ubrokemyheart
they call me melo yellow...
melo used to be so cool before it fucking crashed.
:-(
:-(
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(no title)
why do some people think that taking pictures of themselves in mirrors or holding up a camera is art? why do these people think they are great photographers when they manage to snag a pic of a kid doing a kid thing. why do they think they are great at taking pictures when they capture someone smiling. why do they think they are great at taking pictures when they snap a pic of someone off-center? why do they think they can take pictures and ask for criticism when they just plain suck. this is my criticism:
put down your camera & walk away...you FUCKING SUCK!
why can I say something about this? because THIS IS MY FUCKING JOURNAL! im talking about one person in particular. she isnt my melo friend. but she used to criticize the shit out of everything out there. REAL art and then she tries to fucking mimic it...and does it...POORLY. shes a fucking waste. i hate that once she left school and no one from mcallen really knew her for what she was...she put on this whole little "im a photographer" act. please...everyone in the valley is a "photographer". go take pictures of plants or raindrops.
"heres a picture of my boyfriends tattoo blended in with my face..."
"heres a picture of an open door..."
"heres a picture of a building..."
"heres a picture of someone eating..."
"let me rip off the bubble-gum series..."
"lets add diffuse glow to the picture...then it'll be art..."
yeah...i gave it away as to who this person is...but i just fucking hate how much of an uninspired hypocrite she is. she just tries too hard. everyone has their own interpretation of art...and mine is that HERS FUCKING BLOWS!! how many times have i said that?
im sorry if she is your friend...FUCK THAT! im not sorry if she is your friend. she is one sorry excuse of a liar and a girl.
// end immature rant.
why can I say something about this? because THIS IS MY FUCKING JOURNAL! im talking about one person in particular. she isnt my melo friend. but she used to criticize the shit out of everything out there. REAL art and then she tries to fucking mimic it...and does it...POORLY. shes a fucking waste. i hate that once she left school and no one from mcallen really knew her for what she was...she put on this whole little "im a photographer" act. please...everyone in the valley is a "photographer". go take pictures of plants or raindrops.
"heres a picture of my boyfriends tattoo blended in with my face..."
"heres a picture of an open door..."
"heres a picture of a building..."
"heres a picture of someone eating..."
"let me rip off the bubble-gum series..."
"lets add diffuse glow to the picture...then it'll be art..."
yeah...i gave it away as to who this person is...but i just fucking hate how much of an uninspired hypocrite she is. she just tries too hard. everyone has their own interpretation of art...and mine is that HERS FUCKING BLOWS!! how many times have i said that?
im sorry if she is your friend...FUCK THAT! im not sorry if she is your friend. she is one sorry excuse of a liar and a girl.
// end immature rant.
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(no title)
I'm done with people like you. The people that smile and wave to me, but inside hate me. Why don't you grow some balls and tell me what you really think?
Tell me what you think about me.
A secret. A burden. A guilt. Anything.
Tell me what you think about me.
A secret. A burden. A guilt. Anything.
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(no title)
My blood pressure has risen significantly many times throughout the week.
I don't even know where to begin.
As of RIGHT NOW, it's too much to handle. I can't cry without looking like some fucking hopeless mutt and I can't whine because people are people and they get tired. Its all these fucking little things, I let them slide and right now I am crying my fucking eyes out because I've held them all in. I want to punch people in the face, I want to run away, I want to fucking fuck but I'm afraid I'll be too rough come this time. I want to see old faces, to know that they are alive and well. I want to reconcile with those few others. It's been two years since they passed and it hasn't hit me. I still have the mindset that we just lost touch and one day we will run into each other again and catch up. That we will drink on matt's balcony again, that we will skinny-dip. I miss having real friends. This bullshit right now? They aren't friends. I have those who lie to me, others who are back-stabbing fucks, and others who just fucking don't get me. I am tired of trying to prove myself. I find myself cooped up doing my online courses, thinking about this shit, fighting with my family, and having no real friends...all while these other fucks are getting drunk or sleeping. Sleep...oh how I miss it. I am just fed up. It's too much for me right now. I have quit coke...but right now? It doesn't sound bad to make the guy walk a few blocks for me to score. I so badly want to feel euphoric, satisfied with something--for once. I haven't felt this low in a while. What would make everything okay right now would be a shoulder. But that's too much for me to ask because I don't have friends. I don't have anyone I could count on right now. And typing this...might be a little too much for me.
