Bulletproof Loneliness...

All these thoughts keep running through my mind. Things I wish I could say but can't, not even when I'm all alone.
Broken down on memory lane, alone together.
I have brilliant colors in my head. Letting them out is suicide. I'm a rainstorm, you're the clouds and the sun.
You wouldn't understand.
Sometimes it's just like no one gives a fuck about you, and you're thinking... Of all the billions of people on the earth... surely just one cares enough to make you feel wanted? But they don't.
I wouldn't expect you to.
My skin is crawling. I have goosebumps and I can't breathe. My throat is dry and my eyes are swollen. Does anyone else feel like this? I'm banging my fists on glass walls but they won't shatter.
I can't stop feeling sorry for myself.
There's not a siren that can keep me from your window.
I love crying until I laugh. I'm screaming loud enough to wake the dead. I love everything about you that hurts, so let me see your moves. Who am I talking to? You. Myself. Him. Her. Them. Everybody. Nobody.
There's not a pill that can keep you from my mind.
I guess everyone is as selfish as I am and it's just sinking in.
I'll kiss your shadows until I feel less lonely.
Sing me to sleep. I need you. I need anyone. I need someone. Be my someone. Please?
If you are reading this... Do you care? I need someone. I need help. So help.
Get me out of my head.

Post 100. xoxo

Why?

Why did genetics curse me with blonde hair and blue eyes when I would have preferred brown and black?

Why am I smoking this cigarette when I know it'll make me sick?

School sucks.

Friends make me smile.

Three shows in November. 9th, 11th, 14th.

Burnt out on writing.

Burnt out on life.

Love it or leave it. I think I'll keep it.

Bed.

Love you, lovies.

Change.

I have changed so much. I am constantly changing. Everyone is.

I haven't written in so long because of a girl. Reading back over my posts in here, I wonder what people would think of all the things I've said. I'm sure some are too obscene, others too tame. Sometimes I can't decide what I want to be like. I'm still finding myself. So I am trying not to delete the more embarrassing posts on here, but I simply hope that whoever you are, you don't judge me for what I wrote in the past. That me is not me anymore.

Little things that don't matter.

Do you remember Life. ?



He does. And I am so happy.

It's been a while...

He's right, he can write it better than I ever felt it.

"Sunday, August 17, 2008
edit:

i meant fuck off and die.

not im sorry.

posted by xo at 11:43 PM"

I wonder what was happening in his life three days ago that caused him to write those words, who they are about, and if he realized that they would reach anyone else and mean so much.

My friend's dad died one year ago today and I remember talking to her when it happened. I wonder how I have changed, though I'm sure it's for the worse. The same girl who sat there telling her everything would be okay does not exist in me anymore. I am no longer tolerant, nor caring. Sometimes I am proud of this and sometimes I am not. I'm sorry that I've changed. Who I was hates me for it, but like I said... she does not exist anymore.

I call this one,

I HOPE.

I've been haunted by the strangest dreams for the past couple of nights. Dreams in which the barrier between water and air is like an inside telephone, and it doesn't matter how many times you hack at someone's skin, they just bleed and laugh, laugh and bleed. Dreams in which I go with blind faith into a deep sleep and wake up an old man with bleeding eyes and aching joints. I think they are all listening, but they cannot hear me. Only one responds, and he tells me the truths, or what he considers to be truth. I have no choice but to trust him, because his explanation is the only one I've been offered. I dream of my family and I, floating upside down with the masses, all unclothed and trusting what we're told. Like sheep. But in my dreams, I am the only one who suffers for our ignorance. The man on the inside telephone tells me that I've been talking for decades. I can see the water barrier, the atmospheric barrier, and I bang my fists on it, but it's like bulletproof glass. It cracks, but never shatters. These are more real than the dreams of the past. Robotic surgery that makes me still to this day fear the water. Car crashes and gunshot wounds to the head. A bloody chainsaw, dentist's tools amongst children's toys, all animated and covered in blood in this big, empty house. And I know the only way out is to let them have me. Then I wake up unsure of what has just happened, knowing that it was all a dream, but wondering why it felt so real. And then everything suddenly seems quiet and still. My mouth feels dry and diseased. My brain is still half-asleep. I am aware of everything suddenly, paranoid and afraid and feeling so small in this world. I am still dreaming, hearing the cats but thinking that it might be the stuff of horror movies. Seeing the open doors and doorways and waiting for someone to come claim me. I feel my hair on my shoulders and it feels like a hand grabbing for me in the dark. I have always feared that if I think or speak about them, they will get angry and come after me. My body is so tense and I want this house to be full again, to not feel quiet and still. I do not want this kind of life for people I love. I do not want to have to ask her if she wants out and tell her that so does everyone else. This is not my life. These are not premonitions. These are just the morbid dreams of a girl whose brain will eat her alive some day.

