hmph.

sometimes i know what i want, but most times i don’t. i know what i think i want, but i can never be too sure. in the seventh grade, i wanted to be an interior designer. some time later, i wanted to be a chef. my senior year i wanted to be a teacher. deep down, i think maybe i would like to be both a journalist and a photojournalist for national geographic magazine. somedays i wonder if i would like to own my own business where i would handcraft birthday cards and signs and such. spring of my senior year in high school i wanted to be a minister. a couple weeks ago i thought i might want to be a missionary. today i saw a commercial featuring a woman who owned a restaurant that served homeless people for free. maybe I’d like to do that, too. being indecisive sucks. i just feel like it’s so difficult being in college, well, the class aspect. i’m only 18, going on 19, i can’t be expected to know what i want to do with my entire life.

growing up, i’ve always been taught that i have to try things before i can say i dislike them, or like them for that matter. i just don’t understand why a job search should be any different. how can i know what profession I will like or dislike without trying it out first? sure, there’s student teaching and such, but that occurs in my senior year, when it’s essentially too late to change my mind. wait, let me rephrase, it’s too expensive to change my mind. aw, shit. consider this an s.o.s. of sorts.

fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck

you're fucking lost, dude. i don't even know you anymore. hell, you don't even know you anymore. i want to save you, i love you, you know that, i know that, the whole motherfucking world knows that. you're not the person i used to know, and that makes me sadder than you could ever know. when you send me drunk ims, telling me you're going to kill yourself, you rip me apart. i've been up all night, worrying, crying, throwing my fucking guts up. i hope you're as happy as you're pretending; one day you'll get sick of saying that everything's alright. i'm just hoping that when that day comes, it doesn't involve suicide. i'm here, todd, i'm here. i'm not fucking going anywhere. i would never leave you, i would never leave your side. even when you've left mine, i waited for you, and when you came back, there i was. please stop. stop this fucking bullshit. i'm ready to pick up the pieces when you're ready to admit you're broken. i love you.

hold me

i’m pale so you can see my veins underneath my skin because it’s practically see-through. if i stare at my veins long enough, it’s almost as though i can feel the blood pulsing within them, being transported throughout my entire body. sometimes i trace a path with my fingertip, following my heartbeat from my wrist to wherever the blood is traveling at that particular point in time. i lay there, heavy eyes closed, focusing on my heartbeat. and some days it feels like my blood is lined with lead, everything moves so slowly. sometimes after i shower, i slink down and just sit until my body air dries entirely. i like to rest my head between my kneecaps and just let my wet hair stick to my cheekbones. dark brown tangles fall in front of my face, blocking my eyesight. i watch the water bead up and chase the droplets with my eyes as they weave through the intricate knots and clusters of hair. i pretend the drops are racing down each strand, trying to see who can reach the end first. i might be weird, but i don’t care what you think.

hairy situation

i'm still alive, amazingly. i cut my own hair yesterday. and by cut i mean cut, not trim. there i was, hair wet, sitting in front of our long mirror with a pair of desk scissors in my right hand, trembling because i was a lethal mix of cold and scared shitless.

i had been anticipating having long hair for what seemed like forever, but i'm so impatient. i felt like i was stuck in that inbetween stage, (you know, the one where it seems like your hair takes a break from growing right between the short and long stages), and quite frankly i was sick of it! so i sat there, legs crossed, brows furrowed, eyes fixated -- locked -- onto the mirror. i just began snipping.

i took off about 3 or 4 inches and surprisingly, i like it. kind of. i probably shoudln't have cut it, haha. oh well, can't change that now! i'd upload a picture, but my camera is broken. the screen is shattered entirely. use your imagination. not enough people do that anymore, but that's a whole other post.

similar to heavy traffic

my hands smell like cigarettes and my breath smells like coffee. my socks are wet from the snow and my nose is pink from the wind. my tears are hidden behind my smile and my hair is damaged from straightening it far too much. i'm a hot mess, really.

i don't even think anybody reads my blog anymore and strangely, i'm alright with that. it's a release for me; especially today. i haven't posted in so long and i didn't realize how detrimental it was becoming. when i write, i'm happy. i'm free of judgment and scrutiny; i'm me. i can spill out all of my innermost thoughts and my deepest emotions and my strongest feelings and nobody says shit to me.

so even though i don't feel like sitting here expelling every detail of my life, i still feel as though i have. my thoughts were so tangled and my life was so haywire before i began typing but now that i'm pressing my fingertips against my keyboard i'm forced to think about the things i've been keeping tucked away in the crevices of my mind and the dusty, cobwebbed corners of my heart. it's almost as though as soon as i hone in on writing my blog the whole world stops moving and all of the chaos surrounding me ceases. sadly, this entry will cease, too. meaning that as soon as i double click that orange 'publish post' button, the complex nature of my complicated life will resume making me feel like i'm stuck on a teacup ride, spinning and spinning, never stopping. i think i'm going to throw up. (publish post)