Sophomore slump or comeback of the year?

another year. another season of our lives completed. we're halfway there. the epiphany of my life. i'd call it a slump. i do what's expected of me because i don't know how to do anything else.

traintracks at night are a dangerous place to be, but we're blinded by the sun in the day. besides, what's a few shots of adrenalin among friends? quit crying your eyes out, and baby come on. let's slit our wrists and burn down something beautiful. poetry can't fit me into a rhyme scheme. science calls me inconclusive. math says i don't add up. "it's called bleeding so you know you're alive and unloved." well isnt that fucking great.

what if i decide that ignorance is bliss? it's not like i know anything about the afterlife. what if you got bored of living? the predictable intake of air, the blood in your ears. your mouth. your eyes. everywhere. blood is under everything, and you know it.

the scary thing is, blood is actually clear. ever wonder why burn patients bleed to death? that's why. blood plasma. like you're crying out of every pore. the p[s]alm reader points out my short lifeline. "you're either a hero or a coward, and i'm not liking your chances". what's the point of keeping a puzzle piece around if it doesn't fit into any puzzles?

so, which is it?

well, the comeback kid died anyways, so who really gives a shit?

...let's call it "who the fuck cares about you."

for once in my life, i want to know why i'm so goddamn undesirable.

the one thing i swore i'd never be is the one thing i see when i look in the mirror.

wishmeluck. pullthetrigger. sayonaratomediocrity.

forget about me.

summertime heatwaves.

one-liners turn into liner notes.
12:58am and i can't bring myself to sleep.
wish i had something to say but i think i'm too far away for you to hear me out.
it's funny, because you're just across the table.
a foot and a half away.
my mind is off again.
1:01am and i'm obsessing over you.
dissecting your insides with a scalpel and some tweezers.
"oohs" and "aahs" from the gallery.
my brain is shot. my hands slip. your EKG is a flat green line, humming a perfect note.
now i'm obsessing over what you once were. the corpse of your past.
1:04 and i am signing off.

goodnight.

-XO

leave the umbrella at home. let's dance in the rain and forget where we are together.

sometimes my life feels like one big summer hit single. people love me one minute, but once the leaves change, there's a new top 40 and i am collecting dust on your shelf again.

<3 youknewitwasmeallalong.

the jets fail in midair. cue the explosion. it's raining blood and guts on the launchpad, and that umbrella smile isn't going to do much now.

the rocketship of my life, baby.

my head is a jigsaw puzzle, but there's pieces missing and it doesn't look much like the picture on the box. "contents: one normal, healthy teenage girl" turns into "optional baggage, emotional weightlessness, unsharpened knives, and a toss of the dice included!".

i'm drunk off of my own self-worthlessness. swimming in my head. the dead man's crawl to shore with sand in my eyes and a fire in my lungs. drowning. breathless. fuck, i'm sorry mom, i just couldn't do it. fuck, i'm sorry dad, i don't know if i can take any more of this. oh god, i'm going to crash and there's nothing anyone can do about it. water fills up my lungs. there's nothing in sight and the verdict is in - survival rate is slim. and the pressure - dear god, the pressure - my body would collapse if it wasn't so full of bullshit and apologies. jesus christ, my skin is tearing, stretching out until i can see my veins, my bones, my lungs, the water sloshing around and trying to kill me. and ironically, this reminds me how goddamn thirsty i am. i laugh until i cry, and there's seawater in my eyes. water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.
and i realize how ridiculous this is, because i am about to die and all i can think of is a stupid fucking cliche that no one understands anyways. haha. i begin to laugh again. a cliche for every occaision, and we've come full circle.

i'm so fucking sorry for throwing this on you.

We could live like this 'til your burnmarks fade, but then it wouldn't be love.

Just for the record, i talk about you way too much when you're not around.

"why do people automatically say "good" when someone asks how they are?"

i feel infinite at night, when we're laughing and singing and trashing the local park.
we are untouchable. invincible. a smile away from falling off the face of the earth with nothing running through our veins but oxygen and music.

we read each other's minds.

coffee stop. our song on the radio. tim hortons run amok. an ode to our ramblings.

scattegories. singalongs. mario party.

our legacy carved into the stars.

a teenage vow in a parking lot,
til tonight do us part,
i sing the blues and swallow them too.

call me ishmael. hunt the fish down just for the glory.

i am the other end of the rainbow. the only connection between me and your pot of gold future is a striped, candy coated lie. a ray of light that will dissappear after you've blinked the tears from your pathetic little bambi eyes.

wake up, kid. you're not allowed to be naive anymore.

take off the rose coloured glasses and get a real prescription. trade in the backpack for a briefcase and get to fucking work.

i am a traincrash in slow motion. i mean, no one knows that it's coming, but someday, you're going to get floored. derailed.

all because the truth hurts worse than anything.

slash a dollar sig(h)n into your wrist and pray for the child that dreamt of a stethoscope and vicodin dreams. or maybe the scales of justice and a burning courthouse heart.

"mom, mom, mom, mom, mommy, i couldn't get past the fetal pig in biology class. now i'm the cadaver."

help me out, i've got a case of the mid-teen crisis and i think it's terminal.

Marco Polo didn't know the rules to his own game either, come to think of it.

my own personal infinity is bleeding.
the wiry substance of my future is melting in my hands.

something isn't (write).

but at the same time, i don't think i've ever been happier. or more depressed. or clearer about my own life.

"it's complicated."

of course it is.

i wish i knew what the hell i want from myself.

it's trite. it's cliche. it's stupid. it's in right now.

i just don't have a single particle of confidence left in me right now. it's totally unjustified.

just like that girl on search for the next doll. the gorgeous one who was tall and exotic-looking, but got kicked out because her dress size was just too big. her finger was just not stroking her throat the right way. her dance wasn' t quite perfect.

why didn't she win?

if she can't make it, who's to say anyone can?

it worries me that i'm just too much of one thing and not enough of the other.

someone asked me how i wanted to die today, and i just don't know how to even field that question. shouldn't you have, you know, solid dreams before you think about completely trashing them?

i mean, of course i have dreams. i just don't know if i have the talent or looks or smile or tools to even get there.

i've got a water gun and a paper sheriff's badge. right the wrongs.

i've got a ballpoint and a scrap of paper. write the wrongs.

i can't fucking do this right now. i'm scared. fuck, jesus christ, i'm scared of my own life.