Grandma's Anniversary

75 years ago, Grandma and Grandpa eloped.

For Sam, with Love and Squalor

Fuck, I'm an idiot.

I guess it really was all my fault. Never should have told you that I was thinking of terminating my life. Nope, you can't stand me now. Let's see if you show up on Saturday.

Me

I am Failure's self fulfilling prophesy

If You Really Knew Me

If you really knew me, you'd know that I learned to care for myself and one small child at the age of 6, because I had no choice. If you really knew me, you'd know how much it hurt to call Grammy on the phone and tell her that Mum was gone, for good. You'd know how hard it has been to listen to Mum speak of Grammy now, ten years later, with that spiteful tone I've come to know so well. You'd know that I've thought good an hard about life, and most of the time, I've managed to come out alive. You'd know that it isn't easy to be tired, because you are stressed, and depressed, and an insomniac, and then to get to school and have all of your friends treat you like that "lovable slacker" the class idiot-- when you've worked your whole life from dusk to dawn just to stay alive, to get to where you are--- or at least if you knew that I felt that way, you might at least pretend to understand, "...alright, okay, I get it...". If you knew me, you'd know that I feel like a stranger in my own skin, and that it isn't easy, but it can be beautiful at times to be when you've gone through those moments of nearly not-being. If you really knew me, you'd stop looking at me that way, with that too-knowing-to-get-it face. I think I can read that expression, at least. I fear failure, I fear it more than death, and I hate loneliness, and I fear people to death.

If you really knew me, would you still want to know me?

Chorus

only in chorus can a grown male sing the soprano part without making things rather awkward. i love it here. i could stay all day. their voices, rising, falling, the singing... like no joy to be known.

esteban is on new meds, so am i. we are both just two headcases, trying to survive this life. boots is my savior, the big brother i never had. every girl needs a big brother to fill that frightening space in her arms, where no father or little brother could ever go.

i do believe i love esteban, but in a teenaged way with my half developed brain.

My Musings

Depression is my muse. Music is my oxygen. You are my narcotic blood, you are my substance.

Romeo and Juliet live to regret it

thats what happens when it goes that fast.

a couple days of silence, the positive impressions fade fast. i dont mean to bitch, and i dont want to be clingy, i just want to know so bad what happened, but what good would that do me? oh, love is such a flighty thing. i was still in the infatuation phase, but he grew out of me as fast as i feared it would be, and now i dont know if im overreacting or standing over a dead horse in the middle of the desert. god that was quick and sweet but not painless by any stretch of the imagination. im pretty sure im not overreacting. he met someone today, and he hasnt ever felt this way before apparently, but neither did i. oh well, call it a learning expirience or something mockingly mild. heres to the first of a million heartbreaks. i dont even dare to hope that it isnt over, because it is, hes never felt as he did meeting whoever she is today, and now im obsolete, used, and dissatisfied. oh woe is me. we didnt die i guess. it isnt pleasent even so. god, i cant hate him, i cant hate her, whoever she is for making him feel this way. i can only miss the way it feels to be the one to make him feel that way, if i ever really did.

Oh, to be Remembered

last saturday night

couldnt turn out the light,

well i physically could,

but it shon in my mind

until the first of morning.

i read each word with a smile

feeling too great to consider

that minds change all the time

but, oh that is bitter.

but its probably right,

because thats the way it went

now it pains me, the silence,

just one friday later.

hormones have control,

its not that you are evil

its just how it feels, naturally incapable

mother nature is a whore

and try as i might

i cant take being ignored

its flight, fuck, and fight

and then its all over

but try as i might

i cant seem to get over this.

congratulations,

you got me good,

dont fuck with my head

tell me just how you feel

help me stop loving you.

oh how i hate your guts

infatuation

oh, i dont hate you estranged love,

i just hate the situation.

we dont need to fight,

maybe i was demanding

i dont want to stay up tonight,

thinking, so tell me,

we are just short on understanding.

trying to figure you out

without your help

trying to live through my doubt

but now theyre confirmed

i am hating

Things Fall Apart

That's just what happens.

