shut up and breathe.

I just have ONE eight page paper to hack out and then on to graduation  !!!! real life.  I wish I could pay someone else to do it for me.

I guess I’m actually an adult now.  Won’t be in college anymore. But then again, “career” is still a dirty word to me. I cough loudly to avoid it. I wish people would stop asking me what my plans are.

Europe will be an adventure no doubt… but I do slightly wish I was just chilling in Fargo and reading all summer. Slightly, very slightly.  I’m only bringing one backpack… hope that won’t prove to be a problem. As long as I have my passport and money I should be good right? Right?

Advertisements

(what are you waiting for?)

Me: “Well  in five years if we’re both still single, we should get married so you can get American citizenship.”
Him:  “That’s a good idea, thanks Amy”
——————————————————-
my shoulderblades have
sharpened
then softened
now the most reckless
of vulnerabilities
I have 
broken-glass battle scars
from
dancing barefoot in dirty streets
drunk off the
wind in my veins
since the day I 
killed the past with
sunlight

(and you’d better be alone)

Why does this song relax me so much?   why why why why why (kyu).
This is the kind of stuff I used to listen to.

 I need more.

When I meet someone and they ask me what kind of music I like, I find it very hard to answer.  It’s like being psychoanalyzed, everyone is going to think they know you.

NO ONE CAN KNOW YOU. It’s impossible. Even if you tried to give them yourself, your essence will slip through the cracks.  I don’t even think we are equipped as humans to understand and dig into everything that makes up another person.  It’s hard enough to even understand yourself.  All else is arrogance.

It bothers me that people get me wrong.  It bothers me when people tell me what decisions to make, how each one will affect my life.  Do not presume to fortune tell with me. Do not presume that you are being helpful.  I am open to mistakes.  Let me make my own.

This was disjointed.   I more or less apologize (*less).

—————————
THE COLOR OF LOW SELF ESTEEM

what i never
learned
from my mother
was that
just because someone desires you
does
not mean they value you.
desire is the kind of thing that
eats you
and
leaves you starving.

miguu

love this song.  Uff teri adaa.  also I’m in love with the hookah bar, but hookah smoke gets me too dizzy, so after a while I just eat smoke rings.  That is probably the only smoke related skill I have.  The ability to consume smoke rings.  I can’t even make them. It’s like someone who can’t cook, just eat (which actually, is pretty much me, too)  anyways. a good song.

Now, Now – Wolf

It’s been almost a year since I’ve been full-on obsessed with someone. I don’t think I’m capable of it anymore, perhaps once I turned 20 that was the cutoff point. I really dig this song though, and here’s the picture. that I made. BAM

 

this is not representative

shower, dress, eat, work, sleep  
by: http://brightlightsloudnoises.tumblr.com/

some days
were built to
rip you apart

sometimes
if your lifestyle
lets you
you can sleep
through them

like bowling pins

as the ball rolls
towards you
—-

For every fear that can’t be named
To calm you down

Your heart starts skipping steps
So you’re farther gone
Than you might expect
If your thoughts should turn to death
Gotta stomp them out
Like a cigarette

Down in a Rabbit Hole – Bright Eyes
——————————————————-

You think you can leave the past behind?
You must be out of your mind.

you could catch me if ya wanted to

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
and all our yesterdays have lighted fools
the way to dusty death.  Out, out brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more.  It is a tale
told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

-Shakespeare, MacBeth
ah Shakespeare.
master of the death-poem

(here is something unrelated)

 

Daisy Salesman

I.
This city is a study
in the cold steel of architecture,
functionality with little else
the wind whispers a funeral dirge
the flower vender is no longer here
perhaps out of business
perhaps something worse
II.
staring at the weeds growing from the concrete below,
I am fascinated by the thought of falling
thirty stories of an infinite flight,
this is existence set on fire
now sprawled on the sidewalk
the crimson shock a love-gift
to awaken the colorless gray
now, shall we know true living?
in the broken bones,
the screaming nerves,
in these moments just before the end?


this is the second half of something I wrote… not sure if I like the first part yet, so I just didn’t post it

*oO-Rein-Oo on deviantart.com

Cro-Du