I need you like a heart needs a beat.

“I Love You….Arent you going to kiss me?” My breath cut through the suffocating midnight like wildfire, my heart clinging to whatever pride I still claimed my own. Not even five minutes before, I lay tangled up with you in the middle of the floor, and now, I had every excuse waiting on the tip of my tongue to beg you not to leave.

“Not after those words.” I could’ve stayed there all night waiting in between you and the open car door, but, your cold voice shook me back a few feet. Knowing you wouldn’t look me in the eyes, even if I was nose to nose with you, I turned, hopelessly digging through my pckets for my lighter. I would’ve stopped to inhale the moon as the engine of your car rung through my ears. I would’ve wished on the first star I saw hanging above me. But, step by step my feet followed each other until I was safely in my empty apartment, knowing in a few minutes you would be home to your life, and I would be rolling around in my bed alone wishing you were breathing next to me.

I’m full of excuses it seems, and run on sentances.

I dont have much of a reason to write anymore.


stop playing this fucking game.

Today, Katie told her dude friend that she thought I was the most amazing writer she knew.....
& my heart stopped.

because secretly.
the most approval I ever search for in this fucking life.
is for people other than myself to understand and appreciate what I write...
it's one of the most fucking important things to me.

Grandpa took me driving today....
but parallel parking just sucks balls
I never ever everrrr want to do it again.

this whole tumblr shit isnt working out.
I cant give this up..
along with quite a few other things.
lets not talk about them.

my nails are a really obnoxious yellow.
and i cant even concentrate on the letters lmfao...

i took advil pm a while ago.
why am i still alive?

Whatever.
Every time I re read this shit, I get all depressed.

Basically.  It's the same shit.
in my diary.
on these websites.

but i've moved.
lovecursedme.tumblr.com/

stalk me and my nonsense there. bye.

When I dont talk to you, my legs shake, and my mind races...... And, I keep making goddamn exsuces. like I AM INSANE. like, I'm going fucking crazy...but. thats not it. well. not quite yet, anyways. I had a runny nose, and I couldnt breathe. but, it was nothing i couldnt get over. I still made her buy me nyQuil. I thought I was normal enough to actually get fucked up off it, and sleep like I havnt the past 2 weeks or so. but. I am still indeed alive, and feeling and breathing. and I dont really like it quite much. I'm still the same. Maybe getting worse. Noone sees it but me. Paronia? These stale cigarettes smell. My appittie's wearing thin. The soup is cold. I still eat. It's gross. I stop time, and sacrafice just to IM you. I dont know what to say anymore. So, I wait for you to start my heart again. You dont. It's disapointing. I like the beach. But, I dont like people, so I've been avoiding it. She cant see at night. I'm trapped. This is not how I write. I lack inspiration. I can feel the blood running through my viens. It makes my stomach hurt. I'm worried. It all comes down to the next 2 days. I know whats going to happen. and i dont want it to happen. Because, I'm not strong enough to put up with it. I have to d r a g myself to do important things. depression? again? I dont want medication. They dont have records of my SSN. and it makes me want to slam my head against the wall over and over again. I am not right, right now. I dont like this song. I dont like Leo's car. I dont like this computer. I dont like Long Island. I like Atlanitic City. and I like the boardwalk, and the lights of the casinos. I dont like myself. I want to go to the bookstore. I wish I had willpower. I wish I had hot chocolate. more so Olde English though. My mother buys me liqour. Because I manipulate people apperntally.  HAHA SHITTING ON YOU ALL WITH THE BOOMBOOM. There are 9 water bottles surrounding me. I should clean so the rest of my life isnt so out of fucking whack. I wish it was winter. you can see the stars better. I dont like sleeping alone. IVE BEEN LYING. lets not talk about it. I feel dangerous tonight. I dont trust you. because, I dont trust myself. I have 2 bowls and no weed. THATS SAD. I need a pipe cleaner. I'm scared to boil water though. What the fuck am I waiting for? why do i curse so much? I had a dream I was dating the Bacholer last night. I think I spelt that wrong. I kissed him, and he was ugly, and then I got on a plane to go to Pakistan. They say your deepest secrets come out in your dreams, or something. I can scream and they wont call the cops. I like xanax. its a bit of a problem. I want the rest of the nyQQQQQQQQuil. my fingers are trembling. I'm fucking freezing. and I dont like being alone. no, I dont like being alone at all. Sometimes I forget I'm pathetic, and all of those horrible things. I should be shot. When we die, do we go up? I used to have faith, and hope, but, I dont really remember that part of my life. I wasnt even happy tho. I was really stupid. naive.... I hate soda. Esspecially moutain dew. I dont know why I'm typing this. I want to go drown myself. I need a cigarette. It takes me years to smoke 100's though. When I re read things, Its not even in my voice. It's like a better version. The one that doesnt sound like a man. oh my god. I want to just drive around the corner to 7-11 and buy 4 monsters. and stay awake for another week. really.