Angst Blog...needs a break.

time to think positive. the choir is amazing. their broken chords resonating off of these high walls, they make me feel religeous, uplifted. im an athiest. typing here on my cell phone, i must look like i am texting, how rude. how could anyone. they stand up and face each other, basses and sopranos, boys and girls, making music. this is life, this is love, this is power, this is music. life is good.

If I am going to do nothing, I might as well do it right

Lalalalalalalala.

Homework is a pain in the butt.

I can't focus on anything. No, it's not facebook. Even when the computer is off I stare unproductively into space.

Lost all creativity? Perhaps, perhaps. Feeling like shit randomly? It's to be expected of me. One moment, all is well. I am the happiest young empty-head in all of SmogVille. Then, suddenly, I am here, being an "emo douche bag" and telling the world that I am unhappy, all of a sudden, for no apparent reason.

Get a life.

Get a life.

Get a life.

Get a life.. Fuck.

The Good Stuff

Esteban.

Stan is in college, and it doesn't suck.

Sam isn't talking to me, but she didn't manage to hit an artery, so everything's okay.

Mum said she is considering beginning to forgive my grandmother for whatever injustices she feels were done, all because of Church. I been without faith since the age of seven, but if anything can move my mother to forgive, it is good in my book. I go to church on Sunday with her and pretend to sense a spirit, and then try to telepathically send my "positive" vibes and well-wishing brainwaves to everyone around me, because they are praying for me, and I know that they must feel something.

Grandma cried for joy, having lived to be 95 and here to present me with the gifts she set aside for me, as an infant, to have on my 16th birthday.

Dylan is taking me to the premier of his movie tomorrow.

I am going to see Esteban tomorrow.

Esteban kissed me today, and I licked his fingers, and loved the taste of salt and living, and I loved the smell of his breath, it was minty and yet different from your average minty gum scent, it was beautiful, and he was gorgeous, and he was going Vampire on my neck, and if that was the joy of just having him touch my skin there, then I can't imagine what it is like to have sex.

He is heaven. I don't know what he sees in me. I will probably bore him in a week, I'm not that interesting, but for now I just want to trace the intricacies of his beautiful living face, and I was to taste the salt on his skin, and I want to go insane with my adolescent hormones raging through every blood vessel and the charge that explodes through every neuron, neurotransmitter, and synapse.

Today was perfect in every way.

I got two hours of sleep last night, wide awake with excitement, then I woke up already tingling with energy and momentum, and then I was at school, and it seemed like ages waiting for him. Then, he was there. It wasn't my wild imagination, he was there, and I wanted to cave into him.

I'm just as dramatic as ever.

But, I am finally beginning to understand Romeo and Juliet. I was their #1 critic last year, I argued "infatuation, it's only this, and nothing near to love they are feeling", but now my teen-aged brain understands the exact sort of throb they were feeling. We really met last week, but already it feels like we've always been, and it's completely right.

I doubt we will last, I mean-- look at poor Juliet. If I don't get over myself and learn to slow-the-fuck-down I'll end up just like her; dead or worse.

I don't want to slow down. Every fibre of my being calls me on, and I am a slave to that. I love the feeling I feel for him right now. I love every moment of his presence. Now I understand that hollow feeling of alone that for all these years I never understood. I never knew loneliness was the meaning, but now I feel the tug of future loneliness, but more than that, I feel the gravity of all I feel with him, and Esteban alone, at this very moment.

It's almost like it was written in the stars. I feel for Romeo,

"I fear, too early: for my mind misgives

Some consequence yet hanging in the stars

Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

With this night's revels and expire the term

Of a despised life closed in my breast

By some vile forfeit of untimely death.

But He, that hath the steerage of my course,

Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen."

Do those stars that shine so bright tonight, hidden behind their shroud of smog truly wink of knowing fate, or do they wink in the wake of this "love", as they would have it.

Good god, I hope it means something, it really does feel that way. My first. My first.

