The sword and the pen.

I don't write like I used to. My writing used to be so filled with joy. I used to use beautiful words laced with meaning. My writing has disintegrated into the words I write now, so filled with dread and pointless sentences. I used to write for the mere pleasure of writing, but now I’m writing just so I don't cry. I'm writing because I do this when I don’t know what else to do with myself. My hands need to do things and my brain needs to put words out. So I’m writing.

Release.

Everytime I go somewhere or do something, 


I think, "You should be here with me."


Then I think of all the things we had promised to do,


and all the places we said we would go.


Then I get angry, and then I feel sad,


and then I forget about it,


because what else is there to do?

My thoughts

tend to sound better in books I didn't write, and in the songs I didn't sing. Even then, sometimes there is no piece literature, no song, no work of art that can really explain the way I feel. There is a sort of a comfort in knowing that no one really knows.

Happy Thanksgiving, folks.

I know everybody who reads this is going to want to take an axe to my face.
Because this post is going to be really cheesy. Like cheddar.
But these are the things I'm thankful for.

Trees, the sky, music, my family, pants, my friends, the sun, food, animals, my coat, tea, the color blue, Harry Potter, snow, and books.

I ate so much today. I wish it was socially acceptable to eat that much everyday. But, then again, since when am I socially acceptable?

Isolation.

I'm
just
an
empty
shell
of
the
happy
person
I
used
to
be.

Things that annoy me:

1.Grammatical errors.
2. PeOpLe who talkkk liiiiike this;;; jkkkk ilyy.
3. Girls who squeal like orks/like Justin Bieber/think they are too cool to like Star Wars or anything lame that I like.
4. Girls in general, pretty much.
5. Teenagers who believe they are in love with every relationship they get themselves in.
6. Those fucking annoying birds who wake me up every day at unbearable hours.
7. The trolls that always say, "I dunno... can you?" when you ask them if you can use the restroom.
8. People who text passionately to the point that they have no idea what's happening in real life.
9. People who can't spell/think they know everything/eat loudly.
10. When somebody asks me for advice, and then proceed to argue with me once I give it to them.
11. Pricks who wear their sunglasses inside. I mean, really? Who are you fooling?
12. When I take a lot of good pictures only to discover that the memory card wasn't in.
13. Unfunny people who laugh at their own jokes.
14. Religious fanatics of any type.
15. Children.

Anyways. I know I already have a post like this, but I just get annoyed so easily! That's enough ranting. (:
Tonight was wonderful. I officially met a really interesting person named Noah. And, well, I dunno.
I'm sort of happy, and really excited to go to Ventura next week. I imagine I will be getting zero sleep tonight.

My mind

has exploded from last night. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Part 1) was definitely worth waiting in line for 5 hours. It was one of the greatest things to happen to my eyes. Alan Rickman as Snape, is definitely the most attractive thing ever. Bellatrix Lestrange did just magnificently. And, of course, my heart will always belong to Rupert Grint. Anyways, I really loved being there last night, I was surrounded by people who are just as nerdy and lame as myself, and well, I felt like I could go up to anyone, and make an inside joke, and they would understand. Anyways, that's enough of my useless rambling.OH, AND I DRANK BUTTERBEER. BUTTERBEER. IT TASTED LIKE JESUS!

My favorite quote.

“In bed that night I invented a special drain that would be underneath every pillow in New York, and would connect to the reservoir. Whenever people cried themselves to sleep, the tears would all go to the same place, and in the morning the weatherman could report if the water level of the Reservoir of Tears had gone up or down, and you could know if New York is in heavy boots. And when something really terrible happened — like a nuclear bomb, or at least a biological weapons attack — an extremely loud siren would go off, telling everyone to get to Central Park to put sandbags around the reservoir.” 

-Jonathan Safran Foer.

Today sucked. I ate like thirty apples.
And I drove home, and got honked at. Twice.
So, now that I'm all self-conscious about my driving skills,
I decided to take a nap and think about where I'm going to live when I grow up.
Soo, I know I'm only fifteen, but I will live in every single one of these houses.
EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.

My body and my brain need to catch up to one another.

Human.

I'm walking around with these glossy eyes. "I'm just tired," I say. But you know what? It's complete blasphemy. Yes, I am tired, but not from lack of sleep. I am tired of waking up with nothing to look forward to, tired of going to bed exhausted after doing a million things I find no enjoyment doing. I'm tired of this void, this emptiness that looms over me even though my days are packed. I'm tired of the loneliness that presses against me, even though I'm surrounded by dozens of people. So, why can't I just admit it? Humans are so afraid to look into each others' eyes and say, "I am unhappy, I am broken, I am hopeless and fallible." We've been conditioned to associate pain with weakness, sadness with coldness, loneliness with unworthiness, difference with disease, as if these feelings are contagious. As if ambivalence is something not to be felt but to be feared. Well, I say screw all of that. Screw forced smiles and polite handshakes and "I'm fine, thanks, you?" Screw the fear of crying in a public place, screw the fake chipper voice, screw the lies we spit out to cover up our problems. We are humans. We are meant to feel. To feel everything and feel it all openly. We are not metal- we are flesh and bone. Our boiled blood curses through our cold, clammy hands. We are intricate and beautiful and we should never hide our human parts, because if we do, what's left to show?

And remember.

You can't spell slaughter without "laughter"

I'm on a Christmas high! I've been drinking pomegranate 7-Up and listening to Christmas music.

I know, it's still two months away, but I'm groping the thought with excitement.

I want to drink eggnog and put up a tree and dress up like santa and fill my belly with candycanes. 

But the peppermint kind. Those are the only good kind. 

I love.

I love mustaches.
I love the sound of the banjo.
I love when I see people reunite.
I love the feeling of warm tea in my stomach. 
I love it when someone cool falls on their ass.
I love the moment when I'm about to fall asleep.
I love when people start singing along to a song a few seconds early. And they try to cover up with like, awkwardly swaying back and forth.
I love it when somebody's waving at me, and I wave back, to find out that this person was waving to someone standing directly behind me.
I also love it when I make a joke, and someone laughs really hard, and I continue to laugh because they think I'm so funny, but then I find out that they were laughing at someone else. Because I'm not funny at all.
I love watching people run into things.

I was born with an enormous need for affection.

And a terrible need to give it.

Well, you guys. I'm really sorry for how depressing my posts have become. I know it probably gets annoying, but hold on to your privates, boys and girls, because I am happy! Yes. I know. It sounds unfathomable. But I decided that it's completely not worth it dwelling on my own sadness. I'm super selfish, and I need to start focusing on the happiness of others. So, yes. Expect the unexpected, my glorious followers. EXPECT. THE. UNEXPECTED.

ps: "Earth" without "art" is "eh."
Yeah. Think about that. -thrust-

Fuck this.

I wanna be a cat.

homesick.

The split second before I sleep is the most active second of my life. I thought about so much last night.

I've realized that homesickness is just a state of mind for me. I’m always missing someone or someplace or something, I’m always trying to get back to some imaginary somewhere. Even when I'm at home, I am still homesick. I don't feel comfortable in my own skin, I just don't feel welcome in my house anymore. I'm longing for something to make me feel at home, but I have trouble finding this thing.
My life has been one long longing.

What are you afraid of?

I'm afraid of children and ants.
I'm afraid of my lungs collapsing.
I'm afraid of fire burning our world down.
I'm afraid of space and the stars and the wind.
I'm afraid of waking up one day and forgetting who I am.
I'm afraid of tears streaming down the faces of those I love.
I'm afraid of growing old and having weak bones and eyes that can't see.
I'm kind of terrified of the world.

Happy Halloween.