I don't know anymore.
I really don't.

I'm changing and it scares me.
I'm starting to look at everything in 'what if's and 'how come's.
Maybe I'll start writing again. I started this blog to document my life but maybe not writing was just a part of the documentation. As in - 'this was the time in my life in which I couldn't fucking write'.
Some things used to be so elementary and now they're so complex.

I wish I could've been a hippie. Drugs, music, multi-colored buses... But no one could do that these days.

Life.

So fragile.

Humans are selfish.
Life is fragile.
The things that you cry over today won't even be blips on your radar tomorrow.
The things you like now will be long gone and forgotten about in a year.
Just don't die with them.

Maybe...

Maybe not wanting to write isn't such a bad thing.

Maybe I only want to write when I'm upset. I'm only realizing it now.

Hurt me.

What's this? Inspiration?

I respect you too much to tell you what I think of your poor decisions.
But I worry too much to say nothing at all.
I'm thinking you're real, but maybe you're not. So many lies. It's hard to tell what is and what isn't.
I dream about you, fantasize about you.
I pretend I'm him so I could be close to you.
Don't tell me the thing I've spent so long defending is all for nothing.
Please...

Please...

I can't stop crying.
I think maybe this is true love;
to bite back my real opinions on your girlfriend and tell you I'm glad you're happy,
to not tell you how hard I'm crying because,
if I caused you unhappiness for a split second, I think it might just break my heart.

Don't do this to me.
I know you've made piss poor decisions. But I don't want you to be sad or feel bad for them.
Mistakes happen. I won't hate you for it.
You live with them, you learn from them...
That's life.

I'm so over the things that meant so much yesterday.

And now the inspiration is gone. I could force more, but what's the point?

Everything you do starts a chain event. You make someone sad, they make someone they care about sad, that person makes someone else sad. When you think you're upsetting someone, you're upsetting more than one person.

I love you. I love you so much.

I want to say your name on here just so you know who I'm talking to, but I won't. I can't let my secret out. Maybe you're my favorite now.

Maybe.

Maybe you should hurt me so I'll get over you, too.

EMILEE!

This is what I posted in my LJ... No time to write another one...

Omg guys! Emilee is coming!

For those who don't know me that well, that means MY SISTER IS IN LABOR. I'm going to be an aunt! Her name will be Emilee Joy Blanford, and she will be beautiful.

Point being, I won't be online for a good portion of today. My sister will probably be in labor for the next ten hours or so. I'm not sure exactly, it could only be five hours, it could be longer.

And, guys...

It's FEBRUARY 29th. Leap year. Wtf. Poor baby. She'll be one when she's four. Argh.

Anyway, lmao... That's where I'll be. ^^ I won't be answering comments more than likely. I'll make another post (hopefully with some Emilee pictures!) when I get back! EEE. :D

Be the death of me.

Thought about posting this in eljay.

Then realized no one gives a fuck.

Oh well.

I believe my indecisiveness, my inability to listen to anyone (including myself), my extreme phobias, and my extreme obsessions will be the death of me.

