You don't know this.

I was walking through my imagination today and I recognized you let your red coals smolder out. The leaves are changing, so is my motivation, and just feeling like a theatrical project. But who are you? I meet you in my dreams, my writing, my thoughts when I’m far from the real people. Like now, I cannot see you, I do not feel you, but I see you in everything I am. May be much bigger than that of the invention of washing machines, microwaves. Aesthetic impression is not my triumph and you, Blue flame of mine, aren’t a good example. Breathe, Hesitated Monster destroyer, you are wasted on Polish pints and the careful planning of a lost fetus. You are me, and you don’t know this.

You don't know how the corners of my mind crack instead of wear, allowing meaningless sentences to flit far from my split lips. Inhale. exhale. I wish I could spit just one word in your direction. one note in an opera to convey an SOS. A splinter in the splint of wood that keeps every one of them up, to help you out, just a little.

Break you down, start, start again. start and start and start until 7 continuous strings have held a baby from burning his fingers.

I'm not here to talk about my outer self.
my enviroment.
I'm here to talk about you. Your blue flame, or you lack of.
I was wrong about people like you.
things like you.
but then again,
you are me, and you don't know this.

Just stop. [I am sorry.]

Stop to call yourself out, once every while.
No, scream yourself out.
You've had that feeling, where you just get done crying and criticizing and whining about someone doing something "they didn't have control over," and when you turn around, go back home, you realize you're doing the same thing, only worse. Everything is so confusing now that he's gone.
There. I've said it.
I miss that stability, that smile to lead me on. even though I wasted a valuable time in my life feeling guilty and on the phone, I miss his low, sweeping voice telling me what the best part of the day was.
He brought me that rock to stand on, and though he wasn't the most reliable or strong rock of the bunch, he gave me all he could manage to. maybe that's why I'm scared for Kaitlyn.
again, I've said it.
I don't hate her.
I just don't want the same thing to happen, the happiness for him or the hurt for her.
[for God's sake, she's just learning... and she doesn't need the hard way, Aaron... please be better for her than you were for me, if you're out there...somewhere...]
But who am I to say the weight of her heart doesn't match his?
I barely know her.
I barely know anything anymore, and my friends will confirm that.
I am so sorry for making mean comments about you liking her because she was one year younger.
when, I just may be falling for a guy that is two years older.
I'm sorry for ripping you apart when you had two girls you liked.
I'm liking four.
I'm sorry for playing those games with you when we weren't going out.
But I still fantasize about spending the night by the other guys' side.
none of us know whats right. we're just teenagers with our eyes set on peace and happiness.
but I'm sick of playing these games with them.
I'm no whore.
I'm no...

60 cent lighters and blank notebooks

in abundance.
on a sunday, trying to hide underneath the falling rain.
How...
human?

she raises her wine glass to the wall

and says, "God Bless."
memories stick to her eyelids like the veins.
she sighs and wipes the oil and dust off her neck.
She may be a slut. You might be right, you might get to her, once.
But for now, you see a strange girl you say you love, and in your hurricane of negativity and "honesty" you forget she's real. She's sitting, physically, in front of you, Kate. She didn't ask for the attention. let her enjoy it if she does- her week hasn't been great, neither has yours.but you never hear her telling you you're ugly, you can't do things.
Just fucking listen, Kate.
stop thinking she's wierd or annoying and just listen for once.
You think you're being a help but you are just hurting.
you have the bad home, she's always had the bad friends, the bad school, the bad bus the bad kids on the bus the bad names thrown at her ever since 1st grade. she's not saying its worse than what you went through, but its her struggle, and no matter what she'd want respect for that. You think you know. but you don't know the first thing about her and what she went through to get one friend and now she has people that want to go out with her for the first time and you act like she shouldn't be enjoying the attention? Suck it up, you have your armcandy. Now let her find hers in sweet peace. with support. sith positivity, and optimism,
like she did for you.
just please.
please.
LISTEN.


[it's a good thing she's doesn't even want to check what I have to say on this blogspot. My opinions don't matter to her or any of my "bffs."]

Writing es una coming.

uhm kay
this is just a blog saying I have many works of
...bloggage...
that I'm working on in word. I've been very inspired lately and felt like writing, so I'm sure when it's ready to be posted, it'll be posted like the teabagging blue m&m on a sweaty treadmill.
I love anyone who es una reading thizz!
<3

In Weilding Much Energy

You tire faster, with greater impact.
How would you feel if every time you did something you liked, you were teased. You were put down and kicked.
Here I am, actually not falling at all, thanks to you.

I Don't Know, But Thanks.

I am thinking right now. And not only about goals, or the loss of innocence and truth, or even social discomfort. All I'm thinking about doing, and it freaks me out that I am, but I just wanted to say thanks. anyone who's reading this deserves my thanks. even if you aren't reading it. every person in my life brings hints to emotions that I really ought to appreciate, whether they're good feelings or bad. it makes me feel a little better knowing a diverse group of people determine how I set my mood, instead of having a few close friends.
I'm thankful that people still believe in the goodness of the world, the gifts that hide behind the polluted ponds and murky seas. That beating heart in the mounds of dead. The Survivor in the disease.
Not only am I thankful for that, but I'm thankful people care enough about me to get off their asses in the morning to go to work and not only give me a more than liveable home, but now, a possible vacation home to go to. I'm thankful of that inspiration they instill in me to get educated and maybe one day become as successful as them, have a family of my own, and work my butt off doing what I love.
I would want to thank the lab workers, factory workers, engineers, plumbers, doctors,and everyone else I haven't mentioned for getting on their knees, hands grimy in dirt to give my spoiled self everything I have; with no expense to me but maybe a couple of dollars if it was a "want".

I came into my blog tonight expecting to talk about how unfair my pitiful teenage life was.
But my life's nothing to sneeze at; I really am lucky.
Thanks, really.
everyone.
-sara