Certain words set me off

Like fireworks, and all you need is a tiny little flame to send explosions up.
Only the explosions are silent and hidden, and only really inside of me.

But they show.
If I wore shorts, they would show.

It hurts less if you do it yourself, I've found

Fear the world, young believer.
It's going to break you one day, and if you're already scattered about in small pieces, you can at least escape it.
Break yourself, so no one else can.

I'll be gone for a little while, I think.
I don't know what to ask of you, but I'm just telling you I'll be gone.

In the spare time, feel free to message me.
On facebook, or leave comments.
I like coming home and seeing people haven't forgotten about me, but if you choose not to, I understand.

Au-revoir.

Break even

You ever felt so insecure that you 

sat alone, staring at your hands

and picking at your fingernails?

Ever felt so lost that you didn't even try

to figure out where you where, even 

though you had a map with you?

Ever felt so disoriented, that you stumbled

out of bed and fell flat on your face?

I have, 

and I haven't.

The possibilities are infinite, but do they

divide evenly between positive

and negative?

I'm wondering. 

Honourable mentions...

#1- The kid with the Charcoal Eyes. Now, there's definitely something endearing about eyes that are completely black. Only, his weren't. But somehow, they were. It's like, his skater-clothes and calm, collected personality didn't even compare to his eyes. They were just so capturing. So, so capturing, that when I found I was staring, I didn't look away.
And the thing is, neither did he.

#2- Perky Paper Girl. The cute blonde who stands outside Bay Station handing out free papers. Yesterday, she was against the wall, and she walked up to me and handed me a paper. We made eye contact, and she was so...happy. I took the paper, said thank-you, and moved on. But when I looked back, she was still looking at me. Smiling.
So today, when I got out of the station, I walked up to her and took a paper, straight from her hand, and our hands brushed. Her words told me to have a nice day, but her smile said so much more. Besides all of that, our hands brushed! I know for a fact she meant to do that, because she had the same smile I did, and I meant to do that. Besides all of that, she's absolutely gorgeous.

#3- The Old Man who Held All the Doors for Me As We Made Our Way Into the Station. He was a very kind man, very caring. Wearing a nice shirt, and well-worn pants. He said, "It's my pleasure to hold the doors for such a lovely young lady." And no, he wasn't a creep. He was a genuine man.
I trust my judgement.

#4- Madonna Asian Lady. This old lady, probably in her 70's, who's hair was starting to turn grey, probably, had dyed her hair bleach blonde. And, she's supposed to have black hair. I don't know, but I think her eyebrows gave her up. She definitely caught my attention, and kept it.

#5- The Painting of The Distraught Bird. Outside Bay Station there is this store dedicated to naturalistic paintings. Or rather, paintings of nature and nature's creatures. So naturally (excuse my pun), there were a lot of bird paintings. And there was this one of this strange-looking bird who had the most disastrous face I'd ever seen. It looked like a lion had just ripped off the lower half of his body and was holding him down by stabbing a claw into the remaining part of his body. If I had money, I would buy ten copies of this painting. It's genius.

Because, Teagan.

Somewhere in a notebook, I have a pressed flower.
It's my favourite flower, a daisy.
But I lost this notebook long ago, and for that, I am sad.

I made cookies.

I don't know what to do tomorrow. Oh, I mean today. Technically, I mean today.

I'll take my brother to camp, and then...just hang around the city the rest of the day? It's going to be HOT out. Too hot for whatever it is I'm going to wear.
Yesterday, when I dropped my brother off, his camp counsellor, Emily (who was previously my camp counsellor for years, and years) said, "I don't know how you're going to survive in jeans, man. It's sweltering."
She, herself, was sporting a pair of short-shorts.

I just nodded. I didn't know either. We moved on, talking about summer, until some more parents came up and started pestering her about their child's allergies. From behind her over-sized sunglasses, she gave me the "help me" look.
I don't know why I've always made friends with older people.
Younger people just...aren't really my type, I guess. As friends.

But getting to the point, or back to it, or whatever...
I'm going to get lost tomorrow.
Or actually, maybe I'll just ride the subway all day.

That's exactly what I'll do tomorrow.

If you know so much, why the fuck aren't you fine-just-fine?

If you're so experienced, why are you just as fucked? 

Thinking

I'm thinking.

Considering something, just a few things. Thinking about the crash. Thinking about darkness.
But that's boring shit, isn't it? That's attention-seeking, and shallow, and played out. Right?
But see, that's honestly what I'm thinking about.