I love to put my hand in his, so that we are palm to palm, and I secretly recite my lines in my head:

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

First the Bad News (Good Riddance)

On the last night of my fifteenth year, I planned my suicide. I feared what was to come, or maybe I just didn't even want to stick around to see it get any worse... so I wrote this note to my best friend Sam. Sam, if you are reading this (which I sort of doubt)-- I'm sorry. I needed to post this here to get it off my conscience, and I suppose this would seem counter productive, but it really does help to expose myself from the inside out sometimes. It'll help me get over myself.

So, here it is, word for word, from that stupid suicidal message I sent you. I hope you don't hate me for this, but I think you do, and I know I deserve it.

Fern James Sirius Wilson 12 September at 19:07

Well, I suppose it's time to start over again. Funny, this is a probable end. It's been a while since we've really spoken. I hope all has been well since then. Actually, that's a sort of empty phrase, now isn't it. I'm sorry, but I couldn't think or anything better to say. I miss you Sammy. I miss a lot of things. Tomorrow is my Birthday, everything went wrong today. Isn't it pathetic, how I come to you when I am at my lowest point, when there have been so many better days I could have chosen to have spoken of. Sadly, I'm that type of attention needing parasites. Don't mind me, please. I only wanted to say "I tried", and I failed. Like I always have seemed to. This isn't the end of the world... far from it. One end is the start of so many things. Funny, as I come to the end, all I want to do is start over again...so I will.
It draws to the end, to start over again.
It draws to the end, to start over again.
All things considered, I picked a good time to try. Start again, or die trying. Try dying, or start again. I have options, options, a million options. This is not my last resort, this is just a small comfort in knowing. I need never go without having given my soul to somebody. Hopefully it isn't too heavy.
I never forgot what it was to be a twin, I swear I didn't I never considered such a thing. I never forgot that there was hope, or love, or so much more in the world. I just was too tired to think of them any more.
I'm sorry for everything, except I'm not sorry for you. You were the best twin any friend could have asked for.
I'm not dying, I'm not ending a life. I'm just looking for the beginning, at the 16th circle, on the other side of the final verse.

Yesterday a child came out to wander
Caught a dragonfly insider a jar
Fearful when the skies are full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star.

And the seasons, they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down.
We're captive on a carousel of time.
We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came
And go round and round and round in the circle game.

Now the child's grown 10 times round the seasons
Skated over 10 clear frozen streams
Words like "when you're older" must appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams

And the seasons, they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down.
We're captive on a carousel of time.
We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came
And go round and round and round in the circle game.

Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels through the town
And they tell him "take your time it wont be long now"
Till you drag your feet to slow that circle down

And the seasons, they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down.
We're captive on a carousel of time.
We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came
And go round and round and round in the circle game.

Now the child of yesterday's grown twenty
although some dreams are lost, some grandures coming true
there'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
before the last revolving year is through

And the seasons, they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down.
We're captive on a carousel of time.
We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came
And go round and round and round in the circle game.


Sixteen Springs and Sixteen Summers
Gone Now.

Strange isn't it?

Sixteen Winters of regret for a young mother, and Sixteen Falls for me.

Sixteen years of the reds and yellows. Sixteen, and yet; I am a child.

I don't expect anyone to read all of this. It is not ready, I am not ready for life. Stupid, isn't it. I've spun in circles and I can't seem to find any balance, after all this time.

No, I'm not dying.

At the beginning of this message I died, and by the end I'd circled back around to the child with the captured dragonfly.

Actually, again, you've made me better. Without even speaking to me, I think of you, and I remember--- I've got to be around until we are old wasian ladies trying to count back the circles together.


It hurts so much right now, when everything is wrong, and I'm not ready to spin circles in my new phase of life--- I'm not, I'm not ready at all.

I'm crying, for what reason? Plenty of reasons. I can't even narrow them down to 3.

I've been living a figure 8. Today I went to Church, and it was Sunday. Tonight, I have more homework than I can dream of doing.

