Tag Archives: love

mind the curves

7 Jan

I’m alright.

Or at least I will be.

All of my friends are getting boyfriends; once again, I am the perpetual third wheel.
I don’t know why. I don’t understand. I don’t understand why there isn’t anyone out there who

(loves me)

There has to be, there has to be.
That’s my mantra.
There has to be someone who loves me.

reeling beneath my skin

7 Jan

now i’m crying.

Fu- no, no; this is not the right time for that, this is a time for the tears to flow, for my heart to try to heal itself.

Why am I so affected?

Why do I want to leave this place?

Why do I want someone to encase me in a warm hug?

Well, hell if I know, but i am a gibbering mess right now and would love to vanish, maybe, into the clouds above and rematerialize somewhere where I can cry out all my tears and fix this torn heart of mine.
Hove, Faschen- where are you when I need you?

And not even the relentless joy of Steam Engine can help me now.

fenestrial staircases

7 Jan

Haha Ryan, that is the best word ever.

Well, Fauberge fell for Shuggie. It was pretty inevitable, really, and I’m quite amazed that I’m not as hurt by it as I am. Sure, I feel a little sad/jealous, but it’s not enough to make me cry.
And I think (AHAHA NEW CODENAMES) Hove and Taschen are really helping. I think I can leave Shuggie in the past; today it wasn’t real weird talkin’ to him, it wasn’t really weird sittin’ by him sittin’ with Fauberge. It was heartrending, the look in his eyes, though, and the little stutter- I will never have that side of him presented to me, but that’s something I’ve got to accept.
But Taschen. Taschen. I don’t know what the hell is going on with me about Taschen- I’m going to leave him in my head for the moment, at least until the mysteries around him start to clear up.
Hove is a different story. He is wonderful and I don’t know what to do about him either.
Goddammit, love is fuckin’ ridiculous. I’d rather live a life without it, but it would be lonely and terrible.

Maybe. Maybe eventually I will find someone who thinks I am awesome; thinks I am wonderful, etcetera, etcetera.
It’ll come. I’ll wait.

righting the boat

29 Dec

By personal request, Agætis is Ryan.

He just started up a new blog over at http://www.skinnytiejump.wordpress.com , you should probably check it out as he has some very cool videos that have been/are going to be posted.

Whelp, it’s morning. I am kind of numb right now, a little shocked but I’m okay, really. Maybe. Sort of.
Psh, it’s prom. Who cares if I go or not.

You know, I’m just gonna stop writing about that sort of thing, about personal matters, because they do not really make a difference in the way this world works, how it goes round. My stupid little fucking whines about life/love are not that important. I am a drama queen. I am a denizen of the stage.
And really, besides all that, I don’t want to be ignored. Shit, whenever I speak, try and tell a story, there’s always someone who’s ready to interrupt and ignore.
Like Morrissey writes: “There’s always someone, somewhere, with a big nose who knows, who’ll trip you up and laugh when you fall.”

Did some drabbles last night, I’ll see if I can decipher them.

all is calm, all is bright

24 Dec

well, I am lying in my bed listening to Skeletal Lamping and reflecting. I suppose it’s a little too early to start think about new year’s, but eh, that’s where my mind currently resides.
But I will wait a while- some of my mental machinations may be resolved by then. Such as my descision to ask Bortglomt to prom. I am ninety-five percent sure he will say no and I will end up either going alone or going with Agaetis or somethin’. But it is definitely worth a shot, if only to prove that I am brave enough to do something quite so rash.
But still, looking forward to tomorrow morning- presents lovingly wrapped, parents insisting on taking fifteen million pictures. Ugh.
Oh, and I did some midnight drabbles last night, here they are:
vocational occasional bastards on a golden sea your mind is more beautiful than you know our data daughters are beautiful and quick shoot your arrow
The clouds don’t worry all will become a delightful outcome our minds warped by your (scribble)geramy your tetrology
Beauty all the days we dance for you and you only laugh a little louder oh why not launch your mind ahead
Kangaroo blunt sayings of the wet winter we mustn’t decided beauty of the terror we will spray your caracas lovers
Love of course not, that is merely one very long boss list of our belights love changed our terrors we leaving, or gorgeous brothers dance as unicorns beneath the sentence by I’m a roset see yeah I was seen? And of me there are six douius attacks we love, if we could, but the terrible delightful things we think defile the definiyions of a small land.
And our words will predate us, or at least mine will, if I ever decide to do swathlin
I am ridiculous.

Aaah. Well, it’s been a good day. It’s been a good month, really. I guess the christmas spirit is finally getting to me, so I think I’m going to draw a little and go to sleep.

Happy holidays, everyone. I hope your hangovers are gentle and your parents are generous.
I also hope you take a little time to appreciate the little awesome things in life, like taking towels rigt out from the dryer and swaddling yourself in their fuzzy warmth. That’s how I remember living in Canada (I was six.)- wet cold followed by fuzzy warmth.
Well, I’ll see you all tomorrow. Love.

everything in its right place

22 Dec

More midnight drabbles:
Somehow your psyche is poisonous to me- you are my safest bet, you are my glorious one, you are my delight and I cherish you forever and ever.
Of course not, the young flower of the sun stretches, feels alright, it is our beautiful love that supports your universal travels- into the pit, into the beats and the creaks of poor society’s demise, our Norse gods flying to defend us with hammers and axes and flying warrior maidens. When will the silly records break and spit the sound among the stars above, we weren’t made for this world, but I wouldn’t want to meet someone who was.
Sometimes the centuars can make me weep; my shallow heart is fragile and may break witha few angry words. You are a bicycle, sturdy but my steed shall not buck me, the king upon the horse. Your language speaks in strange lightning bolt sentences of fire & brimstone, an ancient pact you are the sons of the great forest, we cannottrust ourselves, we are the terror and the reeling and the light and we shall read from our ties and jump about, sparrows released, like doves, oh the pride and the victory
One day your beauty will stagger the land and shine from your soul like a strobe. You are my beautiful one, you are the one I love, but not the one I can have Piano fires telephone wires, we dance and sing to rid ourselves of the devils that be inside our minds are abysses, deep and full of wonders we cannot see, full of the treasures of the stars, the things behind the veil of reality.
I have not been here before this is not happening

Got pretty lucid.

our last summer as independents

17 Dec

Well, I got better. After a hour-long talk with Fauberge (and one thoroughly snotted sweater), I think I’m going to be okay. Time is the only thing left to do, and I will just have to wait till Tweed gets friendship concepts through his little head.
But since I don’t want to think about that right now, at the risk of starting to bawl again like a baby, I am listening to Skeletal Lamping turned up ridiculously loud. I am entertaining the thought of jumping up and having a little dance-fest, all by my lonesome.
Speaking of Skeletal Lamping, there is a fabulous webcomic on Smackjeeves based completely upon said album. It is a little unsafe for work (boobies) but very well drawn thus far. It’s gotten me all motivated to draw, so I might do a few little stick figure comics or something.
The webcomic is http://www.skeletallamping.smackjeeves.com
and you should consider reading it.

Gonna go draw, will post some drawings up here for evidence, if you need it.