Hesitation

maybe things will be better now that I really have a plan. Going to school in San Francisco, getting an awesome apartment, with a wonderful room mate and waking up to watch the sun rise over my paradise. That's all I want. No boyfriends, no best friends, no one who'll pull me away from my dream. A job would be nice though, so I can stock my little closet with tons of clothes until the neighbors complain there are random jeans slipping into their wardrobe.

But what about now? I'm so caught up in the future, I don't even feel like i exist in the present. It's already my past....hmm, oh well.

Guess I'll just curl up and read (get warped into alternate realities, my poor friends) and study. I lied, it seems there are no parties for little Z.

Thick Glass, Distorted Reflections

I'm pretty sure I won't be remembered when I die, which is the only thing I want out of life. To be remembered, to be loved. But I'm a freak. As the oldest child, I don't live up to the hype. As the grandchild to a legacy, I'm a disappointment. And although my body is wonderful, I don't have the face or personality to match. I love nothing more than being proved wrong, getting gifts, and meeting new people. I don't like ice cream, pie (except pumpkin) and eat frosting out of the tin. I eat till I'm about ready to throw up, and it's because I like tasting food, chewing, swallowing. Sometimes I don't eat for days. I can't make myself show emotions I don't actually feel, and I can't ( or won't) hide any of mine. I'm a jealous person. I'm violently impulsive. I smoke because it feels like coming home, but lately I want to smoke less. I don't ever take my phone with me when I smoke, unless I don't have a choice. I hate driving. I hate opening up to people who will just try and judge me, instead of accept me. I'm pretty sure people just think I'm full of shit, so therefore I think I'm full of shit. I hate people who tell other people that they aren't special, that they aren't unique. Because everyone has something that makes them, them. And just because traits are similar, how they got those traits aren't. The combination of traits will never repeat itself. Sometimes people just need to be told they are original, and all the pretenious fucks- it doesn't even matter. I bite my nails. I fidget and break things all the time. I read fast, I never forget a book. Imitation without a slight variation sickens me. I don't eat a lot of fruit or vegetables, except olives, mushrooms, and grapes. I can finish two liters of soda within an hour. If I'm upset, I take a pill of imiphram. If I can't get a pill, I smoke a lot till my throat hurts. If I can't smoke, I cry, and yell at the people I'm not mad at. My biggest fears are rejection and the dark. I'm paranoid.

Sometimes this doesn't feel like me at all.

Like I cut off my arms

I can't find the steps
Leaning against walls for support
It's everything
It's not nothing
How could it be?
When you are-were?-
my future
my past
has a tendency to catch up with me
and now you're free
I feel like this is nothing to you
but you're not responding
are you happy?
Are you mad?
Are you drinking?
Do you feel like you've lost a limb too?
All I know is I can't feel my aorta,
because it's still with you.
Pinky promise.

Love how we hold back nothing

Love how we hold back nothing
Part of it is to provoke you. You disappoint me, you hurt me, you ignore me. But I never lash out when I hurt. I usually get sad, dwell, grow numb to it, and then let you know I'm ticked. Because for some reason I can't be legitimately enraged and crying my eyes at the same time. I just don't do it.

Part of it is because you have promised me something and you didn't keep it. You probably never said the words "I promise you...whatever." But there are certain things you expect of me, and everyone in particular moments. Right? When someone says they'll do something for you, you expect them do it, right? *sigh* who knows. It seems like every trace of the simple things a person does because it is polite and proper has been drained out of this place. I expect so much, and give so many chances. Why do I bother?

Part of it is because I'm mad at someone else. And you're getting a message meant for them, but I can't find the backbone to send it to them. Words, feelings, thoughts have to have a place to escape. If you keep them bottle up inside, it's dangerous. If I kept it locked up inside, I'd probably yell at my teacher. Or my friends.

It's all part of the learning process I guess. There are some parts of ourselves we simply cannot escape, outrun, grow out of. More importantly, you learn the most and the feel the most when the thing that you treasured turns around to stab you in the chest.

So no one keeps their word.
Everyone is temporary.
And you will always be disappointed.

I wish that weren't the way it looked.

Just another day being Z

So I'm working on my essays into the colleges that make me moist thinking about going there. I completely underestimated this whole write about yourself business. So I will be calling on people to assist me in filling out my brag sheet. Lol.

My so-called best friend looks more like an idiot with every passing day. I only feel in a position to judge because compared to her, I'm less of a bitch. Okay, I'm less of an obnoxious bitch. (Because we all know I could make you cry if I wanted to). I can make anyone feel like a star and ensure people have the time of their lives. I'm always up to try something new, and will hardly ever say "that's weird" or "we'll look silly". I do things because I want to do them, not because it's look cool or because my friends want to. My experiences are my choices, and I won't fake a good time, (just restrain myself from ruining it for everyone). I don't know. Ever since I tried to kill myself, there's been a gap growing between us. She doesn't know me, and she'll never understand me because she has to be right all the time. I'm willing to see that I might be hypocritical on some points, but not from her. I'll tolerate anyone else telling me about me, except her. *sigh* Feels good to get that out.