To further explain... I cannot decide on anything or stick with anything at all. Because of this, I am constantly changing. Which is not a good thing, considering the fact that I hate change. You'd never believe that a year ago, I listened to NOTHING but Japanese music, I didn't write fanfictions, I had pink hair and thought Fall Out Boy was shitty. A year before that, I listened to nothing but the band HIM, I hadn't yet been introduced to slash, I hadn't listened to Panic at the Disco in about a year, and I wore nothing but black. The year before that, I was obsessed with anime. The year before that, I hadn't even been introduced to the internet (I know; sheltered much?). A year before that, I listened to Linkin Park and The Used and Eminem and thought painting my room dark, dark purple was a good idea.

My hair color changes with my mood. My favorite bands and obsessions never last more than a year, and nothing I do or say will matter at all, ever, once I'm dead. DAMN, I'm depressing.

We live in a survival-of-the-fittest society. If you're not willing to push people to make it, you won't make it. I'm not willing to push people.

I am scared of everything. I look over my shoulder every two minutes. I shower with the curtain open. Water, mirrors, darkness, silence, open doors, failure, disapproval, large spaces, small spaces, windows... These are all things that scare me to great extents. Now try to think of one room in your house and one situation that at any point in time doesn't include one or more of these things. I don't think you can. I am CONSTANTLY terrified.

I believe that there is no hope for society. I believe that I do not matter in the grand scheme of things. I believe that my cat is one of the very most beautiful creatures to ever grace the face of the earth, and I know that if I don't get to sleep in the next few minutes, there's no way in hell I'll be up in time for class.

I also know that, thanks to a severe case of insomnia, I WON'T be asleep in the next few minutes.

Writer's block will be the death of me. Please forgive me for being too tired to write anything. I'm lazy as fuck and I apologize. Wait until I actually get a life. Then I'll never have time to write. Ohnoes. I'm probably too lazy to have a life anyway.

So...

I'm in a church.

Blargh.

Don't try to sell me your beliefs. Kthx.

Valentine's Day. Aly + HCT ticket = OTP. :D

Guess what arrived in the mail yesterday.

That's right. Me and HCT ticket are OTP until April 20th. This was an amazing Valentine's Day present.


We're camwhores, btw.
Also,


HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY.

.... I guess I felt like putting things in my mouth.

My room. I rearranged everything yesterday. Om nom nom.
And...

My sister! Almost eight months pregnant, no less. I seriously CAN'T WAIT.



I hope whoever you are, wherever you are, you had a good Valentine's Day.
Me, personally... Well, I called my boy up and asked him to come over the night before.
He agreed.
Then he bailed. Without calling.
And didn't answer his phone until four hours later, when he just simply said he had changed his mind.
And then said he'd call me later.
And didn't.
FUCK YOU.

Back to good news.
I wrote two short fanfics with Izzy for V-Day. They're on the ell jayy.
And like I said, whoever you are, wherever you are, I wish you the best.
Be happy.
Smile.
Get out of the house and be with friends.
Don't take advantage of it.
<3

Pictures, you say?

Picture post.

Haha, no.

We don't fight fair.

End.

Distraction.

Under my dead gaze,
slow motion,
see me let go.

Just have a little faith in me.

I've been busybusybusy. With what?

Writing.

Jesus fucking christ, I've been writing so much I can't even fathom it. Fanfictions ftw. I'm not really sure why I've been writing so much. I guess it just seems right? Because it keeps me busy and keeps my head from swimming.

IN OTHER NEWS, I'M GOING TO SEE PANIC AT THE DISCO, YESYESYES.

I don't have the tickets yet, but I will. My dad has to send the money. We missed the presale but it's okay we can still get regular ticketed seating, which is good. Definitely good. I think my head has been in such a spin that I can't think right. I've been seeing things, having weird dreams, sleeping a lot like usual...

I guess I'll write out this dream.

Okay, so it was hectic as fuck and I hardly remember it. My dad was there, I'm pretty sure my mom was there, and there were roller coaster things. Uhh, there was also my dad's ex-wife's sister's son and daughter. My ex-step-cousins, in case you didn't get that. I used to have a huge crush on one of them, Zach. And then the other was a girl, Hayley (or Haley? Hailey? anyway), I used to hang out with her a lot. And her brother Zach, I always had a huge crush on. So in this dream, there's them, my dad, some girl, and some other girl with a baby. And the girl with the baby kicked Zach in the face. Idk.

