My Lyrical Contribution To Valentine's Day

I see a black bird moving like a shadow through the sky,
And it's vast wings gleam raven in the moonlight.
And it croons and caws and knocks on my door.
And my heart skips a beat because I know what that means.

It's not the omen of death but the awakening of my heart;
It means the man I love is digging his way out of his grave,
And we will dance in dark amidst the boquets and gravestones,
As two dark, romantic lovers until the sun rises once again.

Because I'm in love with a dead man,
And I'm in love with a poet, yeah.
We're just two tortured souls on an uneven road,
And we'll hurt ourselves for our creative toll.
And though the cost is great; it's music to our ears,
And we were poets born lost - me and E. Allan P.

And I feel like a jynx and people look like I'm bad luck.
Like I'm a black cat that should be kept away and cast out.
And though I can barely see, I can still feel.
And I find comfort in knowing that this doesn't have to be real.

And the raven crows.

It's not the omen of death but the awakening of my heart;
It means the man I love is digging his way out of his grave,
And we will dance in dark amidst the boquets and gravestones,
As two dark, romantic lovers until the sun rises once again.

Because I'm in love with a dead man,
And I'm in love with a poet, yeah.
We're just two tortured souls on an uneven road,
And we'll hurt ourselves for our creative toll.
And though the cost is great; it's music to our ears,
And we were poets born lost - me and E. Allan P.

Can you hear it? Ba-bum-da-dum-dum.
If you listen, can you hear it? Ba-bum-da-dum-dum.
Those who mock me, can you hear it? Ba-bum-da-dum-dum.
It's the sound of us; It's the sound of us - Our tell-tale hearts.

Because I'm in love with a dead man,
And I'm in love with a poet, yeah.
We're just two tortured souls on an uneven road,
And we'll hurt ourselves for our creative toll.
And though the cost is great; it's music to our ears,
And we were poets born lost - me and E. Allan P.

Drowning in the Styxe

I need you to drive the knife into my heart
     because I couldn't get it far enough.
I need you to end it all to save me
     because I'm the broken one.

If you love me more than anything,
     then you'll give this gift I need desperately -
my last final wish before I let you go
    and free my lost and lonely soul.

Will you let me drown in the Styxe?
Will you let Lethe carry me
    to a place where I can forget I ever lived?
Death's no stranger there; I'd be more welcome in his lair.
It took me more than twenty years to find my place of rest.

I'll swim in the river of the dead,
And I'll fly with my fellow ghosts.
I'll swim in the river of the dead,
And I'll fly with my fellow ghosts:
 
     These lost but friendly souls.

Painter's Palette

I'm living in a land of make believe, where nothing's as it seems.

It's black and white, and this shade of green doesn't flatter me.

But I'm envious of the life you lead and desperate to change the one that's mine.

In a dark and lonely world, my colors can be deceiving.

I paint bright skies, I add color to my own life.

And I paint the stars at night.

I paint bright skies, I add color to my own life.

And make a rainbow when I need it.

Because when I hold the brush in my hand, who's to say I have to wait for the rain?

This is my palette, and my life's my own canvas to do as I please.

I don't have that much to give; I don't have that much to take.

But I'll make use of what I can, the world's putty in my hands.

I feel wet tears stream down my face; the skies are crying with me.

The clouds outside are grey, and I feel dull, I don't like to feel this way.

I paint bright skies, I add color to my own life.

And I paint the stars at night.

I paint bright skies, I add color to my own life.

And make a rainbow when I need it.

Because when I hold the brush in my hand, who's to say I have to wait for the rain?

This is my palette, and my life's my own canvas to do as I please.

I've shattered dreams, I've spread lies.

Destroyed hopes and misled minds.

The word is out, you can't trust me.

It's said I thrive on being greedy.

Close your ears and open your mind

Listen to me, look in my eyes.

I paint bright skies, I add color to my own life.

And I paint the stars at night.

I paint bright skies, I add color to my own life.

And make a rainbow when I need it.

Because when I hold the brush in my hand, who's to say I have to wait for the rain?

