|
| my lips are chapped.
my throat is dry.
my heart is thumping slowly.
and my eyes hurt
every time i
blink
my head is throbbing
and i think i might be sick
these tissues are like rocks
and my feet have no socks.
though the world around me
hasnt stopped
my paranoia is straining
feels like im in pain again
just by thinking to much.
there are no fingers to grasp
there is no alcohol left
i took the last of it last night
screaming
if my head hits the pillow
it all just starts dripping
but nothing goes away
fluids fall out
paranoia locks in
and im done with fleeing
locking the doors wont stop them
taking a pill wont numb them
slicing my wrists is pathetic
and
wishing it away
.....forget it
if only it was like this cold
just a few drops of this
and you'll be okay
if that, then id be sold
i cant seem to ignore it
so ill just keep it here
safe in my nerve endings
letting it zap away at my brain
till it all goes down the toilet
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| i can't think of anything to write. im pretty sure ive lost my fan base, because everything is just so crazy and i havent written anything in a while. im hoping that some of you will return if i continue to post all the time again. hopefully i'll be able to handle that. its pretty hard to dedicate myself to these trivial things these days. ive been going to school, plus now ive started working at target. i also have a child, and usually when i dont have him i strike a pose with my social scene. plus now i have started a band called Go Commando, and we try to practice at least once a week. Its hard because I have lots of engagements.
Ive broken up with my babies father, because of various reasons. Reasons that were childish and .... well... stupid on my part. Ive met this kid who I've grown to like, but something is keeping me from seeing him, as often as I used too. We're supposed to be just friends with benefits, but it's like.. there is something there between us. He works two jobs at this moment, and he has 3 kids. He's a hardcore kid, and he's just fantastic in bed. The downside is, is that he knows my babies father and theyve been good friends for a while now. It kind of sucks, but I dont think he really cares that much.
I feel like his stalker, because I call him all the time, and Ill pick my best friend's man up from work, just to see him. I feel like Im sick. He says that he doesnt mind at all. I guess..... I get alot of flack because my best friend thiks he's a liar and that he's shaddy or something. [He was wanted for trafficking] But now that he got arrested, he's been trying to work everything out. He goes to his P.O and he see's his kids, and he works two jobs. I mean I know he's trying and I know he's a good guy.
I feel like I really want to be with him, but he isnt ready for that kind of thing. He and I both just got out of crazy relationships. I can understand all of this, because I know what its like to move really quickly from one relationship to the next. Its insane. Thats how I got knocked up.
I dont know.
i dont have much to say other than I hope I get some ciggie's, and my fan base flocks back to me. I miss you guys and loved my feedback from all of you. Im hoping that you'll return to me and ,,,, help me think of some new idea's.
| | |
| 
Hearts Melt.
Like plastic on hot embers,
Hands fold
Into each other
Grasping for one
last
chance.
| | |
| okay here is the low down, though im sure no one checks this site anymore. I didnt want to give up, but I just got an apartment with my lovely man. We are poor so we dont have the beautiful thing of internet hookup let alone a fucking computer. plus ive been to wrapped up in my social life to actually sit down and write. i wish i could. anyways. check me out at www.myspace.com/bright_side_killer
yep i have a myspace, but i had one.... before it was a scene. sooo sorry loves | | |
| Joan sat now, on that filthy couch, her head buried in her hands. Thoughts bombarded through her head, making it difficult to sort through them all. She just closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This wasn't the first time she had seen a dead body, she had found her father on the dinning room floor, he had had a massive heart attack. She could remember this day almost vividly, but not under these circumstances.
Joan had done a complete 180 on that day she found her father. She was once a bright cheerful girl, she was only a sophomore at the time and was a varsity cheerleader. She attended church every Sunday with her mother, and worked part-time as a waitress in a 4 star restaurant. She was a loving free spirit, always with a smile, and a helping hand.
Then after that tragic day, she decided to quit cheer leading telling her mother that, it was pointless and too time consuming. She started skipping out at school, and hanging out with a totally different crowd. She started drinking, and partying constantly. By 11th grade, she dropped out and started to focus on her paintings. She barely smiled, and was also singing with a local band. She took up smoking, and was getting in trouble with the cops at least once or twice a month. She was moody, wild, manic, unruly, dark, mean, and drunk. Her mother had finally had enough, and when she turned 18, she told her to "Pack your bags and get the fuck out of my house."
Of course she made a scene, throwing a fit, screaming until her voice let out, and smashing anything breakable in the house. Then she grabbed her bags and started walking down the street, she hadn't spoke to her mom since, this was a year and a half ago.
She had met Shellie about a week after being kicked out. She was staying with a guy at the time, and they were going to a show with a few other friends. Drunk and stoned, they all piled out of the car and headed into the place. When she saw her on the stage, her cherry colored hair hung over her face as she strummed at the guitar. Her arms moved so fast, it was amazing how she could move her body and play so well at the same time.
They met back stage, in the tiny dressing room with one mirror and badly painted neon blue walls, and ever since then they were inseparable.
Shellie, who was 2 years her senior, got her a job as a hostess at a topless bar. She showed her the side of town Joan would've never ventured into, it was nothing like one average teenage rebellion. Shellie knew alot of people, and she introduced them all to Joan. Soon enough Joan was going to parties every night, doing coke, drinking endlessly, dating older men, getting tattoo's piercings, getting arrested, vomiting, popping pills, partying some more, getting into bar fights, and over and over and over. She was a complete mess. Most of her days were blurred, and she never knew the time or the date. She woke up most days, hungover and not knowing what she had done the night before. Since Shellie, she had been arrested 15 times, in the hospital 11 times, and in rehab/mental illness hospital twice. She was completely out of control.
Now, it was only getting worse.
Shellie was pacing, and Joan didn't even realize that she was mumbling and screaming. She looked at Shellie shaking, her fingers moving quickly like she was playing a guitar. She then stopped infront of the bathrrom door and charged inside.
"WAKE THE FUCK UP, THIS ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE YOU GOD DAMN ASSHOLE!" she screamed, as she punched him in the chest over and over again, tears streaming full force blinding her as she punched him in the face. "PLEASE... PLEASE YOU FUCKING PRICK. I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME."
It took a second for Joan to get on her feet and charge in after her. Shellie was still punching and slapping. She leaped on her, and dragged her away, holding her tightly in her arms. Shellie was always a screwed up girl. Her father beat her mother, and was always telling Shellie that he never loved her and that she wasn't his because he mother was a slut.
At 13 years old, her mother died of kidney failure, so she ran away and stayed with her older cousin Henry. Henry introduced her to this life she was living now. He would bring her to parties, and let her drink and smoke pot. He exposed her to sexuality to men and woman, and at 15 introduced her crystal meth. After that she was going in a downward spiral, sleeping with her dealer for drugs, passing out on the streets, getting into brutal fights, and constantly in and out of hospitals.
The only thing she had was her acoustic guitar she stole from an ex-boyfriend. She was a genius on the guitar, and playing seemed to make her life okay. Once she put together a band, she was doing better, but she was still deep in the hole.Joan seemed to understand her, she was the only one who could calm her, and the only one who knew what she was saying.
As she bawled in Joan's arms, mumbling "He's dead" over and over, Joan rocked her back and forth until her heartbeat was steady, and her body stopped shaking.
[to be continued...]
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