ANYWAY. Jeez. The mind works in strange ways, doesn't it?

So let's see.
http://www.prescribepills.livejournal.com
That's about it.

Fuck you.

Life is a lie.
Life is blasphemous.

I just want you.
Preserving this moment on ice, I wish I could forget.
All the times she's hurt me, all the times I've cried and she doesn't even care.
Everything is my fault.
Everything is wrong.

I forget what it's like to be happy.

And I miss the days when I remembered.

Stress. [Picture post, new hair color, call me a camwhore if you will.]

I hate you, but I'd never change a thing.
The gears in your head are clicking, turning, trying to figure me out.
Give up, fuck up.
I'm just a regular kid in a regular world.
And it's oh-so-depressive.
What's a regular world anyway?
Better yet what's an irregular one?

New hair.

Might put horizontal black stripes on the white stripe; the rest is black.



Audrey likes it.

If life is a broadway play, you're a good actor.
You've got it all baby, brains and beauty.
But I'd fuck you and leave you before I'd really make you mine.
Or I'd make you mine then forget you.
Baby you make me forget myself.
My mind and my morals my friends and my family.
I forget it all with you.
But the funny thing is I like your best friend more.
You're cute and all but he makes me laugh, makes me cry, makes me FEEL.
And you can't do that.
There's nothing you can say or do to make me love you, I'm sorry.
But him...
His smile, his voice makes me smile.
His laugh tears my heart up.
And if his laugh can do that, think of what seeing him cry would do to me.
I want to hold him and tell him it's okay.

I'm crashing and burning
I'm tossing and turning
I'm screaming, I'm crying,
I'm here, just here dying.
Take my hand, take me on.
Tell the truth tell a lie.
Make me yours, make me hurt,
make me smile make me cry.

Capital letters, semicolons and commas.
I'm sending you love wrapped in paragraphs and parentheses.
This heart is lined in dashes and dots, backslashes and brackets.
Asterisks and underscores, all for you with kisses on quotation mark lips.
I just wrote a poem about love and punctuation.
Which means I'm insane.
It's 7AM.
Save me.

Poetry and writing a fanfiction, more on that later.

Catch me, I'm falling.
Save me, I'm senseless.
Sing to me, it's way too silent,
I'm standing here defying science for you.

Take me, I'm yours.
Keep me under wraps.
Save me, save me I'm torn.
But it's nothing your lips can't fix is it?

Your eyes, they stare right through me.
I feel it your gaze shifting your motives move,
and you're willing the ropes not to come lose,
don't slip and reveal your true self to me.

Because baby baby you can't do that.
Babybabybaby you're too weak you're too wrong.
Baby you're broken you need me you want it.
Take me I'm yours but keep me under wraps.

You're breaking me inch by inch, wasting me, ruining me,
you know how I love it.
I want it I need it I beg for it,
but you can't give me what I want.

You can't you can't you're too weak you're too wrong
you're not there, you're too scared,
babybabybaby take what you need until you're numb.

I could tell you whatever you want to hear but if I said I loved you would you listen would you hear me out when you're my last hope and I'm watching you through the window like I'll never get another chance and tears land on pillows and chase away nightmares keeping us up for all eternity, keeping us sane and insane and ripping apart our last sense of morality you could help me if you tried you could save me you liar just find me a handgun and a weaker set of morals, some rope and some pills we'll be good to go we'll write out the note and we'll laugh and act stupid like any other day but today's not just any day today's our day todays our day todays our day todaysourdaytodaysourdaytoday.

Today's just not your day.

April 20th.

Can't get you out of my head, off of my bed, can't get you, wish you were dead. [Poems and picture post.]

It's rained for two days in a row now.
I feel like it's been raining inside me for longer.
I have such a block, like there's a wall right in front of my face and it stops me from seeing people for who they really are, from doing what I love, from loving who I am.
I hate myself.