This is my palette, and my life's my own canvas to do as I please.

Queen of the Damned

The irony is not lost on me.

The subtlety behind your actions that seem

Like you love me; there's no one but me.

You say you love me

For what you think I am.

But I know how to read between the lines.

And liars can always tell lies.

I'm the queen of the damned.

I invented the sinner's hand.

I rule the world with an iron fist.

I'm the queen of the damned.

And you're a lost soul.

While I’m queen, welcome to my land.

Kiss my feet and take my hand

Bow before your queen.

I am kind and merciful

To those who show who they adore – and that’s me.

But I know how to read between the lines.

And liars can always tell lies.

I’m the queen of the damned.

I invented the sinner’s hand.

I rule the world with an iron fist.

I’m the queen of the damned.

And you’re a lost soul.

While I’m queen, welcome to my land.

Say it like you mean it.

Pretend like you mean it.

Make me believe it.

Think that you believe it.

And liars can always find liars, and liars sleep with liars.

And we lie, but we don't hide it, cause we know that we’ve been bad.

And liars can always find liars, and liars sleep with liars.

And we lie, but we don't hide it, cause we know that we’ve been bad.

I’m the queen of the damned.

I invented the sinner’s hand.

I rule the world with an iron fist.

I’m the queen of the damned.

And you’re a lost soul.

While I’m queen, welcome to my land.

Is it me?

Moving to a new place is hard. I always thought that I wanted to jet off somewhere and meet new people, see new places, explore new cultures...that feeling hasn't changed really, but I didn't expect the loneliness that comes with such a dream. A part of me feels like a social pariah - the one at the party that everyone chooses to ignore if even invited at all, though usually not. What is wrong with me? I'm not the one you would expect to be so weary and lonely.

It's hard looking around at people as they laugh and tell stories of their lives; I smile, drink my coffee, and makes jokes in return. Even if I get a laugh, it's just never enough. There's something about me that will draw people in only so far before they turn around and walk away even faster. I've always been this way, and it's always been something that confused me. I'm not too devastating to look at, I smile (in public) more than anything, and I'm always friendly. So what is it that I'm missing? Why are other people who are more cruel, more angry, or even somewhat dull making bonds with people in ways that I never could?

The loneliness in my life has made me wearier, and I've found myself losing myself in my dreams. I imagine a brighter future, picturing myself in a city where I am surrounded by strangers, waving at familiar faces, and basking in the brightness of the day. But I have 4 more years of darkness before a dawn that I don't even know will be there. And it's hard to swallow the feeling that things could never, in fact, change.

I miss having someone I could call. I miss getting excited for the weekend when I would actually venture outside my home. I miss laughing, comforting, ranting, running, and even just sitting in contented silence with someone else who was happy to be with me. Now I dread the days that are filled with nothing, when all that accompanies me are the darkest thoughts of my mind. I hate the feeling that my throat is full of air that can never reach my lungs. I hate feeling like I'm about to cry before turning outside to watch the birds and pretend like that's me flying through the sky.

But above all else, I'm terrified because I know that I will continue on, pushing through each day like it's just another one and accepting desperation as routine as the setting of the sun. And I watch as the time ticks by and the days pass, idly wishing that each one would be my last. Though I have a hope, though fruitless as it seems, that has roots buried deep...and yet, every day, I ask the question: am I strong or am I weak?

Run

I keep meaning to write real words, but my actions inspire songs instead. So I wrote this literally in 5 minutes, just a few minutes ago actually. I think my mind just thinks in lyrics these days.

Perhaps one day someone will sing them for me, if they're brave enough to sing them on a thousand TVs. 
Because I'm not meant to be stuck in the light, and the gleaming of the screen just wasn't meant for me.

Lyrics:

I cut myself to know I'm alive.
A mindless act to pass the time.
I see red running down  my side,
and I think, Is that mine? Is that mine?

I drown myself in layers so I can disguise myself.
I dye my hair so I could hide from those who know my name.
But I can only run so far before I'm out of breath.
And no matter how far I go, I end up back from where I came.