Tomorrow my alarm will go off at 4:30. I will silently stumble about in an attempt to get collected for school. I'll shower, and feel almost better, but then I'll get to school, and in AP US History I will probably just try not to cry when they do "Today in History". Happy Birthday Justine, Happy Birthday Fiona Apple.

Make no mention of me, I am bruised, I am rattled.

I am lame, I am childish. Yet, I want nothing at all but not to finish this last stage in life with stale tears in my eyes.

I hate being dramatic.

No, I am dramatic. I hate me.

But, your likeness to me softens the hatred I see in my mirrored eyes.

I can hardly wait to see what tonight will bring. Whether it is the 16th year, or if it will come for me--- I don't know. I wont remember, either way, by morning.

Goodbye, or maybe Farewell.

Either see you later, or I hope all stays well.

Either don't bother responding, there will be nobody to receive another letter of interaction. Or, maybe we will speak again, I hope, some day.

I hate feeling like we've fallen out or something.

I hate feeling though, in general, fucking beautiful substance of being--- torture, truth, lies, and believing.

Goodnight, Sam. This isn't goodbye, I think. Maybe it is, I suppose my mind and body will decide that. I don't know. I just don't know.

Well, there it is. There I am, from the inside out.

My Weakness - Requiem For A Dream

This song is rather depressing and uplifting all at once. Put it into any number of contexts-- it is versatile.


He says he's off drugs now. For good. Good god, I hope I can believe him. I hope she keeps him off of them.

Losing out isn't what is so acutely painful; it was seeing him turn into someone I didn't know, from afar. I only caught little glimpses of him, and what I saw scared me.

He told me not to abuse drugs, now didn't he? He said, don't OD. Right?

Well, that was some example.

Good god, I hope he means it when he says he's done with them.

Turning 16

I'm scared.

Don't ask me what for, but I am.

Of turning 16 in nine days, being dead, being older.

They are all the same thing.

I wanted to stop aging when I was ten years old. I stood in the breakfast room on my thirteenth birthday and said "Oh, Man, before I know it, I'll be fifteen years old. I can hardly think about it." Too scary. It still is, and I'm 15. And I'll be 16 before I even get used to being 15. I wish I was 13 again. I wish I was 14.

I remember, the day of my 13th birthday, I took a quiz in Biology, and would have gotten 100% if I hadn't missed #13. Then, I knew that it would be a shitty transition, that all of the transitions afterward would be respectively shitty and missing, and too fast, too confusing, and quickly fired from point blank.

I should have known, but I did know. I still do know.

Here's to being 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

I see you too, Miss 21 year old me.

Shit, that was fast, what the hell happened? How did you get so old so fast?

Take a lesson from the past, and a word of caution.

DON'T LET IT PASS YOU BY!

Good luck with aging, wrinkles, and sagging tits.

Love,

You.

