I don't take genital footsteps.

Do you remember who we used to be? When life revolved around the next episode of Kenan and Kel and bedtime stories were the bomb? Do you remember when having a good time Saturday night meant staying up late to watch Mad TV and falling asleep on the floor? What has happened to us? I miss hide and seek. I miss dress-up. I miss Scooby Doo training bras, damn it!
So dislike me you small town nothings. I will never understand how you are content with what you have here. I am conceited as hell and I have every right to be. I know who I am. I haven't needed half a lifetime to sort my shit out. I'll give you reason to fucking dissaprove of me so that your hate is well founded. I'm leaving this town behind some day beacuse I'm too damn good to grace you with my presence any longer than I'm required. I cuss excessively when I rant. Eating makes me feel so damn uncomfortable. I've been watching R rated movies with sex scenes as far back as I can remember.(Oops I just said sex... how fucking controversial of me). I don't go a day without excessive amounts of eyeliner. PBS is my favorite television station. I connect more with little kids than I do with my peers. I love tattoos. I am a self-admitted bitch. I am a notorious insomniac. I joke about sexual realtions with my friend's dads. I'm a fucking Gov. School drop-out. I can't cook, but I can mix some killer alcholic beverages. My best friends are guys. I get sick easily. I flaunt what I got when I feel like it. I'm addicted to those conversation heart candies. I hate my bastard grandfather with a passion. Oh, I think meat is fucking disgusting and I'll be sure to give you all the gruesome deatils as you choke it down your pie hole.
And I'm a bad influence? If you say so, small-town scum. Considering I don't touch drugs or alcohol. Considering I don't make out with, or better yet fuck every guy that says a word to me. I'm the person who longs for those rainy-day sleepovers, remember? I don't care if you hate me. Go ahead. I'm proud of you trailer trash hillbillies if you can fathom an idea that complex. If you choose to stay in this town, that is your shit. But let those around you decide for themsleves. So welcome to me. No more apologies. I'm not hiding my true colors in an attempt to gain your admiration. Just in case the point hasn't become clear yet, I'll say it again. I am better than this. I'm a big dreamer for a reason. Welcome to the Revolution.

It's not the boy who I let tear through my core, it's the tear there before, that made this boy into more.

Well fuck it! Just when I think my stupid high school drama is through, it engulfs my being. Why does everything have to culminate in synchronization? I feel like curling up and giving up today. I guess I'm just letting everything get to me more than I should. So unmentioned boy calls me up with news I had been hoping for for quite some time- he has a girlfriend. I was relieved and happy that there would be one less person I would chance hurting. For some reason though, it saddened me. My outer shell was cracked and my yolk flowed out through my eyes. I think it was just the combination of everything I had been holding in plus this stunning blow that just pushed me over the edge. I kind of miss old unmentioned boy now, even though I think this change is one that is better for both of us. I think things are looking up- why this pushed me over the edge like I earlier stated- I have no idea. I guess it is the end of something that has been such a staple in my life for so long and not having it scares me a bit. It is the end of an era, unmentioned boy, but perhaps it was just our ice age and we will now be filled with warmth.

Faith is a way to believe lies that we need.

I never thought I'd been thrown into the middle of teenage angst drama crap, but here I am and oh how the tables have turned. I need to vent. Last night there was a little school event thing downtown and a guy who I consider a friend and happen to care about a lot goes and gets fucked up. (I'm not even going to touch that) Find out he's pissed at one of his best friends( I'll refer to him as my husband) because he said my husband was - going after the only girl he really cared about- or something along those lines. Fucking lucky lil ole me happens to be this girl. I don't really like the other guy as more than a friend- he's really sweet when he's not fucked up and he needs a good girl- but thats just not me by any means. So back to my husband- he happens to be my best friend since preschool's ex. (They went out like five times last year so ugh). I feel really guilty because I kind of like my husband and he likes me I think. (Plus I've been crushing on him for quite a bit which she knows) To top it all off, a couple of weeks ago she confessed to me that she still liked my husband and as I attempted to be a good friend I tried to convince her she still has a chance(sorry Jordy but you don't). Little did I know that all this shit would happen. But I fucking like my husband and it just doesn't seem like it's going to work out. One person is already pissed off and will be more so if anything happens, and I will be like turning on my bff if anything happens, So fuck! But I guess it's for the best anyway because I care about my husband and we all know how much of a bitch I am in relationships. And this marks the end of my tale of teenage angst drama crap.

And the sound was as deafenating as monkeys fornicating.

For some reason, I was in an overjoyous mood that reached its peak in fourth period. It's been a hell of a long week and thinking back to first period I do believe I know why today turned out so uber-tastic. It's unofficial and confidential...but you won't tell a word will you? I submitted three pieces to Collage, and as I sat in literary staff judging entries, I came into a face-to-face encounter with my submissions and had to keep quiet. Although I'm not a big fan of them, they went over well and are going to be in Collage. I do believe I will share them with you.

1. This poem was yayed right away which left a feeling pf accomplishment that was ahrd to contain.
Eyeliner

There is not a decision more important than how to decorate your eyes.
It's classic, after all.
I admit Cleopatra's was made of lead and mine of oils and dyes,
But it's virtually the same.
It's a sign of spirit and individuality,
The epitome of expression:
Purple- the color of royalty?
Blue- the color of the ever-changing sea?
White- the color of purity?
Today, I shall be black, the color of mystery.
It defines me.
I could choose to be routine and steryotypical,
But I choose to be bold
Because where my words may be lacking,
My eyes make the satatement.
And after all, it's the effort that should matter.
Raccoon circles around my eyes
My hand like a ferris wheel,
But behind it all is precision,
Perfect, meticulous precision.
After all, one mistake and I alter my image for the day.
When they say, "Too much! We can't see your eyes!"
I'll respond, "Well, obviously you've never seen Elizabeth Taylor."
"And all the great stars surely know that eyeliner
Is what makes life worth living."

2. When I asked for some advice from my lovely friend Leon, he avidly despised the Hendrix line. But I love it and they loved it. So once again- ha Leon ha ha ha.

Perfection

If my hope is waning, you'll never know
I'll let the erotic notes encompass my world
This pale being knows the meaning
In my overdone, deliberate way I will be lost
In the haze like Hendrix

I shall make my statement breief
Oh yes, I will dance on the wings of purpose
Incorporating perfection into the flow of my blood
I place emphasis on th word perfection
For it shall be me

3. This was intended as a monologue and I don't think reading ti on paper gives it justice. So read is quietly to yourself or something for a bedtime story.

DEAD MEAT

I can't believe it comes down to this. I don't deserve to die! Holy moo! I want to spend my days in the green grass under that bright sun. I want to have a chance at life. Oh, what am I going to do, what am I going to do? How did I end up in this position? I don't deserve this. I don't want to be a staek. I don't want to be a coat. I don't want to be someone's dinner or someone's clothes. Holy moo.
Maybe I could make my skin turn a weird color so they won't want it. Or maybe I could eat something poisonous so I will be contaminated. Berries? Would that work? How dod I make myself tough? What makes meat tough? Oh, it doesn't matter anyway. I just need to run away. I need to escape to freedom. Freedom. Freedom. Freedom. Freedom.
Oh, why is life so cruel to me? No one should ever have to endure this kinbd of torture. Holy moo! Who ever thought eating a cow like me was a good idea? I mean, come on! Why eat me when there is all the delicious greenery of the world? I really don't believe I am all that tastey anyway. It just doesn't make sense at all. If they liek emat so muc, why don't they just eat themselves? It would be much better than biting into me. Holy moo! I guess the only thing to do is wait for the cruel deed.