Easy.

I've read about it all. I listened to bedtime stories last night. Jules read to me, it was awesome. Poems and short stories. Not necessarily uplifting, but they were alluring, and beautiful. And I slept well last night.

I am listening to friends' bands and smiling, hearing their voices. I miss them. I cry sometimes, I miss so much.

I'm switching the song to a voice I won't recognize. It is just easier.

I wish I could post privately. I don't know how. It is just easier to type here than to write in my little, locked journal. No one will read anyway. Deleted links. Google me, you imbecile. Bet you won't find anything quite like the pitches I'm throwing.

Here are the tragic, unedited, drunken ramblings of a young girl.


Give me a fucking break. Some idiot asshole at work tonight told me all about his daily work out schedule. And all about Jesus. Yeah, whatever. You have abs. You have an understanding. I really don't care.

Look at my fucking ribs. That's hot. I don't know whether or not Jesus actually existed. And you can't prove whether he did or not, so I don't care.

I wanted to scream. Damnit. I have to change songs again. I can't hear familiar voices.

The cat just ran across the keyboard. He is laying on me now. My hands are numb. But he is beautiful, and he knows. He gets it. He just needs to be here, laying across my forearms in silence.

Some things inspire me.

There is an amazing woman who was a mother to me, though never biologically. Her daughter said, "She believes in you more than she believes in me. She told me before I left that she has always seen a passion in you. If you could harness that, you could and you will change the world."

I will never change the world. I will never harness that raw passion. But I will fight. And I will scream. I kick and I cry, I wake up in the dead of night. I'll destroy you, I'll tear out your insides. But I will always love you. I will destroy you, but I will love you.

Maybe someone will learn to love me and my crazy. A friend to stay. Never leave.

Fairy tale endings weren't made for skeptics like me. I'll just eat you away.

This is so long, this is so rambling.

These are things that I need to get out.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. Please stay. Don't leave. But I hate you.

blah. Punk Rock shows, coming up. Let's laugh and sing and dance. Come to the shows. If you're reading. Come to the shows.

Drink some brewdoggs (love you), sing-a-long. Wrap your arm around me and belt it out. It's what we have to do. What we HAVE to do to get by.

www.oswegoshows.cjb.net