lie to me and say, "its going to be allright."

I really miss everything about being younger. I miss the way I loved my dad and he loved me. I miss the way I only cried over small things, things that I and everyone else knew were only temporary. I miss thinking sadness would always come to an end, that happiness was the default emotion. I really miss the way my mom seemed happy. I miss things like having faith in myself, having faith in feelings, having faith in others. I miss not second-guessing every single choice Ive made. I miss thinking God was there, that he would always be there, that he once existed, that he was real. I miss simplicity, and how I didn't care if I were to be judged. I didn't even notice. I miss hating the idea of cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol, and I miss honestly saying to those that cared that I will stay away from all that, that I don't see the point in any of it. I miss having purpose or reason for being here, or at least thinking I had purpose or reason for being here. I miss my grandmother being younger, and I miss thinking no one I loved could ever, ever die. I miss thinking the future was hopeful, I miss thinking I had an infinite amount of possibility. Fuck, I miss being infinite.

I miss thinking I had nothing to miss. I miss not thinking about all the things I will miss forever.

I'm tired of being sad and longing for something else. I'm tired of being tired of mainly everything, especially this fucking brain of mine.

this is me indifferent,

Rewind to a time where nothing mattered, a time where nothing hurt. You were there, I was there. The lights were hurting my eyes. We had an idea, we were without fear. We were invincible and capable - not unable and weak. And I didn't believe you when you told me things were always fucking changing. Three October's later, it's still on my mind. It's always on my mind. And although your mind is almost entirely gone, to a place in which we're all unsure of, I still can't help but remember and care. You were my bestfriend. You were always saying how I was yours. Then the drugs erased me; and it's not like they'll ever just invite me back in. Neither of you are exactly welcoming, not in the sense I used to remember, anyway.

i'm a mountain that has been moved.

So I've decided I'm going to try this whole blog thing. Maybe I'll be able to figure out whats wrong - what's wrong with me, what's wrong with my thoughts, what's wrong with life.

Lately I've felt unable to breathe, unable to move. I've felt as if a huge plate of glass is separating my being from the whole entire world around me. I'm not even sure there's something wrong with feeling that, but I as far as I can tell, I'm very alone in that feeling.

Everyone around me is constantly going on and on and on about, I don't know. TV shows. Fashion Magazines. Relationships. The Fucking Hills. In return, my brain is constantly going on and on and on about, I don't know. How stupid and meaningless every little aspect of life is. (Note to reader: I'm not going to like, kill myself or anything drastic like that. I'm simply stating that overall, my perception of life is really kind of a disappointment.) Most of the time I sit and analyze that thought itself rather than acting out in any particular way, because I truly have no interest in taking part in, well, acting out.

This probably brings me to the point of why I'm not at school today, why I'm not at school once a week. Some days, I really just can't tolerate all of the shit going on in my brain. Therefore, I have to walk in Debbie's room, (Debbie being my mother), and make up some bullshit excuse as to why I once again do not feel good. It's not that I don't have a reason, I just have a very different reason as to what I inform her of.

For example:

Debbie's Reason: Today, I woke up with cramps so bad just the thought alone makes me want to puke my brains out and sleep forever.

Actual Reason: I woke up around 6:33, which is a good, whole 12 minutes before I usually do. I then laid there until 6:57, which made me a good, whole 12 minutes late. As I got ready, I got disgusted by the fact that I have to put on makeup and straighten my hair before even considering myself remotely decent to be viewed by any other person. I then decided that instead of facing the world today, much earlier than I would ever prefer, I should lay on the living room couch and read I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak. It's been so long since I've actually sat down and read a book.

But anyway.

I'm listening to Brand New's album, Daisy, and I suggest you and everyone you know give it a listen.

I guess it's time to waste time in my room, playing shit on the piano.

Operative me, out.