So I'll run in circles and I'll run in circles.
And I'll run in the dark and I'll run in the dark.
And I'll hide from you and I'll hide from me.
And I'll close my eyes and pretend it's all a dream.

I blink, squeeze, and shut my eyes.
Wishing I could sleep, wishing I could die.
But it's not my time; it's not my time.
And I think, when is mine? When is mine?

I drown myself in layers so I can disguise myself.
I dye my hair so I could hide from those who know my name.
But I can only run so far before I'm out of breath.
And no matter how far I go, I end up back from where I came.

So I'll run in circles and I'll run in circles.
And I'll run in the dark and I'll run in the dark.
And I'll hide from you and I'll hide from me.
And I'll close my eyes and pretend it's all a dream.

I've fallen and I can't get up; I guess my feet have finally had enough.
And my mind is screaming for me legs to pick me up,
but I'm disconnected and senseless and numb.
I've fallen and I can't get up; I guess my feet have finally had enough.
And my mind is screaming for me legs to pick me up,
but I'm disconnected and senseless and numb.

But I'll try and I will

Run in circles and I'll run in circles.
And I'll run in the dark and I'll run in the dark.
And I'll hide from you and I'll hide from me.
And I'll close my eyes and pretend it's all a dream.

So I'll run in circles and I'll run in circles.
And I'll run in the dark and I'll run in the dark.
And I'll hide from you and I'll hide from me.
And I'll close my eyes and pretend it's all a dream.


 

Clownlike Faces

One of these days, I will write something other than my made-up lyrics. It's too bad you can't hear the melody and the piano to them...but you'll have to imagine the somber music and harsh notes.

I'm seeing clown-like faces on the street before me.
It's like a spastic circus under the guise of normalcy.
I'm see flashing lights and neon signs.
It's like herding cattle on a Saturday night.

I'll bleed my name in diamonds; I'll polish my bones.
Spruce myself up so when I fall it's still a show.
My dreams are crashing down, pull the curtain; it's time to run.
Let's the paint the stage red with what's bleeding from my arm.

 And all those people who are screaming my name cannot see my pain.
And all those flashes and Cheshire grins are enough to make me insane.

Because in the city lights, I'm just one lonely soul.
And under the neon signs, crawl too many lonely people.
And I can barely stand; I can barely breathe.
What's one person in a city of people just like me?

So I'll dance to the beat of my own drum,
And I'll sing to the notes of my own song.
And I'll dance to the bum-bum-bum-bum-bum.
And when I fall, will someone help me up?

I can't even remember my name

I've written thoughts I'll never say aloud, unsung lyrics to a silent song.
I hold my breath for fear that I'll cry; to stop the rain pouring from my eyes.
My stomach's filled with butterflies, and I don't know why.
I'm nervous for something to crash into my life.
My paranoid mind won't halt the thoughts racing through my head,
And I'm terrified that I'll regret all the things I've  left unsaid.

I'm a forgettable figure, I'm a forgettable face.
A forgotten nothing, unforgivable disgrace.
And I'm worth nothing, I can't even remember my name.
I look in mirror and see a stranger in my place.

I yearn to be someone beautiful and kind who's not ignored and thrust aside.
I used to smile but knew it didn't reach my eyes so I practiced til I was satisfied.
My stomach's filled with butterflies, and I don't know why.
I'm waiting for something to crash into my life.
My paranoid mind won't halt the thoughts racing through my head,
And I know that I'll regret all the things I've left unsaid.

I'm a forgettable figure, I'm a forgettable face.
A forgotten nothing, unforgivable disgrace.
And I'm worth nothing, I can't even remember my name.
I look in the mirror and see a stranger in my place.

I wish that I could be a child running through the field
with not a care in the world, dandelions at my heels.
But when I was young, the grass itched my feet,
and I cried and wished that I wasn't me.
And here I am, letting hope fall from my hands
Because it's always been this way and people never change.

Midnight Drabbles

I think I could be beautiful given time.
I think I could be happy given time.
I think I would cherish my time spent in the right state of mind.

