Sunday, May 12, 2013

I really did
Appreciate it
When you carried
My books that day
Even though
I had
A million pounds
Worth of
Books to

Sunday, May 5, 2013

9/25/10 11:36 am, 16 years old

My pens running out of ink. I watched this movie earlier about how the drinking water was infected with a virus that ate the flesh. There was no cure. Sometimes I wonder about these things. My dad yelled at me because I didn't close the door when I blow dried my hair. Told me to have a little compassion for the other people in the house. But it's my new DVD he's watching and Jenaes watching, instead of doing her homework. And I feel like I shouldn't feel guilty about spending my money. I want to get out of here. Zack says that even if you're different, there are still 6,000 other people like you. I'd like to meet them. I'm sure they'd like to meet me. Or maybe they wouldn't. It's hard to tell with these things. Sometimes I think about how nervous I get when I sing and sometimes about how even teachers say I'm terrible. And sometimes I wonder if there really is a flesh eating disease. Except it's not in the water. Its in the people, and what the people say eats you alive inside. You just have to choose if you want to drink or not. I don't want to drink.

But I'm thirsty.

Friday, March 8, 2013

Butterfly Thoughts.

My hair is dull now
And my skin is pale
As night creeps down
And becomes my day
I lay awake
And contemplate
When I will finally
At last
Become a butterfly
Or struggle along
In this chrysalis

Friday, February 22, 2013

His lips are Strangers.

Does it kill you inside
To know I'm not
Like it kills me inside
To know you're not
To know we like to hug
And kiss
And hold hands
But deep inside
There's nothing else.
Just emptiness
Ignorance is bliss,
But what do you do
When the bliss runs out
Because ignorance
Is no longer an



Do my eyes light up
When I talk to
With that evanescent glow,
Ignorance is bliss
Can you see
My soul
Filled with hope
Which I never believed in
Pour through my motions
The drippings of a waterfall
And joyous.
To be so full of hate
You Love.
To be so full of love
You Hate.
And once the waterfall runs dry
Do you see
The light start to

From my eyes?

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Day two.

starting to feel like I'm stuck here.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Monday, February 4, 2013

I Know This Place.

It remembers me.

The lonliness. the darkness. The despair.

It remembers me. Oh yes. It remembers.

The thoughts
Tinkering their games on bold roses.
Beautiful thoughts being bled to death, Suffocated by weak human motives, mammalian instincts and disgusting chemical bondage and release. Driven mad as a drill bit into a brick sidewalk that mesmerizes everyone who looks out of the window eating their lunch. Staring staring, always staring. Entranced by the sink and release of such a powerful machine. You know lonely? I know this place. Like the back of my hand I made a map but If you took a picture would I be able to tell my hand from the rest? Think you know lonely? This is crazy. I know that place too. The land of over think and over thought and too much thought and not enough thought to think. I know crazy. But this place I know too. It is the land of empty. And sometimes it's good because you think you know where you're going though you can't feel it, but like Apple Maps you look up all of a sudden to fall into a sewage hole and down down you fall like Alice in Wonderland, not knowing where you're going, just knowing you're spinning out of control. And it's not objects flying around you, it's memories. Lost and long forgotten beautiful and ugly and horrible memories that are like acid to your soul and when you're falling you fall through every single one and once you hit the bottom there's no rabbit but there is poison on the table in a dark empty room. And all you do is stare at it and wonder if it's worth it, to get to what's on the other side of the door. Because you have no clue at all what's over there, beyond the door. You try to escape from the hole you're in, but it's slick walls. Slick walls that seem to grow tighter and tighter until you feel there's no choice but poison.

Until one good thought falls down, from where, you don't know. And this one ray of light suddenly becomes a balloon. And as that good thought fills you up and heals some of that burn, some of that hurt, it lets room in for just one more good thought. And soon the balloon is full enough to get you floating. Floating straight up through the hole, away from the poison, which is media, which is family, which is anyone or anything that brings you down and inwardly kills you but mostly which is yourself, and it brings you up, past all the bad, past all the horrible thoughts and memories, right back into empty, past it into a shining place called happy. Just for a little while. And it's good, because it feels like you know where you're going.

Think you know crazy? I know crazy.

And this,

is getting out of it.

It remembers me.

