Pardon my French.: July 2011

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

To Rome?

I don't know this feeling inside me. It's not jealousy. I'm not the jealous type. It's...disgust. I'm disgusted at him. But its fine. I'm a good girl. And I feel so sick. So sick, infected with my tears. Infected infected, how can I even hope to accomplish anything, when all i ever do is sit here and type? How am i one person, striving towards an undefinable goal, rocketing chaotically through life? I'm going to die. It's simple really. I don't know when, or how, but I'm not afraid. I can't be afraid. I'm terrified. Not of dying..maybe..I don't know. I don't know anything really. I like it here. It's nice. It's cold and bright and sterile. It feels like a hospital. It smells like sleep. I'm tired, I'm angry and I'm lonely. Not for the company of others, I miss my Self. Where is she/he? Where did you go? I need you so much, now more than ever, how can this be a hell hole, disgraceful, impertinent little whore. I hate you. I love you. I want to die. Kill me. Please? No. No. I want to live, i love life. It's amazing. Simply amazing. Complicated, its not. It's fear, and love, and hate, and security, and It's hopeless. I can't feel this. I can't feel the words I'm typing, I can't see myself. I want out. I want out of this shell, I want to roam. To roam freely, to roam. To rome.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Thank You, Madamemoiselle Josephine Darcy

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3484954/1/The_Marriage_Stone

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

I'm possessive. Don't touch what's mine. It's simple. I will blow my top, haha, one of my greatest fears, is to have everything I love, and have worked hard for..to be taken away. I have a fear of loss, and that fear scares the hell out of me.

Monday, July 4, 2011

Of Appreciation

Juanita, iloveyousomuch. Without you, I am nothing. Thank you. For always being there. For always staying strong and staying peaceful.
Love,
San Juanita E. Hernandez

The past is in front of you, the future in behind you. You can see the
past. You can't see the future unless you turn around and look back.

June 20th...

This is exactly why I don't try to dream outside of ehere Im alloted
to use this so basically when I wrote I dream I hope I admit I'm a bit
sarcastic apathetic and revoktuinary at times bit at others I'm
amazingly quick and cknfusing almost past the point of passion and
rapture. It's almost difficlit to put down this imaginary paper and
lead because as we all know I'm writing on an iPhone note pad and
there's nothing more to say, nothing more to mourn. And with the
heaviness of my lids pressing down upon me I feel the beck and call
uponst the return of rest. And I yield.

June 22nd, 2011 Texting Aaron :/

Blah. I was just going to say "Oh it's nothing teehee, i'm just insomniatic(: I'll go pop some pills, and have a nice sleep! :D" but unfortunately my mood is so bitchy, and angry, and confused that it's taking too much freaking energy to be happy. I'm cracking. I lose grip on myself every second, my mind is stumbling to find something, something to hold onto. I don't know what's truth or lie anymore they're the same, I've hidden my self so deeply I don't know who I was anymore. I'm slipping up, mistakes galore, I start something with a passion, with my usual positivity, and I sort of fizzle out. I usually don't finish or if I do, I drag my heels. I'm myself and not myself and it pisses me off, and I spend nearly all my time in lalaland, imagining something, that's irrevocably focused on reality and my subconscious, and what I hate the most is that I only admit these things to you, I can't admit to myself because I get this urge to rip to tear to kill to anything really, better than this falling falling falling.
I'm tired, I'm torn, naked exposed, and the nightmare begins only I can't remember and I'm sweating I'm fainting and I'm caught only I can't see and it's frustrating I lie lie lie lie but tell the truth so so often, there's no SOS there's no help me please that's anything less than a beggars plea or a sonnets on last final scream. And I'm contradictive hypothetical living my life in my imagination and up is down has always been left to it's own devices and moral codes and right turns turn to u-turns and it's all just. Terribly sad and I'm crying and crying and it hurts. It hurts Aaron. Make it go away. Make the pain go away. I like it, but it's killing me, but noone can help me. Noone noone maybe my self but she's hidden. Craftily secretly oh I'm a terrible person but I'm oh so wonderful and amazing yet so mean and heartless emotional and loving and it's heart-wrenching. I'm not. I'm not anything I can describe. I'm scary. I'm afraid of myself, of the possibilities and it's terrifying. Just how much I affect me.
It's not an entirely cohesive decision. It's an open wound, and there's so many things delicious things I assure you, that thwart and magnify this, thus pressure. It's not a social pressure or a calamity pleasure, but in fact it's a neurosis one of those challenging things that the Universe hasn't quite thought through and it's amazing. That I can think these things so quickly how amazigly quickly I can fathom these things imagine them at just the drop of a hat, yet I can't speak them at will. I have to be incensed, something must anger me in order to infuriate me and to cause these words to well up inside my chest like a rising geyser and they'll form sentences, a paragraph, a cohesive language crippled and riddled by much stranger, factors. I just want to rip shred anything everything just dull my mind. I want haze I want nothingness yet I'm terrified of that exact end of this weapon I posess my mind, which weakens and kills me, even as it boosts my self-confidence and Reading skills. My god. Am I a product of m generation even as I shape it? Or am I just another self deluded teenager, too weak to handle the
subliminal might of the host virus? Am I a memory? Am I some sort of vague reference to the nothingness itself, do I represent something valid and illogical and tangiblebut also in it's own right absolutely chemically tested disastrous? Is this really life, or is it a dream a very strange dream. Am I an animal named San Juanita with all these complicated assortments and puzzles and natures that is dreaming of being something quite human, or am I something not quite human dreaming of being an animal? Whichever so, and as confusing and redundant as it might seem, how stereotypical and exasperated my mind can journey, with overrated sarcasm and indulgences, then my god what a mind! Able to lie and percieve and administer just exactly what I truly need in such lethal doses, to be able to think and write such things , is a blasphemy in itself, non? And I'm tired tired mentally emotionally but physically I'm illogical and vented and oh god I'm dead aren't I, aren't I? Funny this isn't how I percieved it and no no no...I'm still nothing. Yes yes yes that's it isn't it? Nothing nothing, absolutely gloriously nothing....
Aaron. Why do I have these thoughts? They shift their patterns sometimes they change regularly. Bur the words. The words just compound and influence me and I'm reduced again and again and again. Why?

Have some composure...Get away from this sinking feeling, I'm sure that all this time you were fooling me as well.

.....To Be Faithless in This Hour?

I have my God. I don't care for your God. The God i pray to, is a great God. A beautifully ugly one, a sincerely lying one, a perfect mistake, a lovely darkness...My God is me, the Universe, the Earth, my friends, Mom, Ralphie, People, Emotions, Psychology, Science, Religion, Astrology, Music,...My God is All, my God is nothing. My God is everything and at the same time, the most well-known and mysterious element of anything and everything...My God is air,water, fire, earth, plasma....My God is nothing.