Your voice, everything in essence that is you.
I want to reach out and touch you, just some little way to know that you know I exist.
Even if you don't.
I want to make you smile.
I want to make you feel like everything's okay for just two seconds.
For all the happiness you've given me unknowing I just want to give a little back.
You're not perfect and I know that and that's what makes me love you.
You're not perfect but you're so close, GOD you're so close.
So close.
So fucking close...

Slow motion
See me let go
Well remember these days
Slow motion
See me let go
Urban life decays
Slow motion
See me let go


I took one of Audrey, too.

And then I found all these that I mostly don't remember taking, but obviously did at some point.

I've cleaned my room since whenever this was.

We're not beautiful, we're just us. Well maybe she is.

I see her as beautiful whether she is or not and always will, she's my baby and my love.

That's what love is, it's not about being perfect it's about seeing the imperfect perfectly.



It's fake.

Ignore the emo hair and bow to the Panic shirt that definitely doesn't fit me right most of the time because I'm a fatty. Also, ignore the emo-ness of following poem plzkthxbai.

I gaze into infinity and try to understand.
I close my eyes and picture beauty with envy and lust.
Gluttony and sloth go hand in hand and burn down the walls of my mind.
I'll take what you'll give but not so soon, not just yet.
Trace these circles under my eyes with your fingertips.
I can just picture you, hover above me and smile and give me the chills.
I suck at poetry, sell me some inspiration.

Because she hates this life. What a beautiful thing...

Slow motion, see me let go.
Slow motion, see me let go.
Brendon Urie, I do believe I might be in love with your voice.
That boy has more talent in his body than I've seen in anything, ever.
Even if his last name is one letter away from urine.

I'm starting to miss school. Just miss doing things. Being out. Talking. Cabin fever.
It's 3AM and I can't sleep.
The album art for Pretty. Odd. is pretty nice.
I'll save the cliché of saying "WELL IT IS PRETTY ODD LOL SEE WUT I DID THAR?"

Slow motion, see me let go.
This Slow Motion cover makes my heart ache.
I think it alone could make me cry.
And the lyrics aren't even good. "I shoot smack in my veins", "Mrs. Jones taught me English but I think I just shot her son.", "Two lines of coke I cut with drain-o." ....
It's just... Brendon's voice.

I'm upset that the Cobra Starship show was sold out. The Cab was there and tons of other good bands. Fuckers.
I'm just watching myself grow up.
Slow motion, see me let go.

---

Rain pounding on the window.
Nothing rhymes with circus.
And nothing ever will.
I'd be surprised if the world has a hundred years left on it.
I'll give myself twenty.
I'm happy with myself sometimes.
Other times, not.
I fell in love with a boy.
He's nineteen.
And then I met his wife and daughter.
Go figure.
Isn't it ironic?
And oh so expected.
I should be used to this by now but I'm not, I'm not.
It stings.
I'm changing and I'm watching it.
I should be sleeping.

---

Sing me to sleep.
Let me pretend you're holding me.
And I'll have conversations with myself while I dream of you.
Slow motion, see me let go.

A fever you can't sweat out.

I had a 102 degree fever for almost 48 hours.
I think I've taken more pills in the past few days than I have for a while.
I'm not used to being sick.
My head is a mess right now.
I'm slipping.
You will never see things as I'm seeing them right now. Things always look better through my eyes.
I'm stuck somewhere between boredom and anxiety.

Wrap this rope around my throat.

Ohmygod.
Oh my god.
Oh. My. God.

What is wrong with me?
What's going on?
Why is this happening?
I'm so pathetic.

When I said I wanted to die, I thought I was just talking shit like usual.
The next breath that I take should be underwater.
I could do it. It would be so easy. Until my lungs split at the seams.

What's wrong with me?

Help me. Help me. Help me.
Fix me.
Please god fix me fix me please.

Fall Out Boy - Tell That Mick He Just Made My List Of Things To Do Today.

