I LIED.
I'm getting a new xanga.
I'm not posting it.
Cmnt if you want it.
<3

Right now, I'm very confused about life.
About relationships and friends.
About me.
School.

If you join my blogring,
I will feel better.
Not completely, but somewhat.
Because then I know that you love me, for sure.
I will wrap you in cold.

<3

i hate the basement door. i hate telephones and answering machines. i hate shoes. i hate myself sometimes. i'm pretty only i'm not. i love to make out. but i hate it when the other person kisses with their eyes open. i hate that i'm not as flexible as i once was. i hate my father's obsessive compulsions. i hate his anger. his sudden bursts. i hate how stupid i am when it comes to school. i love to write but i always feel like i'm letting you all down when i miss entries. i hate how similar i am to my father. i hate how hard i try to fit in, but being myself gets me further. i like me but i hate me. i'm a mess. organized and tornado-like.

teasing and lips. tongues and lullabies. homework in the hallway with your best friend. being locked out of your apartment for three hours. getting yelled at when your father comes home for not having your keys. therapy and apples. black and pink striped tights and being told you look like the wicked witch of the west. laughing at it. i'm rad, you're rad, let's hug. paul frank. doing laundry with your mother two weeks later than expected. talking to an amazing girl from xanga on aim. getting told from your boyfriend in hawaii that he wants to sit on a beach with you in his arms wrapped around you, during the sunset by the shores crashing. being a miserable and stupid teenager. being scared about the future. forgetting to eat the dinner you heated up two hours ago. the two boys that look alike in your gym class wearing very similar outfits. silence. awkwardness, even in your alone time. loud computer speakers. terrible cell phone signals at home. having a heavy head on light shoulders. thinking about your first love. hating him. fishnet armbands and jelly bracelets. black and pink converse. liking four different people. some love and some fake. beating yourself up for not being clearer, but in a strictly subconsious. tired spines and sleeping feet. denim skirts that are onesizetoosmall. needing clothes and a job. pink walls and shiny stars.

so you guys know me pretty well by now; if you want to know more, just ask. i'm up for it completely. yes, tasia, me too.

It's definitely one of those days months years when my head feels so heavy from all of these last minute stresses of senior year of High School. It's so surreal. I can barely imagine myself after High School. Or even at age 18. 18 is nearing closer by the minute. It is so scary. Soon independence is a new notch on my belt of adult years. I think I'm going to take a year off from school; maybe get a couple jobs. Then off to Kingsborough & then a four year college. I've got my future planned out. Just not well enough.

My birthday is less than two months away.
I'll be 18. Woo?
Oh, I'll be voting next election day.
And I'll be able to buy cigarettes
even though I don't smoke.
Joy! Not.

MUSIC: an irresistable pleasure and influence. beauty, disgust, anger, happiness, love: INTENSE EMOTION.

put them together and you get LOVE.

I've been known to get into my music. Very deeply and vividly.

                           Singing
Moving
                                              Dancing
            Swaying
                                 Loving
                                                            Disliking
                                                                                 Smiling
                                         Crying
                                                                  Laughing
                      Falling
                                                                                      Jumping

Nothing else is like music. I lay on the floor or bed and just feel it. Like I am part of the beat, strums, and tunes.

MUSIC is poetry.