Chapter One.

On a gloomy Tuesday evening.
Black, black coffee and cigarettes linger haphazardly on the end table. Books and papers have amassed in the corner, perhaps to serve as reminders that someone actually lives in this apartment.
It's dark, and I'm fairly sure the power has been shut off for good.
Two months late and it gets serious.
I wonder if this is a metaphor for my whole life. I laugh. It feels hollow. So does my throat.

You show up, rain-soaked and beautiful. You are humming a tune, something completely indecipherable, under your breath. You shake the wet hair our of your eyes, flash a smile.
Somewhere inside, I wonder if I'll be able to speak at all.
You have that effect on me.

"I think it might be raining outside", you say, a laugh lingering in the swirl of black inside your eyes. Your mouth remains a perfect straight line, and there I am, thinking about your mouth, your rows of straight teeth, your tongue...

I smile inside my head. Just like you, to mention weather. It's always fascinated you, but only I know that.
Sort of how you only know that I shiver when I'm nervous and leave the bathroom light on so I can sleep.
We were always each others perfections...but somewhere along the way, I think we forgot that.

I remember to mumble a half-hearted response. You move closer, a step at a time. I retreat to the bed in the corner, knowing exactly how this is going to play out.

"What's wrong, baby girl?" you ask, concern written in the lines on your face. "I don't bite..."

I doubt that. I doubt love, the rain, this, our existence. Sometimes, I don't believe you are real at all, just my imagination creating you for company.
But I just need you so bad.
I will always need you.
I find desperation comforting.

I wrap my legs underneath myself, shivering. I sigh. I was never good at faking this, anyways.
You see right through me.
I swear, sometimes I feel translucent in front of you.

You're coming closer still. I don't fight it off. If I am being honest, it's a sick game that I am destined to play but never win.

The colours around the room swirl and blend into one another...

Your hands are on my arms.
"Stop", you whisper.
The sound lingers in the air.
Your voice makes me cold but my limbs have suddenly stopped their uncontrollable movements.
I am powerless.

You press your lips to my ear.
I close my eyes on instinct. The chairs in the center of the room have gone, along with their counterpart table, the paintings, the flowers (from you), the books, the couch.
Only the bed remains. And you.

"I love you because your different" you sigh, your mouth working it's traces all over my skin. I think my body might explode, but I don't think I would notice or mind much.
"I just...love you"

I doubt this too, but only my mind is screaming out against this. In the battle of head vs. hands, my poor reationale never wins.
I know in the morning you'll be gone and only the traces of black rimming my eyes will show I've been crying.

In the end, I know you will always be my everything...
In the end, I know you will never love me.

I've experienced love, I've experienced loss.

My heart is all that matters anymore.
As long as I am alive and well, I will keep the smile alive too.

I've gone through a lot in my nineteen years. It's been a whirlwind. Sometimes I think I am exponentially boring but at other times, I sit up straight and realize I am so much more than I give myself credit for.
I have done some great things in my life, at other times I have made some extremely bad decisions. I have learned from everything. I will not make a mistake twice (except in the case of the human heart...I falter a bit in that area).
I was forced to grow up a lot faster than I would've like and I think I lost a part of who I was for a while.
There was a period where I didn't laugh as much, didn't sing and dance as much (even though I do both of these really really badly) and a time when I just wasn't my goofy, silly, unstoppable self. Why? Well, that really doesn't matter, only I know what happened and I think it's better to keep some things personal. For this reason I turned into a neurotic, paranoid shadow of who I once was. Although I knew my behavior wasn't reflective of who I really was, I let this side of me take over. It hurt and I felt betrayed but I honestly thought it would make things easier on everyone if I could just tone myself down a bit.

This dark period lasted for a while. Whispers of the "old" me shone through, especially when in the company of my closest friends or even when I went to the concerts of my favourite bands, but I was always this other person at home and at school. I didn't like myself then. In fact, I hated me. With each day I became more miserable until I finally stood up and realized something had to be done.