STOP IT.

Fuck you.

I'm SCREAMING inside.

I want to rip every vein out of my body.
I'm going so fucking insane..
STOP IT
Why the fuck do I do this?
I need to scream.

Calm calm calm.
I just took pictures but I'm too lazy to put them up.
I'm doing a new layout.
I'm... Listening to Patrick's voice.
I'm trying not to cry again.
No.
I'm trying to cry again.
I secretly want to get it all out, and I secretly want to hold it all in and I secretly don't really give a fuck because nothing makes this better.

Great, there it goes again.
This song reminds me of my mom. Of Ryan. Of James. Of Pete and Patrick.
Let's play this game. Please. Please please please.

Bury me in memory.

LIFE.

I'm beginning to see why people have created religion.
I just reached my arms up to the sky and flexed my fingers. I know there's no one up there but it would be so fucking nice to have someone to hold.

LIFE doesn't mean as much as it used to.

Picking up things we shouldn't read... [Picture post]

I remember a time when words would just flow out of me.
A time when ideas were canvases and my stories were masterpieces.
More and more I'm beginning not to enjoy this like I used to.
More and more I'm realizing I don't know what to do with myself.
I've got cabin fever and I'm thinking you and I should just run for the hills and never look back.
Spencer Smith makes me smile like no one else.
We've got the same eyes, the same laugh. And they say the eyes are the window to the soul and your laugh is your personality in voice. Isn't that right?
Well I don't care what they say.
Because he makes me smile.

A shy sort of smile... which doesn't make any sense at all.
I watch the floating abyss before I go to sleep and pretend it is a reality.
I don't know whether to laugh or stare in awe at the new Panic interview.
This wall is what I look at all the time.

It has calming hues and exciting imagery.
Do you like how I'm trying and failing to be poetic?
Like I said, there was a time when words just flowed from me. Metaphoric waterfalls and descriptive oceans of words. And each story, each post was a lake or a pond. Every word was a cup full of water scooped out of my ocean and placed somewhere else, each single letter was a drop that seeped out of me and went to a better cause. But there's only so much water in the ocean, and when the ocean runs dry, you're just shit out of luck. Because it never rains enough around here.
I'd trace your shadows on the wall so I could kiss them whenever I'm down.
When I fall in love no matter what I'll make whoever it is I'm in love with stand still and let me trace their shadow.
So that when they leave me and I've got nothing left I'll have one more thing to remind me.
That's just how life works.
But there is one person I know who will never, ever leave me.

And her 'meow' sounds like 'mom' in my ears.
It really does, and I will love her forever. Even when we're old and grey, we'll have each other and nothing will ever change that.
I've been wondering a lot lately about what will happen to Panic.
If they will be one of those one-hit wonders that made a huge career mistake...
Or if they will be one of those jaw-dropping revolutionaries. I'm not sure yet but I'm definitely with them through whatever happens.
And this made me feel pretty good about myself.

brainfreezblonde: I'm just saying...people who change tick me off. They were so origional with the circus stuff..and now they're the new-age Beatles.
brainfreezblonde: WTF?
Riyukko: Bands have to mature and grow as people. When they were seventeen, they were into circusy deep lyrics, synths and crazy makeup. But they're over that stage now and they want to try something simpler. Maybe one day they'll find a common ground in it all but for now you either support them or you don't. And I support them. And I'm sure as hell going to be laughing at the people who didn't when they change again and come back ten times better than before and all those people who called them posers and said they hated them are going to look like indecisive morons.

The girl needs to get a grip on reality and realize that she's either there for them or she's not, and if she's not, it's her choice but she should give them a chance.
And I'm staying so true to my promise... I swear to god I'm trusting them until the end of time.
But no seriously, people who change tick her off? What's that, the entire planet's population? Yes, yes it is.

And I leave you on a less serious note with some pictures that may or may not look artsy or stupid, you decide. I liked them, anyway.




Xoxo.
It looks like the end of history...
Oh no, it's just the end of the world.

Pretty. Odd.

