love letters written in chalk on rainy afternoons [entries|friends|calendar] a romantic in an age of cynicism LOVE LETTER, TYPEWRITER. [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

sometimes it's more about trying... [23 Jan 2007|07:59pm] just something i wrote a while back - my lackluster creativity at it's best... Big Dreams, Bigger Letdowns. I hate this - this horrible, uncontrollable cycle that I am powerless to stop. No matter how many times I tell myself I don’t care or it doesn’t matter, the tears still come, their saltiness streaming quickly down my face. I miss him. It doesn’t make sense. At least I can’t comprehend it. I’ve tried – a million times, every second of every day… and in the end, I always still miss him, even when I can’t quite figure out why. And then come the questions, one after another until my mind aches and body crumbles. -what did I do wrong? -why didn’t you want me? -why did you leave? It’s all so dumb – these stupid questions that persist in never-ending succession just waiting until I break and the tears start anew. I’m so foolish to assume answers will ever come. And I always still miss him, more than he will ever realize, more than he will ever know. I miss him more than I want to and even more than I’ll ever admit even to myself. When I was younger, I believed he’d come back. One day, I’d walk home from school and see his red pick-up in the driveway right where it always used to be. I’d walk in the door; he’d be sitting at the table. He’d put down his coffee, open his mouth, and… and.. then it all fades away, sometimes slowly, usually quickly, as I stand there grasping at the growing darkness, searching for some way to bring him back, to hold on to the moment for just a moment longer. Sometimes I miss him, but I’m glad he’s gone. I mean, what could he really do for me anyway? I won’t even ask what he would do. I already know the answer to that. Him leaving kind of proved it, wouldn’t you agree? But seriously, what could a man you never even got the chance to know do for you? It’s a question I’m finding increasingly difficult to answer. Perhaps that’s just the way it goes. Some days though, I’m not as strong. I’ll miss him so bad, my stomach aches. It’s an empty sort of pain, one that never goes away no matter how much I try to fill the void. It’s almost as if there’s a leak somewhere and no patch could ever fix it. ... ♥

[13 Dec 2006|05:33am] so it goes something like this - you get a letter. you give a letter. you want a letter. i send a letter. leah gave me s... because she loves me. top 10 s related items: 1. sharks (of course) 2. school friends and silly conversations and even stranger nicknames 3. summer camp and spikey <3 4. shift 8 5. storms (of the thundering variety) 6. storybook places just past the stars 7. sixty-seven degree weather 8. say anything 9. sitting on amber 10. swingsets and staying young at heart (my extended list) 11. snapshots 12. shiny objects 13. study lounges 14. shortcuts through the bathroom 15. short jokes (well, not really but the people who make them) 5 ♥

[13 Dec 2006|04:38am] i hate that he knows me so well. ♥

remembering but not reliving... [27 Nov 2006|09:04pm] [ mood | reflective ] [ music | the click of the computer keys ] Thirteen years old, a glowing ninety seven on the scale Three digits coming soon, feeling as large as a whale. Thirteen years old, already fretting about my weight. Using diets and exercise to fix the body I hate. Thirteen years old, eating only lettuce on bread. Believing even that is just more calories to shed. Thirteen years old, fainting as I walk down the halls Denying that not eating is the cause of my falls. Thirteen years old, the blackouts becoming a daily trend. Yet still dismissing worries from my family and friends. Thirteen years old, my emaciated body gaunt and thin, My ribs and spine poking out from under my skin. Thirteen years old, just a child – barely even a teen. Yet equating food with enemy and pounds with obscene. Thirteen years old – only thirteen years old… Thirteen years old, and I’m just following the mold. 2 ♥

[12 Oct 2006|12:07am] i'm starting to think about the future. i like it. ...sometimes. ♥

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