I think I could be lovely given time.
I think I could be perfect given time.
But I have so much work left to do that I think the hourglass would empty too soon.

And my future looks bleak; I've fallen in too deep.
 And I've lost the rope to get me out of here.
Throw me a new one; please someone throw me a lifeline
Before I run out of time.

I think I could be careful given time.
I think I could be wiser given time
I think I would listen to my own advice if I could trust myself.

I think I could deter sadness given time.
I think I could deter madness given time.
Forget all this nonsense; draw my own lines of what I want in my life.

And I choose to be lost, and I choose to not be found.
I run from grace and hide from the ones who want to save me.
I'll wish upon a shooting star, wishing I could shoot that far.
Fly straight into another galaxy.

Falling off the bandwagon

I've been trying to lose weight. What's new?

Note that the key word is trying. Yes, I have lost 5 pounds, but does it count as a loss when there was an initial gain in the first place? I should never have had 5 pounds to lose! In fact, I should never have been this size to begin with. Fat is inversely proportional to self-discipline, so here I am, lacking all self-control. I already take up so much space in this world, and I feel greedy, selfish, imposing, and so unworthy of all the room that I am keeping to myself. It just seems so unfair sometimes that I am like this, and I feel as though if I were smaller that I would be more respected, would receiver fewer stares, and perhaps finally be lost amongst the crowd. But at 5'7", all 140 lbs of me can be spotted all too easily. For once, I don't want to be remembered as the fat friend, always looked upon with pity and sympathetic glances.

And while I know that there is a way to accomplish this--eating healthily, exercising, drinking water, and sleeping...so many of those things I refuse to do. I lie awake at night, intentionally preventing myself from falling asleep in order to put off tomorrow. I rarely drink water because I spend too much time drinking coffee to make up for my lack of sleep.I don't eat healthily because I either feel too guilty to eat or I binge/purge. And I struggle to exercise because when starving, I have too little energy, and after purging, I am too dizzy.

The result is me in a constant state of denial, depression, and guilt. My mind is always thinking about all the things I've done wrong and concocting grandiose plans to fix my problems. When I see that my teeth are rotting, I grow concerned solely because of the high price it will cost me to get it fixed. And when my chest hurts, I idly wonder if it's merely a bruised rib or potentially a heart problem developing. I know how I will feel, and I know I will feel worse. And yet, I can't imagine my life without this because this is all I've truly known. It's become a part of me that I've grown to accept and hate, though I can't let it go. Who would I be without my insanity? Who would I be if I slept peacefully? Who would I be if I didn't envision shadows and phantoms behind me, threatening to swallow me whole?

I can't imagine my life as anything but what it is. The only thing I can do is remember that tomorrow is a brand new day, and despite my efforts, I will wake up to the same guilty feeling, the same self-destructive pattern, and all around, the same old agonizing shame.

Thoughts In A Melody

Do you ever feel like you're going around through life, watching yourself from the sidelines? I do. All the time.

I feel like I'm watching a movie, where I'm not even the star of my own show, and I'm screaming at myself as I helplessly watch mistakes being made again and again. For someone who pretends to have control over her life, I sure as hell am losing my mind. I don't know who governs my actions, but it doesn't seem to be me.

There are so many people in this world, and I can't come to terms that we are each in one reality, living our lives separately and seeing the world through different pairs of eyes. It boggles my mind.

I should be studying for one of two tests that I have coming tomorrow, but here I am, typing away and putting off the inevitable. I am back to my college habits of hiding in my room, writing lyrics and poems and twisted words in the middle of the night, dreaming unending nightmares that create haunted visions in my head, and delaying the realities of the future that lays before me. Sometimes I feel that I can twist the world to suit my needs, playing naive and rejecting that which I choose not to believe. But unfortunately, I can only live in my head for so long before the world comes crashing back in and tears me down. My words, even now, don't even make sense, and they're written in melodies and whispering rhymes, flowing from my fingertips. I am quickly losing my last grips on reality, and I don't know how long it will be before it is lost completely.

