speedgriffon

So a hot chick enters a comic book store and buys 6 Hellboy comics. There’s no punch line here, just what happened this past Thursday. I am so overly-confident in mysself that it makes me self-concious. I stared at full-length mirrors in expensive and amazing clothing and denied myself from acepting my beauty. So I bought very little and still found spending money on myself a discusting thing. It’s not that I’m frugal or wanting to save money, it’s just I can’t find any reason to give myself anything. I haven’t exactly earned anything lately. I’ve been lazy in school, in yearbook, at home, at work too. I’ve been slowly seperating myself from my friends and family and most importantly, myself. I’m ignoring the thing I once loved to do; write. Filling this white box is a struggle and I have run out of witty things to say.

I used to play the Keyboard
Now I only play the microwave.

I wonder if I’ll die on my first plane ride.
Or if it will be after I first see snow.
Or when I am standing umungst the names
of those who faught along side my grandfather.
I wonder if I’ll die while watching
the President of the United States take his throne.
Or if it’ll be after I stand on Capital Hill. 
Or when I am in the presence of the Great Emancipator.
Either way, I’m flying to Virginia;
D.C: I’m dying to see you.

Hindsight has clouded the vision of those who surround me;
I am now a “harlot”, a “drunk” and an “addict”
I was once a friend who encouraged laughs of genuine
But now faced with forced smiles and transparent hugs.
Metaphors and jokes of youthful innocence are impure;
considered rude and impartial to the holy teachings.
My life is unworthy of eternal bliss,
my written word is disregarded as blasphemy;
I am not a child of God in their eyes.

Only cuz she’s just as rebellious as the rest of us teenagers.

I’m writing, but not what people expect. Uhh… I guess.

I’m also writing a letter to my dearest Izzy (holy toledo batman, a namedrop!).

heyheyheymothafuckah
Ev

It isn’t about inspiration anymore. Lately I’ve been needing guidance rather than advice. I read papers or stories I wrote so long ago and wonder if I have ever inspired anybody and if there is somebody out there waiting for me to say something inpirational again. Truth is, I don’t really know what I’m doing anymore. I’ve hit another emotional roadblock, though I’m not sure what is wrong in my life to cause me to feel this way. I find my heart telling me to spend as much time as possible with the friends I have, but then when I reach out, there isn’t always a hand reaching back. I feel distanced from the people I thought I had amazing emotional connections to and find it confusing. The people I missed over summer met me at school with fake smiles and two minute conversations filled with pointless complements and generic questions. I guess I’m just dissaapointed in the fact I got my hopes up again. Or maybe I’m just crazy-emotional-hormonal.

I really miss the way things used to be.

I am a blackbird.

School is school and school is school. I’m in that wierd mood again where I’m making new friends but feel horrible because the ones that really matter I don’t see. It’s becomeing the single hardest thing…

I miss Mary.

i start my junior year tomorrow.

pray i make it two more years.