Should I stay or should I go? Part of me wants to stay in dinky little town with cookie cutter people and continue with my iffy existence, while the other half wants to leave and take the risk of not having anything in the oh so near future. I'm afraid if I leave, my family will disown me. I'm afraid if I'll stay that I'll be unhappy even though there isn't really any reason to stay here... Decisions, decisions. Though I could go Miami and attend some school there. My family has a house there, so it's not like I'm really leaving. Why does this have to be SO HARD?

Tomorrow is going to be an exciting day. I have tons of work to do and I know how to get it all done...but I don't have the energy. In the end I'll suck it up, pull it all off with time to spare while looking...peculiar, but right now?

Right now I'm going to whine.

Dreamers never prosper

Hmm, seems like there's trouble brewing my sweet paradise, and I, being a Diva of course, can't let that happen. What to do, what to do, when all my trouble seems to come in twos?

Aight, 'nuff of this bullshitting around. Tonight there will be a meteor shower and honestly, I could think of any other way I'd rather spend it, then curled up under a blanket that blends in with the sky, a huge cup of rich dark chocolate cocoa and Andrew Bird telling me to fucking dance. Yep. Did I mention I plan to spend it...alone?

Yeah, for some reason many people think I'm a social butterfly. The only Diva thing about me is that I, Z.e. Daniels, don't care if you think my wild mane is blocking your view, or if my formal wear in the middle of San Francisco will I smoke a delicious Camel no. 9 cigarette is horrendously obnoxious. Darling, I'm going to die young and I'm going to be soooo happy. I am solitary creature, who only goes outside if 1) food is involved and/or 2) you can make me smile the second I get in the car. Did I mention by anger management skills are...non-existent? Pretty much if you like your genitals to remain user friendly, You. Will. Not. Piss. Me. Off.

Other than that, I'm head over heels in love with a guy I don't deserve, trying to tame my lustful beast (which is easier to type than achieve) and I'm dealing with stress like no other. Wake me up in a couple hours, we'll do work then.

Teehee, :)

We're going to be GREAT friends, I can tell.

Down the Rabbit Hole

He stood in front of the platform in the dark chamber, calm and expectant. Above him was a hole big enough to climb through, light dripping down before him. Before him sat a six armed creature, motionless now. Pipes in each of their six slender hands, all lit with thick smoke filled the space. Behind the beast was a darkness unlike any he could have imagined. It seemed to swallow up the light and threaten to come after him as well. He took an inquisitive step forward.
"Why are -you- here?" The creature roared, its voice genderless. A great massive body seated upon a throne of orange and red, blue and purple pillows, trembled as it came to life. The sound echoed all around him. "It is not your turn."
"Where is this place?" The boy asked in response. "Who are you?"
"It is not your turn." An arm swung to raise its pipe to the monster's lips. "I would not expect a child to be ready to make such choices."
"I'm not a child." He whispered, more to himself than the creature who laughed at this. He gaped up in surprise at the sound. So rich, so full of life.
"You're fearless, I'll give you that." There was more movement of the arms as it leaned forward to look at him. "And you've got a hunger to understand the world around you that is uncommon these days."
The boy remained stoic, his mind turning with questions. Was this place purgatory?
"You could call it that...purgatory."
"Is what's above us then, heaven?"
"No. That is the place of light, where things are in the open and you can decide whether to take it or leave it. No right or wrong answers, just knowledge." There was a hint of something not being said. "The place of darkness, behind me," an arm gestured, "is where you look for it yourself, no choice in what you take, and it all affects you, sometimes for the worst."
Emotion, is that it? The boy wondered. That's the difference.
"Most don't make that choice until they are older. Where life is about something much different than originally expected..."
"Is that why I'm here?" The boy thought hopefully. "Because I'm ready?"
"No." The guardian moved away. "You're here, because you have no where else to be. You made a choice a long time ago, to cut yourself off from certain things, like friends and letting yourself relax and now you're a little lost at what you are supposed to be, what you are supposed to want. You cannot tread in amongst those of the light because you carry too much emotion, and you cannot stay with those in the darkness, because you don't know enough to play along."
These words were starting to hit home for him, but he hid it. "Then where should I be? I can't continue this indecision anymore."
"That," the creature grinned through the smoke. "Is your decision. If you pick the light you can continue to learn at the pace you are at. It is all handed to you and you can decide whether or not what you learn hurts or helps you. Pick the darkness, and you must carve the path yourself, pushing past what you believed to be your limits."
"Is there a third option?"
"You can stay here with me in the in between, and fill my pipes. Choice is yours really."
I'm not old enough to make that choice, but I can't stay here...not here.

He took a step.
He closed his eyes.
And hoped to Sartre,
he didn't die.