I am trying to write words that are just words in sentence-form, but no matter what I do, they seem to rhyming. And that's part of what scares me, because my thoughts are just mixing up into one long, depressing song.

And it's frightening me.

Lyrics

As usual, when I have nothing to say, I post lyrics that came to my mind. In my head, there's a melody, but for you, it can be anything you want it to be.


I'm free falling through my dreams
Feeling the wind under me
I'm flying through the sky
Like a bird with a broken wing
Fix me, I can barely breathe
The air is choking me
Heal me, I can barely stand
This disfigured form of me
Hold me like a treasure that you'll never let go
Treat me like your own precious pot of gold
I'm hiding at the end of a fading rainbow
Buried beneath the ground, waiting to be found.
See me as an enchanted island -- a deep mystery
Search for me at the bottom of the sea
For I have silver and golden gems
To give you in return

Please find me before I've drown

Old Habits Die Hard

I'm back.

It's been a while since I last posted, primarily because I didn't have a functioning computer but also because I've been so disappointed in myself. I get in slumps, and lately I've started plummeting again. I gained 5lbs, though still weigh less than I did in college, and I'm about to start graduate school. I'm in a small town, and I know I'm going to find it difficult to learn to establish real relationships. Eventually, someday, I will stop running from the world. But for now, I'm still picking up my heavy feet and sprinting towards a place that I don't yet know.

I recently bought razors again even though I've almost made a year (if you discount one moment of curiosity). I still have the scars, and I cannot wear short sleeves. I also have a random scar in the shape of a star on my hip...that one I still don't understand. Sometimes I use a blade because I'm ashamed of myself, but sometimes I use it merely because I feel like it. Perhaps if I sat down and pondered my actions, I would come up with a more concrete reason for my moments of absurdity, but I don't have time nor do I care. It wouldn't make a difference.

I have been running on little sleep, and I am exhausted. And yet, I am awake in the middle of the night. I have a tendency to delay going to sleep in order to postpone tomorrow. Maybe that's a sign of depression, but I've been like this all my life and have accepted who I am. I am an outwardly relaxed, go-with-the-flow kind of girl, but on the inside I'm a paranoid, terrified nut. If I had the motivation, I would explain one of my most recent episodes of paranoia. Looking back on it, I should probably keep it to myself because it's embarrassing, illogical, and potentially damaging to my fake semblence of sanity.

Meanwhile, goodnight and sweet dreeams. I will post an update on my newest diet creation and some new poems that I have spun recently. I apologize for the delay, and I hope someone is still interested in reading something.

more fruitless words in my wilted mind

I'm like a bird flying against the wind,
struggling to keep control of my wings.
     I can only hope that my dreams won't be lost
     as the blackened clouds roll in.


     I'm like an insect fighting against the storm,
     the pestilence the world abhors.
          But I only wish that the things I hold dear
          won't be crushed by what I hear.


               I'm like a fish swimming in the sea,
               surrounded by others within in reach.
                    Yet I'm drowning; I can't breathe.
                    Loneliness is drowning me.


And I can't distinguish between fantasy and reality;
I cannot find the line between what is wrong or right.

Sun, Sun, Go Away. Leave My Misery For Another Day.

Sometimes when it rains, I can't help but smile.  It's like the sky can feel my pain and the clouds want to cry. Why give the sun all the glory when it always shines so bright.  Up and down it goes, always the same.  Up and down it rises and sets to bring another day.  How I'd wish it away.  The sun doesn't feel my pain; it doesn't cry in sympathy.  The Sun, you'll never know tragedy.

The Things They Say And The Things We Hear

I received one of the greatest compliments, in my opinion, from a friend a few weeks ago.  Well, I suppose one wouldn't necessarily consider it a compliment persay, but I appreciated it all the same.  The context of the story was me mentioning to my friend that my recent foot problems were caused by me being, apparently, incredibly pigeon-toed.  As a baby, I even had those shoes with the bar in between to fix the problem.  Clearly that didn't quite work.  At least being pigeon-toed is better than the latter, walking around with your feet pointing outwards and looking awkward.  Now I'm getting sidetracked.  What my friend commented was, "You're so adorably flawed."

