Telli

I feel bad for all the intelligent people;
they aren't naive.
They see the world for what it really is.
Dark. Fucked up.

Maybe that's why we don't have so many great thinkers;
they all just hide away.
Or leave. Forever.

I want to leave.

pp

Paper People

Life is just a perpetual cycle,

where I meet death’s tail and follow.

We paper people think sick and idle

but our minds remain vain and hollow.

I like this poem. Not because I wrote it, but because it's kind of true. We are paper people. Two dimensional. We have no depth; we don't wonder about what's beyond the stars. We don't marvel at our ability to think. We don't even marvel at beauty. We just think about ourselves, and maybe every once in a while we'll see things from a different perspective, but mainly we're looking through our own eyes. We see, hear, feel,  and think what we see, hear, feel, and think. Not what others see, hear, feel, and think.

Life is just a cycle where one paper person is born after another. Maybe every once in a while a great mind is born, like Einstein or Galileo or Darwin, but mainly it is just people who can only see through one set of eyes. People who can only think in small doses, or not at all. People who don't wonder, or marvel. They are too wrapped up in their own drama, or every body else's drama. They don't think beyond Earth. They don't think Earth. They think: "me."

It frustrates me that no one else sees this. It frustrates me that when I try to explain what I'm seeing, nobody understands. They just can't grasp the fact that life is more than just themselves. I hate it. This is a paper town full of paper people who only think in this paper town. I wish a huge gust of wind would come along and blow them away. Or I wish God knew origami. Then he could fold these people and make them into swans. Three dimensional swans, instead of two dimensional ugly-ducklings.

We need another great mind.

This world is beginning to fold in on itself,

and I don't think the universe can hold

the dead weight of a paper ball.

I

am tired of always coming in second. every time I'm compared to someone, I'm never good enough. it feels like no matter how hard I try, I'll never be good enough for anybody, or even for myself, which is the worst feeling in the world. we've grown up to accept who is real and when we compare ourselves to that, an try to apply ourselves to that, we will never be that. it sucks knowing nobody is good enough for themselves. you either think youre too fat, too tall, too annoying. it sucks. all I want is to be desired. but everybody says it, and if they dont, they imply it; I'm not as good as them. Skyler and kieran say I'm not as pretty as Jessica. they say she is more attractive. even though she is my best friend and I would never give her up for the world and I am extremely proud of her beauty, it still hurts coming in second. Emmie always gets all the guys. its either I'm not pretty enough or don't have curves or im just plain annoying. even though Emmie is my cousin and I love her and I would never give her up for the world, it still hurts coming in second. always. always I will come in second. it sucks. it hurts. that is why I am not good enough for myself...

I'm not good enough for anybody else.

I hate

I hate knowing that when you look at me,
all you see is a girl.

collin collin collin colly colly fuck fuck.

Ty

I hope you realize what you do to me every time you call me a whore.

Or when I tell you how people are dicks to me.

You just laugh. Always. You don't care.


I guess I just have a thing for assholes.

Needsleep

The muscles in my heart fell asleep.

And I cannot.

oh

......icwutudidthar

Today was awesome. I don't feel like spilling details. I already did on my tumblr.

Maybe I'm losing touch with blogger?

hmmm.

D.

I don’t know how long I’ve been waiting here.

Seems like an eternity.

 Your presence is haunting

your moods swings are daunting.

 I can barely breathe.

You’re like a lake in a desolate tract,

noticeable but still little.

Your creek has a bend,

you’re shallow at your ends

but still you’re deep in the middle.

I have held you through endless fights,

wars you’ve waged on yourself.

I have held your hand,

fixed your mess

and I put blame on nobody else.

Now you say your does,

say you’re through.

Swallow yourself in your shell.

k, no more

NO MORE!!

I'm throwing in the towel.

I need to stop this,
so I'm forcing myself to stop.

33

This month of January I will try everything on this list, starting with 8, because today is the eighth.

I guess

Maybe I should start addressing you by your real name.
Naaahh, that ain't me.
I'm a nickname kind of girl.

I miss summer. I miss going on wacky adventures with my cousin. I miss going down to the levy and watching the sunset. I miss going to Wendy's and Mickie's at ten at night. I miss going to Target at three in the morning. I miss going to Kroger's at six in the morning. I miss those all-nighters where we sat up and just talked. I miss playing Sims with you like a little child. I miss those hikes in the woods. I miss getting lost in neighborhoods we don't know. I miss Yellow Springs. I miss the feeling of the sun on my skin. I miss the pool. I miss the smell of chlorine. I miss summer.

One two three go! Stop your ironic cheering! Stop telling me it's okay!
Stop telling me to shake it off!
I won't!

Head-rush in three two one, FUCK.

K, rant over.

Peaches out.

moozik

Okay, so ya'll know I wanna be a musician. We've gone over this many, many times.
Or have we?

Berklee sent me this thing for their college in the mail. I'm just trying to figure out if they sent it to every teenager in W.C. or if they just sent it to me. And if they just sent it to me, did they know I want to become a musician, or did they just send it for the hell of it? And if they did know, how? (add-on sentences.)

So, I came on here looking at my old posts to see if I ever mentioned anything about my determination to perform. I couldn't really find anything. It's all just writing. Well ya'll should know music is my main priority, not writing. I guess I just made this blog to share some writing with you, and maybe a little bit of life experiences. I guess this is just a blog. Maybe it doesn't serve the purpose of a place I can put down thoughts and poems. Maybe it doesn't serve any purpose at all.

I don't know, it's not like writing is out of the question. It never will be. I love to write, and I will never stop. Never. It's in my blood, it's in my mind. Hell, it's in my grandmother's and father's minds too! But music, I don't know...something about the way it can bring back memories, the way it can open up anybody's minds, the way it can change people....I want to do that! I want to bring back memories! I want to open people's minds! I want to change people!

Ahh, I'm thinking too much! I wish this Berklee packet came with a little note attached telling me everything I'm questioning. Nothing gives me more doubt than the unknown. Ahh, I don't know! It's not like any of this is happening now...I just want a head start on this.

I'ma go research Berklee and get my Panic! on.
See you mofos later.

Here I am,

passed hand to hand.

Living cold and sullen.

I sit observing

those deserving.

Thought I not one of them.

A different mother,

not left nor smothered.

Indifferent like the rest.

Many moons pass,

the next like the last,

I stow away in my chest.

Tumblr Poem

Sex, drugs, rock and roll,
weed, speed, and birth control.
Life's a bitch, then you die;
FUCK the world lets get high.


Now THAT is what I call a poem (: