The words cut deep. The wound torn open. The burning scarred etched in the blood of the past revisisted. There's nothing to do but watch it bleed out the pains of the past and present. When two worlds collide with two same mistakes. A failure once, a failure again. Always leading down to disappointment, into the abyss of darkness deeper than the depths of mortal sanity. Screams muffled only by the very one in pain. Do not hear my cries, do not hear my screams, for they are illusions of what use to be. See me not. For my face is but a blurred versions of times long gone.

There is no more.

Goodbye.

I am gone.

Comment! (0) | Recommend!

I work tomorrow from 11-4. Call me at work if you want. It's unlikely that I'll hear my phone ring. I mean, vibrate. Yeah, so call my work. Look it up online.

It was about Mark.

I might be able to see Mistress this Saturday! Yay!

Comment! (0) | Recommend!

I'm tired of the games. Fuck you. Leave me the fuck alone. You flirt with all the girls because you think that's the only chance you have with them. While you wallow in your self pity thinking that you're not hurting anyone but yourself, you are in fact hurting every single girl out there who falls for your fake charm. I'm annoyed. I don't want to play these games with you anymore. Ugh.

On the other hand, I had a dream about Tim McGuyver last night. Wicked weird. I just remember him getting really pissed off, and I tried to calm him down and he ended up like kicking and punching me. But I wouldn't back down and eventually he started to calm down and shit and he apologized. I have no idea what that dream means. Hell, I don't know what any of my dreams mean anymore, they're just all so complicated. At least this was one of my normal dreams. Haha. The one thing that I regret is being able to help him but not taking the time to because everyone else hated him. I don't know why the fuck he's such a big part of my life. He always has been, present or not. He's such a fucked up kid, but fucking brilliant! I had a chance to help him, that day in sixth grade when he was sitting by himself crying. Instead, I turned my back on him. Ugh. That's the one thing that I regret the most.

When he went to Apollo, it was like hearing his screams all over again, but this time I wasn't able to help him. He's gone too deep. It saddens me.

Comment! (3) | Recommend!

I came up with this brilliant story, but I don't think I'm going to write it how I usually write things. I'm going to try something new. I'm going to try it like it's a screen play. I never tried that before. I think I could get my point across better that way. Ohhh. It's going to be fucking great. If I actually do decide to do it. It's going to be all psychological and shit. Oh yeah. I'm excited. I'm just in the mood to write. And I've been having majorly insane dreams that just gives me more ideas for stories. I'm in the mood to read. Weird. Maybe I should go read my boring ass summer reading books. Well, I haven't even started reading it so I can't say it's boring. I don't like Shakespeare. I can't understand Old English. At all, but I'm in a mood for a challenge. Soon, I'm going to go buy me some cliffnotes so I can actually understand what I'm reading. Grapes of Wrath doesn't seem all that fun to read. I really don't like historical books like that that has to do with like the Great Depression. I think it's about the Great Depression anyways. The Great Depression just does not appeal to me one single bit. Okay. I'm going to go read some Shakespeare!

Comment! (2) | Recommend!

Hmmm. I'm not jealous of Rej anymore. This whole jealously feeling has slowly faded over time. Okay, maybe I'm just a teeny tiniest bit jealous still. But it's honestly not enough to get me all depressed again. And that feels good. Jealously makes your head go 'round in crazy circles. Speaking of depression, I know what makes me depressed. Well, I've always knew but I just decided to acknowledge it at this moment. I may not seem like it, but I'm a god damn perfectionist. That makes me feel sick. I'm exactly like my dad on this. I'm a big perfectionist. And the fact that I don't do things "perfectly" ends up pissing me off and getting me depressed. But instead doing anything about it, I just let it get worse and the depression just grows larger. Why don't I want to do anything about it? Because I don't like perfectionist! That's not true. It's because I know that there is no possible way for me to be perfect at something. And not to mention, perfectionist are a tad bit annoying with their anal obessiveness. Plus, being a perfectionist takes effort, effort that I don't want to give. It's like another battle. I got pissed off last night because when I was straightening up the new release wall I had to make sure it was perfect. But it toook fucking forever and it made me mad cause I was making myself take longer just so it could look perfect. It's late and I'm kind of rambling, so if I don't make sense. Well, that's just too bad. Priscilla has seen my obsessive nature. I'm really picky about matching clothing. Non-matching stuff just bothers me. I'm not a clean person but I'm a neat person. But this whole being perfect side of me I've kept down for a very long time. I'm tired of being depressed over stupid shit like that. But the funny thing is, I'm still going to be depressed just not as depressed because when someone tries to be perfect, they never achieve their goal because no one can be perfect, and by not being perfect upsets me. But I guess it's better then not trying at all and thus upsetting myself even more then need be. I could sooo get straight A's if I wanted which is my goal next year because yeah my GPA needs to go up like majorly. I don't have the patience to focus on one thing anymore though. I swear, my concentration has totally gone down the hole. I'm so confused. I'm totally contradicting myself I think. Oh well. See. My battle. My head. And I'm starting not to make sense. It's time for me to sleep.

Goodnight!

Comment! (1) | Recommend!

Depression hits like a charm.

You know what's really weird. Around nine o'clock I get majorly hyper, and then around 11 or 12 I start coming down from my hyperness and get majorly depressed. It's like that every single day, if I'm not sleeping through it. I thought it was just the work atmosphere but it happens at softball games too. I feel so sick. I feel like I'm going to vomit. And I can't sleep because I'm not tired. This is just fucking great. And there's a moving truck thing in front of my house that just happens to piss me off because it's not ours and Allen and his friend needs to park in front of the house. Put your fucking car in front of your own house god damnit!

I'm just in a pissy mood right now.

Maybe cookies and milk and watching a movie will make me feel better.

I'm going to buy my dad the Godfather movies for father's day. Yeah!

Comment! (2) | Recommend!