looking at pictures Emily posted on her myspace from new years...

every time i see Suvy, i miss his so much that i feel sick to my stomach.





i need to see him. i need this to happen, NOW, immediately, not in another month...


FUCK.

Feeling: nostalgic

i sit with my eyes closed and think and wonder; i sit and i fall full of blood that no one will see--invisibility is a great superpower dont you think? welcome to the rest of your life. tonight is like very other page, every square on the calendar, every streak of lipstick and every molecule of beer that lingers on my breath.

people are losing their minds around me. the world is falling to pieces, and i sit back and blow smoke and smile on the sidewalk. nothing matters, nothing affects me, no prostitute or pimp or person can make me anyything, no one can force me, nothing nothing nothing.

IT'S A LIE. NO AYE BANDA--there is no band. it is all an illusion.

an allusion;

to what i'm not quite sure.



i am fucking FULL of cliches and tired worn out words, i am every fucking sterotype and statistic--might as well just kill me now, she screams. my fists are full of bashed in faces, broken bone, bruised knuckles and rose-red lips that smile wet with blood... i am my own god, i am my own fucking punching bag, i am the floor you throw yourself down on and puke uncontrollably until the poison in your blood takes you away to somewhere that doesn't exist. I'M AN ALCOHOLIC!!! sing it scream it live it why aspire toward this dead-end? railways and highways and low low low ways i find my way through, sleeping on concrete and cardboard and in allies and corners and awnings makes me something i can't ever explain.

hurt and hardship makes me better, getting smacked around makes me smile, what the fuck has happened to everything? stop me, i'm out in the cold! i remember those nights, sitting in the basement and singing the band's song--i remember those times all too countless that i slept on the subway and spanged on the corner--i get too used to sleeping on the couch and stumbling into the kitchen...

what is supposed to become of me? what can possibly happen, how can this work out, if i am such a fragmented picture? every landscape i try to stand in seems out of character, out of place, out of my element--YOU'RE OUT OF YOUR FUCKING ELEMENT DONNIE!--everywehre i go i'm missing something, someone, somewhere.

where where where....!?

help me find it someday, please, i don't know what home is.

(321): right before he came he said "im gonna fill your stocking"

(617): sounds like you fell off the wagon.
(1-617): fuck falling off. at this point, the wagon is a dot on the horizon.

(386): You going to midnight mass? we need a dd

(512): Currently standing on top of my parents leather couch with no pants on playing helicoptor with my penis. You?

He's just so mmm.