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of course we can't be friends
charlie finally called me today. it's been awhile...
-sigh-
i dont know what to say anymore...to anyone in general. im so dissapointed in them and in me for letting myself trust people.
-miss ruby
-sigh-
i dont know what to say anymore...to anyone in general. im so dissapointed in them and in me for letting myself trust people.
-miss ruby
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you know you who are; read, and enjoy.
dear liar, wisher, faux-artist, quick to call someone harsh names:
so you want to know the truth, huh? i wouldn't trust you with a quarter, let alone the truth. see, i really do think it's funny the way you can never be happy. you can find every negative aspect of this world in one glance. that you could make friends, and lose them in two weeks time. i think it's funny the way you try to twist truths, to make yourself seem better. because you and i both know, they all have something you wish you had. that boy for an example? how about that thin body and flawless face? hmm...how about that looooooong list of LJ friends for kicks? huh? any of these sound familiar?
i think it's sad the way you have to ruin it for everyone else, because frankly, youre ruined. how misery loves company, but youre more hysterics, and you prefer parties and alcohol. the way no one will ever genuinely care about you, while you act the way you do. do you think it's something in our lives that you just have got to have? does jealousy really consume a person so fully?
i think it's horrible, how you spin lies about lives you never could touch. the way you think you know, or do you really think it at all? do you even think, for that matter?
but really it's funny; how you think youre so fucking real.
truthfully? youre nothing.
and it kills you that i know.
sincerely,
me.
p.s. dont give me your damn wit, its not even well thought out. you look like an idiot.
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see your face every place where i walk in, i hear your voice whenever i'm talking
seek calm and quiet, to a point where isolation from all my friends is needed. my silence and refusal to go out, to be seen and to be heard; all of this is draining out all my energy. all i want to do is drown in my daydreams and my vivid imagination of what i perceive the world to be. my words rage in my chest, but the air is empty of the noise my mind create. the only indulgence i allow myself is the internet, a delightful sin that i fear would soon be removed.
lately i fear so much to be seen in public. i fear of people phoning me. i fear of even the slightest bit of connection with the outside world. the internet is the only way i feel safe, not seen nor heard, my mere presence barely felt in this vast world of its own. my words here barely make a ripple, just another particle vibrating in this expanse. i'm always drained of energy now, finding it a grueling task to swim barely 30 laps in a 25m pool in comparision to my previous 100 laps. i often question what's wrong with me, prep talking myself before i leave my house into the city crawling with life, i was never like this before. sweat drops line my forehead, shaking and wearing large clothing to hide me from their stares.
i just want to be invisible, the one staring from outside the glass window.
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(i always thought you were ugly)
I was suspended for three days...
I know I need reasons to not leave class; reasons that will effect my social and personal life. Ones that will keep me attentive to my duties as a student. Because as a student, being sidetracked is an easy thing for me to do. I'm working on it... because I know the importance of it, and I consciously remind myself everyday. I suppose that lack of personal transportation could help me transform my priorities, but knowing me- I will just find ways around it. Ways to get away with my old patterns, instead of improving them. If you take something away from me, my initial thoughts are ones that desperately look for ways to continue getting what I want, because my ridiculous pride tells me I can't be beat. My compulsiveness is constantly looking for easy roads around everything, and it usually succeeds, but leaves me with an unwanted amount of mess in the end, because I always waste my opportunities to straighten up. Now as I am writing all of this... I question the significance of any castigation my parents have given me, because all I do is scheme. I get away with it, but I simultaneously dig myself deeper... until I've gotten far down enough, that I find myself neck-deep in self-realization that in the end; helps me more than any rules my parents have ever assigned to me. What a lovely cycle this is, rigid and unsteady- and I put myself through it constantly, over and over again. Over the years, I doubt much has changed. I've grown. Just not in the most recognizable of ways.
I have dying itches to lash out at my mother and father. To scream at them. I'm tired of hearing what they have to say to me-- "I need to be home." I need to be "helping the situation." I need to "stop avoiding things by being out all the time." Yes, I won't deny I have a long list of scapegoats... but... (Those of you who know me personally, know, that I have the most ridiculous curfews, and that for the most part I always have, so when my parents tell me things like this it's almost impossible for me to even begin wondering how the fuck they figure I am out too much.)