It's been hard. It's been messy. But overall, I feel like I am settling back into the person I am SUPPOSED to be. I smile and laugh and sing like there is no tomorrow. I don't over think things as much as I once did, I am just along for the ride, and whatever happens along the way is supposed to happen. I have also totally reaffirmed my belief in karma. With this new change in myself, I lost some people along the way. That was difficult too, but I knew that I would attract the right people by just being myself. So far, it's been working. And I know that the people who have hurt me are probably experiencing that spoonful of karma for themselves now.

I cannot believe I ever thought I wasn't good enough, strong enough, talented enough. It's almost laughable that I was afraid of people I didn't even know. I have been lied to, I have been hurt but no longer will this stop me from moving forward and living life to it's fullest. I am going to take it step by step and day by day until everything aligns perfectly, like it does in my head. There will be mistakes made, I am sure, but I will keep this in mind and pick myself up each time, stronger : Always remember to never forget your goofiness. And, I won't.

I am looking forward to the future, to finding love, to embracing music. I am going to go ahead and fulfill all the dreams I've been neglecting for so long. I will learn to play piano if it kills me. I will get a few tattoos. I will study harder but go out with my friends too. I will get a degree in journalism and write for the rest of my life. I will be the "happy, charming, optimistic" person that I have been described as, every single day. Life is just too short to be sullen, sad, angry.

This is the first day of the rest of my life.

I don't even know what you mean.

Just so you know, you will always be my Camisado.

I am all alone.

Lately, you've been the star in my dreams.
But your face is all blurry, like the haze from a television screen.

No subject matters.

I am going to write and write and write and write until every single word I have amassed in my vocabulary comes spilling out from inside me and my mind goes completely blank.

I will forget everything and feel nothing.

I just think it would be easier that way, this "thinking" shit is getting old.

I will sit in my library of dusty books in a massive leather armchair and think of a life/mind that once was.

It's just the only way out right now.

Nothing is making sense...(Without you).
Nothing ever will again.

I want to scream out but my lungs are winning this round I guess.
Whatever.
I'm sick of being tired and oh so tired of being sick.

Don't Trust Me.

Young baby boy.
Your eyes are bright.
You're so full of the wor(l)d.
You're infectious.

I catch your disease with every eyeline match.
I call your name aloud just to hear the sounds fall from my tongue.
You may be in a sea of people, but all I see is you.
You're elevated.
Surrounded by starry-lines and an all knowing smirk.
It's starting.
It's working.

I cannot help but watch you move.
It's all I see. Your body works in ways others no not of.
Bruised hangs showing veins that pulsate with every touch.
Body language speaks more than your mouth ever could.
I know you see it...
But can you feel the hold as it starts to take?

Maybe you are oblivious to me, imagination plays strange tricks.
I sense the connection.
Lingering in the air, tasteless unless your a connoisseur.

Come back to the ground.
Win me.

The high stage won't last much longer and I think I saw the lights burn out.
This isn't your everything, I am.
If only you knew it, you will rather soon.

You could have it all,
(You do)
You could bask in this flood of luxury,
(And why not?)
You'll only be famous for now,
(Not forever)
So claim your destiny, before the curtain has already closed.

I'm on a mission tonight,
To find the joint between human and immortal.
Where everything is illuminated.
Watch your eyes though boy,
My light may just burn you.

It's just you and me now, baby.
Remind me again, when are we down and out?

Make me clean, again.

Mass heart attack at the funeral that thinks for itself.

My life is destined to become a worn out book in a foreign language.

I think I talk too much.

I don't think he's one of those you can just "get over", perhaps ever. Perhaps never.
Oh my god.

Where am I going?
Well, that I just don't know.
But as they say, it's on with the show.

I'm going to shower in your memory tonight and hope this time you won't wash away...

Come back?
My pride isn't lingering anymore.

I swear, all the words I've written down recall traces of you.

You're such a bad habit.

In the morning, my eyes will be swollen.
In the morning, I don't want to wake up to this.

The light burned out again.
Just, like, me.

Sundays.

Music swelling, my head is on a loop, playing tracks over in my ears.
You have got the best of me, I fear.
And I'm going down tonight,
But this time I'm placing bets on anybody else.