Hate having to change my buddy info.
Panic! at the Disco is no more.
Welcome Panic at the Disco.
I'm not sure what I think about it, it's like they're hippie-ing out on us.
But that's not such a bad thing for me, I'll love them either way.
See how into this I am? It's insane.
It's consuming me.
I love them for it.

Nothing is as good as you can imagine it to be.

We don't have to worry, so sell me a sense of humor.

Bite your tongue and keep your mouth shut.
Until you know what you're talking about.
Should've listened when you said we didn't have to worry.
I'm too much of a critic, too skeptical.
And this is my pledge to you to trust you, you've earned it.
You'd think I'd have more natural trust.
As much as I love you after all it should just come naturally but I guess it didn't.
But now it will and that's a promise.

---

Why haven't I been updating?
A little of everything.
More or less, a lack of inspiration, lack of motivation, overdose of complication.
I feel obligated. Which means I automatically don't want to do it.

I roam these streets with absolutely no purpose.
Feeling like I'm worthless.
But contrary to my last statement, I feel fine.
Content with the fact that I know this life is mine.

I don't know what I want or think anymore.
I have so much self-doubt... It's sick. Everything is sick.
But fuck this life. Really, just fuck it all, it's ridiculous.

And on a brighter note, here's something I received on my birthday that I meant to post up a while ago but never did.
Click it.
I love my friends so much. The real ones are amazing.


And I can feel myself falling.

We're so starving.

I'm a huge Panic! fan. Way too much of one to do this. I'm so faithful to them. And I'd hate to do this and then realize the new album is the best thing I've ever heard. But now I'm nearly convinced that will not be the case. So here it goes, enough putting it off.

Nine In The Afternoon.
Good, not great. Sarcastically and strangely repetitive.

Middle Of Summer.
Not up to standards, but good. Gave me some hope.

"Oh, how it's been so long."
Yes, it really has been. I missed you. You should come around more often.

"We're so sorry we've been gone."
Me too, I was patient though. I waited and I was a faithful fan.

"We were busy writing songs for you."
...Very blunt ones, I see. What happened to the wit that I fell in love with?

"You don't have to worry, 'cause were still the same band."
Well, you see, I do have to worry. I DO have to worry, Panic!, because you're still the same band, in essence. The same four men. But you're not the same as you were two years and seven months ago, you're not the same. Your music is not the same. Which is a good thing. Except for the fact that it's taken a plummet. I listen to music to be enthralled, to learn, to feel. The lyrics and the vocals catch me. The vocals are amazing as ever. Even more so. But the lyrics? I'm sorry but... No.

"We're So Starving."
Starving for what? Inspiration, motivation? Well I'm starving, too. Starving to hear something recent from you guys that isn't lacking in creativity and wit. Something that inspires me and moves me. Like every last line of your old music.

Come on, guys.

I can't be mad. I just can't. I love you way too much for that.
But please. PLEASE.
Bring Panic! back.
Don't be Boring! at the Disco.
Be Brilliant! at the Disco.
Like you always were before.

Where the act becomes the art of growing up... Now it's choking me up, die young and save yourself.

Keep the noise low, she doesn't wanna blow it.
Shaking head to toe while your left hand does "the show me around."
Quickens your heartbeat, it beats me straight into the ground.

You don't recover from a night like this, a victim still lying in bed completely motionless.
A hand moves in the dark to a zipper, hear a girl bracing tight against sheets barely whisper,
"This is so messed up."

He keeps his hands low, he doesn't wanna blow it.
He's wet from head to toe and his eyes give her the up and the down.
Her stomach turns and she thinks of throwing up.

He hits the lights, this doesn't seem quite fair.
Despite everything she learned from her friends, she doesn't feel so prepared.
He's breathing quiet and smooth, she's gasping for air.
"This is the first and last time," she says.
He fakes a smile and presses his hips into hers.
She keeps her hands pinned down at her sides.
She's holding back from telling him exactly what it really feels like.

She is the lamb, he is the slaughter.
He's moving way too fast, and all she wanted was to hold him.