But, I don't deny the need for me to be home. I know that I'm constantly wanting to be away. My goal is to learn how to sit still and fight off distractions. Learn how to deal. But I'd like to learn how to deal on my own, because that's the only way my mind will be at ease with it all.
The fact that all I want to do is tell my dad to "fuck off" half the time, breaks my heart- but it's true. He left, and this is not his home anymore. Something about him telling me to be here more often, and something about his complaints against my behavior, and the explanations he gives me over the phone...seems so faulty. My tears swell when I hear his voice.
I don't want to hear what they have to say right now. I don't want to talk.
ATTN everyone: don't expect to see much of me/have plans with me for about a week or so. Probably longer than that if I can learn some self-control and just focus for awhile. I'm really going to try.
got a new camera:
i dont sleep much anymore
I know I need reasons to not leave class; reasons that will effect my social and personal life. Ones that will keep me attentive to my duties as a student. Because as a student, being sidetracked is an easy thing for me to do. I'm working on it... because I know the importance of it, and I consciously remind myself everyday. I suppose that lack of personal transportation could help me transform my priorities, but knowing me- I will just find ways around it. Ways to get away with my old patterns, instead of improving them. If you take something away from me, my initial thoughts are ones that desperately look for ways to continue getting what I want, because my ridiculous pride tells me I can't be beat. My compulsiveness is constantly looking for easy roads around everything, and it usually succeeds, but leaves me with an unwanted amount of mess in the end, because I always waste my opportunities to straighten up. Now as I am writing all of this... I question the significance of any castigation my parents have given me, because all I do is scheme. I get away with it, but I simultaneously dig myself deeper... until I've gotten far down enough, that I find myself neck-deep in self-realization that in the end; helps me more than any rules my parents have ever assigned to me. What a lovely cycle this is, rigid and unsteady- and I put myself through it constantly, over and over again. Over the years, I doubt much has changed. I've grown. Just not in the most recognizable of ways.
I have dying itches to lash out at my mother and father. To scream at them. I'm tired of hearing what they have to say to me-- "I need to be home." I need to be "helping the situation." I need to "stop avoiding things by being out all the time." Yes, I won't deny I have a long list of scapegoats... but... (Those of you who know me personally, know, that I have the most ridiculous curfews, and that for the most part I always have, so when my parents tell me things like this it's almost impossible for me to even begin wondering how the fuck they figure I am out too much.)
But, I don't deny the need for me to be home. I know that I'm constantly wanting to be away. My goal is to learn how to sit still and fight off distractions. Learn how to deal. But I'd like to learn how to deal on my own, because that's the only way my mind will be at ease with it all.
The fact that all I want to do is tell my dad to "fuck off" half the time, breaks my heart- but it's true. He left, and this is not his home anymore. Something about him telling me to be here more often, and something about his complaints against my behavior, and the explanations he gives me over the phone...seems so faulty. My tears swell when I hear his voice.
I don't want to hear what they have to say right now. I don't want to talk.
ATTN everyone: don't expect to see much of me/have plans with me for about a week or so. Probably longer than that if I can learn some self-control and just focus for awhile. I'm really going to try.
got a new camera:
i dont sleep much anymore
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dance with me
One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you, don
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(no title)
school is wretched and i am getting sick of having to "dumb-down" my vocabulary and speak in laymen
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REPOST ON DEMAND BY m1sf1tt3d_fr33k
I wrote this on the date above. a certain person asked me to repost it because they had liked it from before.
Jimmy
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back to the begining
Whenever I smoke I contemplate my whole life in that ten-twenty minutes. Something about flaming tobacco between your lips, smoke pouring into your lungs that makes you contemplate every little fucking thing in your life. And I almost cried. I thought to myself that Regi was probably having another wild night of mass semen consumption. Karla was probably doing the same. Krysta was probably out with Loren. HE was probably behind his house, with a cancer stick in between those gorgeous lips of his. And Manika was at the beach getting trashed with numerous people.
And then I got to thinking what a fucking invalid I am. When I’m not in complete and total agony with muscle spasms, I’m thinking to myself that I must be downright disgusting and should go shower and put on makeup for the lack of people that are coming over to see me. I slipped into the worst mood ever during this particular cigarette.
I couldn’t take the world another second. So I’m going to escape the only way I can anymore-- painting.
These walls have sealed me inside. I feel trapped... and need to make a prison break.
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happy six year meloversary!