you'll never think i'm talking about you. you'll never feel the guilt because i'll never blame you.

i hate my life at the moment, no i don't, i just hate how i can't control my life. Well i can, its just, social expectations, my own expectations. i'm not happy with who i am, but i can't change, it's too much, it's too soon. i'm lying to myself again. i have changed, i'm growing bitter. Part of me loves that fact, because thats what bitter people do, but another part really loathes it because i still care about others too much. the other parts are yelling go back to sleep. Maybe thats what i should do, go back to sleep. How much would change if i went to sleep... forever. i was thinking today, i won't have to finish my homework, quit my job, go to band rehearsal, try to fit in, think, breathe or do anything if i was dead... kinda intuging, kinda sucidal, kinda the most stupid thing ever.
If you're wondering, i only write when i feel crap or the need to talk to someone who won't reply and who'll keep my thoughts secret forever.

don't tell me, who i don't want to be, don't make me plea, to try and make you see, that i don't want to be anything...

self-centred count: 21 "i's", 5 "my's", 2 "me's", 1 "myself"


now i lay here owing my life to a stranger, and i realize that empty words are not enough, i'm left here with the question of just, what have i to show except the promises i never kept? i lie here shaking on this bed, under the weight of my regrets...

rethinking my options,
there has to be another way,
a different path to take,
some reason to live another day.
to look for another day,
without this blood and lust,
see the better in people,
to regain my own trust.
but i'm feeling like,
i'm telling myself lies,
to keep myself from being,
the person that hides behind my eyes.

If the sun is on its way, then we will never die and we'll follow these tracks to the sight. now the lungs collapse and the air is getting thin, all breath expired. is too late to heal? How long is the night...?

if i can't control how i'll live
then i'll control how i die
if you won't accept the truth
then i guess i'll have to lie
i'll tell you that i'm ok
i'm not sad i'm always happy
you'll wake one day
and relise you don't know me...

attempt of a campfire sotry

there once was a little girl named Beth. She was nearly eight years old. All she wanted to be was a ballerina. One day she was practicing in the lounge room when her brother Sam walked in.
"You don't really want to be a ballerina do you?" he asked
"Of course I do! They are beautiful and pwetty and they get the wear really nice dresses! I'm going to be the best ballerina ever!" Beth answered
"Oh really? I bet you wouldn't be saying that if you knew about Anna the ballerina ghost."
"There are no such things as ghosts! are there?" Beth questioned
"One yes there are. Some are happy ghosts, some are sad, some are angry. Anna is an angry ghost!"
Beth squirms a bit. "Why is she angry?"
"Well, as the story goes, she was nearly eight, just like you, and she was a beautiful ballerina. Her mum was a ballerina too. They danced together and everything. But Anna soon got better, a lot better than her mum at dancing and her mum got very jealous and poisoned her dinner one night. But, the thing with poison is that you always know who put it there. Anna knew and she was angry. She was going to be the best ballerina but now she couldn't because she was dead. The next night her mum woke in a sweat to find Anna's ghost at the end of her bed holding this huge buchers knife and singing *he sings in a childish girly voice* "chop chop chop, chop off your head, in the morning they'll find you dead...chop chop chop, chop off your head, in the morning..." and with that she jumped at her mum and cut her head off"
Sam jumps towards Beth, motioning a knife cutting her head off, Beth screams.
"Kids! Quieten down please!" comes their mothers voice from the next room.
"the next morning" Sam whispers it his sisters ear, "they find her body headless in her bed, but the head is no where to be seen. But Anna is still angry, she was meant to be the best ballerina and anyone who tries to be the best..." He pulls his finger across his throat "chop chop chop!"
"Don't say that!" Beth squeals "Theres no such thing, you're just trying to scare me! MUM! SAM'S TRYING TO SCARE ME!"
Their mum enters and Sam is sent to his room, Beth goes to her room too.
The next day, Beth is dancing again, she refused to believe her brothers scary story and still wants to be the best ballerina ever. But then she hears this whisper...
"chop chop chop chop off your head, in the morning they'll find you dead... chop..."
"I know that's you Sam" Beth says still dancing
"chop chop chop off your head, in the morning they'll find you DEAD"
Suddenly something, or someone jumps out in front of her. She falls to the ground with her eyes closed. What is happening? Am I dead? A intence stinging, burning, pain clutches, cuts her neck.
"I'm the only ballerina, the only true ballerina"
Beth would of replied, but her head was sethered from her body. Her body lay there, the blood spilling across the wooden panels.
"Anna! It's tea time!" called her mother from the other room
"Coming!" Anna replied.
Beth never exsisted. This is Anna's story, of a girl who was the best ballerina in the world....