I took the bus today. Went for a walk far away somewhere I could get lost.
And I did. I got lost, but I already was, mentally.
The subway's too confusing, anyway. Maps and stations and I fell asleep, so I guess I musta missed my stop.
But it's not like it matters, because I just got off at the very last stop and looked around, and all I saw was fucking shacks and dying-trees.
And that means jack, but it hit me, that I was really, physically lost.

No, I didn't break down and cry. No, I didn't ask for help.
I just sat there in my lostness, and thought.

And I thought about exactly the same things I'd think about if I was sitting in class, or at the beach, or on my couch. It doesn't matter, anyway. You can go ahead and take a guess.
I was thinking, about the same things I'm thinking about now.

I think I'll go ahead and quote Mr. Shakespeare now.
"To be, or not to be. That, is the question."

When Mr.Teacher was talking, about Shakespeare, he asked, " 'To be, or not to be. That is the question.' What do you think Shakespeare meant by that? What do you think it was about?"
And in my mind, I thought, "Suicide. The killing of oneself."
And I was right.
And so, I'll shut up now, and let you do some thinking of your own.

Seriously, give it some thought.
Are you ready to make the deal with death, or are you going to toy with lady luck and hope for the best?

Triggering. You may not want to read this.

"To provoke an emotion.


Something, in this world, anything, other than pain and hatred."

Look at this picture above for a few seconds. Doesn't that look... riveting?

Tell me now that that's not gorgeous.
Tell me now that that's now something to strive for.
Tell me now, that that's not a feeling.
You know, when you want to take the sharpest thing near you and tear your skin to irregular shreds?

Now look at this one here.
Have you ever felt like this? Like curling up in a ball, closing your eyes so tight, and never having to face the world again?

Hang your head, you are shamed.
Are you not?

All right, world, you fucking twisted bastard, you. Tell me I'll regret it and make me fucking believe it.
Pull my hands away from me, tear my thoughts out of my head.
Come on, asshole. Go ahead!
Show me that there's a reason to wake up tomorrow other than pleasing everyone else.
Prove it to me.

Make me feel something -anything!- other than this.

Look again. Come on, then. Direct your eyes down a little.

This isn't really happiness, is it? This isn't really fine.

And this?

And this?

Never mind the completely psychotic prospect that it's understandable, because everyone has their reasons. But this is getting out of hand, is it not?
No, actually, it isn't.
It's this weird thing. For me, I mean. It's this weird compulsion. It's not that I even want to at this point, I've never wanted anything but one thing.

It's like smoking for me.
Only this does way more than any simple substance ever has.
It's...so weird. I said that already, I know. But it's almost as if it feels good. When the razor bites in, it almost feels good.
Punishment, some people call it. Reward, others.

But it's mesmerizing.
And every single time...it's perfect.

Just don't do it

I think it's awfully funny when people apologise for things.

No, not funny.

I think it's stupid.

I've decided that all I really have is me. No one else particularly cares much, so I can rely on myself probably.
And I will, and it'll be fine.

Anyway. I'm off now.

Silent solitude

I don't really know what to say now that I haven't already covered.

Everyone's sad so it's not a big deal.
Everyone goes into depressive states sometimes, so it's not a big deal.
Everyone's considered it.
I know everyone has.

So really, it's not a big deal.
Silent soldiers die every day, you know?
Support the troops, and all that.

But also I've been thinking, and I think going to sleep and never waking up would be perfect.
I'd be happy in my silent solitude of slumber.
I could dream.

I think my only fear is that if I fall asleep into that slumber, I won't ever wake up and it'll be nightmares for the rest of my life. Forever.

And you know, god, I really hate nightmares a lot.

Soul-mate

If you think about it, everyone's hiding something. Obviously, anyway.
Some people are more obvious about it, and some people hide it better than others.
But everyone is pretending, putting on a mask at some point, and walking down the street, out of the house, into their cages, like nothing is wrong.

At some point, we've all lied. We've all said we're fine when really, something is bothering us.
We've all pretended to be tired because we didn't feel like explaining why we're upset.
We've all done it, so it's not a big deal, right?

And anyway, if everyone jumps off a cliff, it's a perfectly good reason to jump off yourself.

Boring ranting whatever.
But it's whatever.

I've been thinking what I'm going to say when my soul-mate moves back. What I'm going to tell her. What I'm going to hide.

You know, but all this thinking has convinced me that I shouldn't say anything.
I'll hug her, tell her I've missed her, and go on like she never left...
But I won't tell her what I really want to tell her.

And if she asks, I'll just say no.
I'll say it's fine, cool, perfect, and I'm just tired.


It'll be fine.