I was in a black dress. It wasnt yellow. and it wasnt ripped, but, it was just incredibly perfect, and poofed just above my shaking knees. Every hit of the weed I took, pushed me closer to the edge of insanity. I hoped I looked as good as I felt. Standing there with you. As the smoke stung my heart, and the pale moonlight danced across our skin. i was nervously stumbing on words, on emotions as all of destiny's gravity pushed down on my eager, thriving soul. The black midnight closed in around us, and my eyes could only barely make out your silhouette, I only saw the gray smoke clouding my vision. But, baby. I dont need to see you. I felt you. Protecting me. Saving me. From everything I would have become.
That morning, you took me. Above everything I was. Beyond everything I've known.
& then you left me.

A few hours later, I found myself by the side of my best friend as we drove into the dusk, a complete understanding of my broken heart on wings, as the full moon above us hung in the endless sky, sung with us songs, taking us back to better times. When we were free. Lost, but moved so greatly. By the power only invested in love.

I'm becoming worthless again.
I'm getting pulled deeper into this spell you have cast on me.
I'm throwing away memories and relying only on fate to guide me into tomorrow.
I'm emptying full soda bottles.
I'm growing up.
I'm facing fears.
I'm breaking promises.
and I'm hurting myself again.
because, I need a reminder.

A reminder thats past the brilliant, inspiring luster of the lampposts.
Past the bittersweet memories of you&i.
Past the fucking bright stars.
and past the saddest season. The season I seemed to thrive in.

I dont look forward to the upcoming days anymore.
what has this life in store for me?

& so I stood there, lost in my embarrassment, as his brown eyes dilated, and his eyebrows shot upward.
"...excuse me?" his voice was excruciatingly louder than i had expected. I felt the stares of the other people in the line behind me burn through the nape of my neck.
I repeated. stumbling on my tongue. My voice was sitting somewhere on my voice box. I felt it so easily come into focus, yet, I could not bring myself to use it. seconds passed, i couldn't breathe. After what felt years I said.
"what is the total of that?" my lips were parted, my eyes must have held even more confusment than his had ever had in his life. My shaking fingers were wrapped around the styrofoam cup of hot chocolate I had bought minutes before. Between us lay 3 books. 2 were detailed biographies about schizophrenic patients. The last was a notebook, for, tonight I was deeply inspired.
Even louder than before, practically screaming less than 2 feet away from me, he said "36.47, but that can change if you have a membership card!"
To which I replied, "I'm sorry, but, I dont." My mind was racing. I couldnt help but glance at his name tag.
Teddy....Teddy......Teddy...... I repeated his name in my mind something oddly familiar about the shape of his face, the wave and color of his hair. Have I walked through a past life with this guy and not even have known it? Here we stand face to face, but we know everything and nothing about each other. I stood there making a mockery of myself as I counted more than seven single dollar bills, change from the lottery tickets I had purchased earlier, and to my avail, lost on. Leading me to only think more irrational thoughts, taking me back to a place where I was content with every single aspect of my life, but, selfishly needed more guidance from a source who knew nothing of my life, but, believed did.

I remember I sat with my leg underneath me, wearing jeans, and converse, my bangs half covering my mascara ridden eyes, weary and unsure of the knowledge of this woman dragging me back into the past life I so hated to remember. she told me i was cursed....a spell never to be broken, unless i forced three hundred dollars out of my asshole and paid her to cleanse me.
"I have nowhere near three hundred dollars to give you....." I said, wondering if the words she said were true. She accepted the forty I had kept aside for the reading I had requested, and handed me a thick deck of tarot cards.
"shuffle them, and cut them down the middle."
I remember clearly my bright pink, chipping nailpolish as I ran my fingertips over the old fading cards. My eyes darted around the room as she spoke to me. "You are a strong woman. And, I don't mean that physically, It's clear in the ten of pentacles, that, you fight for the things you love."
and as the reading came to a close, she opened my knuckles, and placed a clear gem in the middle of my palm. "He loves you. He loves you more than anything he has ever known in his life, but, he is so unsure of where his life is going. I will leave you with this. If you want him to stay, go fight for him. Tell him you love him. I have faith in you."
She looked at my green eyes, filled with tears, and replied, "This year, will be full of abundances."
and, I walked out of her little shrine. renewed and comforted.

