I miss you like the desert misses the rain. [entries|friends|calendar] Smoke In Mirrors [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

Killing the world with a simple swipe of a ink pen. [ Posted on March 01, 2006 @ 1:58 am ] [ mood | moody ] I don't know what's wrong. I just feel like the need to just curl up, and cry. I'm so sick of hearing about everyone's problems, and I've completely ignored my own. A friend of mine tried to commit suicide, and another friend of mine did do the deed. I just feel like I'm being destructive to myself if I only think about my problems, and not everyone else's. The more you hurt, the more you scream. Last night, I almost had the car flip on me. Well, a friend was driving, and she was turning into a water hole. Apparently the tires on the truck aren't the best ones, and we skidded. It scared me so much, that I just cried. Maybe it's the fact that my mother hasn't even acknowledged me. AND YES; I'll always scream, and bitch about it, because I'm not as strong as most of you people, and I can not forget about it. Back me into a corner; gotta make me fall anyway. Jon went back to his ex - girlfriend. That hurt -- A LOT. Shannon saw it, or felt it mostly -- and she told me that he left a deep cut. It's true. I think I just want to get my life in order, and just want to find someone who'll want to just hold me, and comfort me because I'm me, and not because out of pity. I think it's what I've got for the past few months -- that pity, guilt trip. I won't be like you. Everyone at work has noticed my behavior, and the huge mood swing. I don't know what to say about it. I don't know the exact pin points of where it came crashing down, or how it came to be so much shit. I don't know where to go with the story that I've been working on for a few months now, nor do I want to write the same thing that everyone has before me. I want friends, or people who will actually be there for me. I don't want to just have people at work who asks questions, just because they're noisy fuckers. I want to move pass Jon, and stop hating him for leading me on. I want to just let go of all the bullshit. Post Comment

[ Posted on February 02, 2006 @ 12:48 am ] Okay, I already dislike this journal thinge. It's saying that if you really want to make your journal like, super cool; you need a permanent account, or paid account. I think that's horse shit. All I wanted to do was add a picture instead of having the user picture, and the links, because frankly; it's super ugly. Secondly,it's tacky. I'm only here for Chrissa, because I love her, and I'd almost do anything for her. Almost! Anyway, I work at the MGM in Las Vegas. YES, the casino. I barely sleep, and I'm in love, so ha. I'm going to Europe with the man that I love in August of this year, so I don't want all the attention from people. I am bisexual, and happy about it. I'm very flaunty about it. The boy hates that, but I don't care. I live with my father, and my birthday is in a week from today. I hate birthdays BUT it means that I have seven more ' unbirthdays ' to celebrate. Yeah, my half - brothers' momma is going to take me out to dinner considering I took the night off and I'm not doing anything for it. We're going to Olive Garden. Sorry, Eli -- I choose O.G. My music tastes vary between love songs; classical; rock; metal; hard rock; industrial. Never rap, or country. Hm, on that note; night! Post Comment

-- in love ; with the boy [ Posted on February 02, 2006 @ 12:07 am ] [ mood | loved ] I step off the train, I'm walking down your street again, and past your door, but you don't live there anymore. It's years since you've been there. Now you've disappeared somewhere like outer space, you've found some better place, and I miss you - like the deserts miss the rain. Could you be dead? You always were two steps ahead of everyone. We'd walk behind while you would run. I look up at your house, and I can almost hear you shout down to me where I always used to be, and I miss you - like the deserts miss the rain. Back on the train, I ask why did I come again. Can I confess I've been hanging around your old address? And the years have proven to offer nothing since you moved. You're long gone but I can't move on, and I miss you - like the deserts miss the rain Read (2) Post Comment

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