Now, some people might not appreciate that, but I did.  Being told I'm perfect all the time is exhausting.  It forces me to try to live up to this high expectation that other people invariably set for me, and it frustrates me when I know that I'm not as perfect as they seem to believe.  Obviously.  I'm a bit of a mess on the inside and on my arms, though they're covered in silk and lace.  What I loved was being told that I'm not perfect, but I'm loved anyway.  And this is why this particular friend has been the only one that I open up to (sometimes) and the one that I want to keep in my life.  It's nice to know that even though I screw up, cause problems, and have no conscience, I still have someone who cares about me.

People say things that they think will have positive reactions, but we often hear their words differently.  I frequently hear something firsthand and then hear a retelling secondhand, and the stories never match up.  Somewhere there's a disconnect between our ears and their mouth...actually that disconnect is called air.  It's the space between us, and the space that separates us.  It's the gap that clearly shows the differences between our minds and bodies, and it's the reason that we can't communicate our thoughts in a way that they're received properly.  Of course, it will always be there, and personally, I somehow have a disconnect between my brain and just about everything else in reality.

My friend will never know how much she means to me, but I don't think there will ever be someone like her.  I know that I don't mean nearly as much to her, but that's okay.  Because even though I'm flawed...someone thinks I'm adorable.

Tis the Season

Merry Christmas.  I find this to be one of the most anticlimactic days of the year.  It's the day that I realize that all the cheer and all the joy that people pretended to have for the past month will be gone in mere hours.  I love Christmas(time), but the actual day itself is borderline depressing.  I admit that I find that many things in life have that quality, but that's for another day's musings.

Christmas is a beautiful time of year.  People pretend to be happy, gathering together and laughing while consuming large quantities of alcohol, buying gifts for people they don't truly care for, and consuming foods that will cause them to gain at least 10 pounds under the protection of the "It's the Holidays" excuse.  Yes, it's a beautiful time of year.  We will all pretend to be happy while secretly feeling guilty and drowning our sorrows with gifts and lights.

I think one of the reasons I love Christmas lights is that, at least for a little while, I have something that will brighten my life.  It's unfortunate that eventually the strands come down and the lights go out and reality comes crashing back in as the darkness once again envelops my visions.  

But for now, I'm going to enjoy my day of dreaming and my final hours of pretending.  For tomorrow the lights will be just a bit dimmer and reality will be that much closer.

Another year comes and another year goes; round and round is how our lives go.

Selfishly Wishing For A Friend

Being a bridesmaid is hell.  I hear it all the time in movies, on tv, and from people I've met. You have to pay lots of money to buy a dress that you'll never wear again or have your hair and makeup done in a way that looks hideous but makes the bride feel better about herself.  It's not always like that, of course, but it seems to be so more often than not.  I bring this up not because I'm going to be a bridesmaid but on the contrary.  I'm nearing the age when friends people I know are beginning to consider their weddings or future engagements.  And when I think about it, I realize that there is not a single person who would choose me as one of their closest friends to be in their wedding.  And as selfish a thought as it is, I can't help but wonder what is so wrong with me that I can't be a decent friend.

Perhaps I close myself off too much.  I've heard that close bonds form when two people are open to each other, but I'm a one way street.  I listen, I give advice, but I can't ask for it in return or offer my own feelings.  Similarly, I let my relationships slip through my fingers.  I don't keep in touch, I act elusive, and I can't form any lasting bonds.  Friends that I used to have made new ones, and I was lost in time.  They like to see me, but I'm like a distant memory.  It hurts every once in a while, but I have no one to blame but myself.  Few, if any, have ever made it through my walls, and they don't like to stay within them.  Maybe people just don't think I value friendships when I don't contact them or seem to care when lapses of time have passed without conversing; I often wonder whether I am simply incapable of it.  Are there people in the world, like me, who just can't form sincere friendships?  Am I just too much of a flake to be considered a treasured companion?  I offer light entertainment briefly before I once again disappear into the wind.  Who wants a friend who comes and goes like the rain?

