Scattered.

"I worry about you"
I worry about me too
"you do"
all the time.
"Why?"
I figured someone has to
"I worry about you"
I bet you do.


I don't know what that was, don't ask me what that was.
I don't know what that means, don't ask me what that means.
Because if I knew I'd be explaining myself right now.
So I'll make it easy on myself and say it means whatever you want it to mean. If anything at all.
That's EXACTLY my point.
What's your point?
I don't have one.

WHAT GOES ON IN MY HEAD DURING A CONVERSATION.

"Hello"
Hi. "Hi"
"Whats up?"
I want to end this now. I don't know what to say when people ask that. "Nothing much, you?"
"Same"
going nowhere "how're you?"
"Im okay. How're you?"
I've never been worse. Shoot me. "Just okay? I'm gooood :)"
"Yeah, just okay. But don't worry about it"
if you didn't want me to worry about it, then you wouldn't done what I did and said you were good. You brought it up, don't make me ask again or I'll change the subject. "You wanna talk about it?"
"No, I'm fine."
I give up then. "Are you sure."
"Kinda."
AAAGGHHHHH. Fuck this. "Well, I'm always here for you."
"Thanks"
This is when you tell me. "What friends are for."
"How was your day?"
Would you like the truth? Naw. "It was awesome! Yours?"
"it was okay."
NO. Just NO. Enough with the OKAY stuff. "Oh"
"Yup"
Well, that conversation made my day. So interesting.


My feet are freezing. It's August. And I have cold feet...not the expression. Literally cold feet.
Maybe it's the tea. I've had three cups of tea today.
Just added to the headache.


THIS BLOG IS GOING NOWHERE. NOWHERE.

I don't write because I can't sleep, I can't sleep because I write.

I have a favorite poem. I do.
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou

The things I write sound prettier in my head. Maybe I'll just keep
my thoughts in there.


I do not write in pencil. I write in pen. You can't erase pen. Life has no erasers. And my thoughts are as permanent as my choice to write them down.
...back to the "It means what you want it to mean" thing.

"Im still alive but I'm barely breathing, just praying to a god that I don't believe in"

I read my journal from exactly a year ago. I've changed so much.
I hope to god I don't look back at the one I have now and see myself as some stupid clueless girl. Because that's what I was. All I wrote was things like, "And omg! He's like so cute!" actual quote. I wrote that on July 27th 2009.


WHERE AM I GOING WITH THIS?
Nowhere.

"Even though I really love you, I'm gonna smile 'cause I deserve to"

Do you ever look back and ask yourself if you really loved him? Or love him.
There comes a time when that's necessary..right? I don't. Didn't. Won't. I thought I did.
But it was best friend love.
I hope.
Me and my mixed emotions.

I spent a month writing a poem. Scribbling it on my hand, painting it in my head. A month if switching words in every line because it never sounded right.
I spent two hours reading a response Dissecting every line to figure out what to say to it. How to react. So I react the right way
I spent until I started writing this writing a poem. All I want to do with it is change it.
I spent my day watching Pushing Daisies.

Headache.
Sleep.

I can close my eyes, but I won't fall asleep.
I can count anything, but I won't count sheep.
But I can grip the sleepless nights
use them to think, not say
because I don't think during the day
the melody of silence
the release of being alone
I hate being on my own
but sometimes my body needs a break
so I wait
I can close my eyes
but my mind keeps me awake
until I see the sunlight
and the night sky break.
Sometimes I pull myself out of bed
right there and then
what's the point in sleeping
if you're never dreaming?