I've sung this song a hundred times before,
The words come now by their own accord,
I'm too blind to know my game is already over
But in the long run, I really don't think much matters
I'm just all over, mixed up, messed up, scattered.

I call you in the morning,
Just to see if you are alive and well.
By the looks of it, this is all going to hell,
And I'm just humming the tune to the funeral march.

Give me any last piece of your heart and soul,
I've got a lot to tell, but no where to go...

I'm a lonely old headpiece in a lonely old house.
My mind wanders but works in mysterious ways.
Just when I think we're all down and out, forever,
Somebody, somewhere throws mercy my way.
And I keep om singing and I keep on dreaming because that is all I've ever known.
Baby, it's just too cold.
Here, without you.

It was a Sunday when you came around,
Begging, crying for the words to come out
But your tongue was stuck and I couldn't decode it
Just sitting was calming,
But I felt the storm coming.
And I knew I had to rethink this.

Thus far, you are a work in progress.
Scratched out, erased and rewritten again.
Come back to me when you've sorted your head out,
Can I sing this verse to you instead?

The Write Stuff.

All writers are, to a certain extent, exceptionally lonely.

Where the fake meets the fiction, that is where you can find me.
It is our job to distinguish the lines between the the reality of what we're shown and the truth of what we want to believe in.

We're jaded too, but then again who isn't? Then again, why shouldn't we be?

I care more about the unknown, faceless people trapped somewhere between my head and fingertips than anyone else. They can't disappoint me, let me down, cause a scene.
They simply exist because I will them too ; if it's like playing God, this is the Church of Words on Pages.

I'm no better and I'm no worse : I am simply more observant. If you are in my life, chances are high that you will be written about in some sort of capacity. This is neither a bad or good thing, it just is. I want you for your story, your character flaws and maybe your heart.

Perhaps this is why I always feel alone. All I want from you is diction. You'll reoccur, if you're lucky or I'm not.
It's the worst timing and people that make for the best work.

This is my thank-you to all who have wronged or hurt me : don't think you're safe because I have a lot to say and sometimes it is hard to express it fully. You are the fuel for the fire, the gasoline tank just needs a shake up sometimes.

I often wonder if we all feel this way : trapped by the very thing we love most. It isn't that I want the burn in my wrists or the blurring of my vision. It just has to be done, I don't have a choice or a say.
I write because I need to survive, without words there is no life.

I'll take my loneliness and empty heart and raise you your hazy memories and unwillingness to compromise.
Maybe I've got just this one last thing, but baby, at least I've got something.

All writers are, to a certain extent, exceptionally lonely.
But that's just it, I wouldn't want it any other way.

Cast Back In Your Mind.

I will always regret not loving you.
I will always regret being afraid of the unknown.
I will always, always, always regret...not letting myself just go.

Above all else, I hope you find your happiness.
There is nothing more I could want for you, than that.
It's a long road until the end of the tunnel, but I think the light is just about to break.

Endless.

Not everything I spin is made of gold,
Not everything I write is meant to be sold.
Perhaps the endlessness is actually in sight today.
When, really in fact, it was all along.

WIP.

Let's talk innocence and let's talk skin,
It's all about if you sink or swim.
If you're the monster, I am the maven,
Singing praises inside a hollow haven.
Of empty threats, and backward notion.
I'm coming to on a spinning motion.
I am on the edge on legality with
A hymn or a scream?
Maybe it's nothing, but it's all I see when I dream.

I've got this sickness in my head, but the doc. isn't in.
Closed up the shop, placing bets on the win.
No one seems to know the cure or the fix,
Self-diagnosis on a one ticket trip.
Maybe all I need is an answer to this headache.
Or maybe, just maybe, it all comes down to the stakes.
Bet your whole life on that one single race.
Tomorrow I'm living it all out I'm awake.

Ends to the means.

I have so much to say.

I can't find the right/write words.

Do you know how much it terrifies me?
This shaky feeling isn't normal.
I just want my life back.