36 years ago today, man landed on the moon... If you believe they did. *shrug*

what do you believe? what do you believe in? is there anything worth believing in? if you believe in something that is false, is it a lie? what lies are being accepted as truths? what lies are you swallowing? what lies are you spreading? what lies are you stopping? what lies are you living? what is life? what life is this? what life is worth ending? what life is worth living? stuck in a maze of questions... your beliefs won't help me...

the thing crawling underneath my flesh,
carve it out of me and leave it where it lay,
turning away, leaving my blood trail fresh,
it's only from ourselves which we run away.

i ran alone, was running before, now alone again,
i'm still alone, it never started before i had to end.

and as it lay there, still soaking in my blood,
it reminded me of the days that have past,
and a thought of you that made my emotions flood,
and the sadness that nothing will ever last.

i'll run alone, i did it before, now i'll do it again,
i'm still alone, it never started before i had to end.

i sit here and watch it struggle, until it slowly stops,
as the blood flows, my side begins to feel numb,
suddenly some instinct kicks in, the penny drops
I push myself to stand and try to run...

i'm running alone, i was before, now i am again,
i'm still alone, it never started before i had to end....

I've been thinking... and thats never a good thing... I have no close friends... and its my own fault...

I really got to stop lying. its killing my trust. or maybe i'm lying more because my trust is already down and I'm just kicking it. I don't lie on this blog, its stupid lying here, and it doesn't matter because no one reads it. well not until its two months old and doesn't matter anymore. but lies hide the truth so well (thats what lies are, like duh frances), if not for me then for who hears them. who wants to burden the world more than it is.
lies cover the truth and lies cover lies, what do I have to say to stop that look in your eyes?
if I believe my own lies are they really lies?
so this is it... whatever 'it' is, I don't know...

I'm A Fake - The Used

Small, simple, safe price.

Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets.
This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals.
And I am not afraid to die.
I'm not afraid to bleed, and fuck, and fight.
I want the pain of payment.
What's left, but a section of pigmy size cuts.
Much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks.
Would you be my little cut?
Would you be my thousand fucks?
And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid.
To fill, and spill over, and under my thoughts.
My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter.
I'm cutting trying to picture your black broken heart.
Love is not like anything.
Especially a fucking knife.

Look at me.
You can tell,
By the way I move and do my hair?
Do you think that it's me,
Or is it not me?
I don't even care.
I'm alive, I don't smell.
I'm the cleanest I have ever been.

I feel big, I feel tall, I feel dry.
Dry.
Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.
Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.

Do I drink?
Do I date?
I've got perfect placements.
All my ink
Satisfied, in your eyes.
I'm the biggest fan I've got right now.
I made sure that I look how I wanted to look.
The people around me,
The people surround me.

I feel big, I feel tall, I feel dry.
Dry.
Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.
Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.

Just look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake.
Just look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake.

My stomach hurts now,
And all tied off in lace.
I pray, beg, for anything to hit me in the face.
And this sickness isn't me.
And I pray to fall from grace.
The last thing I see is feeling.

And I'm telling you I'm a fake,
I'm telling you I'm a fake.
I'm telling you I'm a fake.
I'm telling you I'm a fake.

Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.
Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.

Just look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake.
Just look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake.

I'm telling you I'm a genuine
Fake...

wish there was, more me in me,
I'm feeling dry, feeling empty.
wish there was, more you in me,
so I could feel, I could see.
Wish there was, less regret in me,
more room for love, room to be free....

I'm so far gone now, I've been running on empty, I'm so far gone now, do you want to take me on?

feels like one of the best days of my life today, it was great.

hide and seek

wish there was more me in me, I'm feeling dry, feeling empty