I'm not reliable, I'm never constant, and I'm always running.  Even now I'm looking into graduate programs across the country, and I can tell you that I will move without regret or turning back.  I won't miss people, just like I won't value the new ones that I meet.  Life is always changing and I never seem to stop moving.  I may never be a bridesmaid, and I'm okay with that.  But I don't think I'd even make the guest list.  I can assure you that I'm really not talking about weddings.  Or rather, I am, but that's not the point.  I selfishly wish for a friend who would call me just to hear my voice.  And here I sit, alone in my dark room, knowing that I could change but seemingly lost upon how to do it.

We were born into this world as single beings, and perhaps for some of us, that is how we were meant to stay.

Secrets Secrets Are No Fun

I finally put up Christmas decorations today, and now my house feels infinitely more festive.  I wish I could enjoy the holiday season a bit more, but as it is, I'm a little overly stressed at the moment. Work has been obnoxiously busy, and I'm applying to graduate school with the full knowledge that my grades are pathetically below desirable.  There are too many things going on for me, and I'm struggling a bit to cope with all of it.  This is one of those times that I wish I had a friend.

Working with girls my age is great because they're a lot of fun, but I don't like for fellow employees to know personal things about me, even if they're more like friends.  I like to go to work, pretend as though my life is perfect, and act cheerfully.  Sometimes it feels like I'm living a lie, but I'd rather do that than see pitying, knowing eyes staring at me like they did back in high school when you can only hide your problems for so long.  Still, there's certainly times I wish that I had someone to confide in about things - nothing deep or particularly serious (I only have one friend for that, if she asks when I'm drunk) but just anything to get of my chest.  I had my first ever boyfriend, I guess you could call him, last summer.  It was only a month, and we both mutually (thank god) decided it just wasn't really working.  I never told the girls at work; they think I still have never had one.  I can never mention it to them for certain reasons, but on top of that, they also completely and utterly lack the ability to keep secrets.  I, however, do keep them.  One woman told me something she didn't want the others to know, and when I didn't say anything and they found out I had known the whole time, they wanted to know why I didn't tell them.  I suppose I just feel that when someone tells me a story, it's theirs to tell and not mine to share.

Anyway, I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving.  Mine was great except for the fact that I definitely gained 5 lbs and purged every day I was there.  Doing so in a relative's house with people around all the time is awful, and I recommend not doing it...ever.  I've totally done it at my grandparents, too, but moving on.  I much prefer my private, hidden away bathroom at home.  My own personal haven for my twisted mind.  Now I'm going to burn off the pita chips I consumed today.  Whoops :(

The melody is in my head

I'm in love with misery, I'm a fan of diamond rings.
Cut me with that shiny thing, tie me down and watch me bleed.
I can liven your wildest dreams, feed your darkest fantasy.
I am here, I'm on my knees, begging for some release.

Cause I am falling in too deep, drowning myself endlessly,
searching for a gentle stream to guide me to a better dream.
And every night in my sleep, I'm waking up to my own screams,
tossing, turning relentlessly, and tearing my last shred of sanity.

The sun has set long ago; the stars are gone, they've gone back home.
I'm screaming everything I know to realize I'm all alone.

But there is a face that haunts my days.
Seeing bloodshot eyes, gazing back at me.
And I cannot sleep, it's frightening me.
I'm wrestling with phantoms in my dreams.

I'm standing here, in a room all alone,
surrounded by mirrors on each and every wall.
I'm searching for the exit, but I can't find the door.
Can't handle my reflection anymore.

And I need you now to comfort me somehow,
whisper soothing words and hold me through the night.
Cause I'm seeing shadows out of the corner of my eye,
and I feel a shiver run down my spine.

And though I'm in love with tragedy, and I'm a fan of wicked things,
it's a flaw in my personality, please someone explain it to me.
I'll sign my name on the dotted line if you really think I've lost my mind.
But before you throw me in a padded room, remember it was you who gave up so soon.