So much more than he could ever give - a life free of lies and a meaningful relationship.
She keeps her hands pinned down at her sides.
She waits for it to end and for the aching in her gut to subside.

That is my story exactly. Details aside, I couldn't word it better.

I'm through acting like this feels right.
Not as eloquent as I may have imagined,
but it will get the job done (and you're done).

January 2nd.
It was a disappointing day.
You have no idea what love's all about.
You're pushy.
But I love the way you tell me I'm cute.
The way you say I'm not a fatty and I'm not a mess.
Even though I'm both.
I'm more of a mess than you know and unfortunately there isn't room for the both of us in my head.
Or in my bed.
I was probably disappointing.
But no more than you were.
There's a first time for everything, you always hear that.
But there's a last time for everything, too.

Last year's wishes are this year's apologies.

2008, it's gonna be a fucked up year.
My life is going nowhere and more and more I'm wishing I could disappear.
It's like this year is a set of headlights in the road, and I'm a deer.
There's so many things, not so obscene, I'm wishing I hadn't had to see and hear.

Happy New Year's, baby, you owe me the best gift that I'll ever ask for.
Christmas was eight days ago.
My birthday was two days ago.
New Year's was one day ago.

And the woman whose womb I housed myself in for nine months seems to think that parenting starts when the kid turns seventeen.
I don't mean parenting like showing concern or coming to school plays or fixing dinner. No, those things are all beyond her.
She seems to think she needs to teach me responsibility ALL OF A SUDDEN. 'Cause you know, that's not something that needs to be taught gradually. No, not at all.
When I said I loved you, I swear I lied.

"Beautiful pharmaceuticals,
Residue in my cuticles,
Sniffin' them when it's suitable,
Wishin' they made 'em chewable."

And in music news:
Cobra Starship's new music video is cute, I love the song.
But Pete's appearance in it was somewhat less than impressive.
Panic! is really disappointing me, as well.
I miss the witty lyrics. The taboo sort of subject matter.
BRING THEM BACK.
But I do like the clip they released yesterday.
"Oh, how it's been so long. We're so sorry we've been gone. We were busy writing songs for you. You don't have to worry, 'cause we're still the same band."
It's cute. It's new. And it's catchy. But it's not really good for a new album's song. =/
But, it'll undoubtedly hold a place in my heart. Simply because of the message and the jigsaw puzzle. And the clues that kept us all guessing for WEEKS.
Ahh, what else...
Patrick's going to be on Law & Order tonight.
Of course I'll be checking it out. Hatless Patrick? Fuck yes.
I bet he's a pretty decent actor when he's playing the bad guy.
I'm forcing my mom to watch it with me.

And now back to me news.

I'm so into making layouts.
And shopping, and sleeping.
That's all I've been doing lately.
I've got 80 bucks.
http://www.freewebs.com/prescribepills
http://www.freewebs.com/zomgcreep
I made both those. Yeah.
My sister is in Thailand.
I miss her.
I'll see her this weekend.

Oh!
I had a dream about being in some videogame with five other people. The girl that's like five that lives in the apartment above my sister's was in the game. And there was a chair behind bars where you have your legs sawed off. And then some girl with green and purple hair took us into her bathroom, there was writing all over the walls, and the room was a time-travel thing. The house was falling apart. It was mad at me for stabbing a wall when I was trying to kill a bad guy or something. People kept coming out of the front closet. The walls were decaying and I jumped down into the basement, which magically morphed into my room. I grabbed a picture of me and my sister and my baby blanket and that's all I could salvage. But I went down there in the first place to grab this girl's ID card, apparently whatever card you have is what you morph into in the time travel thing, and I had like six cards. I started morphing into a half-dog, half Ron Weasley, and then I woke up.
...Yeah.

I say, fuck 2008. I'm going to shake up this year. Last year was good. This year can be better, I bet.

Resolutions? Hmm. I haven't even thought about it until now. At 7:20AM on January 2nd.
Let's see.
I could try for going vegetarian and see how long it lasts.
Okay. GO.