I'll be honest, completely honest and tell you that i shouldn't be listening to this music. shouldn't be thinking of the wrong boy. i shouldn't be missing things.

I've forgotten a part of me that i am. Th emost of me. I know i'm not being clear, i'm not even thinking clear. How could i very well write it clearly?

I'm feeling.

that's the end of the story. I'm feeling.

feeling things i shouldn't feel. feeling things in a half assed sort of way.

a dull blade of guilt. not sharp enough to break skin so i'll run it over my forearms again and again scratching. trying to scratch it into my blood.

Guilt was always sharpest. guilt and anger, but you all knew that.

Not to say i'm cutting again, don't be silly. I know who reads this and who might jump to what conclusion. I'm not so insane as iw as years ago. I don't feel enough as i used to.

to do the things i did.

to need the things i needed.

to want.

I can't even think of the words i want to describe myself. Did you know that's something i always do? Pick words that mean sydney and i can be slightly happy.

i'm nothing right now.

I'm angsty. what an awful word. bordering depressed. but depressed is too strong. i'm on the verge of "ok" but only because i have to be.

My mouth is thick with sleep and sweet with candy. My eyes feel dusty. My heart can't beat. My voice goes unheard.

I feel desperate. but i don't know what for.

I'm on my knees begging and pleading and on the verge of tears. (me, the verge of everything) but i don't know what for.

I'm fucking UGHK inside for no fucking reason. i don't know what. i don't know why. i don't know what teh hell is fuckign me up like this.

do you see?! don't you see?! i'm so twisted inside i can't find the right words. i can't think the right thoughts, i can't result in anything good just a ball of screaming and swear words. Because fuck is so articulate, right?

yes, i miss laura. yes, i miss adam. yes, i've done things that i should regret and don't.

but i feel like all that's not enough to make me like this. sad. depressed. i can see those happeneing. but that's not even what i am. that's nto even what this is.

i don't think that's what this is.

it could be.

i wanted to write you a poem. to remind you that i think you're beautiful. but i found myself thinking of someone else's lips and the way they moved. You know that's what got me, right? I'll say it with a smile. His lips are so what got me. what a sucker i am, i know. what a skeeze. Maybe it's time to go back to my old online journal (i only really do it online cause it's easier to type) full of secret entries and the redblackblue of bruises.

I'll bite my lip to this. to him. to you. and smile.

i'm such an awful contradiction