is a certain beauty in understanding your motivations, understanding why you act and why you don't.

    Life has no meaning when it's all joy. The joyous do not have to think about why their lives have become the way they have. The have no need for questions or complaint. But the miserable must have justifications, either for hatred or for self-deprecation.

    What we don't know is, the justifications don't mean anything. Whether we drink ourselves into a stupor for love of drink or to forget our shitty lives, we are still drunks who are damaging our livers, wasting our lives, forgetting ourselves, and losing our chances for something so much greater than what we settle to be.

    So yes, my self-created image of martyrdom may have its justifications. But the real truth is that I am an ass for it no matter which way you squint at it. We are all sufferers on this planet, so what makes my particular pain so damn special?

    ...Created 2006-02-23 03:17:23

    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.

    A bit of Pain written by teika5
    Dream written by closetpoet
    Coversheets written by TheStillSilence
    Meaningless Meanings written by ForgottenGraves
    (Untitled Song) written by TeslaKoyal
    Supernatural Cowboy Sleuth written by endlessgame23
    Across the bed written by expiring_touch
    Starseed written by endlessgame23
    Day 6 written by TheStillSilence
    The Curtain Call written by faideddarkness
    Twin Intercept written by Daniel Barlow
    Gaia written by endlessgame23
    Rooted in Nature written by Chelebel
    A Thousand Reflections written by endlessgame23
    Lost Inside the Race written by ForgottenGraves
    Adoration written by TheStillSilence
    To the Artist written by HisNameIsNoMore
    In a Corner written by jeniecel
    a leaf of shadow and edge written by Daniel Barlow
    Lie back & tan written by Daniel Barlow
    untitled written by Outlaw
    The Want written by Daniel Barlow
    no sky on the other side written by teika5
    Things They (Don't) Say written by TheStillSilence
    The Human Harmonic written by Daniel Barlow
    Day 5 written by TheStillSilence
    Deep written by Janesaddiction
    FamiliarDemons ©™ written by kyserin
    // Seasonal Song written by ShadowParadox
    Hyle written by endlessgame23

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