I hate lying alone here with these bad feelings. About missing kissing when it actually meant something. Or how no one wants to hug me because hugs always mean something more or even if they don't mean something more they're not meaningful. The feeling you get where you've Lost everyone you love to death, and you didn't cherish them how you should have. Their hugs and their kisses are the ones you miss the most. You long to hug people you know but know when the time comes it's not as satisfying as you imagined because they don't want the hug like you do, or need it like you do. And they squeeze too tight or let go too soon or hardly hug you at all. Immediately you feel ashamed, or embarrassed, but mostly you just feel empty. But always you go home and as you lie there, just wishing, for once, for someone to be nice to you, you imagine hugging them again. And even though you know it will be disappointing you still imagine it because the thought of everything being okay for just one second, just one whole second, and the thought that you could bring that second to yourself just by hugging another person, is too good to resist. So you imagine, you expect, you try, and ultimately, are let down by your own longing.

And the only pair of hands left to hug are that of your own loneliness and despair, to which now, the heart has grown so accustomed, it wouldn't recognize anything else as satisfactorily from there on out.

The one thing that never disappoints.


Saturday, February 2, 2013

Moments that Don't Matter.

And laying there he asked "What do you like about me?"
"What if I said I didn't like anything at all? She responded, monotone, staring of into space blankly, as if it were really the answer.
"Then I would ask what were even doing here in the first place" he'd said, slightly taken aback. Cold as well.
"And what if I said I didn't know?"
Silence pursued. And in that moment they both knew. Both knew there was no time for silly games, reasons for why they liked eachother or why they didn't. The answer was that it didn't matter. In hearts made of stone, and so cold no life exists-moments, such as these-never mattered, and were soon forgotten after a time. Making no mark upon the hollow stone, the moment itself never seemed to take even a grain of sand from the ever falling time clock. Slipping between the cracks, lost and forgotten forever, they both knew.

And in that, the time clock continued, and the sand continued to run it's course. Telling us we had more time, yet laughing quietly to itself, knowing it didn't matter if it gave us all the time in the world. For rocks do not live. They simply, carry on. For they have no other purpose in life, and as much as they try to move, they know they are only part of the mountain for which they're trying to climb. And so time laughs, as time carries on, and the rocks serve as steady placemats for those who need rest, but are soon left behind, trying to soak up the warmth of the sun, and growing ever more colder, as the dead of night continues to entrap them.


I remember how he touched my knee, with one or two fingers, stroking it, as we sat in the hallway. Even though I had hairy legs and told him not to.
And I remember walking down the hall and holding his arm as we went to class. Looking forward to seeing someone after class. How many times had I walked alone in that hallway, not really caring, not really minding or noticing. But oh how I missed it when it had stopped, faded away like the ghost of a memory from years past. I walked the halls no more but suddenly they felt empty. Suddenly I felt alone. Surrounded by people I felt alone. He was my best friend. I had never had one of those before. I had never needed one.

But oh how I missed it when it went away.
Oh how I missed it, spending my days looking at a sunset, trying to catch shadows as solid figures to piece back together what was gone forever. Who would touch my hairy knee as he had? Love me like he had?

And who was I, to love them back?

Sunday, January 27, 2013

That One Moment in Time..The Very Moment, That Marks Who We Are As People. The Moment..that Defines Us.

I just lived the most wonderful fantasy.

My hair is tied up loosely, small ringlets falling here and there behind each ear to mark my cheek. A blue ribbon around the knot, and the look is rather old fashiondly beautiful, and exquisite. My eyes are lined and lashes full. Lips, in a shade slightly darker than my own, with pearl earrings, and a smile. In this moment I am transported back in time, in a different place, in a different life. Frank Sinatra is on the stage singing "Embraceable You" and I picture him singing to me, and holding his hand out, asking me to dance. And we dance like they do in the movies. The man singing, perfectly on pitch, and the woman, all smiles and happiness. Pure happiness. And every movement is flawless, as if I am a feather. I close my eyes and mimic the movements and it's as if I am there, and some ghost of my past moves me to songs it once knew. I don't feel my steps, I feel light, like I'm hardly moving at all. And the end of the song comes and the girl smiles ever brighter because she knows what's coming. And the man finishes the last note with perfect trembling of the vocal cords, and for a moment-just a slight moment-they stare into each others eyes as if they've found everything they were ever looking for right there in the eyes of that other person. And then they kiss. Finally joining what they didn't even know was separated to begin with.
And then everything's okay. They get their happily ever after-Usually.