But, ten months later, when I least expected it, I then had nothing. The comfort faded away, and the stars lost their brilliant luster. I was standing in the middle of a funeral home, in the viewing room, my fathers body, but, I was too much of a pussy filled with guilt to follow my other mourning family members into it.
Aunts I had not seen unless money was promised to be involved, and friends of cousins I had never met in my life, had walked up to me, rested a hand upon my shoulder, and kissed me lightly upon my cheeks streaked with makeup, offering any sort of condolences for my loss. Some stupid fucking sympathy card clutched between my knuckles with some all knowing prayer, a short avowal that God will be keeping me in the palm of his hand.
"I am terribly sorry of your loss. if I....if we, can do anything else, please...dont hesitate to ask."
I turned around, face to face with one of the morticians, his eyes, filled with expression, his hands willing to reach out, and interlace mine.
"thank you." I said. "I have never felt such a pain in my life." as I quickly reached my hand up to my right eye to wipe away any sign of an obvious tear. Where I realized, my sleeves were hanging over my hands, and I had to roll it back....
every second counted.
So, I just stared at my boots until he said. "Though dealing with death every single day of my life, basing my life around my job, it doesnt make the pain hurt any less"
I nodded wearily, All I wanted to do was grab him by the tie of his tuxedo, and scream at the top of my lungs. bite me. pinch me. slap me. anything. just fucking wake me up from this nightmare. fucking go in there and wake my father up. this is not fucking happening to me.
I slowly walked up to the french doors to the entrance, and strained my eyesight to look past the hundreds of glass panels to the door. It was snowing outside, slush was everywhere, the cold stung my cheeks, red and flushed. I stepped outside as the sun started to part through some of the clouds, lit a smoke, and spoke to myself. Not remembering what I said, I threw my cigarette, walked back inside and paid the respect I never had in living form to my father for the last time.

Someone in the line behind me cleared his throat. Like, the obvious WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, IVE BEEN WAITING IN THIS GODDAMN LINE FOR TOO FUCKING LONG, but, not with words. I suddenly remembered where I was. and the forty seven cents in change didnt look so foreign. The cashier was staring at me with his big brown eyes, puzzled.
"Mam..the other 30 cents..?" His voice was suddenly a whisper. I could barely hear him. I threw three dimes on the counter, grabbed my bag, and just walked out without saying anything more.
The drive home was awe inspiring. Every headlight shining out of my eyes. Every urge to turn the steering wheel, when noone would've expected it and slammed head on into another car. Would I live? Am i still supposed to be here? Is it destiny? or would there be some horrible injury doctors could not be able to fix, giving me no other option but to die a painful death. With glass digging past my skin, and blood stinging my wounds.
But, instead, I lit a cigarette, accelerated a bit more, and said a silent prayer, wondering if it would just be sent into the clear, black sky enveloping me, or if someone actually heard it......

I know you read it when you think I dont.
and, I also know that your sleeping habits are just as fucked up as mine.
but, that is changing at 10 tonight.
when I pass out somewhere in lynn's 3 story house.

Half of my family is going to Atlantic City.
and, because I am not the wonderful, amazing age of 21, I cannot attend.
& also because I have fucked up whatever trust I did have from my family members.
I am required to stay caged in that house. for a night. with no computer or phone.
and home cooked roast beef. and big screen T.V.s like they think they have it all.
Yet, they sleep with their backs against each other.
Thinking I was going to take my 11 year old shitty car
thats not even on the road.
to see someone.
that makes my heart.
s t o p.

I need to find a bag to pack my stuff in.
& apprentally, i am so devilish, and shallow
that more than half of it is makeup.
and teeth whitening products.
jewelry.
and hair spray.
holding up the poof my bangs made.
molding me into someone i am not.

because, as little as i know about myself.
i know i would never do something as cruel as that.
and as far as my drug induced memory lets me go.
i agree that life like that shouldve stopped long before it began.

my throat. it aches. not with unshed tears this time.
i was too busy shoving my moms toothbrush down my throat.
my unhealthy obsession is controlling me.
and, i think I will let it.
because my pride. is more important than the enamel on my teeth.