Reasons To Hate Me

1. I whine, like this, a lot.
2. I am pretty damn ugly.
3. I am getting pretty chunky.
4. I am pretty stupid.
5. I pulled down our class average with my stupidity.
6. I can't dress like a human being.
7. I am a subconscious attention whore; I think I am depressed and suicidal, and ugly, and stupid, when I probably just want attention or something.
8. I still have urges to cut, two years after I realized that being stupid and branding myself for life wasn't going to solve any of my problems, or make me any friends.
9. I am a leech, I pull down lab groups with my uselessness and the fact that I am incapable of doing anything right, even if I try.
10. I waste time like this.
11. I want to be a good student, I admire the good students, I thumb my nose at Marijuana and Ecstasy and the Parties that I'm not invited to, while I secretly envy those who at least get to feel for a moment like they are a part of something cool and big.
12. I want and want and want.
13. I hate aging, with a passion.
14. I hate being patronized.
15. I hate feeling old.
16. I hate the fact that I will be Sixteen Years Old in less than ten days.
17. I hate the fact that school starts on Wednesday.
18. I already feel like I have forgotten something, and that I will fail, start off on the wrong foot, and prove what am idiot I am to the world again (not that they needed further evidence of my idiocy).
19. I plan to kill myself after my Grandmother, the one person who truly loves me for who I am, completely, and who has always loved me, is gone. She is 95.
20. I am the root of all evil.
21. My friends all know I am stupid, I make it clear that I am stupid, and yet I still feel hurt, secretly, when I am made to feel even stupider by one of their statements of the obvious.
22. My friends are all wonderful, talented, hard working, and perfect.
23. I work hard, achieve nothing, and want everything.
24. I am a nobody with few to no reasons to live.
25. I am a fat-ass who consumes her weight in an attempt to fill her vacuous soul.
26. I am empty headed, uncreative, and unoriginal.
27. I am a whiny, melodramatic, and short sighted teenager.
28. I am not in love.
29. Not many love me.
30. A few hate me, maybe more.
31. I feel like I have no meaning, no significance, like if I was gone nobody would notice, and those who did would not think of it for long.
32. I always feel inadequate.
33. I always feel ugly.
34. I always feel unprepared, even when I have prepared and rehearsed my lines.
35. I am selfish.
36. I feel victimized, even though I have not been victimized as much as some people who have done many great things without whining about their lousy upbringing.
37. I have no discipline.
38. I want to identify with the academic elite, but I envy my partying friends who have "lives".
39. I don't fit in with the academic elite.
40. I am not rich enough to be invited to their parties.
41. I am not cool enough to be invited to "real" parties.
42. I am not talented enough to give my parents anything to brag about to other parents.
43. I would be embarrassed and ashamed if my parents ever did brag about me.
44. I am never satisfied with what I've got.
45. I always envy others with other lives.
46. I don't remember who I am, or who I want to be.
47. I don't know anything good about me.
48. I don't know what it is, exactly, but there is something that I just generally hate about me.
49. I hate school.
50. I am jealous of people who seem to be comfortable in almost any situation, and who seem to drift through any social medium.
51. I am jealous of people who have better things to do than mingle with others.
52. I am jealous of the beautiful and skinny girls.
53. I am jealous of the rich boys.
54. I am jealous of the happy people.
55. I am jealous of the successful people.
56. I want to be more like all of them, and less like this amorphous brainless mass of nothing I have become.
57. I want to be more like who I was before I was nothing.
58. I want to be myself, an individual, and someone.
59. I don't want to be singled out and shunned any-more.
60. I don't want to have to deal with the guys who just want to mess around with me, just for the fun of it, the ones who just want to make me look stupid to make them look funny.
61. I don't want to hate.
62. I don't want to love.
63. I don't want to be numb.
64. I don't like Peanut Butter.
65. I don't like meat.
66. I don't like leather.
67. I am sometimes tempted to look at leather book binding.
68. I want to revert to skinny and anorexic like I used to be.
69. I don't want to revert, because of my brain, which I want more than anything to be growing.
70. I should be asleep.
71. I've accomplished nothing.
72. There are two days left before school starts.
73. I want to cry when I think of returning to the nest of my growing insecurities.
74. I want to die, and want to live, and want to be loved and noticed and ignored and invisible all at once.
75. I am Bi-polar.
76. I should have been born a boy, but instead I was born a girl, too assertive and argumentative for any man's taste.
77. When I cooled down and became quiet, and depressed, and empty they didn't care for me any more than they did before I was stupid.
78. I can't seem to stop being stupid now.
79. I should be asleep.
80. I can't sleep.
81. I'm wasting time here.
82. I'm stupid.
83. Time is running out.
84. I hate myself and I want to die.
85. I hate myself
86. I hate myself
87. I hate myself
88. I hate myself
89. I hate myself.
90. I want to change my name, but then I'd feel like a changeling.
91. I feel rather stupid and depressed and then I'm suddenly happy.
92. I'm not worth anything.
93. I have no money.
94. My ambitions lead me to disappointment.
95. I can't do anything.
96. I am slow.
97. I am melodramatic.
98. I must crave attention.
99. I must somehow want to be dramatic.
100. I am a lonely piece of shit.