But we never see what's after the end credits do we.

And at the end of the day, Frank Sinatras just some asshole guy with good looks and a great voice. And the people kissing are just actors and actresses, trying to find on stage what they're missing in life. The stage has become their life. It always does. And for a moment everything's okay. Because when you're empty enough you can fully encapsulate any character as your own. And so for a moment it's okay. And life goes on. And the next role is played, by the next actor and actress, who have lives and problems. And soon they die, and are forgotten, as everyone who knew them dies too. And for the person who sees all of this happening with eyes wide open they begin to wonder what's the point, and they are always searching, constantly searching for the answer. And they wonder if that's the point-to search.
Or if it's merely the point to search, and live, solely,

For the moment.

Saturday, January 26, 2013

I recognized my souls counterpart
In another.
But it was the worser part.
The evil.

It tried to destroy me. Kill me.

I loved it still.
I wanted to show you
That you were beautiful too.
And that someone could still love you.

But you were too cold

To see it.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

At what point do you stop pretending? Stop playing?

At what point do you free yourself from the monotonous misery you've trapped yourself in?

At what point do you say "enough"?

When do you let yourself let it go?

It's hard to sleep because it's hard to let go of the feeling that the feeling will never go away.

Of hopeless emptiness.

God Save me.

I cannot save myself.

And I fear, that I'll believe it.

And then no one can.

At what point, it too escape?

[Don't keep me here forever]

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

We Walk the Plank With Our Eyes Wide Open.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

I hope they're happier now.

Funeral was today, to say goodbye to someone I used to love. I couldn't make it. Didn't make it to the other funeral either. Never called like I said I would.

Maybe because I didn't say goodbye it means they're still alive.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

My Paradise.

If I were alone, I'd open all the windows, and walk around naked, in just my bra and underwear.
I'd live in a small house, with a bright garden, where I'd sit and drink tea in the morning, with hot chocolate. Eat cake and oranges for breakfast. And here, the birds are always chirping, the sun is always shining, and there's a slight breeze that rustles the trees and flowers overhead. I am secluded from the world here. this is my world here. I am so at peace because there is nothing to worry about. And I don't need anyone here. The sun fills me up in a way that makes me not think. That takes away my questions, and my worry. I don't have to worry about if I'm failing here. I sit in a dress with my hair down, and a flower behind my ear and It is paradise.

With birds chirping I sit and let the sun warm my skin and I am nothing, made in to everything.

And it is Paradise.

You Gave me Neverland.

Stuck as Wendy, trapped there forever.

I wanted something more.


Sometimes, it feels like vomiting.
Other times, it feels like nothing. Like forcing yourself up from the warm bed, sick, trying not to puke, and having the frigid air hit you, having to put clothes on and ride a bike to work and hoping you won't freeze to death on the way there.

Sometimes it's like that.

And other times,

It's like nothing.

Dear You.

You know it's funny. Because I'm the one, sleeping on a floor in California, contract at finger tips, with all the potential in the world, and yet, and still I am letting myself be miserable. What happened to the bright side Elise? What happened to the fun? What happened to your very will to live?

Was it because nothing was as you expected it to be?

No. It is because everything is Exactly the way I expected it to be.
I expected to suffer. It was the emotional struggle, I was not expecting to deal with.

And I wonder if I was happy because you loved me, or because I loved you. Because I had finally found someone to give all of myself to. Someone I thought I could trust, who would be there. I don't love you anymore. I don't honestly love anything anymore. It wasn't you that broke me. Nothing broke me. I broke myself. Nothing came as a surprise to me, nothing came as a shock. I knew it would be hard, I knew I'd be successful, I knew you'd leave. I knew all these things. It was just a matter of time and progression. The funny thing is, it seems the more empty I feel, the more other people feel. And I just wonder if maybe I should love other people without expecting any back, without wanting any back and maybe I'll be happy. And then I wonder if that's just what I've been doing the whole time.

And maybe that time I was happy because someone finally loved me back.

And yet, there was always that impending doom, that lurking denial. Funny because I knew it was a trap, and funny, because in the end you told me it was my presence that made you believe in the first place.

Funny, because I had inadvertently set the trap myself.

So I sit on this floor and I sit and freeze and wonder, what exactly I am doing with the rest of my life.

Knowing someday, if I grasp it..I may very well change the world.

Love Always,