I dont have the words, what am i doing? My hands are trembling. It's amazing how simple something can make me worry endlessly, as my fingers are curled into fists, resting against either side of my face, my wet hair enveloping my line of vision, all I saw were thousands of droplets of water, drowning my soul, and a white plastic excuse for a wall pressed up in front of my face. I was petrified to look down. To open my eyes. Yet, when I did, my shallow breathing returned to the normal, anxiety ridden oxygen forcing itself past my clenched teeth, and into my clean lungs. clean from what you learned when your father died of heart disease. When you quit smoking, and every time I shake my leg without even thinking about it, I wish a smoke was resting on my lower lip, and every time i kneel in prater, I wish my father is listening. The tiles were clear. 6 endless minutes ago they were red, my foot was covered in remains of what I didnt deserve, but now, everything is pure. My heart is at rest.
I know who you are, and I know you are slowly reading every word, making the crevices of your mind adsorb the errors in my grammar, or my wishful perfect sentences. & i know more about your heart than I'd like to admit. because, i miss me too. I am trying to remember what it is about me that I did once like. My toes pointed out, with dark nailpolish, my smooth legs curled underneath me, My fingers, delicately playing with letters of the alphabet barely sticking out from the sleeves of this sweatshirt, they are becoming thinner first, fucking around with this promise on my marriage finger. you were never mine, but as you claim me with this bruise on my neck, you claim my heart as well. how FUCKING ironic. as, that is bruised too. No matter what, I'm cold anyways. My hands, they graze the bottom of my neck over the place where my perfect collarbone should be, and im picking at the sides of my upper body trying to find the slightest imprint of a rib, and i'm wrapping my fingers around my wrists trying to find closure. The only closure i need is filling an urn in my living room. I am alive, but i'm not actually living. dont you worry about that part.

I'M CLOSING DOORS, AND TURNING THE LIGHTS DOWN BECAUSE I AM NOT AFRAID ANYMORE!

I envy painters. people that don't eat. sleep at night. have cars. are married. get trashed without the smeared eyeliner. & most of all know how to write, are so secure with their lives, that they can write beautiful, inspiring sentences without thinking about it halfway through.

godfuckingdammit.

Its really, really funny. how, people can be in a five month relationship. and be all like "OH MY GOD, I AM SO SCARED OF LOSING HIM. I LOVE HIM MORE THAN ANYTHING. THIS IS REAL. THIS IS FOREVER. THIS IS MY EVERYTHING."

well, 5 years ago. When i was 13 years old.
i met this boy in 8th grade math class.
i cant believe that was me. i never want to remember me as that.
that unaware. i was so unaware of my own flaws.
DYING for attention.
he was 14 years old. he gave that to me.
he tried selling me sticks of gum for a dollar?
i threw things in his hood?
lmfao!

I turned 14.
stupid. unaware. stubborn.
we talked on the phone.
closer.
closer.
i neeed you closer.
lmfao. we drank.
thinking we were so cool.
with our fucking stolen beer bottles.
3 beers deep, and already "SO TRASHED"
hahahahah!!!!
i gave into smoking weed.
i loved you before. before. before.
this havoc began.

i turned 15.
I was a fucking pothead.
clinging to every kiss. every shottie. every memory.
of losing you.
and you, coming back.
we drank. we smoked.
every fuck. every kiss.
where did my faith go?
i became aware. yet, careless.
i loved you more. more. more.
than anything i had ever grew to know.
we snorted cocaine. snuck out late nights.
drunk on confusement and fucking beer...
i loved you more.


i turned 16.
half a bottle of vodka.
herion.
cigarettes. and kisses i almost forgot.
half written diarys and
the sound of your voice.
your heartbeat.
still loved you,
more than any fucking thing.
addictted.
unaware. and stupid. and careless.
because, i loved you.
and only you.

i turned 17.
heartbreak. drunken nights.
heartbreak.
you came back. looking for something.
just
as
my
shattered
heart
healed.
history repeating.
smoke in my lungs.
fucking again.
still the one that i loved.
to.
this.
fucking.
day.




5 years of fucking hell and back.
was i really this lucky?

I want to write. i wanna scream and bleed, feel and be released I want to be let go, but this irrational fear of you never coming back is haunting my every dream.
I cant sleep without pills. and when i do ill sleep for days forgetting how long it was since i last thought of you, heard your voice, felt my freedom. felt my tears.
Every other night or so, i will sit upon the old wooden filthy carpeted stairs of the godfersaken apartment i call home. Leaving the outside light on and the door open, i will imagine you entering through it, looking so confused. why was it open?
because lately i've always been leaving it open for you.
i will fess up to a secret or two.
when your not really around, you are. that is because when lonlieness is weighing my heart down, i wont sleep on that side of the bed. and ill play your favorite song even thought i dont like it. and ill smoke your favortie brand of tobacco. even though it makes me c h o k e.
dont be proud of me. i'm trampled on and used. broken and bruised. but as deep as the water may have been i floated. ugh, your always around when i don't want you, pulling and dragging me down underneath you as i struggle to breathe.
your arms arent always the safest place to be.